Quotes About Suspense

The man may not be dead, but he was certainly stiff. And this had nothing to do with rigor mortis.

Don't cross me Scooby-Doo. I'm not an old man in a mask waiting to be thwarted by you meddling kids.

Here we are. Maybe I should warn you before we enter...(Asmodeus) (Jericho stepped past him and threw open the door.) Or maybe not. Let's just barge in and be surprised, shall we? (Asmodeus)

All right, kids. We're going to a party where they don't like us very much. Everyone know what they're doing? (Sin) Not a clue, but I think certain death and dismemberment is in my forecast, followed by a light rain of guys and flayed skin. (Kish)

Someone stake that bastard, please, and for the sake of the gods, dust Benny off the table by the fountain. The powder's disgusting and it's getting into the blood. (Apollite)

Where's he shooting from? (Syd) I don't know. You want to go look out the window and tell me the answer? (Steele)

One of the most difficult and ironic murder weapons is the life jacket.

THE SAINT, detective drama, based on the novels by Leslie Charteris.

It is difficult to overstate the impact that this program had on children of the 1940s. This writer vividly remembers an episode when the Shadow tracked down a murdering scarecrow. When the killer's coat was ripped off, revealing nothing but straw, the implications were so terrifying that the young writer-to-be could not sleep in an unlighted room for weeks. Today it's the highest of all high camp, scaring neither the aging collector nor his jaded children.

The Stealer in the Night was Jory Ruhl.

Ik weet niet of het iemand interesseert,' zei hij voorzichtig, 'maar er lijkt een piratenschip op ons af te komen!

COSTS "Riveting

Sloane los vio desaparecer bajo la superficie negra del agua. Y esperó. Una hora como mínimo. Nada. Los buceadores se tomaron un descanso. Vio que bebían café y hablaban con los demás policías. Después volvieron a equiparse y se sumergieron de nuevo en el río. Otra hora. Nada.

He could sense a fierce tautness in the cheap air of the tunnel, almost like entering a medical ward where disease lingers in the corners and no one has ever opened a window to bring in fresh air.

Ruth Rendell, Jonathon Kellerman, Len Deighton . . . clever writers, all of them. No romance, or supernatural, or street-level cop novels here. Psychological mysteries. Suspense. Kellerman was even himself a psychologist. Quinn figured the readers of such books got their enjoyment out of trying to outwit the writers. Would Ida or her late husband be the sort to write critical Amazon

sense the story like an approaching storm

Baines came up behind him, a hulking form, breathing softly. He smelled of soap and wine and rosewater and lightly of fresh sweat.

Every eye in the room saw Cliodhna's white, white fingers, sharp nails crimson as wet berries, catch my sleeve, saw me turn around and duck my head to speak into her ear.

She was not prepared for Mallory to pull away before Rien thought the kiss was half finished, quickly nipping at Rien's lower lip and then pressing a finger against it. And then it was dark eyes, brown and transparent as coffee, with green and amber flecks swimming under the surface of Mallory's breath across her mouth.

She flitted from shadow to shadow, but he finally caught sight of her silhouetted against the lights in the eye-shattering cacophany of Times Square.

It wasn't difficult to discover where the courtesan in the domino mask lived: not far from the murdered boys, which was as Sebastien would have wagered.

A good mystery keeps you up on Saturday night. A bad mystery puts you to sleep on Sunday afternoon. Either way, you come out ahead.

I cocked my eyebrow at her. "Are you kidding me, Clare?" I indicated to the dead man on the broken pine table. "There is a dead Rogue in your kitchen." " Why is there a dead Rogue in my kitchen?" "Because I killed him in there.

As I glanced up I had looked straight towards the last house in the row before me, and in an upper window of that house I had seen for some short fraction of a second a face. It was the face of a woman, and yet it was not human.