Murder Mystery Fiction Books Novels & Stories

He always carries it with him. Slowly realization dawned upon her. Her hands started to tremble. She understood everything. The murderer was from inside the castle. Always been inside. Always been one of them. Her own blood. Her brother. ‘How could he kill him? His own father?’, she looked imploring at Argus. Tears were streaking silently down her eyes, upon her cheeks onto her lap. Her face was contorted with pain. The death of her father and the betrayal of her brother was too much to handle for her.

It was as if he was standing in front of a closed door, aware of the secret it guarded. ‘But why would you think that way?’ protested the sub-inspector defiantly. ‘I know this is a high-profile case, and that the grim and strange facts lend it a character of its own. But every case does not require us to employ higher powers of observation and intricate analysis of the criminal mind. Sometimes, it boils downs to that one simple question. What was the motive? And from all the statements that I have collected, I am confident that this was a murder that had to be done. It was urgent. Type one in your nomenclature. The victim was murdered and then some clues were scrambled here and there to misl

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…

The policemen, realizing something was off from their conversation, brought them in. One of the policemen addressed Clifford, "Mr. Holmes, based on what we know, your wife was hospitalized after she developed lobar pneumonia. She passed away the night before Easter. The hospital explained that her death was a result of a heart attack triggered by emotional turmoil, but things seem to be more complicated from the conversation you shared with Ms. Harding."

All I could think of was the memory of the white cloth being pulled over Marie's lifeless body. I never thought Gigi would be the culprit who killed Marie. I couldn't stop myself from lunging at Gigi and choking her. "Annette! Have you lost your mind?" Zachary roared. He grabbed my arm and threw me aside, making me fall onto the ground.

The crime scene was processed with the usual efficiency, but Casie felt the weight of the note in her pocket like a stone. As she and Rick drove to meet the Captain, she stared out the window, mind racing through possibilities. The symbols, the wounds, that ancient script—all pointed to something far beyond their department's usual homicides. "You're quiet," Rick observed, navigating through morning traffic. "More quiet than usual, I mean." "Just processing," she replied, the half-truth coming naturally after years of hiding her true nature. "These kills are escalating. The first two were found in abandoned buildings, but this one..."

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.”

He wondered what he had done so wrong. He killed his beloved dog for me, kicked out all the dogs he kept, distanced himself from other long-legged beauties, and even married me. I sliced through a bloody steak. I looked at him tied to an electric chair and said coldly, “I love watching my prey die slowly. I’ve been doing it since I killed my first bird at the tender age of three. “Too bad that I don’t have any prey around anymore. I kind of forgot what that felt like. But Dominic, you’ve helped me find that part of myself again.”

His eyes turned completely black, no white or iris visible, just endless darkness that seemed to pull light into itself. He snarled at me, the sound inhuman and terrifying. "Don't come any closer." The red mist thickened, filling my lungs with the scent of copper and decay. Something about it was wrong, unnatural, like magic that had been twisted into something it was never meant to be. My vision blurred at the edges, and suddenly I couldn't stay upright anymore. I collapsed. In that darkness between consciousness and void, everything came flooding back. Marcus laughing as he kissed my forehead. The pendant burning into my throat. Damon's guilty face as he stood there and watched. The massiv

"The kind where three more bodies showed up overnight. All council loyalists. All killed the same way, throats torn out, that symbol carved into their shoulders." Sera sits up, clutching the sheet. "But we arrested Victoria." "Exactly." Dante's already getting dressed. "Which means either she has an accomplice we don't know about, or—" "Or she's not the only killer." They dress quickly, Sera borrowing clothes from Dante's closet. Everything's too big, but she doesn't care. They're out the door in ten minutes. The drive to the first crime scene takes them to the edge of pack territory. Yellow police tape surrounds a small cabin—one of the council's meeting houses.