Mystery Comedy Books Novels & Stories

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..."

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 message* Dr. Emma Taylor's eyes widened as she stared at the cryptic message on her phone: "They're watching me. I have to escape." The words sent a chill down her spine. It was from her sister, Sarah, who had been missing for weeks. Emma's mind racing, she replayed the events leading up to Sarah's disappearance. They had been arguing about their estranged father, and Sarah had been acting strangely in the days before she vanished. Emma had dismissed it as paranoia, but now she wondered if something more sinister was at play.

He wipes his face with a spare hanky. Why can’t he find it? He pulled out his phone from his pocket. He searches about it then. There had to be something. But what’s he gonna search. Mystery girl? Demon? There must be an ancient name for her. Or there isn’t. He was exhausted already. He ruffled his head, if he didn’t get anything, Dixon would end up killing him. He strolled down his phone. Ancient mystery girl. History search. He hunkered down. Since he was tired of standing.

She didn't have any close friends either and slowly as time passed she became a 27 years old who stayed at home most of the time playing on the computer or reading in her library at home. Like any other day, Su Lan was lying in bed watching her favorite drama until she received a phone call. She picked up her phone and answered only to get hollered at by her mother once again with a bunch of questions like: "when are you going to get a job", "why don't you head out", and etc. After an hour of the same routine everyday she finally managed to get off the phone call. Getting in a grumpy mood she grabbed the bag of chips next to her and saw an ad on her computer. The title of the ad was "the mys

Back at her desk Detective Sparks was faced with another dilemma. The journal used a pass code instead of a key and she was sure she was about to face the same dilemma as she had with the phone and was still facing there in fact. She sat behind her desk turning the thin volume over and over in her hand while officer Bailey did some follow up calls. They were still trying to pin down the distributor of the dummy clown which she'd been surprised to learn was a more common product than she'd thought.

THE MYSTERY ABOUT HIM🔥👤 (A Whole New World) . Chapter 2🔥 . . Dad was making tea, while grandma sat on her wheelchair reading a book. "You're home, late" Dad said, coming out from the kitchen with three mugs. "Didn't you see the rain!" I retorted. He arched a brow at me. "Rain?" I frowned, obviously annoyed. "Of course, Rain." He looked at Grandma then at me. He turned to Grandma again and said, "I think is high time I take her to a psycho therapist."

He was going to be graduating a few months after Jessie, and I. I enjoyed getting to know so much about him. He was a nice guy, and seemed really good for Jessie. She was funny, and quirky, but not in the way Norm was. She was the queen of one liners, and could think of something on the spot. I was a little surprised to find out she enjoyed books about murder mysteries though. She said she liked trying to figure out who did it. Her favorite series was about a human woman who was a coroner. Not exactly my type of books, but I made note of the series to tell Rowen about it. He might like it.

… The next morning, Chloe acted like nothing had happened, casually handling one of her other cameras. I tested her. "The camera I sold–did you clear the memory card?" "Of course," she replied. "You always check before selling something." The answer sounded fine. However, her eyes were blinking too quickly. She was lying. I did not expose her. By nine-thirty that night, she was getting restless. "Jake, aren't you going out to work?" I sneered inwardly. "Of course. Big night–I can't miss it." I left the house and rode straight to Triumph Hotel.

“Back before you were a world-famous author, huh?” Brad laughed. “Yeah, back then I was working for my hometown paper writing obituaries.” “So your work hasn’t changed too much; you’re still writing about death.” “I suppose you could look at it that way.” “I’ll confess I haven’t actually read any of your books. I know of you by reputation, but I’m a bit too squeamish for horror. A mystery, on the other hand, suits me just fine.” “Hey, to each his own. Or her own. I like mysteries, too; in some ways they share similar elements with horror.”