Mystery Fiction Books Novels & Stories

Sabeerah brought them out one by one. Muslim Girl and If I Speak by Umm Zakiyyah, The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides, Three Daughters Of Eve by Elif Shafak, On Black Sister's Street by Chika Unigwe, And Then There Was None by Agatha Christie, A Time To Kill by John Grisham and finally, A History Of The Wives Of Prophet Muhammad by Umam Kahn. She picked up the last book which was actually a journal and tucked in its side were plack pencils with bookish scribbles on them.

"She stole it! Everyone saw it. The necklace was in her bag!" All eyes turned to Emma, who remained calm and composed. She addressed the officers, "I request a fingerprint analysis of the necklace. Let's see how I could have stolen something without leaving my fingerprints on it."

I can’t let go if deep down inside me, they need me for this. I got off the boat when I reached Catagban port where the van that'll take me to the resort was found. I occupied myself by reading a book by Agatha Christi, ABC Murder. One of Hercule Poirot myster. It was a book that Rhisha gave me at our graduation. She said that I might like it since I love reading books. I sighed. Because of thinking deeply, I got lost in what I am currently reading. It was the part where Fraser discovered that Betty died during the interrogation she did with Poirot.

I can feel a shiver run down my spine as I gulp. Something is weird about the atmosphere... how come everyone suddenly disappears? I slowly swallow the candy that was sitting in my mouth. It was a soft candy, so it didn't hurt my throat. Clenching the handle of my bag tightly, I try to walk as normally as I could master. *Bathump! Bathump!* Calm down... there must be a reasonable explanation why this happened, right? A shadow shape of a person appeared behind me. The more I try to walk faster, the more it follows me. Turning around to the different alleyway, I tried to lose the shadow. Since I wasn't paying attention to where I'm heading, I ended up walking to a dead end.

I beamed. "Crazy, isn't it?" "Fucking crazy, for real." "First, we put THE DA VINCI CODE by DAN BROWN here." He picked out the book and inserted it in the center line of the shelf. He put HOW TO STOP TIME by MATT HAIG, followed by EVERGREEN by NAOMI HIRAHARA. "Then KISS THE GIRLS by JAMES PATTERSON." He put it next to the first book. "I've read that." I went on in a spur of excitement. "It's a thriller and mystery novel about a detective who's trying to track down a serial killer. So many twists and cliffhangers. Total page-turner." I giggled.

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…

Fuck, she makes me feel everything. "It is indeed a good morning," I say wrapping more of her wild hair around her ear so I can see her face better. "Sorry, I fell asleep," she says. I'm not sorry. I didn't want to get into her Dad's allegations last night and even though she wasn't happy about it she asked me to read her the book she had grabbed off my book shelf. One of my favorites. It's a mystery novel about two mates who find each other while they are both trying to catch the same serial killer that's on the loose.

That would be emotional suicide. I moved away from the romance section quickly, like it might contaminate me somehow. Crime thriller. I'd read a crime thriller. Something with murder and investigations and absolutely zero sexual tension. That was safer. Much safer. I browsed the mystery section and pulled out a book I'd heard good things about. A detective novel set in London. Dark, gritty, complex. Perfect. I carried it to one of the comfortable chairs by the window and settled in. The chair was incredibly comfortable—soft leather that seemed to mold around me. There was a small side table with a reading lamp. A footstool I could put my feet up on.

Maybe that is the reason why I have no problem in communicating even if I don’t talk to people much. ‘This Time I Will Not Love You' This novel sounds so hurting. I think I won’t be interested in this since I have no love life or whatsoever. ‘To The World I Wish…’ ‘Reckoning Love…’ ‘Mystery Caller' ‘Untold Secrets…’ ‘Unfolding Secrets…’ JUST WHY THE HELL DOES IT SOUNDS SO SPOOKY?!?!? “Alright let’s look for other books to read...” I tried to calm myself just to not let me feel the spookiness in the titles of the books I saw. A very interesting book caught my attention. Unlike the others, it was… handwritten.

Bob said, chuckling. “Oh I don’t think that’s worse than investigating multiple murders, in which the only clue is the loans that they all the victims owe a certain bank”. “Yeah speaking of which, Danny I’m calling to tell you that you would have to open another case file, a fifth one” Bob said. Danny winced at the thought of having yet another victim of the mysterious killer. “Who’s the latest victim?” he asked “Owen Mclean an English businessman who deals mainly in real estate, I’d have my secretary send an email of the victim’s details to you, for profiling” Bob said.