The Chocolate Cobweb by Charlotte Armstrong (1948)
If there is any evil in this house, I'm all alone against it.
Death in High Heels by Christianna Brand (1941)
Irene was always the first to arrive.
A Killer is Loose by Gil Brewer (1954)
If I can tell all of this straight and true, and get Ralph Angers down here the way he really was, then I'll be happy.
Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks (2001)
I took an apple that was crisp and good and sliced it, thin as paper, and carried it into that dim room where he sits, still and silent.
Crime of Silence by Patricia Carlon (1965)
He sniffed vigorously at the sodden, clear air after the muggy warmth of the closed house and then noticed one of the big black spiders that lurked among the garden foliage had come through a ventilator and was sprawled in ungainly hideousness against the white of the bath, like a disgusting stain.
Five Ports to Danger by Vivian Connolly (1959)
"I'm pretty positive he's been wearing a beard and moustache up to a few days ago."
Evidence of Things Seen by Elizabeth Daly (1943)
"Mrs. Gamadge, that woman's there again."
Odd Job by Pat Flower (1974)
With his hands under her armpits, Ned dragged Daisy towards his cupboards.
Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino (2007)
I longed to make that face of hers even more hideous than it was right then.
The Green Ripper by John D. MacDonald (1979)
When I bent close to her to touch my lips to her dank forehead, I could detect the faint sour smell of mortal illness.
Artists in Crime by Ngaio Marsh (1938)
Alleyn leaned over the deck rail, looking at the wet brown wharf and the upturned faces of the people.
Spider Webs by Margaret Millar (1986)
More than an hour elapsed before the body of the first boy was brought out of the lake.
A Little Yellow Dog by Walter Mosley (1996)
When I got to work that Monday morning I knew something was wrong.
The Bat by Mary Roberts Rinehart (1926)
"You've got to get him, boys - get him or bust!" said a tired police chief, pounding a heavy fist on the table.
Sweet Poison by David Roberts (2001)
At this moment, as was always the way of it, the Duke woke up choking with anxiety, the blood pounding in his head.
The Killer Inside Me by Jim Thomson (1952)
I wiped my gloves on her body; it was her blood and it belonged there.
Night Man by Allan Ullman (1951)
She walked briskly down the empty street, her heels pecking away at the night's silence.