Bruce Wayne Detective Novels & Stories

"four to five, print. But not all of them are men. There is a woman involved too-- A left-handed person at that." "A woman?" "Of eighteen years of age or a year or two older than that. At least, that is what the postmortem reports suggest." That statement from the detective made Jake feel nauseous. He observed the detective. He knew him. He had been involved in many murder cases before, and the ones occurring after the letter his father received months back had had him provide his services crucially. Dr. Cavill Wingmen was thin with always-so-drowsy eyes, his nose pointed and covering half of his face, his cheeks were flat and his lips were thin and always set in a grim line. He was a man ra

What a strange one she is. "Bruce," said Wayne. Wayne was Bruce's best friend. He wears glasses and have curly black hair with black eyes. He was a skinny man with a hearty appetite. Bruce was still looking at Bella. "Bruce?" questioned Wayne. He was finishing the banana in his hand. "Huh?" asked Bruce. "Who are you staring at?" "No one." "Oh." Wayne look in the direction Bruce was staring at and saw a beautiful woman. "Are you looking at that woman with the cute ass?"

I asked the phone, without checking the number. "We found the son of a bitch," said Mark, the detective who seemed so incompetent to me, and had irritated me so much in the last few days. I almost didn't even know what he was talking about, very busy looking in the rearview mirror to see if we were still being followed. "The name of this Bruce is not even Bruce. His name is George Donovan!” I widened my eyes, losing the focus of my vision when I realized the last name. "What about the brother? Who is the brother?”

Blaze added as he picks his handkerchief from the table and wipes the tears off his eye “ Thank you Blaze , but before you take your leave , can I take your finger print scan ? ” the detective asked bringing the scanning equipmen “ Yes you can ” Blaze mumbled putting out his thumb and index finger while Detective took a scan before letting him go “ Thank you for your cooperation Mr Blaze Rancher ” The detective appreciate “ Anything for your investigation ” Blaze responded before grabbing his Coat where he hung it . He left the detective's office quite relieved at least he was able to say things he had held back for quite a while

Along the right wall was a row of chairs where people waited, one woman cradling a baby, a man with a bruised eye, and another random teenager biting his fingernails anxiously. From one of the inner rooms, the lead detective stepped out. He was in his usual plain navy-blue shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. "Talon Ashwood,” he said, waving him over. Talon moved forward. Halo followed him closely. Another man walked out beside the detective, a bit younger, with glasses, a neatly pressed shirt even, and he was holding a small notepad. "This is Mr. Kevin," the detective said. "Junior detective on the case." Talon nodded. "Alright. What’s going on?"

We were greeted by a tall man with dark gray hair and a scuff. "Actually, She's the detective." Chain explained. "Detective Mhorein Layla Agustin." I introduced myself. He led us to his office and offered us a seat. "Thank you, I want to talk to the suspects about the case of-" "Amy Marcus ... Yes we know. Wait for me here. I'll call them." He said and left us in the room. Within a few minutes he returned with a nurses and two patients. One is smiling and one looks really, really bad.

Nate walked in—calm, collected, like he’d gone to buy snacks. Behind him stood a man in a rumpled suit. Tall and in his late thirties. He had sharp eyes and tired lines at the corner of his eyes that resembled a crows feet. The detective. "You must be Miss Twain," he said, stepping forward with a slight bow. "Detective Marsh. I assure you, your son is perfectly fine." I crouched and grabbed Nate into a hug, holding him so tightly he squirmed. "Mama, I’m okay," he said gently. "He didn’t hurt me."

He bowed slightly and left. The inspector general heaved a sigh. He hated to see his officers so clueless. But something was strange; Bob had seemed unbothered. All his years in the bureau, Inspector Akhere has seen many smart and creative detectives but he has seen none like Bob Andrews. Smart, creative, fast, and alert, Bob had built a name for himself as the Detective of Detectives. He used the brains of other detectives and he gets positive results. At first, the inspector felt he was just another control freak, but after a close study of the man he finally understood him.

Cain said tentatively. "We can't do that now. Thanks to the scene Shane caused during my birthday celebration, I'll be the cops' prime suspect if anything happens to him." Dexter scowled. "You know I can't let them investigate me!" Dexter and Wayne had gotten way too involved over the years. If the police were to find any links between them, they would definitely want to dig deeper. Dexter wasn't actually too worried about the police. After all, they had to rely on reason and evidence in their investigations. But when it came to Wayne… he was a psycho without any moral values.

"Do you think Bruce was manipulated by someone? Maybe his own father, Charles Morton?" I gave a slight sad smile. "Charles was always very present in business. Maybe he influenced Bruce, yes... but those are just guesses. I really don't know." The interview seemed to be going exactly as I had hoped. The media was buying every word. She was the perfect wife, innocent and betrayed, while Bruce, the great villain, was missing and hunted by the police. In the end, the detective discreetly approached me. "If you discover anything about Bruce's whereabouts, Mrs. Morton, please let us know immediately."