Best Murder Mystery Novels Novels & Stories

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

My husband, Leon Hobbs, calls me to tell me that his grandma, Phoebe Reid, has forgotten to bring her blood pressure medication, so he wants me to deliver it to her. "Hurry up, Elsie! Grandma's blood pressure is spiking again! You're the one who's closest to her right now!" With the medication in hand, I've just reached the corridor when comments pop up on my phone out of nowhere. "Don't go! The old lady will die in the living room ten minutes after you enter the apartment!" "The blood pressure medication has been swapped out for poison, and your prints are on the bottle! Everyone will think that you're the one who poisoned the old lady!" "Your husband and your mother-in-law have left the apartment purposefully so that you'll be the only one facing the old lady's corpse! Then, they'll use the assets that you and the old lady have left behind just to buy a new home for your husband's pregnant mistress!" I remain rooted to the spot as I stare at the bottle of medication. Leon had passed it to me last night, claiming that it was a bottle of newly prescribed medication. He wanted me to keep it for Phoebe for the time being. My fingerprints are all over the bottle at this time. Three seconds later, I turn on my heel and head toward the nearest pharmacy. Then, I place the bottle of pills on the counter. "Please help me check whether or not this bottle of medication fits the label."

Acadia Dimitri, just a few weeks after graduation navigates between two part-time jobs. Despite this, she holds her head high and works with grace and resilience. Her chestnut-tousled hair, the only inheritance from her mom that no one could take from her stood out as evidence of her efforts to put herself together. She stumbles across a job opportunity in her dream country, one of the prestigious companies in New York, D. M. Corps. Ltd. She is elated when she gets the job. Her first day at her new job becomes a memorable one when she collides with the company's CEO, Dante Maximilliano. His piercing eyes looked into her soul searching for answers she couldn't give. She felt a jolt of electricity surge through her. But he does something shocking, he walks out on her without saying a word. She is left to mull over the evident attraction she felt towards him. As time went on, they felt drawn towards each other, only for Dante to find out that the secret he so desperately wanted to keep hidden had a connection with Acadia. What will happen now? Will their relationship stand all trials or will they get drowned in a world full of danger, chaos, and betrayals?

Someone steals my takeout at the school gate. It is from a BBQ restaurant. Not only does the thief eat it all, but he also humiliates me in front of my classmates. He mocks, "Look, everyone! This is what a pauper would eat. Even my dog eats better than this!" He pulls out a stack of cash and slaps one bill against my face. Then, he tosses the rest into the air. "Happy birthday, beggar!" Three days later, he is burned to death in the alley behind the school, his limbs stretched out and tied to a tree. He is literally "grilled." And I become the murderer.

My roommates booked a New Year's Eve light show table—five hundred per person—and started urging me in the group chat to transfer the money. I quietly sent a screenshot of my account balance. "You guys go ahead," I wrote. "I haven't even scraped together my tuition yet." They replied with a string of mocking "haha"s. Our dorm leader, Giselle Murdoch, even posted on her social media with the caption: [The first step to crossing class boundaries is distancing yourself from people who kill the mood.] Just after midnight, they sent me a photo from the light show and said, "Too bad you're not here." I frowned, confused, when my counselor's call cut in—her voice tight with urgency. "Did you invite your roommates to the light show? The organizers said they never even checked in! They're missing!"

When I'm three months pregnant, I fall down the stairs at home and end up losing my unborn baby. Since then, I'm immersed in the sorrow of losing my baby. On top of that, I hate myself for being careless during my pregnancy. But my husband, Domenico Ferrante, doesn't blame me at all. Instead, he keeps staying by my side and taking good care of me. "Honey, we'll still have another baby in the future. Don't be sad, okay?" I thought I married my true love. But on the day I get discharged, I overhear a conversation between Domenico and his Underboss, Rocco Carini. "Have you cleaned up the oil spill at the stairway? Nadia is about to get discharged. Don't let her discover the truth." After Rocco makes all arrangements, he hesitates for a moment before telling Domenico, "Don Ferrante, if the Donna ever finds out that you're the one behind her miscarriage, she will never forgive you." Domenico falls silent for a moment. Then, he replies casually, "I will never let Nadia find out the truth. Valentina has finally gotten pregnant after so long—I won't let anyone threaten her child's inheritance right. This is the vow I've made to Valentina in the past. "As for Nadia, she will always be my wife even if she doesn't have a child." It turns out that this isn't an accident. My own husband actually makes me miscarry our child just for the sake of another woman. Heartbroken, I call my older brother, Alessio Nucci. "Alessio, Domenico has killed my child. I want to divorce him and leave him forever." After a moment of silence, Alessio says in a cold, harsh tone, "Fake your death, then. Only after you've completely vanished from this world can Domenico forever live in the pain of not being able to find you ever again."

When I was ten years old, both my parents passed away. My sister, Brianna, and I only had each other left. We were tormented at the orphanage before the Larsons adopted us. They doted on Brianna and me, and even allowed their daughter, Vivian Larson, to get engaged to me when I was 20 years old. It was a wonderful tale of love. Vivian didn't let any of us down. She would have given me the moon if she could, and she loved me with all her heart. During the ten years we spent with the Larsons, Brianna and I led a good life and never suffered at all. The night before we got married, Vivian took out a treasured bottle of vintage wine. It was to be served at our wedding. However, I poisoned the wine and killed everyone in the Larson family, including my own sister.

Just when everything was going as planned Joanne was feeling the stress of her wedding and scheduled a doctor's appointment. A couple days later she gets a call that stops her plans in their tracks. "Ms. Hart, you're pregnant." Will all her best days ever come crashing to an end?

I’d been married to my husband James for three years. On Valentine’s Day, he gave his stepsister, Mia, one hundred and eighty thousand dollars, along with millions in jewelry. I, on the other hand, received a free bouquet of roses. When I didn’t look thrilled, he accused me of being a gold digger. “Mia never had anyone to care for her growing up. Why are you competing with her? Isn’t being Mrs. Smith enough to feed your vanity?” Furious, I stormed out of the house. When a car lost control and came barreling toward me, he instinctively rushed to protect Mia, who was standing a full ten feet from the road. I was the one who ended up in the hospital. Lying in that bed, I finally gave up. I signed the divorce papers without hesitation. “Giving up the title of Mrs. Smith is the dumbest decision you’ll ever make,” he told me, looking down at me from above before walking away. Seven years later, we met again. He took one glance at my simple dress and laughed out loud. I didn’t bother to respond. I just held my daughter close and waited for her father—the richest man in the city—to arrive.

Dra. Zee Katie Liu Zamora finally meets the man she's been waiting for but in critical condition. As she tries to save him, memories kept flashing back. Will she be able to find the right playlist to tune or will she repeat the same playlist again?