Riddles Murders Novels & Stories

Lloyd’s POV After I dismissed the last guard, Ragnar came and sat down. I turned to him. “I strongly believe that we might be looking in the wrong direction.” The candle light in the dark room danced slightly, our shadow swirling gently on the wall. The air smelled of dew and dust. “In the wrong direction?” Ragnar blinked and I nodded. “All these while, we’ve been thinking a werewolf did the kill.” I continued. “What if it was done by another being?”

“I’ll manage. I have to, besides I’ve been there before it’s not easy but doable.” Silence filled the room as Dave takes time to remember his dear Ava. Adia’s cracked a joke to let go of the intense feelings. Joy once again returned as everyone laughed at the joke. Adia watched them all, her heart full in a way she hadn’t felt before. For a moment, the world felt balanced again—despite the chaos beyond their walls. But somewhere in the city, beneath the surface of celebration and new beginnings, a darker truth was still waiting. Ethan Cross had been murdered. And the person responsible was still out there.

Then, I continued to talk. “The story is all about two young women who accidentally killed their teacher because he tried to abuse them. They erased all the evidence that will connect them to their crime, and they buried the corpse of their teacher underneath their school garden. Mantus Taylor wrote ten rules to be a murderer in the prologue of the novel.” I said to them, “Rule number one; accuse someone of the crime you did, rule number two; be a liar, rule number three; be smart, rule number four; choose an appropriate weapon, and rule number five; create a strong alibi. Those are the primary rules to be a better murderer,” I explained.

I was not willing to give up, so I went back to the crime scene again. Because of the murder in this building, the neighbors had already started packing and moving out. Even in broad daylight, the heavy smell of blood from across the hall made my skin crawl. I put on my gloves, stepped past the police tape, and searched for clues again. Warren was a pork butcher. Years of slaughtering pigs made his hands steady with a blade. That matched the killer’s profile. His house had all kinds of large cleavers. That fit the means as well. But why did the fingerprints not match? Whose print was the extra one?

“Because he would kill an innocent even now for money. "Power corrupts, doesn't it?" – Asked The Riddler. “And greed makes you do crazy things. - We can play a little, make them angry, enough to cause a complication and go crazy to the point of killing and taking it out on an innocent. - Said Riddler. - Does murder by mistake count? – Asked the Riddler. - Let's see, the biggest madman who caused chaos to the point of going crazy, would be you. - Said Riddler.

Ruby was already asleep by the time I got back to the apartment, and I was glad for that because I wasn’t in the mood to answer any more questions tonight. I definitely didn’t think I was going to be able to sleep tonight. I couldn’t stop thinking about Joseph and those images I had seen. It was all so strange, and it couldn’t just be a coincidence. I grabbed my laptop and started searching the web for similar cases. After only a little research, I found some articles that describe similar murders in the area. These were the type of mysterious cases that the Nightwalker police would take care of and there were quite a few news articles on the topic.

The news was about the murder that took place last night, that was the third murder in the week from the same person. “The anonymous killer has murdered another gang leader again, this man is a Russian and as usual, the bullets were in the head of the victim and also flowers were found at the scene.” The news reporter read and the flowers were displayed on the screen and the dead man’s picture. Their mother suddenly showed up in the living room and she was holding a glass of milk, she was walking out of the dining room. “Mum, how come you don't complain when we watch stuff like this?” Bryan asked, turning to her as she got closer to them.

The neon glow of the diner across the street flickered hazily, casting distorted silhouettes on the cracked pavement. She gripped her camera - more than a tool, it was her armor - and waited. The town had been whispering about the murders for weeks, hushed gossip trailing every corner like poison: mutilated bodies discovered in the dead of night, all linked by an unspoken horror. And none had been caught. Lena came for answers. She would not let the darkness swallow her sister’s memory without a fight. Footsteps echoed nearby slowly, deliberately. She steadied her nerves and raised the camera. From the shadows emerged a tall and commanding figure, his presence almost a physical force. Jeremy

“I’ll be down in a second, Hedy… Try not to eat all the pasta without me.” “Pasta?” I brightened and hurried towards the stairs, pretending to hurry away, but I slowed my gait and focused my hearing as Candido and Allen began to speak. It was easier with my instincts so tuned into Candido’s presence. “There’s been another murder,” Allen said. I heard paper shuffling. “In the Eastern slums.” “… a suspect was caught?” My eyes widened, and I strained to hear more. Was it the same person who attacked headquarters or someone else?

I scream, but no sound comes. The vision shifts—cops at the scene, calling it a robbery gone wrong. But I see the truth now, my Moon Eyes cutting through the lie. No valuables taken, just papers missing from Dad’s desk. It was a hit, targeted, unsolved. My parents knew something—about the vault, maybe the spirit. I snap back, gasping, tears burning my cheeks. My knife’s in my hand, gripped so tight it hurts. “Murder,” I whisper, heart pounding. “They were killed for this.”