Criminally Good Stories Volume 3: 20 Crime Mystery Short Stories: Criminally Good Mystery Stories, #3

By Connor Whiteley

Third Volume in the acclaimed mystery series!

For years Connor Whiteley has written plenty of compelling, suspenseful, best-selling mystery short stories spanning multiple subgenres and selling to top magazines like Pulphouse Fiction Magazine.

For the first time ever, Connor Whiteley collects 100 mystery short stories in five brilliant themed collections.

This volume explores crime fiction in all its forms from intoxicatingly twisted thefts to dark and compulsive assassin stories to so much more. Mystery and crime readers will love this riveting volume of Criminally Good Stories.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: CGD Publishing
• Release date: Apr 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215602904

Connor Whiteley

Hello, I'm Connor Whiteley, I am an 18-year-old who loves to write creatively, and I wrote my Brownsea trilogy when I was 14 years old after I went to Brownsea Island on a scout camp. At the camp, I started to think about how all the broken tiles and pottery got there and somehow a trilogy got created.Moreover, I love writing fantasy and sci-fi novels because you’re only limited by your imagination.In addition, I'm was an Explorer Scout and I love camping, sailing and other outdoor activities as well as cooking.Furthermore, I do quite a bit of charity work as well. For example: in early 2018 I was a part of a youth panel which was involved in creating a report with research to try and get government funding for organised youth groups and through this panel. I was invited to Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party and how some of us got in the royal photograph.Finally, I am going to university and I hope to get my doctorate in clinical psychology in a few years.

Book preview

YOU BETTER WATCH OUT

Francesca watched the dancing Santa flash mob in the grey concrete square below, a small part of her liked seeing them all happy, dancing and bringing Christmas cheer to all the office workers walking past. But they had served their purpose.

Her eyes narrowed on the black high rise buildings in the middle of London and all the uptight workers in their expensive suits walking out for lunch. They stopped, smiled and even tipped the mob. Francesca shook her head as she wondered how many thousand times their tip did they earn in a single day.

The smell of cleaning chemicals filled the air and the sounds of distance talking made Francesca tense. She couldn’t be found out just yet but she needed the building to empty out a little more first.

Turning her attention back to the Santa mob below, who must have been dancing to All I Want For Christmas Is You, Francesca looked on the other side of the square to see tens of food trucks pulling up.

Francesca wanted to laugh as she saw tons of office workers pulling out their phones and texting their friends about the trucks, and all the amazing exotic foods that were there. Moments later more office workers poured out.

So predictable.

Francesca had to admit she loved her job, and she was good at it. Damn good at it. She had no idea the flash mob and the food truck idea would work but she was more than glad they did. After all, how best to get rid of potential witnesses than to have them completely distracted.

When she originally thought about the idea, she’d been lying if she said she wasn’t concerned about the targets going outside too. Then she remembered how paranoid the targets were, even if the building was burning down, they wouldn’t move.

But her favourite part of the plan was the very simple fact that in a flash mob who cared if they saw one Santa slip into the building. The building’s security was extreme, even for London, but everyone loves a Santa. So security was hardly a problem and everyone was so focused on the Flash mob. Francesca simply walked past.

The quiet sound of We Wish You A Merry Christmas came through the glass and Francesca smiled as she knew it was almost time.

Returning away from the massive glass window, Francesca turned to face the perfectly white corridor she stood in. Her left was completely covered in floor to ceiling glass windows, which she liked and she wondered about throwing someone out of one later. The right of her was horrible black painted brick.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked dead ahead at the glass double doors that lead her directly to her target.

Normally Francesca would never take odd jobs at Christmas, she loved being a hitman but there was a time and place. Christmas was not such a place, Christmas was meant to be a time of gifting, sharing and food. Not killing.

Francesca hated how her long term friend and client Mrs Veronica (Mrs V. to her enemies and lesser friends) had managed to strongarm Francesca into doing this hit as a present to her.

Taking a few steps closer to the double glass doors, Francesca remembered what Veronica told her about the targets. All drug and arms dealers who were getting the various gangs of London to put aside their differences and work for them only, a criminal empire in the making.

At first Francesca laughed at the idea, it was ridiculous. The gangs were never going to join up and serve someone else, but the bodies of Veronica’s friends said differently. After that, well, Francesca didn’t have much more to say.

Standing closer to the glass double doors, Francesca carefully took out her two black guns with their silencers that felt heavy in her hands. She gripped the triggers tight.

Looking through the doors, Francesca felt a wave of ease wash over her as she saw her killing ground was a large open plan office. It was a respectable size at twenty metres by ten metres wide. Francesca wasn’t too sure on it, she preferred her offices larger and with only one entrance. Always best to have as much distance as possible between you and a potential killer, but she couldn’t see another entrance or exit.

Good.

There were a few rows of yellow wooden desks and computers but besides from that it was clear. Well, Francesca knew the office was clearly ugly with its festive green carpet and strange Christmas tree at the far end.

