Science Fiction Detective Novels Novels & Stories

Detective Mohamed at Night: Moving from one office room to another, searching through files and archives, tireless in his quest. In the dead of night, as silence enveloped the world, the detective sat in his private office. A faint glow from a small lamp flickered above him, casting long, indistinct shadows on the shelves crammed with old books and files. Before him, the cold light of a computer screen flickered, while old papers lay scattered on the wooden desk beside him.

She can't help herself they just bring back bad memories for me. Towards the end of the night the evening had died down only a few people where left In the restaurant. She makes myself a cup of tea and sits at the bar and drinks it waiting till the diners all leave. All of a sudden she felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand up turning around seeing the detective staring at her, he pulled out a bar stool and sat down and said to her " I'm sorry if I'm staring at you but you look really familiar, I don't know where I've seen you but I feel as though I now you, or maybe you look like someone I just can't figure it out". I smile at him and nod my head bring my hair down to cover the s

Seventy-five is clearly just the tip of the iceberg. On My Bedside Table Now The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova, and I am Legend by Richard Matheson. And everyone is telling me I forgot The Vampire Files — some 12 novels by P.N. Elrod. Urban fantasy set in 1930s Chicago, featuring a hardboiled P.I. named Jack Fleming. FacebookTwitterFlipboardEmail Sign Up For The Pop Culture Happy Hour Newsletter Stay pop culture savvy with NPR’s guide to TV, books, movies, music and more, sent weekly.

No. The department must be trusted. And the agency should send reliable people to work there. He closed all the windows with his mouse. - All open... you are a detective and you leave evidence like this? Maybe I do need a break. Without realizing it, he missed the slip of a criminal.

"Don't promise what you can't deliver. Many detectives worked the case before. They all ended up murdered. I'm warning you for your own good." I couldn't stop the shiver that bolts down my spine. All the detectives who solved this case ended up dead? And without doubt, by the killers of the boy?! My brain went through an instant override, and then it dawned on me. Whoever might have killed this boy sure has mad connections. My pulse runs at an accelerating speed. I sip from my coffee. Then, maintaining calmness, I speak. "I've never failed a case in my life." And that's a fact. "We have a deal?"

I did my best to take care not to scratch the leather, but when it fell into my arms, I noticed what looked like a fresh dig. Books were not as common in that era as they were in the future so I felt bad about causing damage to it. My lamenting lasted only briefly. An intense curiosity took over just as soon as I realized that it was a journal. It was not just any journal, either. This journal belonged to the late Elsbeth Sleuth. Could the deep, dark family secret be discovered within its pages? I simply had to find out. Lowering myself into a comfy nearby chair, I opened to the first page and focused on the elaborate handwriting. It took some time to familiarize myself with her dramat

I thought I heard something like a scoff or a chuckle, I wasn't really sure what it was; but I’d hear a sound come from Dawson after he finished talking, he started walking towards his vehicle again without turning back to look at me. Detective Dawson would see me as the best partner he ever worked with, although I haven’t thought how I’d achieved that yet, but I just had that feeling. Even though I was slowly falling for the man, I surely didn’t mean romance was part of it. The thought of us making out flashed across my mind and I shivered down there. My God! What has gotten into me, well I certainly wouldn’t blame myself too much, I was in my early thirties and I was single. However, falli

No one. How did she flag him too? Shaking, I flipped through more. Then yanked open my drawer and pulled out my notebook. Page by page, I compared. Same direction. Same suspects. Even the rough sketches I'd scribbled of the scene—identical. Why? I forced myself to breathe and replayed everything in my head. Did I miss something? Didn't get far—Chief Doyle stormed in. "Captain Mercer, 813's hit again. Get your team to the scene. Now!"

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.