Murder, Lies & Sex

By P.J Wilson

Cute guy gets tangled up with an emotional incestual relationship with his girlfriend, who he end's up marrying), and her mother. The story is told how the mother/daughter duo messes up, families, and friends of Bruce's. Uses Bruce, and anyone else they can manipulate to get their way.  Someone reaches a breaking point and is eliminated. It's about control, manipulation, and human breaking points.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P. J. Wilson
• Release date: Aug 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386191667

P.J Wilson

About PJ Wilson  PJ Wilson was born and raised in Littleton Colorado. Now living In Kansas City area on a ranch outside of town with her husband.. Wilson loves the outdoors and creating exciting mysteries with a diverse genre of eBooks. Her writings are novettes with either morals of a story or learning something new. Wilson’s goal is to have a new book out every month. Her genra is Mysteries, and unauthorized biography mysteries. Wilson graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in English literature including the creating writing program.

Book preview

Murder, Lies & Sex

The Killing

THE NIGHTMARISH ATTACK accrued in July;coming out of nowhere. With the left arm in a choke hold around her neck and the right hand over her mouth it happened. Within, two and a half minutes it's over. Marsha Butler at the age of sixty – three dead. Or was she?

The perpetrator sat crouched down behind an overgrown bush next to the garage–waiting, waiting, and waiting some more till she came home. Finally, she arrived and drove into the driveway, opened the garage door, and pulled her car in.  The attacker rushed in from behind the bush and hustled into the garage. As she got out of her car and before she closed the garage door with the remote, the attacker rushed in behind her just as she was getting out of the car–and had her griped. The murderer closed the garage door. Just before it closed, the limp body, barely missing the door, as it closed The body was moved to a bush underneath the front window of the house–face down in the mud. It had been raining off and on that day. But that didn't detour what was going to happen to her. She was left in a humiliating and disgustingly manner. Suffocated, her body left frog like under the bush. By the time she was found, her head had blown up like a balloon from bloating, and hair matted with mud.

It was Friday night, around midnight when the gruesome attack occurred. The night was unusually dark. The moon couldn't be seen behind the clouds. There was a storm brewing somewhere that dreadful night close to St. Charles Missouri. Most possibly a tornadic threat somewhere close.

The act was swift, quick and accurate. The eliminator walked swiftly down the street grinning and gloating for about a mile and around the corner into the next neighborhood where the getaway car was parked. The slayer dressed in black with pantyhose and fishnet stockings pulled tightly over the head with a giant black sombrero tied under the chin–in case it was knocked off in the brutal attack. Each piece of clothing, removed as the car got closer. Then the attacker was driven back wooded area which was approximately ten miles from the woman's house. The clothes were burned, leaving no evidence of DNA. After burning the clothes, the perpetrator packed clean clothes earlier in the day in a duffle bag; throwing it in the back seat of the car.  The car sped away, paying no attention to the speed limit, getting back home as fast as possible. The drive was 30 minutes from the killing scene. However, ten more miles were added from where the clothes were burned. The slayer had a sense of complete peace and relief after getting home and quietly slipping into bed. But could the secret be kept?

A lot of thought and calculated plotting had been rehearsed over and over in the culprit's mind. The person who did it had been thinking about it for a long time, but just didn't know when the time would be the right time. A lot of research had been done on the internet on how not to leave any clues at a murder scene. Afterward, the next day the computer was hatched up into tiny pieces. The pieces were dispensed in several trash bags and thrown in a dumpster in the next town to the west of St. Charles.

Marsha's behavior was that of a narcissistic psychopath. Not the kind of killing people, just her emotions breeds seething resentment to people. Even though she was not violent, she mentally abused and messed with people's heads.  Any number of people could have hurt her. Apparently, someone she had known hated her for quite a long time to the point they wanted her wiped off the face of the earth, and humiliate her even in death, if she was dead. Any number of people could have been that disgruntled with her. But who?

Discovering of the Body

HOW HER DAUGHTER, KATHLEEN, found out about what happened to her mother was this, on Monday morning Marsha didn't show up for work. Her employer, Thompson, Thompson, Brown and Ferguson Law Firm, was concerned but waited till noon to make a call to her daughter Kathleen, who is an elementary school teacher.  Kathleen happened to be off that day when she got the call from Human Resource department from the law firm. When Kathleen was told her mother had not shown for work, she became so she called her mother on her cell phone. Nothing but voicemail. She kept calling–still no answer.

Kathleen then drove over to her mother's house to see if she was home or if she can glean anything that may have happened to her. She pulled into the driveway. Kathleen didn't see anything unusual–yet. She went to open the door, it was locked, so she knocked–no answer. All the window blinds were closed so she couldn't see in. Kathleen went around to the back of the house–looked around nothing out of place or different. She went back to the front door again and rang the bell–still, no answer, this time she laid on the bell, banged on the bell–still no response. As Kathleen turned from the door, she noticed something weird out of the corner of her eye, she stopped, looked over into the bush under the front window. There laid her mother smack dab in a mud puddle. Since Marsha had been there for three days the body bloated and stunk. When Kathleen saw her mother, Kathleen went into hysterics. It was an unutterable scene. Too awful to describe. A shrill like no other was heard throughout the neighborhood that morning. The next–door neighbor came running out of her house in her robe and slippers half asleep to see what was happening.

Kathleen could barely get the words out,

My mother is behind the bushes under the front window. She cries out loud, I don't know what happened to her.

The neighbor puts her arm around Kathleen tries to console her as Martha lead her into her house to call the police. Martha tried to settle her down, so she was coherent enough to talk to police. Within three minutes you could hear from miles