Novel & Cerita Detective In English

Opening the door, I found myself face-to-face with Detective Mason, a man known for his relentless pursuit of justice. "Miss Roberts, may I come in?" he asked, his voice brimming with authority. Nervously, I nodded and led him into my modest living room. Detective Mason's piercing gaze seemed to take in every detail, as if assessing the depths of my involvement in this dangerous game. "I've been following your activities closely, Miss Roberts," he said, his tone serious. "You've been treading on dangerous ground." I swallowed hard, my palms growing clammy. "I'm just trying to uncover the truth, to expose the corruption that plagues our society."

I edged towards the door and was about to peep through the hole when Davies's firm grip on my shoulder stopped me. “Step back, please.” He said softly. He really wasn't taking any chances. I complied immediately and stepped back as the detective moved towards the door with his hand already on the gun at his waist. He peeped through the peephole for a while. “Mid-thirties Caucasian male, clean shaven, blue eyes.” The detective announced and turned towards me. “That's Myles Voss, attorney at law! You know him?” I knew who it was immediately when I heard the description.

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.

"How did you...." "Two words.....CCTV" the detective said with pride written all over his face. I stared at him with my eyebrows arched upwards in confusion. The same look was replicated on the subordinate's face as he paused the video. "Uhhhmm, that's one word actually" the subordinate responded to what the detective had said.

Third persons POV, "Detective Conan," Damien called, and the detectives both turned to look at who the voice belongs to. "Damien, good to see you," Detective Conan said but then cringed at his words realizing he was her to identify a body and there’s nothing good about that. Damien stared at the detective with a dead look on his face without saying any word, but only gestured at the body in front of the detectives as if to say is that the body you want to check.

detective Mr Lucas, his detective skill are extraordinary, he solves every case which comes under his authority, he never takes a break, only goes know what he wanted. he is like an emotionless machine, the only language he knows is work. he is a living lie detector, but nobody is perfect. the demon was locked up in an interrogation room, and the police see him as an eyewitness, he looked so dead from the inside, and now he has an eye of a man who lost everything, his face is so depressing. he was sitting on a chair, soon nowhere out of the silence a man with a grey suit show up, he was a great detective"Mr Lucas"

The detective’s name was unmistakable. "Dryzza?" he whispered, barely audible, as if saying it aloud might confirm the strange, tangled fate he was uncovering.

He took my hand and held the door open for me, we stepped out and into my guard's car. *******MUCH LATER******* We are stepping back into the apartment. After a silent drive here, I was ready to get to know him more; I loved everything about him so far. “So what do you do for work?” My desperate attempt to get him to talk…. Easy to tell? Absolutely! “I’m a detective actually.” Shock flooded my whole entire system. “Wait, you’re a detective? As in you work for the police?” “That would be correct.” “Then why are you here? You’re not arresting me are you?”

the detective alerted. “Question?” “Yes! I will ask you this once. Do you know Pablo Picasso?” the detective questioned. "Mr. Michael!" The detective yelled his name. It was as if Michael went through a trauma by just thinking about the question the detective asked. "you know him don't you?" the detective questioned again.

"I am detective Jack Roderick. There are some few questions I would like to ask you, if you don't mind." The detective said quietly in a calm manner, with his facial expression indiscernible. Exactly not how I had expect it to be. Because the cops who had interrogated me before I moved in Galveston, generally had their faces stone cold. In the same professional manner, to make thieves scared. But this one seem quite different.