Good Mystery Books Novels & Stories

I take one last look at myself until I strike a pose and say,"Perfect," I hear mom from downstairs telling me to hurry up, so I grab my book bag and put on my glasses and was about to leave my room until I remember my most important thing. I go to my book-shelf and pull out a book that reads, Gone Girl by Giliian Flynn on the front cover. I've always loved mysteries; I can't remember one day where I wasn't watching Criminal Minds or Goosebumps in my room.

I sat beside her, and she immediately stretched her legs back out, her feet landing in my lap. "What are you reading?" She held up the book without looking away from the page. "A mystery novel. A detective in Victorian London." I caught sight of the cover. A woman in a low-cut dress leaned against a man in a top hat, their faces inches apart in the fog. The Scarlet Letter Murders. I grabbed the book from her hands. "Hey!" She sat up, reaching for it. I flipped through a few pages. My eyes landed on a passage. His mouth found the hollow of her throat as his fingers worked the laces of her corset…

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?”

Most things are about detectives and all their boring stuff but something tells me to go through it because I might know a thing or two. I've opened almost all the books on the first shelf. Turns out detective books are not so bad. I also passed out my time by checking some of the murder novels on the shelve. One really caught my interest. Dying to call you by Elaine Viet. It's about a girl finding her sister's murderer and all that.

Just muttered, “Feel free to browse.” I nodded and wandered. The silence was thick. Peaceful. I ran my fingers along the spines—mysteries, war history, sci-fi. None of it felt right. I turned a corner and found myself in a crooked, narrow aisle. A handwritten label above the shelf read: “Folklores, Myths & Things Best Left Alone.” Something about it made me shiver. I reached out and picked a worn, black-spined book: “The Blood and Bond of the Wild.”

As she passed the kitchen, she paused, glancing in without meaning to. “But it feels like real,” she murmured, narrowing her eyes. There was nothing out of place, no dirty dishes or lingering smells. But something felt different. Drawn by a sudden curiosity, she walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. She froze. It was full. Fresh vegetables, bottles of juice, eggs, cheese, Lucien’s favorite almond milk. Groceries she hadn’t bought. Her lips parted in disbelief. “It was true,” she said, a slow smile forming.

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.

"Pack life is... less inhibited than human society." Inside the bag, they found several leather-bound volumes with ancient-looking symbols embossed on their covers, a small wooden box carved with lunar phases, and a sealed envelope addressed to "Detective Richard O'Connor, Newly Awakened." "Your brother has a flair for the dramatic," Rick observed, holding up the envelope. "All Blackwoods do," Nathaniel said with a hint of amusement. "It's practically genetic." Casie shot him a look but couldn't deny the truth of it. "Open the letter first. Knowing Liam, it's a roadmap to everything else."

The ancient tome lay open before me, its pages a labyrinth of inscrutable symbols and faded script that murmured of a time long forgotten. The musty scent of the library mingled with the potent tang of old leather, wrapping around my senses as I bent closer to study the enigmatic text. Curiosity clawed at my mind, sharpening my focus until nothing existed beyond the cryptic messages waiting to be unraveled. ... (Time Travel: revelation of the mystery book) EDEN BENTLEY'S POV

Motionless. "We need to go." Arthur mutter so casually, but I am trapped. Sitting between the broken kitchen cupboard and a dead man whose blood surround me. "Чертова баба." Arthur curse in his language picking up my shaking body from the floor and draping me over his shoulder. He step over the blood and between the two dead men plastered to the floor then bend his knees lowering himself to pick up a black suitcase from the floor before we exit the door. "Where are we going?" I clean my dry throat watching Arthur switch gears and picking up pace. I don't recognise the car inside I glance over the dash trying to search for a hint to what the make of the car is.