Good Murder Mystery Books Novels & Stories

I didn't know what to type, I just stared at his last message. Mystery man: So you are also a writer on Goodnovel, share me the l**k to your book. I will like to check it out. Me: Just type in itchy fingers or either My daughter's Nanny or Yes, master in the search space. I have two books on the platform, you can check any out. Mystery man: My daughter's Nanny? Is it romance? Me: Yes, of course. A mafia romance. Mystery man: I can tell you are an hopeless romantic.

Her hands tightened around the case files, the paper crumpling beneath her grip. Was Damian Voss a suspect? Or was he something worse? Evelyn leaned back in her chair, rubbing her head, the weight of the evidence pressing down on her. It wasn’t enough to make an arrest, but it all pointed in one direction—Damian Voss. Billionaire. Businessman. Untouchable. And somehow, connected to these murders. Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise—something shifting outside her window. Evelyn tensed, reaching for her gun. She lived on the fourth floor. No one should be out there.

Everything seemed calm, as if the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something terrible. At the police station, the atmosphere was heavy, filled with the exhaustion of piling investigations and the constant chatter of conversations. Daniel Martin, a police inspector in his thirties, was going through the files with a tired gaze. A recent investigation occupied all his thoughts—a gruesome murder in the city's upscale neighborhood. The victim, a respected and influential man, had been found in his apartment, shot multiple times in the heart. Everyone had theories about the murderer, but the truth, so far, remained out of reach. The main suspect, however, was a woman. A young woman

BELLA The 21-year-old girl from North Carolina, missing for ten months, found dead. Suicide or murder?—the morning headline said. I was tired of hearing Mamma’s sob every time I entered this house. The more I wanted to forget what I had seen, the more I sank. The feeling of guilt seared within me, like a flame that never douted. “I don’t understand why the police are claiming it to be suicide when it isn’t,” Val said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “She goes missing for a year straight. Then, she’s found drowned in a lake.”

That would be emotional suicide. I moved away from the romance section quickly, like it might contaminate me somehow. Crime thriller. I'd read a crime thriller. Something with murder and investigations and absolutely zero sexual tension. That was safer. Much safer. I browsed the mystery section and pulled out a book I'd heard good things about. A detective novel set in London. Dark, gritty, complex. Perfect. I carried it to one of the comfortable chairs by the window and settled in. The chair was incredibly comfortable—soft leather that seemed to mold around me. There was a small side table with a reading lamp. A footstool I could put my feet up on.

Crime? In his case crime really did pay it would seem. Everything about him screamed money. It was so different to me. He was so different to me and maybe that’s why I was so attracted to him. Not for his money but because like he had said he was so darkly dangerous. Even dressed casually like he was, it poured off of him in waves.

After repositioning myself back onto it, I spread the afghan over both of us. After thanking me, profusely, for the warmth, she cocked her head in mock thought. “Such a mystery. He doesn’t want us to rob a bank with him or something, does he? Tell me he’s not broke and this isn’t all a façade.” “If only he just wanted us to rob a bank,” I said in a whiny tone. “I could handle that a lot better, I think.” “Don’t leave me in suspense, Esmerelda,” she scolded. “You know how I hate it. That’s why I could never do what you do. I can’t stand mystery.”

The man was detective Sawyer and the woman was Angela his assistant, then after the exchange of pleasantries, silence fell on them and it itched her to ask about the updates so she did like she wanted to do. “Well?” “As I told you earlier, we have the suspects with us but unfortunately one died due to the injuries he sustained and the other two are in custody with us with just some injuries” he explained to her and she closed her eyes then opened them again to look at them both. “Are you ready ma’am?” he asked “Yes,” she said boldly but could feel her limbs shake and couldn’t know why she felt like that “I want to meet them now” she answered and he turned to Angela then gave her a nod which

I did my best to take care not to scratch the leather, but when it fell into my arms, I noticed what looked like a fresh dig. Books were not as common in that era as they were in the future so I felt bad about causing damage to it. My lamenting lasted only briefly. An intense curiosity took over just as soon as I realized that it was a journal. It was not just any journal, either. This journal belonged to the late Elsbeth Sleuth. Could the deep, dark family secret be discovered within its pages? I simply had to find out. Lowering myself into a comfy nearby chair, I opened to the first page and focused on the elaborate handwriting. It took some time to familiarize myself with her dramat

, the walls were painted a deep shade of brown, that were so warm against the reflection of the dim lighting. "Wow, lovely room...she does know how to make simplicity beautiful." He soliloqized. At least he could spend some time knowing her on his own. His attention was also drawn to a tall, white vase sitting prettily on another table near the door. Inside the vase, there were three red roses blooming. And as he observed them, he realized that there was a pint of blood on the petals, and a part of the vase. "How did this get here?" He wondered, concluding that she must have spilled some blood from her bruise. He ignored the blood and went over to the small bookshelf standing behind the vase