Detective Fiction Novels & Stories

Instead, I grabbed some crumpled scraps from a coworker's desk and started scribbling on those. By dawn, one of my teammates walked in and jumped. I looked dead tired, but my eyes were on fire. "I found the flaw the killer left in yesterday's case." The room lit up. I broke it down during the drive to the suspect's place. "It's the knife. The angle, the serration—it doesn't match the others..." But the second I stepped outside the Bureau, my phone blew up. I checked it—and froze. [Rising Star Detective Blake Solves Another Cold Case—813 Serial Killer in Custody!]

The perfect life with Jenna Grabbing his travel mug of coffee, and his briefcase he heads to his unmarked car. His very first pay check ten years ago, he went and bought this car and it’s still going. When he got to the station and checked his voicemail, there were five new messages, all from the family of the victims from the murder drug scene he worked a month ago. They’re understandably hurt, shocked and desperate for answers, and they're calling to see if he had any leads or evidence.

"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?"

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

In the end, Meredith and George decided to arrange a meeting with the police detective assigned to Helena’s case, Detective Sergio. He was a tall, lean man with clean-cut hazelnut hair. Alice could make out the wrinkles in his forehead and cheeks as he settled himself in front of her. She watched the man remove his black coat and placed it on the table before taking out a medium-sized notepad and a pen. Alice loved comic books about detectives. Her favorite was James Gordon; he was Batman’s acquaintance and a respectable captain of the Gotham City Police Department. Whenever she saw a detective, she could not help but be mesmerized by their badges and work.

This helps us get an accurate picture of the movements around that time. The inspector nodded. ‘All the evidence points towards one direction sir,’ the sub-inspector urged like a wife convincing her husband to be strict on their son. The sub-inspector was more orthodox than the inspector. His brain was programmed to make immediate conclusions based on what he saw and heard. When deriving a conclusion seemed difficult, he would first have the conclusion ready in his mind, and then twist the facts as he went along. Spending time analyzing a situation wasn’t his forte – for him, conclusions were all that mattered. As Sherlock Holmes would have put it, “your eyes see things, it doesn’t observe.”

Now sheÕs back on that particular track. She sat in front of the computer that had stopped running but had left her some nibbles to follow on the screen. SheÕd input every little detail from the scene, but as a seasoned detective, she knew which ones should stand out. She knew most people never committed the same crime exactly, but there was always something that didnÕt differ, no matter how many times the perpetrator struck.

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.

5 MINUTES LATER Lucy dropped the file back on the table “I’m done” “Hmm, so what could you deduce from the report? “ Lucy smiled “the killer was probably someone the victim knew since no form of struggle was recorded in the report and at the victim apartment there was no form of forced entry, so we can assume the killer is someone who the victim knew or is even close to since the killer was let into her bedroom, The killer is a drinker since particles of glasses that contained whiskey was found in between her flesh, so we can say that a whiskey glass bottle is the weapon of murder, The killer is obviously a special must probably a rogue special and the toxin found on her body was probably fr

“You do that to me again and you and I are going to fall out, big time.” “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “Do you know how you become a Detective Inspector, John?” “No.” “It used to be based on many crimes you solved and people you banged up. Nowadays it depends on how few complaints you can generate and whether you can stick to a budget. I’m a dinosaur to these people, John. Ever since the Police and Criminal Evidence Act came into force my sort of policeman has been living on borrowed time.” “You’re a good copper,” I told him truthfully.