Romans & histoires Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency

“Uh, Frank Payne. Liam’s secretary.” The detective gave a slow nod. “Figured. You don’t look like a client. I'm Detective Hale.” Frank let out a nervous chuckle. “Uh… appreciate the hospitality.” The detective ignored him and turned to Liam. “I found some things,” he said, pushing a file across the table. Liam picked it up, flipping through the contents. “And?” The detective leaned back. “There’s barely anything on him. It’s like his past was wiped clean.”

Detective George Sanders directed the match to the tip of his cigarette, observing as he allowed the flame to catch. A slow, deliberate breath, he drew in the heat radiating with the smoke and exhaled in a gentle hiss. Sergeant Wayne sat across from him, wrapping up a ham sandwich, chewing slowly with his rough jaw in contemplative, deliberate bites. In the quiet, their conversation lingered, each working over pieces of the case like panning for gold in sand. "Old man says he kept a registration book," Sanders began, voice as gruff as sandpaper. "Said he stamped off every car that came in last night. Problem is, now the book's gone missing."

I trace my finger along a row of transactions, feeling the texture of deceit beneath my fingertip, the subtle wrongness that has been hiding in plain sight all along. My home office has become a war room, the place where I've assembled the arsenal I'll need to dismantle Derek's schemes. Bank statements fan out across my desk, their edges aligned with military precision. Legal documents stack in chronological towers, color-coded flags marking suspicious entries. The night presses against my windows, but I barely notice the late hour. Time means little when I'm on the hunt.

I first cleared my throat then spoke. “Check the perimeter cams,” I said, kneeling back beside the body. “Already sent the request. I know your next five moves, Vale.” “You’ve been watching me that long?” He grinned and turned to walk back toward the van. “Maybe.” Fifteen minutes later, the rest of the forensics team was sweeping the scene. I kept going back to the body because it actually had a scent. I couldn’t describe it exactly. But everyone said they could only smell cold bold. Maybe my nose was playing

Plainclothes detective. "Dr. Barrett?" he said. Extended a hand. "Detective Marcus Grey. I hear you're asking about our animal cases." Marcus Grey. Why did that name sound familiar? "I am," I said. Shook his hand. Strong grip. Almost too strong. "I've noticed a pattern. I wanted to offer my perspective. As a medical professional." "Come to my office," he said. Led me through the station. Past desks and filing cabinets. To a small room in the back.

Theron had mentioned the detective wasn’t buying the story Bram Thatcher tried to spin, but his name eluded me. I gestured toward the chair beside the bed. "Please, have a seat, Mr...?" "Orson Talbot," he replied, settling into the chair. His hazel eyes roamed over the bruises still visible on my face. "I’m glad to see you’re healing," he said smoothly. "Thank you, Detective Talbot. What would you like to ask?" He produced a notebook and pen. "Just some standard questions for the file." I exhaled slowly. "Go ahead."

Sick and tired of hearing the news I saw for myself… *** I swerved my old Mercedes into the hospital’s car park. I had to start my investigation tonight; and I was hoping I’d find something on Samantha’s body. Sleeping would be hard as from now, I had no time to waste; that shooter needs to be found fast. That was the only thing that would give me comfort now, not silly condolences and pitiful stares. “Glad you came, just wanted to dial up your number,” The voice sounded very familiar. I came out of my car to see her removing the blue detective gloves from her hand, it was Jane Johnson; my new partner.

“Sir, we found something in the morgue attendant's pockets.” “What did you find?” The inspector gasped on hearing the information. “We found his work ID card.” The voice replied with urgency in his tone. Just as he mentioned the name of the company that the morgue attendant worked for, Cop Gozila maneuvered his steering out of the airport and drove straight to the morgue. They bumped into the officers as they arrived at the morgue. The inspector collected the ID from the officer at once before he walked inside the morgue.

CHAPTER 36 New York City Police Department (NYPD) Headquarters, 1:00 pm The young detective named Nicholas Gray looked up quickly when his coworker Hendrick Mckenzie--or Hendrick as he was more commonly known--tapped him on the shoulder. The hazel-eyed detective sat down in his chair--which was next to Nicholas' desk--and immediately handed Nicholas a dark brown folder. They had been in the same division (serious crimes division) for the past five years and their relationship had been very good. So it was natural for Nicholas to think of Hendrick as his own brother.

Matteo's eyes raked through the compound, counting the men littered around the compound, holding their guns around their hoisters not so discreetly, Greg had security no doubt but they weren't exactly five star He could take these guys out in a minute without even breaking a sweat. His eyes moved again and he recognized the white Aston Martin parked just close to Spade's car, he'd seen it so many times he would recognize it anywhere. It belonged to the kid. His eyes moved back to look at Spade and from the looks in his eyes, he hadn't seen the car, which in a way was good, because he couldn't be distracted now and anything that concerned that Miller kid was a distraction for Spade.