Funny Mystery Novels Novels & Stories

I replied, shaking his hand briefly before pulling it back, a tingle left in its place. “So, Kalia, what’s so captivating in that book of yours that you almost missed the best coffee in town?” He nodded toward my cup. I tilted my head, considering him. “You are assuming I don’t already know that this place has the best coffee.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fair enough. But now I’m curious about the book.” I held it up, the cover facing him. “It’s a mystery novel. Keeps me on my toes.” He leaned in slightly, intrigued. “A mystery, huh? So, you like solving puzzles?”

“I’ve been writing, too.” I stared at him, utterly stunned. “You? Writing?” He laughed, a rich, joyful sound that carried on the wind. “Don’t look so surprised. You’re not the only one with a story to tell.” He pulled a small, black moleskine notebook from his coat pocket. “It’s not a memoir. It’s… well, it’s a mystery. About a grumpy, retired surgeon who gets pulled into solving a crime in his sleepy coastal town.” I burst out laughing, the sound mingling with the crash of the waves. “Arthur! You’re writing a murder mystery?”

I am his best friend who has been in love with him for fifteen years when I should be using this time to get over him. I patted the sofa, dusted the shelves and put my books in a row. I am a bibliophile and a strong one at that. Sherlock Holmes and Augustus Dupin are by far my most favourite ones, me being a fan of mystery thrillers. I am such an addict of criminal profiling that I actually have list and screenshots of wanted criminals or serial killers on my phone. Serial killings were always my favourite ones, as they have something In common and it always piqued my curiosity as to why there are still serial killers like Jack the Ripper or Stripper on lease. I guess not

“So the guy’s getting anonymous links to an underground darknet site.” “By guy you mean DC Harlow, right? The detective whose wife and child were burned alive.” “That’s right.” “Very Derek Raymond.” “What?” “The protagonist I mean, like the unnamed police officer who narrates all of Raymond’s Factory novels.” “Oh yeah, yes, that’s it exactly.”

“Back before you were a world-famous author, huh?” Brad laughed. “Yeah, back then I was working for my hometown paper writing obituaries.” “So your work hasn’t changed too much; you’re still writing about death.” “I suppose you could look at it that way.” “I’ll confess I haven’t actually read any of your books. I know of you by reputation, but I’m a bit too squeamish for horror. A mystery, on the other hand, suits me just fine.” “Hey, to each his own. Or her own. I like mysteries, too; in some ways they share similar elements with horror.”

he smiled mischievously, humour in his expression, and she felt a sudden warmth spread through her, seeing a side to him that was endearing. “What is your favourite book Genevieve ?” he asked her as he put a piece of bread and cheese in his mouth. “I tend to read books on ghosts and things like that.” He laughed, “Why?” “I guess it’s the mystery of the unknown, the fascination of whether it’s true or not.” “I see what you mean. Everyone loves a good mystery don’t they? Especially to things that we can never really know the truth about.” He looked at her perceptively. Again she felt as though his words held hidden meaning and guilt flooded her at the thought of her true intentions.

I groaned. “There's also dead body turns up and no one knows who dunnit but special detective finds clues and takes out the bad guy in the nick of time.” Ryan laughed along with me. “Hey, I like reading those.” I chuckled, “A good mystery never hurt anybody.” “I want a mystery where the serial killer takes out the detective but dies in a hit and run as he tried to flee town.” Ryan quipped, bending to study another raunchy book cover. “I'm sure there's a book with that title somewhere.” I found myself relaxing a bit more. “Now that we're talking about it, maybe that's what I'm in the mood for. A good mystery.”

She learned how to bake a proper cake later, which turned out to be a good thing after all. Jeremy did not know what they were talking about when Clara started kicking him under the table. With her murderous glare, it seems like Sebastian had touched a raw nerve. ‘Deal’s off,’ Clara mouths to him and uses her finger to slash her throat. ‘Jeremy, maybe you can answer me this question,’ Sebastian said. ‘What exactly happened last night? Your sister said it was food poisoning, but was it that painful that it made her cry?’ Jeremy laughed out loud, which surprised both Sebastian and Clara. The image Sebastian painted was so funny that he couldn’t stop. ‘Ha ha ha… your butt... hurt too much… ha h

After school, as he walked pass me, he squeezed something to my palm and left without saying a word. "Even the mystery boy gave you a gift" Charles said behind me and I flinched. "Let's see what he gave you" Charles said. I opened my palm. I and Charles gasped as we gaped at the strange gift. . . . TBC

“It’s true. We can’t trust anyone.” A long air of heavy silence fell once more. They only ate and relieved themselves of the worries. This is a time for nourishment and not anxiety. But the backs of their mind knew that the danger is still very real. Someone is plotting something somewhere, waiting for the right moment in time. And soon, they’ll all be six feet under. “I have an idea,” said Agatha. “Let’s go mystery hunting. You know, like the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew?” The two only responded in blinks, feeling like the idea was too preposterous.