Best Murder Mystery Books Novels & Stories

Death is chaos. The way her expression changed when I told her about the bodily fluids—that was when I knew. She thinks it’s simple. She thinks I walk in, shoot someone, and it’s over. But it’s never that easy. Murder is an art, and like any masterpiece, it requires time, patience, and precision. In a way, it’s a lot like stalking. Not the person necessarily, but the location, the details. Everything has to be perfect.

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As written by Seattle Daily, “An unidentified body was found in the apartment of the richest most eligible bachelors in Seattle, The Hudson brothers who at this point are presumed the main suspects in this investigation whose whereabouts are currently unknown..” The blonde beauty sipped on her morning coffee while reading Seattle Daily, Downing the rest of her liquid drug in one huge gulp, she tied up her long blonde curls into a bun at the top off her head while sighing, two missing billionaires tofind and a murder case to solve, just another day at the office.

The teacher scolds us both, but all I can hear and see is his smile. He fixed me, he’s my serotonin, my very own drug. My feeling for him feels illegal, but he’ll still be my favorite crime. “Mr. Alex Sheperd and Mr. Conan Gray, this is not the time for chit chatting, now answer my question or you’ll meet the principal. “ We faced each other with a smile on our faces. We grabbed our bags and willingly took our punishment. This shocked our professor as he stopped talking until we left the room. We didn’t answer his question, it’s not like we could answer it anyway.

Now, she was dumping all the blame onto him. He suddenly pointed at Laura and shouted, “What nonsense are you talking about? How can a medical malpractice be pinned on me? Did you forget? I’m just an intern! I can’t even recognize all the surgical instruments! If you hadn’t insisted on making me the lead surgeon, would I have stepped onto the operating table? You were the one who mistook your own mother for Felix’s mother and deliberately handled the surgery carelessly! You’re the real murderer! You brought this on yourself. You killed your own mother!” The police had originally assumed this was just a simple civilian dispute, so they hadn’t expected it to involve a death. Their expressions

he smiled gratefully “ Wait. My books. I misplaced them back at the..” “Problem solved.” She interrupted jerking her thumb backwards at the direction of the dining table behind them. On it stood his books arranged neatly. “How did you…” He began. “I picked them up before saving your life.You didn’t see me carrying them while we were coming here?” She tilted her head sideways, giving him a questioning look. “No.” He replied and then shrugged. “Probably my mind wasn’t clear.” “Probably.” She repeated. A moment of silence passed between them before a thought popped up in Daniel’s mind.

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

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

Observing it he quirked a questioning brow at the title. Murderous case files, a thriller mystery book he had read years ago. Mainly consisting of gore and graphic details of killing he had dropped it, never even getting past the first chapter. If he recalled the very first sentence described a horrific scene of a man who had cut his wife's throat. Many would have stopped reading at the very first scene yet for some reason this woman was so intrigued with the book that she had nearly forgotten she was conversing with me. How interesting. The more I learn about her the more she seems to shock me.

Why hadn't he resisted when the police came? Unless… unless Roger had wanted to be arrested. Unless he hadn't killed anyone at all—he was protecting the real murderer. And that murderer could only be his wife. I immediately called the police with my discovery. This time, I didn't dial the emergency hotline. I called the officer who had been in touch with me from the start. After a pause, he admitted, "There was actually another detail that never made sense: Edmund's phone. We eventually found it across from your apartment, but there was no SIM card. Roger claimed he removed it and burned it so we couldn't track him."