The Comic Book Murder Novels & Stories

I wore my gloves and checked their pulse and as expected they are dead . The funny thing is that during each autopsy, no finger prints are found. Another proof that the killer isn't human at all.

“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.

These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloomily, casting an eye on the mountains. The sub-inspector gave a stiff nod and carefully studied the inspector who seemed to be lost in contemplation. ‘From what I have seen, murders are of two types,’ said the inspector, the tips of his fingers coming together. ‘First are the unplanned ones, committed by people who were suffocated in some way by the acts of the would-be victims. When they see an opportunity, their fear is eclipsed by the pain they have suffered and they strike.’

He reasoned that forty-four million dollars should be able to not only bring him back to business, but also help him establish restaurants in three cities, Los Angeles, Houston and New York. He applied for the loan, and like other borrowers did not consider the clauses in the loan contact, before enthusiastically signing them. A year into the loan duration, he had paid back half of the loan, one month into the second year Lucas was murdered in his home in Miami, in the same fashion as the others, except that it was the little toe in his right leg that was mutilated. Danny took a sip of his coffee, and was about to click open the case file of the fourth victim, when his desk intercom began to

He questions. I kept quiet as I shockingly vowed this situation in his own point, he was right though, had there been bullets in the gun compartment. I would be long gone with only stories to tell my ancestors. “I asked a question.” His voice suddenly becomes cold, his gaze hard as rock, as he awaits my reply. “No.” I slowly whispered. “Okay then, allow me to educate you one or two things about the mafia. You do not kill aimlessly, although some lunatics find reason to, you kill with intent, that's why it's called murder.” The sound of a gunshot goes off, earning a scream from my lips.

I just killed someone. Mystery man: Are you kidding me? Who the heck did you kill? Me: Rosita. Mystery man: Rosita? Are you kidding me. That is murder! Me: Come on, relax. Rosita is a character in my book. Mystery man: You got me there, so you killed off a character. What a badass writer. Get ready to be murdered by your readers. Me: Don't crack me up, I didn't even plan it. It just turned out that way. Now I feel bad and feel good at the same time.

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.”

''You wouldn't try that, murder me right here in this room. ''Murder?'' He laughed again. ''You can only murder a human being. You and your people have lived for thousands of years, doesn't it occur to you that you might have lived your share?'' He stood up now and bent down in front of me. ''I'll tell you the meaning of murder. Murder is what you do when you go out at night hunting unsuspecting people. When you steal little children away from lonely streets and suck their life's blood out of them. Murder is what you do when in the midst of having sex, you sink your fangs into an unsuspecting man's neck and slowly drain him of his life. Murder is what you were about to do to me.''

Stanley laughed right then and snarled viciously, "Since Elder Fango has had his say, it's clear that the man who murdered Commissioner Kramer has died for his crimes! But that's not enough. I have decided that we must make this man an example even in death, to warn the living and to give peace to Commissioner Kramer's perished soul!" Vicky and the others were glaring at him right then. "What more do you want?!" "Y-You're out of line!" "Someone has to make an example so that the other rats would remember!" Podrick smirked. "No one gets to murder a commissioner and get away with it! They must all pay!" "And that's not all!" Stanley pointed at the women as he snapped, "Helen Lane, Winter Lawre

She said without waiting hesitation. " Shit. I'm so sorry lary."He said, sadness permeating his voice.. "Don't stress it buttercup, huh? " "It's just that she was so young. She was murdered. Mutilated. It was like whoever did this had a grudge against her body. She even had a grin carved onto her face. I won't be able to ever watch the Joker without being reminded of her. " Her voice was so thick and raw with emotions. "So, there's no suspect for now, yes? "Marley asked.