Novel & Cerita Best Mystery Books

A moment later, a piece of paper slid through the narrow gap beneath my door. The footsteps retreated in haste. I peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. I didn't touch the note, afraid of smudging fingerprints. Instead, I crouched and read the words on it: I know the truth about Edmund's death. Come to the big banyan tree in Greenfield Residences at 11 p.m. Don't call the police. The note was crafted with meticulous care—letters cut out from newspapers and books, pieced together like a ransom demand, leaving no trace of handwriting.

That’s what saved you from ending up like those other poor guys. I just grinned and tapped my nose. Sitting alone at the kitchen table, I popped open a pack of ramen and flicked on the TV. "Today, our city was rocked by a spree of break-ins and murders, all targeting rich single men. The cops cracked the case wide open, rounding up a whole gang of suspects.” As I listened to the news anchor's report, I could not help but think there was some truth to the saying that after the storm is when the flowers bloomed.

It all started in the summer of 2018, with the mysterious disappearance of the two wealthiest men in Seattle. 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..”

I beamed. "Crazy, isn't it?" "Fucking crazy, for real." "First, we put THE DA VINCI CODE by DAN BROWN here." He picked out the book and inserted it in the center line of the shelf. He put HOW TO STOP TIME by MATT HAIG, followed by EVERGREEN by NAOMI HIRAHARA. "Then KISS THE GIRLS by JAMES PATTERSON." He put it next to the first book. "I've read that." I went on in a spur of excitement. "It's a thriller and mystery novel about a detective who's trying to track down a serial killer. So many twists and cliffhangers. Total page-turner." I giggled.

“It is about an unknown kind of brain cancer. I just got a report from one of my friends that this kind of cancer has been the cause of many deaths in his vicinity, and we don’t know anything about it yet. I have never seen anything like it before when studied the sample of the affected brain cell that was sent to me. I need a trusted and hardworking individual like you to work with me on this project. Can you do that?” Miss Simpson asked and everything she said truly got me intrigued about the project. I had never heard of a case like that before. I needed unique cases like that to broaden my knowledge. “Yes, ma’am. I will love to help with the project. What do you need me to do, ma’am?” I

He thought that was what made it fun, not knowing what you were going to read for the day, and he reveled in that surprise. Some days he could be reading an action novel and another day he could be reading a cookbook. As Dmitri looked at the cover of his book, he smiled. It was a mystery thriller novel. He was excited to read it because it had been a while since he had last read a novel like this one. Just as Dmitri was getting cozy, he heard the bell above the entrance door jingle. He didn't think anything of it. It wasn't like he was the only one who knew this place.

She said Frowned. "I didn't mean that. I was just asking." He said. "Yes I like to read story books. Especially this book. It is a story about a warrior who lost his master. His senior killed his master to take his master's secret diary. Now the warrior run away with the book to save. This story is just like my story. That's why I like this book." She replied with her head down. The story book was in her hands and her eyes were staring at the book. Her tears fall down on the book.

She knew the scent before she even opened the box—it was her mother’s recipe. Her eyes narrowed. There was no way he could’ve known that. Not unless… She stepped into the hallway and glanced down the corridor, heart starting to pound just slightly. Her eyes scanned the flood of bodies—interns in scrubs, gurneys rolling past, a code blue being paged overhead. And then, through the shifting crowd, she saw a mysterious man. He stood halfway down the corridor, half-hidden behind a group of surgical residents chatting near the elevators. His face was obscured by a black KN95, and a baseball cap sat low on his brow, but even through the layers, something about his presence felt… familiar.

We were doomed to be shamed and die. Underground Writer 101 had become a pain to all of our asses. It seemed like she had more interest in spying on Mafioso than she had in saving her life if she were to be discovered one day. The blog had even spread the rumours of Matteo being the one who had killed his wife. “Stop panicking, Bells.” My head snapped in Val’s direction as she put the lasagna tray in the oven, side-glancing at me. “Stop panicking? You're kidding me. How are you not panicking?”