Best Murder Mysteries Of All-time Novels & Stories

Her shoulders trembled. The prosecutor continued. "Forensic analysis shows the child didn't die instantly. If he had received timely medical treatment, his survival rate would have exceeded 70 percent. It was the defendant who personally prevented rescue efforts and directly caused her son's death. "This was not negligence, and it wasn't an accident. It was a premeditated murder. She simply killed the wrong person." Esther's lawyer had no response. In the end, the judge brought down the gavel. Esther Lawson was found guilty of intentional homicide and sentenced to 15 years in prison.

The policemen, realizing something was off from their conversation, brought them in. One of the policemen addressed Clifford, "Mr. Holmes, based on what we know, your wife was hospitalized after she developed lobar pneumonia. She passed away the night before Easter. The hospital explained that her death was a result of a heart attack triggered by emotional turmoil, but things seem to be more complicated from the conversation you shared with Ms. Harding."

A black maria zoomed along the highway in the late night. It’s noise loud enough to disturb the peace and serenity of the evening. The front and passenger seats were occupied by two policemen who were chatting away, while the back was occupied by criminals who had just received judgment and sat in handcuffs. The air was filled with gloom as none of the criminals made any sound. Each to his own thoughts. “I swear to God, Arsenal has to be the most useless team I have ever seen in my life.” The cop who was driving cursed as his face squeezed in anger.

It was as if he was standing in front of a closed door, aware of the secret it guarded. ‘But why would you think that way?’ protested the sub-inspector defiantly. ‘I know this is a high-profile case, and that the grim and strange facts lend it a character of its own. But every case does not require us to employ higher powers of observation and intricate analysis of the criminal mind. Sometimes, it boils downs to that one simple question. What was the motive? And from all the statements that I have collected, I am confident that this was a murder that had to be done. It was urgent. Type one in your nomenclature. The victim was murdered and then some clues were scrambled here and there to misl

Enraged, they hurled stones and dirty water at me. "Officer, execute him as soon as possible! We won't feel safe otherwise!" "Damn it–this kind of monster kills, dumps the body, cheats on his wife, and still tries to frame her? He deserves to die!" "He must be a psychopath–who else would murder someone and dump the body in broad daylight?" Suddenly, a thought struck me. I struggled again and shouted, "Officer–after all this, who exactly are you saying I killed?"

“When we found him, he was dead.” Daniel cut me off. “In his own home. Murdered. “Time of death was around four yesterday afternoon. Before your company even left for the escape room. “The weapon was an axe. “And on the doorknob of his apartment, we recovered a fingerprint.” Daniel lifted a fingerprint comparison report. The red markings made my eyes ache. “After analysis, that fingerprint… belongs to you.”

Bob said, chuckling. “Oh I don’t think that’s worse than investigating multiple murders, in which the only clue is the loans that they all the victims owe a certain bank”. “Yeah speaking of which, Danny I’m calling to tell you that you would have to open another case file, a fifth one” Bob said. Danny winced at the thought of having yet another victim of the mysterious killer. “Who’s the latest victim?” he asked “Owen Mclean an English businessman who deals mainly in real estate, I’d have my secretary send an email of the victim’s details to you, for profiling” Bob said.

"Have mine. No worries, I don't got cooties." "Mmm," she tilted her head in an attempt to nod her thanks then stared at her palms for a moment before she realized what she was doing. She clasped her hands in her lap and looked up slowly. When she reached Mr. Policeman's face, he was staring at her with a slight arch to one eyebrow, but other than that, he seemed expressionless. His eyes were mesmerizing. They were hazel, medium brown, rimmed, getting lighter in color inwards with flecks of greens, the insides turning almost to liquid gold right before her eyes. She stared at them wondering what liquid gold tasted like. Perhaps somewhat like honey liquor sweet and smooth on the tongue but bur

But their deaths all seem to have happened close together, sometime between 1 and 3 AM. Detective Captain Alex Bell turned to me then, his eyes sharp, pinning me in place. "You were in that car, too. You must've experienced the same altitude and freezing temps." I nodded, my throat dry and tight. He studied me, as if he was trying to peel back layers. But instead of pushing harder on that point, he switched gears. "You're sure you went to sleep around 10 PM, and you didn't wake up once? Didn't notice anything strange?"

That makes Owen a nice chunk of change on the side. Walking towards his work shop out behind the motel, he passes the newest guests that checked in last night. Three teenage boys and two girls. They are making a documentary of locations across the country that had been the scene of a grizzly crime. They were telling him that they had already filmed nearly one hundred places, the most famous being the Lizzie Borden house, the Amityville Horror House, Ed Gein's house, Jeffery Dahmer's house, and the Vallisca Ax Murder House. They told him they were on there way to California to see the Manson Mansion. Owen feigned interest before politely slipping away before they could ask him to 'say a few w