Francesca’s grip tightened on the triggers as she focused on the far end of the office. Sitting there at a large oak desk with his ancient feet resting on it was her target, she didn’t have a name, only a letter (she hated him already). Mr G.

She was looking forward to shooting this pathetic man. Francesca didn’t know a single proper criminal who used letters these days, like who did this guy think he was. A supervillain?

The sound of other voices troubled Francesca as she peaked through the doors some more and saw the edges of roughly ten men. Not good. She wasn’t sure she had enough bullets.

Francesca smiled at that idea. It meant she had to get creative, maybe she’ll crack someone’s back, smash them through a window. A tingle of excitement washed up her spine.

But the smell of tacos and strange spices filled the air and Francesca paused. Why did the air smell of food?

Her eyes widened in horror. Why did the air smell of food truck food?

Stop! someone shouted.

Francesca spun.

Seeing a man.

He whipped out his gun.

She fired.

Killing the man.

Inside the double glass doors, Francesca heard some noises and shouting of orders and she couldn’t help but smile. This was her time, and it was time to get to work.

With the quiet sounds of Santa Claus Is Coming To Town coming through the glass windows, Francesca pulled on her bright red Santa outfit and went to work.

She shot the door.

Glass shattered.

She flew through.

She turned.

Firing.

Two men dropped.

Blood gushing onto the carpet.

The other eight reacted.

They fired.

Francesca dived under some desks.

Computers shattered.

Electrical fires started.

The men stopped.

Francesca jumped up.

Charging over the desks.

She fired.

Another one dead.

They reloaded.

Bullets screamed through the air.

Francesca slid over a desk.

A bullet hit a computer near her.

It exploded.

Francesca took a deep breath. She had to focus. She wasn’t going to have too many chances.

The bullets stopped.

Francesca jumped up.

The bullets started.

Slicing into her arm.

Francesca dropped.

She crawled up the row of desks.

The bodyguards rushed over.

Francesca kept crawling.

She looked behind her.

They didn’t see her.

They were distracted.

Francesca jumped up.

She fired.

Her bullets slaughtered the guards.

Corpses dropped to the ground.

Her eyes widened as she heard the sound no assassin wants to hear. Click, click, click. She was out of bullets. The bodyguards started to laugh, that was definitely their mistake.

Francesca flew at them.

Two guards fired.

She slid across the carpet.

Kicking the guards' legs out from under them.

They fell.

Francesca grabbed them.

Pressing her fingers into one’s eyeballs.

The other moved.

Standing up.

Francesca killed his friend.

Her fingers covered in eyeballs.

The other grabbed her.

He ripped off her Santa costume.

Francesca jumped on him.

Smashing his head into the desk.

She kept smashing.

His skull cracked.

Shattered.

Blood gushed out everywhere.

Francesca got up. Scanning the room. She had to find her target. The music outside got louder.

Bullets fired.

Francesca ran towards the oak desk. She ducked under it but the bullets stopped firing.

She quickly checked her arm and thankfully it was just a flesh wound. (Stupid guards couldn’t even shoot properly)

Francesca tensed. She heard footsteps. She raised her head over the top of the desk. Her target was leaning perfectly calm on a row of desks in front of her.

Slowly standing up, Francesca wanted to spit at the man as she looked at his badly aged face and his tight suited body. For a moment she wondered if the target was attractive when he was younger but she didn’t care. She was a hitman and she fully intended to kill him.

As Francesca walked out in front of the oak desk and leant on it, she had no idea if this guy wanted to kill her or not. She knew full well how dangerous that was but she was ready and happy to kill.

Who sent ya love? Veronica? he asked, his voice surprisingly common and unrefined considering his wealthy appearance.

Francesca didn’t say anything.

V, of course, it be her. I should have killed her when I had the chance, do ya get me?

Francesca was still silent.

The man pointed the gun at her head.

Guess I have to sent ya body to her,

Francesca smiled.

Fireworks came from the flash mob.

They fired too close to the building.

The glass window shattered.

Francesca flew at him.

Grabbing the gun.

Punching him.

Francesca fired the gun into his leg.

He hissed.

He tried to fight.

It was useless.

Francesca got him in a headlock and pulled him towards the shattered window where beautiful red and green fireworks were still flying into the air.

She was a little surprised of his strength as he tried to stop Francesca dragging him towards the window, it failed but Francesca still needed to push him hard.

The sound of glass rang in their ears (as did the fireworks) as they stood in front of the shattered window and Francesca smiled as she watched all the food trucks drive away and the bright red Santa flash mob ran away.

Francesca knew the police would be here soon but she could at least enjoy the chaos for a few moments. That was until the target struggled more and more.

Leaning close to his ear she whispered You better not cry,

Francesca pushed. Hard.

The target fell out the window. She could barely hear his screams over the fireworks but he was screaming.

Looking out the window Francesca smiled as she saw his shattered mangled body below.

