Murder Mystery Short Stories Ideas Novels & Stories

’ But two minutes later when the women found themselves trapped in the hotel’s rear corridor, locked in by a fire door that the killer had padlocked shut in advance, Susan wished that she’d taken the risk and put a revolver in her purse. ‘What’s the matter ladies?’ teased Rachel as she slowly strutted up the corridor towards her cowering prey. ‘Don’t you want to work for me any more? Susan told Lucy to get behind her. Then taking off her stiletto heels, she prepared to make her move. ‘Try it bitch!’ snarled the assassin. But before she could even pull the trigger, Susan had thrown the shoes at the ceiling and smashed the fluorescent light. The corridor was completely black. Rachel fired and

"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.

The grand mansion loomed under the moonless night, its opulent halls silent except for the soft creak of my footsteps as I dusted the ornate furniture. My maid uniform—black dress hugging my curves, hem brushing my thighs—felt too tight, the fabric rubbing against my untouched skin, igniting a heat I didn’t understand. I was new here, a virgin maid in the employ of the infamous mafia boss, a man whispered about in fear and awe. The isolation of the house, the weight of his unseen presence, stirred a forbidden curiosity deep in my core, my pussy tingling with every thought of him.

“Check this out. He documented three nearly identical murders in that same area. 1914, 1951, and 1968. All with the same pattern—slit throats, no signs of entry, houses locked tight. There’s just enough time between them that nobody made the connection—except Anthony. He noted that he was keeping an eye out for a fourth.” She turned the journal toward us. The entries were detailed and clear—maps, names, dates, and disturbing consistencies. “And now here we are,” William said, nodding slowly. “No way one person could’ve pulled off murders that far apart in age,” I noted. “Exactly,” Alexandra agreed. “Alright. I’m in. But we’re not hitting the road tonight, right?” Alexandra gave a small shrug

Ava I was relaxing in my office going through some files when the news caught my attention "It was reported this early morning that Xavier Morrison one of the important businessmen in New York was murdered in cold blood this morning with his secret girlfriend, the murderer remains unknown as the police are at the crime scene carrying out an investigation" I groaned in anger and turned off the news, boiling in fury. How dare that motherfucker die when I've not even carried out my revenge on him, after all he did is this the best way to die?

The silence of the old mansion was not an absence, but a thing, a velvet shroud that waited for the sun to drain away beyond the horizon. Anya always found the night shift the most intimate, a realm of darkness where day's proprieties opened out into shadow. Her new patient, however, was the secret at the heart of that realm. His file was a masterpiece of careful evasion, but his state was one she'd learned about in illicit medical texts and whispered legend. He was a vampire, and his needs were only just beginning to announce themselves.

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

I look you over, my eyes lingering on your body, assessing. A slow smirk plays on my lips as I lean against the desk, crossing my legs. “Hello yourself. You’re here for the writing job, aren’t you? Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes. Or maybe you’re just here to waste my time.” My gaze is intense, unblinking, as if I’m already deciding your fate. ( you hand over a file containing a CV and a short story ..it was an erotic story ,titled the hot kidnapper)

“It’s true. We can’t trust anyone.” A long air of heavy silence fell once more. They only ate and relieved themselves of the worries. This is a time for nourishment and not anxiety. But the backs of their mind knew that the danger is still very real. Someone is plotting something somewhere, waiting for the right moment in time. And soon, they’ll all be six feet under. “I have an idea,” said Agatha. “Let’s go mystery hunting. You know, like the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew?” The two only responded in blinks, feeling like the idea was too preposterous.

“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.”