MY STORIES

Avui escric aquesta entrada especial perquè vull recomanar-vos el blog d'un dels meus millors amics... Bé, és una amiga que he fet a la selectivitat i compartim moltes coses en comú.  Es diu Aina Lorenzo i li agrada llegir. La seva pàgina és principalment de recomanacions literàries però també publica alguns escrits seus i cançons que li agraden dels seus grups preferits. L'adreça és happy-readers.blogspot.com.es i us convido a entrar perquè difrutareu endinsant-vos en un món ple de caliu en aquesta vida que moltes vegades se'ns és feixuga de viure-la. Moltes gràcies per a fer aquest blog tan emotiu i especial!  Enhorabona!

MRS.CLARK’S DEATH My name is Alan Smith and I am the great-great-grandson of the United Kingdom’s prime minister and private detective named Harry Smith. I am a twenty six years old man and I work by Scotland Yard as a police inspector. I have a wife called Nicole and two child: one boy and one girl. Their names are Andrew and Cassandra. I was borned in London on December the 31st, 2001. My parents are scottish and they are named George and Lilybeth. I am tall and thin. I have a brown courly hair and a brown eyes too. Under my nose I have a moustache and under my chin, I have a bit of beard. I am a shy person but I have five friends. Four brothers: two of them are famous and they are named Viktor and Anne who were borned in Germany and their surname is Leichter. Viktor is a writer and Anne is a thief who robbed three million of pounds in a bank near Edinbourgh. The other two aren’t famous but one of them helps me to investigate some cases. His name is Peter Stone and he has a bea...

MRS.McGREGOR’S MURDER Harry Adam Smith was a police inspector who works by Scotland Yard. He was born on 1901 December the 23rd in Glasgow. He was tall and thin. He had a long brown courly hair and a brown eyes too. Under his medium-sized nose he had a bit of moustache and under his mouth and chin he had a bit of beard too. Inspector Smith had a wife named Jane. The marriage were living in a small house near Inverness. They had two shy teenagers: Arthur was a seventeen years old boy and his sister Mary was a fifteen years old girl who was wonderful and magnificent. When a man knocked the door that evening, I opened it. The foreign was called Charles McGregor, my brother-in-law who lives in Manchester and works as a baker. He said me that his wife was killed by someone in the street, two days before Christmas. “I will investigate the murder” I said him. “But I can’t promise it. If the commissary accept the case , I will help you... Ok?”. He was in silence three minute...

WILLIAM HARRY BLACK'S MURDER Two weeks before April I got marriage with my girlfriend Mary Clark and my brother William Harry Black was killed by someone. Scotland Yard arrested me because of the murder and a severe judge closed me in a jail situated on the north of Scotland. Eight month later I went out of the prison and my father gave me a new car... It was a brown C3 citroën which made me very happy. He said me that John Moore had a new case for me and I went with my wife to the police station. The commissary explained me that he had a clue about William Harry’s murder and he wanted to show me where he discovered it. We went to the scene of the crime by my new car while my wife went with my father to our house. When we arrived at the hotel where Mary and I spend the nuptial night, I began to cry and cry. Why the judge thought that I was the killer? I was a bad person in his opinion? I upstairs to the second floor and I went into my brother’s room. John Moore ask...

THREE MURDERS IN TWO DAYS It was winter. My father was in the living room, reading the newspaper and my mother was cooking the supper in the kitchen while my brother Aaron Martin and I were in our bedroom playing computer games.  Suddenly a foreign man knocked the door and my dad went to open and greeted our visitor. My brother is a seventeen years old boy. He was born on 2001 december 22th in Manchester. He has a brown courly hair and a brown eyes too. He is tall and thin like me but he doesn’t have my blonde hair and my beautiful blue eyes. I am younger than him because I am sixteen years old. We are Scotland Yard’s detectives because in our old past we solved a lot of crimes and steals. “Hello, Mr.Black, I would talk with your children.” He said to my dad. “Could I talked with them?” he asked. My father didn’t say anything and the young man upstairs going to my bedroom. I opened the door and I invited him to drink coffee with me. The reason of his visit was the murder ...

ELS HOMICIDIS D'ESTOCOLM L’avinguda Strandvagen estava deserta. La lluna encara no havia eixit i l’enllumenat públic s’estava encenent, mentre el senyor McSnow baixava per un  bulevard cèntric de la capital sueca. Havia quedat amb un home d’uns cinquanta anys, en un bar per a menjar alguna cosa i planejar un atracament al banc central de l’Estat. Feia boira i havia d’anar amb peus de plom per evitar xocar amb les faroles, els arbres o els bancs. Al cap d’una estona girà a la dreta tot sentint unes passes que el seguien. Tot seguit escoltà un tret i al cap de poc notà que un petit objecte havia impactat a la seva esquena. La palpà amb la mà dreta i minuts més tard, caigué a terra mort. Devien ser dos quarts de set del matí quan un escombriaire descobrí el cadàver, observant que pujava per la dreta, un cotxe patrulla. Va fer senyals amb la mà, demanant ajuda, i els dos agents que anaven en l’interior s’aturaren dirigint-se cap a ell per a preguntar-li què li passava. Contest...

EL CAS FLENSBURG En aterrar l’avió procedent de Flensburg l’Alex Von Bachmeier demanà un taxi. El vehicle arribà en breus instants i el conductor li preguntà a on volia anar. Ell, amb el seu accent alemany, contestà en un català de parvulari: Dugui’m a la Plaça del Diamant número 19.  Això està fet. La carrera costarà vuit euros i mig. Trigaren una mitja hora en arribar al destí ja que el trànsit d’aquell migdia del 8 de juliol de 2018 , per a entrar a la ciutat comtal, s’havia de fer una cua d’uns trenta o quaranta quilòmetres des de l’aeroport; és a dir, era lent, l’embús. Al cap d’una llarga estona de veure edificis, cases, centres comercials i boulevards barcelonins, l’amable taxista digué al seu honrat client: Ja hem arribat. Aquí és on m’ha demanat que el porti. Moltes gràcies. Baixà del cotxe i el senyor Pérez, que així es com se’l coneixia a aquell amable conductor, ajudà al senyor Von Bachmeier a descarregar l’equipatge. Va somriure tot donant les gràcies ...