Murder Mystery Novels & Stories

MYSTIC HOLLOW (Homicide) . BY NAOMI INNOCENT . CHAPTER 8 . Phillips got close to the building and aimed at the killer. He didn't notice a splinter at the lawn as his leg mistakenly hit it, he loosed control and fired the bullet and it hit the killer by his gun, knocking it off his hand as the killer diverted his attention to where the gun shot came from, he saw Phillips on the lawn and started running on the roof.

“Okay. I see he has a propensity to disappear without a trace. Questionable comings and goings. Possible murders in which the victims may have been shot at close range after death. “So, how were they actually killed?” “Unknown. Their brains are usually blown out. In one case, a man was decapitated.” I fight a wave of nausea as I flip through the photos. And guilt. Because I should have researched this case deeper myself before I sent Dune. I guess I was too wrapped up in my personal research. “Does the organization actually know what they’re after here, or is it a mystery investigation?” “Unclear.” “Permission to terminate suspect if engaged?”

she said, looking at his partner who was looking at her intently listening to what she was saying. “The police did not find any object in the crime scene. Everything is clean, like it was a plan by the murderer. If according to the autopsy, the victim died not in strangulation, as we find marks of bruises in their neck but a head trauma. But there’s no fracture in their skull, or bruised that the object, heated them which a gigantic puzzle to what is the object used by the murderer, or what you think, any ideas? And they had one common that the Murderer seems obsessed with killing them.” Her brows puckered, clicking her tongue again, staring at her partner.

" I said quickly. Maybe I shouldn't have handed it to him, I thought. "Evidence for what?" Myles asked. "Do you think we killed him and then hid his dead body?" Miles chuckled. "I never said you killed him. Also, why did you say we? Are you saying you and your sister could be involved in a murder?" I said curtly. I was starting to get tired of all this confusion. Miles laughed out loud again. "Now you're starting to sound like we are in some murder mystery movie. No, we didn't kill anybody. My sister and I are not killers. So what the hell are you talking about? Miles said.

“A bit of a dilemma.” “Yes, it is a bit.” I put my arms around her and pulled her into my body. “I don’t know whether I’m looking at a murder made to look like a suicide, or a suicide made to look like a suicide.” “I’m confused,” she said. “So am I,” I said pulling away and cupping her face in my hands and kissing her. “So where do you start?” Kimberley asked. “At the scene of the crime,” I replied. “The Fuentes family home.”

The mysterious murder had ignited a spark of curiosity in him at the expense of revealing his worst side. “Whosoever it's that's doing this has done it before. The style of murder could be traced back to a decade ago. It is unclear to us why he's returned but, after he gets rid of his victims, he leaves with an axe head on their wrist. Does this ring any bells?” Graeme Clough asked in the most curious of tone. Darron shook his head slowly. “No, not any that I can remember, but if…” “Hold on a minute.” Graeme Clough interrupted, answering his phone.

That right there is the only reason he wasnÕt buying into the idea that she was hiding something, that and the fact that theyÕd found nothing to confirm such suspicions. He was beginning to wonder more and more as the day went by just what was happening to his town. In the space of a few months, thereÕve been two murders when there had never been one in his whole lifetime. Not only that, but neither murder had been of the ordinary garden variety. Both had been gruesome and way over the top as far as he was concerned.

**** Grief hung heavily in the air within the Maxwell mansion after the hullabaloo of their son's murder remained unsolved. With the passage of time, hope gradually faded, and the search for the killer was reluctantly abandoned. The atmosphere in the mansion grew somber, a blend of fond memories of their lost son and the burden of unanswered inquiries. As the trail turned cold, a resolute detective named Evelyn Greywood entered their home as she was secretly hired, sparking a renewed investigation. Through her careful review of evidence and interviews, she began to uncover concealed family tensions and buried secrets that had long been overlooked.

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

she tilted her head in a questioning way and Rachael felt the need to cry. She knew crying wouldn't save her, but at that point, she couldn't help it. The detective had a higher hand and had a way of making Rachael believe she perpetrated a crime she didn't. What Happened that night would always be a mystery. Rachael had always been a light sleeper, but that night, she slept through a man being murdered. He was stabbed multiple times and she didn't even wake up to his struggles. "I don't know how it Happened" she replied truthfully, not knowing what else to say.