Locked Room Mysteries Novels & Stories

Even if it did, unless the water was cut off, a toilet would still work. At least five seconds passed before he finally moved. He walked down the hall. He had to keep up the act. I locked the door tight, my suspicion solidifying into certainty. Something was very wrong with him. I stayed pressed to the door, listening for every sound, watching through the peephole. Before long, Roger returned. He lingered outside his door for a moment, then abruptly turned and walked toward mine. He knocked. My throat tightened. I gulped, frozen in place, trembling despite myself.

The carpet in front of the east staircase was worn down in a path that led away from the main rooms, toward the back of the house. I followed the path. It led to a door. A door I had seen before. A door that had been locked the last time I tried it. The locked room. But tonight, the door was open. Just a crack. Just enough for a sliver of light to escape. Someone had been here. Someone had forgotten to lock it behind them. I pushed the door open slowly. It swung inward on silent hinges. The room beyond was small and cold and filled with filing cabinets. Metal ones. Gray ones. The kind you see in offices and government buildings and places where secrets are kept.

As Lilith reached the end of the hall, Cleopatra returned to my side. "Did you get them all?" Lilith asked, her hands brushing against the stone wall. It was a peculiar place to have a stone wall when the rest of the house's interior was drywall, but a faint clicking sound gave way to my suspicions as she pushed a stone into place, unlocking a hidden door. "Yes. All spies have been dealt with." I fought the urge to vomit at the mental picture that formed in my mind—not wanting to imagine how Cleopatra dealt with the so-called spies, though, by the rather plump spot in her long body, I could hazard a few guesses.

Clearly, there weren’t any obvious clues suggesting that there could be anything of interest to Moira, so she moved to the study, next door. However, the study door was locked. It immediately dawned on Moira that everything that needed to be kept secret had to be in the study. It made perfect sense why it would be locked. Getting a key would be next to impossible; and trying to steal it threatened to be a fatal endeavour. She moved to the third room, what Skinner said was Angelo’s mysterious second bedroom. The door was not locked. Immediately upon stepping into this room, one thing stood out; there were pictures everywhere. Moira suddenly noticed that there were no pictures hanging on the w

I went up to the third floor of the Mansion and I was amazed because there was a Recreation Room, Leisure Room, Mini-Bar, Library, Gym, Gaming Room, and other rooms. With so many, I don't know what the others are for. But among those... there was one room that caught my attention... the Room at the end of the hallway. I don't know but when I saw that, I immediately felt different. It's like something is pulling me in. So don't blame me, if I was able to step over to the door and turn the lock. Case... the door is locked. And.. I don't have a key. I quickly looked for Joyce. I saw him in the Laundry Area, I immediately asked him for the key to the Room I saw.

“It’s very true crime, very ‘will they or won’t they get murdered.’ I like a motel room with a little bit of an edge. Keeps things exciting.” I somehow manage to roll my eyes and glare at him at once, dropping his hand and sweeping into the room. Roger laughs behind me as he closes the door. I quickly approach the slim bed in the center of the room, leaning over to take a good look at the stained blanket on the top.

Sophia chirps before we hang up. I eagerly wait for her to arrive in the living room. When Sophia finally enters the living room, she greets me with a grin. "So, spill the tea. What's going on with you?" I lean in, lowering my voice. "I need to know about that locked room at the end of the hall. Nathan claims it's just junk, but I don't buy it. Do you know anything about it?" Sophia's expression turns serious. "Ah, the mysterious locked room. Vincent's little sanctuary. Why do you care?"

"We're here!" Jane arrived with a few friends in tow. She had brought four people with her—two men and two women. It was the lady who sold password-locked doors and three of her locksmiths. They brought with them all sorts of lockpicking tools, including a cutting machine. We quickly rushed to the basement door and began to try to break in. The door was especially thick, much like the anti-theft ones used at banks. It was so sturdy that even removing the lock cylinder couldn't unlock the door.

If only the little boy would give her more detailed answers, she would be so much closer to unravelling this mystery. Rachel cast her light toward the door opposite the station, the one from her vision. She inhaled deeply, walking toward it. When she reached it, she gingerly touched the wooden door, its paint peeling and fading with time and neglect. It stuck as she pushed against it and it took several tries before it opened all the way. The room was devoid of furnishing. Stains, appearing to be blood, formed a grim mosaic against the walls and Rachel stepped back as the smell of blood assailed her senses.

A streaming light from the moon penetrated through the window to illuminate a small room. A room which held two captives.Jake groaned as part of the moonlight bathed his face,rousing him awake. He tried to move but discovered to his dismay that his hands were chained to the wall.