Detective Pimento Novels & Stories

“Twelve teams in motion. Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore—all active. Every informant, every street rat. All hunting the Moretti girl.” Victor drained the scotch in one long pull. “I don’t care if she’s at the bottom of the ocean or the top of the sky. Drag her before me.” Twelve teams. One ghost. And somewhere in the city, she was already watching him back. ✘ ✘ ✘ Piero Morelli lounged in old leather. Three men stood at attention. Cigar smoke curled through the silence. “Victor is cracking, boss. Haunted by his past.”

Through their bond, Casie felt his methodical focus, the way he was compartmentalising the supernatural aspects to apply standard investigative techniques. "The prints we found belong to a Joseph Mercer," Mendoza informed them, checking his notes. "Small-time fence with connections to several antique dealers in the tri-state area. No known supernatural affiliations." "Probably just a customer," Casie concluded, turning back to the blood pattern. "This is our real lead. What exactly were they looking for in his memories, Valeria?"

There was only one person I knew who could get me military-grade pinhole cams on zero notice. And I hated him. Deeply. With the fire of a thousand suns. My ex, Derek. Narcotics detective turned private security after he got kicked off the force for “borrowing” evidence. Asshole still owed me for not ratting him out when I caught him. I scrolled to his name, hovered, cursed, hit call before I could talk myself out of it. He answered on the third ring, voice all smug sleep. “Lily? Holy shit. You dying or something?”

“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 said calmly, "This is my last warning to you if you want to keep your career." The detective swallowed hard, but his bravado did not falter. "Oh, I'm so scared, Mr Romero." He said sarcastically, "I'm literally shaking in my boots. But let's see if your money can get you out when we hear from the horse's mouth himself." Damien frowned, tilting his head to the side in annoyance, "What the fuck are you talking about?" The detective waved his phone in Damien's face, "Mr Bernadi's awake, Mr Romero." He revealed smugly, "I'm very sure he'll be able to point out his assailant and how they were able to escape."

“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.

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.