Her job was done.

***

With the police cars rushing past her on the black tarmac road, Francesca kept walking along the wide grey pavement. She kept her head down and she was acting perfectly normal, she had been doing this far too long to make silly mistakes like acting strange. Of course, she looked occasionally to the police racing past, who wouldn’t?

But she kept going. She always kept going, moving on to the next job.

The smell of warm Christmas spices from nearby bakeries made her smile a little and the distance singing of choirs and other flash mobsters could be heard over the sirens.

Francesca didn’t know why she enjoyed the smells and sounds of normality but she did. She supposed they gave her a sense that her work was right and she wasn’t an awful person. Maybe the normality meant she was right for killing a criminal that no one would ever miss.

Raising her head, she focused on the upcoming busyness of a nearby Tube station, she would easily go down and ride on the Underground. There were so many thousands upon thousands of people riding it each day, she could get on it and disappear.

Disappear into the underworld until another job bought her up into the open. Yet there was still some distance left, a little more distance of fresh air and Christmas warmth.

As Francesca watched all the people rushing in and out of the station, she focused on all the families, the children (badly) singing Christmas songs and even winked at them when a child stared at her.

Because at the end of the day, Francesca really did only do her job to keep others safe. The money was always a nice bonus but she hunted the criminals and she protected the innocence of the world.

So as Francesca went into the Tube Station to disappear for a while with Santa’s Coming To Town playing quietly in the background. All she could think of was all the criminals and low lives that needed to watch out, because (killer) Santa was coming to town.

––––––––

THE BIG FIVE WHOOPEE MOMENTS

My name is Hunter Carter, I’m 80 years old and I can thankfully say I had a very full life filled with a wonderful husband, job and five big whoopee moments.

Until I lost it all, in a way

***

My first big whoopee moment had to be when I was about ten years old on Christmas Eve. My wonderful daddy had just died and the house felt really, really terrible.

But as I stood on the cold wooden floor at the very top of the stairs, I knew my mummy was going to make Christmas magical, even without daddy. I knew all of her amazing cooking going on. She was baking my favourite nutmeg cookies and other hints of cinnamon, mixed spices and oranges filled the air.

Just at that moment I knew Christmas was going to be amazing, and I knew me and mummy would help each other through the thing I would later know was called heartbreak.

I really loved my daddy. He always supported me, loved me and made sure I had the best possible childhood, so I knew if I was ever going to have children of me own. I would try and be like my daddy.

The gentle sounds of Christmas songs, mummy laughing and being happy echoed through the entire house.

Then I realised that she had to be talking to Santa and he was making her laugh.

My smile just grew and grew and grew at the idea of having Santa in my house, delivering my presents and he was even making time to check on my mummy after daddy died.

Santa was such an amazing guy and even though he had all the presents to deliver he was still making us feel special, loved and cared for. Or maybe something else was going on.

Maybe daddy was Santa?

Maybe when mummy said daddy wasn’t going home anymore because him and his car went up to the big scrapyard in the sky. He had traded in his car for a sleigh and he was helping Santa.

That was amazing! My daddy was Santa!

Whoopee!

***

My next whoopee was at the amazing age of sixteen, and after a massive fight at home with mother and her dick head of a boyfriend, who was the man making her laugh on Christmas Eve when I was ten. I just wanted to drive off and never come home.

Well, that plan had lasted exactly ten minutes before I decided to call a special friend from school.

I was furious with mum letting her idiot boyfriend treat me like I was nothing, a criminal for being gay and like I was an absolute failure that I just wanted to do something that idiot would deem unforgivable.

So I called up a great looking guy from school who was Captain of the Football team, really smart and so fit. A guy called Harry Rodden.

And as I finished driving up to a great secluded spot in the woods. I just couldn’t believe I was in the car with such a great sexy guy with his six-foot-six body with slight muscles, blond hair and such a cute face that I just wanted to kiss all night (and planned to).

I parked the car and made sure the lights were off then Harry grabbed my head and we made out. His soft lips tasted so amazing and he had clearly done this before.

As we continued kissing, he started to run his hands up my body, unbuttoning my shirt and within minutes we were both basically naked making out in my car.

And it felt great!

Then he started to run his fingers up my leg, he grabbed my balls and started massaging them.

Needlessly to say it was only a few minutes later that I shouted something we both loved.

Whoopee!

***

About ten very short years later, me and sexy gorgeous Harry were married and living together. I had always loved our massive house with four bedrooms, a large garden that led out into a little river and our kitchen was all state of the art.

I leant against the wonderfully smooth marble kitchen island that had warmed up tons because the amazing sunlight. I seductively stared at how amazing Harry looked with his model-like looks, longish blond hair and just flat out gorgeous lips. I really had been so lucky to have him in my life, and even though we had been married for a few years, we were still passionately in love with each other.

Harry kept on reading whatever magazine he was, and he would occasionally look at me and blew me a kiss.

The kitchen still