Detective In English Novels & Stories

Anyways, that was not his business, his only job here was to carry out a very judicious interrogation in finding out what really went down back there in the streets. The detective was a tall man with dark skin and bald head. he was lanky and had a funny moustache. He wore a black suit and tie, held a couple of filed paper works in his right arm and had a cigarette stick, stuck within the grip of his fingers. Evidently, that’s what was probably causing the rough packs of wrinkles that were bunched on his face. “hello there” he said as he drew out a chair from the desk to sit on. “my name is detective Cabrini and I’m here to ask you a few questions” he said, now bringing out a few documents fr

She asked squinting her eyes, the British accent rolling off her tongue impeccably, I gently took out my ID card from my pocket and showed it to her. “Janelle Hughes, Detective from Oak land district, I’d like to speak to you about the death of your boss,” I replied formally as I tucked my card back into my pocket, she gently stood up from the pool, picked up a small transparent scarf from a chair nearby and slowly knotted it on her waist. “Detective?! Why are the detectives suddenly visiting this case, after weeks?!” She asked sharply, her dark green orb piercing deep through my eyes, “I’m sorry we took so long to find you, and now that we have, we’d like to get justice for your boss,” I re

The detective was irritated by this and snapped his finger twice “I said who amongst you is the cyber genius ?” they didn’t answer yet again but only mumbled words that Levi could not understand. “I presume you are looking for an individual with a high intellectual quotient with a mixture of technological genes who is void of any atom of stupidity” a voice spoke from the end of the room. As the detective saw the person who just spoke he smiled for he knew that at least there is one person in the world who still understands simple English.

“What can I do for you, sir?” The men look very distinguished with their top hats and round glasses. It’s like they just stepped out of an old detective film influenced by Charlie Chaplin. I think this image is part of their job, intended to appear impressive to suspects. “Detective Smith and Jones,” the man in front of me responds, pointing to himself and his colleague. “We come here for the case of Elena Fellogan. We’d like to ask some questions”.

she said again almost in tears The room was heavy with tension, the weight of the detective's words hanging in the air like dark clouds. Detective Jameson's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his voice taking on a calculated intensity. "Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? We need to find these men, and fast. Can you think of anyone who might know their whereabouts? A friend, a family member, an acquaintance? Anyone who might be willing to shelter them or provide them with resources?"

Arabella smirked slyly, “Then why don't we hand the evidence over to the police and let them investigate it themselves.” “Come in.” The door creaked open as two detectives stepped into the room, their eyes quickly scanning the space. Gavin hurried in behind them, his face tight with worry. The taller of the two gave a small, polite nod. “Good afternoon. I’m Detective Harris, and this is my assistant, Cole.” His gaze moved slowly across the faces in the room as he flashed his badge, attentive, but not unkind. “We received word that someone here wanted to report a crime.”

I stared at that useless man. "It's like I told you, Lionel..." He was about to start making excuses, but he really was worthless. "I said you'll figure it out, Isidore!" I glared at him and he huffed but didn't dare contradict me. "Sir, there's a police detective here to see you." The housekeeper approached. I had already imagined this would happen. "Send him in." I ordered and she left, soon returning accompanied by the detective and two more men. "Good afternoon! I'm Detective Bonfim, I'm here, Mr. Lancaster, regarding an accusation against you," the detective introduced himself.

Damien remains with me, poised and ready to strike. I kicked the door, and my grip on my Beretta was tight. The frame splinters, the door swinging back so violently it hits the wall behind it and shakes the whole house. I move with purpose, ready for anything that might come my way. I’m fully braced for a fight. Imagine my disappointment when I find the detective just…sitting there. He’s dressed in a humble pair of jeans, a baggy sweater, and a thick, old, work jacket despite the warm weather.

George responded. "Mr George, I received information about a chaotic accident, you seem to be at the centre of it. What's going on?" Detective Kelvin asked. "What's your business with that? Who are you to intrude on my privacy and ask me questions?" George told him. "Well, my name is Kelvin, I'm a detective and I was assigned as an investigator to this particular case." He said as he stared at George." "Good! So why should I explain to you? It's of no use, I want to take justice by

the detective replied confidently, "Five minutes and I'll get everything I need." The doctor glanced at Damien who gave him a curt nod as a go ahead. The detective stepped closer to Diego and said softly, "Mr Bernadi, I am Detective Stanley from criminal affairs division. I just need to ask you a few questions if that's okay with you." "Miss Lana." Damien breathed painfully, "Miss Lana, where is she?" "That's what we'd like to know, Mr Bernadi," The detective answered. He held on to the bed rails and leaned in closer to Diego, "We know what she did to you but we'd like to hear the details from you as well,"