Novel & Cerita Detective Pimento

“I'm Detective Dominic Sanders, and this is my partner, Detective Harvey Moore. We'd like to ask you and Mr. Lanzo Ferrante a few questions.” I returned a nod, looking between him and his partner. “Questions about?” “Pietro Sala,” Sanders answered, a smug smirk curving his lips. “I'm sure you know he's dead. You know that because he was your business partner.” I breathed out a laugh. “That's a bold assumption.” Harvey Moore inched toward me, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “Cut the crap. We know you were at the crime scene.” His brown eyes locked on me. “So I suggest you cooperate.”

He was about to go after Damien, but Liam held him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t even think about it.” He said to the astonished detective, “You are advised to get off the case, Detective Stanley. We’ll take it from here.” “In your fucking dreams.” The detective smirked, “Miss Fernandez is my prime suspect in Mr Bernardi’s assault case and there’s nothing your money can do about it.” Liam cocked his head arrogantly at that statement, “Is that right?”

“Hmm, let’s say you’ve succeeded in making me feel a bit scared, but I’m assuring you that I’ll never give in till the last, of course you feel it’s Over, just because you’ve got the poor boys phone, but actually you’ve just made the job easier for me. The detective maybe has a few things to say though?” While we both stared angrily at each other, the scene welcomes the Detective, Adam smith, who walked in and smiled so cheerfully. “Hmm, I see we’ve been getting along, what did I miss?” He shook hands with Romeo and I right away. “Good afternoon Mr. Massimo, how are you doing today? ” “Ahh, look whom we have here, the detective, I guess this case is supposed to be overseen by you, isn’t it?”

I stared back plainly and so did he. 'Hayden Octavius Martinez. Chief Detective of the New York Police Department.' 'Reina Clementine Romano. CEO of the Romano's ' I said while shaking his outstretched hand. He then swung a chair and placed it on the only spare side between me and Narcissus and then also began eating the food on my plates. None of them had manners. Tell me why I am not surprised at all? I got up and left the table but heard footsteps follow behind.

Detective Bradley settles into his chair and straightens his paperwork while Detective Ferdinand stands next to the desk because the mystery man from the South is currently occupying his chair. Detective Ferdinand replies, "We weren't aware Miss Leo had you on retainer, Eli," and his smile is hollow. The ostentatious mystery man—Eli—laughs. He wears fragrance. "Ferdinand, I'm a popular man, a popular man." "We heard you were occupied with Caelum Mendicini's defense." Eli receives a one-finger salute from Detective Bradley as he raises his middle finger to scratch his nose. I quickly cast a quick peek to my right to assess Eli's reaction to his disrespect. Eli doesn't appear to be aware of it

Kevin and I were both die-hard horror fans. We’d once argued for three straight days over the ending of a niche film. In that movie, the protagonist entered a string of numbers at the very end, unlocking his only way out. I tried it. “19870521.” Victoria typed it in. With a soft click, the drive unlocked. Inside were neatly organized folders. [Evidence of William’s Bribery] [Evidence of Ethan’s Embezzlement] [The director’s Affair Scandal] I sucked in a sharp breath.

I lie through the skin of my teeth, remembering Alessandros’ words about him erasing my file from their system. Placing his coffee back down on the table, the detective raises his brows. “Yes, Miss Bishop, I think you know who Mr Thompson is.” I scoff. “I think I would remember him if I did. I've been told that I have an impeccable memory for faces.” The sound of my heart pounding drowns out the detective's words. I'm staring at him and I can see his lips moving, but I can't hear anything. My hands are sweaty and no matter how many times I rub them down my dress, they continue to be wet and clammy.

I was totally caught off guard and grasped the railing with both hands, I feel like anytime I'm going to puke. "You're Miss Morrison, right? You're a close friend of Michael Summers." A policewoman approached me, her tone was strong and has a tinge of southern accent in it and it was obvious that only her first statement was a question, she was sure that I am a close friend of Michael's. I nodded and shook her arm. She introduced herself as police inspector Irene Denver. "We need your help to confirm some alibi and some belongings of the victim." She pulled out some papers but my eyes froze on her face.

A moment later, a piece of paper slid through the narrow gap beneath my door. The footsteps retreated in haste. I peered through the peephole. The hallway was empty. I didn't touch the note, afraid of smudging fingerprints. Instead, I crouched and read the words on it: I know the truth about Edmund's death. Come to the big banyan tree in Greenfield Residences at 11 p.m. Don't call the police. The note was crafted with meticulous care—letters cut out from newspapers and books, pieced together like a ransom demand, leaving no trace of handwriting.

She smiled at him as he winked at Liam then continued out the door. "Interesting friends you have," Liam said as they got to their table. Liam wined and dined Chloe, and she thoroughly enjoyed the dinner and Liam's conversation about his most recent stake out and how Detective Porter ruined the whole thing by stepping in when he wasn't even on the case. She had nearly forgotten about Detective Idiot and made a mental note to call her lawyer to see what to do about moving while there was still an investigation.