Mystery Suspense Novels & Stories

“Perfection.” More, but still the way of like a puzzle in the game that they are decoding one after the other with their minds and ahead of each other. Their conversations that are complicated to the fool and normal ones are the thrill and fun to the supreme and intellect. Down with a bit of love, more on the horrors and mystery. This book and world are one damn a uudecoded mystery. Won’t you agree? “Shall we?”

The blonde beauty sipped on her morning coffee while reading Seattle Daily, Downing the rest of her liquid drug in one huge gulp, she tied up her long blonde curls into a bun at the top off her head while sighing, two missing billionaires tofind and a murder case to solve, just another day at the office. It has been exactly 24 hours since Grayson and James Hudson have been missing and a dead body has been found in their pent house. The circumstances around their suspicious suddendisappearance makes it even more of a challenge to work on finding their spoiled asses, keeping all information on the down low has been the biggest challenge thus far. The media are like hungry lions waiting to poun

he added. “Uhm, it’s okay.” Actually, everything has been alright for the past few weeks, but when I found out about the mysteries here in this apartment, I started feeling something I can’t name. I am scared, and at the same time, I’m curious to seek the truth behind this one. The mysteries are waiting for me to solve them, but I don’t know how to start and where. I didn’t have the leads. Wait. I do. That man.

The scene had been very spooky, the hair on her fair skin stood up when the cold wind of midnight swooshed by. The silence of the place which came after that mind-boggling scene was so eerie and heart-stopping too. She knew this was exactly the moment when most people would just be compelled to run back inside the store or faint on the stone pavement. Oddly though, despite Misty's hairs standing, the first thought that came to her was, 'Damn! What's that? It can't be? Am I that unlucky? It's a suspicious man for sure! How did he vanish? Where did he go? Is he a criminal or a serial killer?'

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.

James began to frequent the store more frequently, his eyes following her every move. A cloud of suspicion began to cast its shadow over the James household. Mrs. James, a perceptive woman, couldn't help but notice her husband's unusual behavior. But her suspicions took a different direction. She believed that his presence at the shop signaled a change in his job status, a loss of employment he was too ashamed to admit.

The questions echoed through her thoughts, taunting her with their elusive answers. As the day wore on and evening approached, Christine couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. The mystery of the unknown caller loomed large in her mind, casting a shadow over her thoughts and actions, until it felt as though she were living in a constant state of suspense and uncertainty.

I tried to caution myself and quickly shook my head the moment I noticed that the endless shooting and struggle around had already subsided. I blink rapidly, wondering if it is going to be a great idea to step out and see if everything is okay, but then I remember that I have to stay with him and wait for him to get back. Uurrgh. This is the worst thing I hate about suspense. It just keeps me bound without any way to escape from a situation that feels as if my heart is being tugged in different directions. I hear whispers and discussions between two individuals, and it makes me try my best to keep silent as I strain my ears to hear whatever is being said.

A moment later, a piece of paper slid through the narrow gap beneath my door. The footsteps retreated in haste. I peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. I didn't touch the note, afraid of smudging fingerprints. Instead, I crouched and read the words on it: I know the truth about Edmund's death. Come to the big banyan tree in Greenfield Residences at 11 p.m. Don't call the police. The note was crafted with meticulous care—letters cut out from newspapers and books, pieced together like a ransom demand, leaving no trace of handwriting.

"I don't usually feel this way. But with you by my side... I feel safe. And strangely, I feel excited." Silence fell, broken only by the faint whistle of the wind through the half-open window. It wasn't a silence born of emptiness, but of meanings too profound to express. There, in Susan's apartment, a new thread of the investigation unfurled—a thread that might lead them to the truth... or drag them into a darkness even deeper than they could have imagined. Detective Mohammed sat silently for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, his voice slow and deliberate: "And what exactly is your plan?"