Novel & Cerita Morgan Freeman Detective Movies

Who had shown him how to work a scene, how to read a suspect, how to survive on the streets when the streets wanted to kill you. Detective Frank Morrison was sixty-two years old. His hair was gray, his face lined, his hands calloused from decades of work. He'd been a cop for forty years, and for thirty-five of them, he'd been taking money from the Don. Alex walked to the table. Sat down across from him. "Frank," he said. Morrison looked up. His eyes were the same color they'd always been, a pale blue that Alex had trusted for seven years. But there was something in them now that hadn't been there before. Something that looked like fear.

Detective Freeman spoke first, his tone professional, his gaze fixed on Evelyn Brooks. “Mrs. Evelyn Brooks,” he said, “you are under arrest for attempted murder.” The room froze. Adam surged forward instinctively. “What?” he shouted. “That’s insane.” Barbra’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide, shock draining the colour from her face. Evelyn stared at the detective, disbelief flashing across her features before hardening into outrage. “You have no idea what you’re saying.” Freeman didn’t flinch. “We have evidence. You’ll have the opportunity to address it with your lawyer.”

Fred whewed as soon as Manchi was out of sight. "Yeah. So, what ya gonna do now?" Jameson asked in anticipation and looked at Fred waiting for a positive response. Fred didn't have any plan in mind, but he knew that Manchi's presence could mean the death of Beatrix anytime soon. Fred racked his head so hard that he wouldn't have been able to count his to and fro steps. Deriving a plan for almost any case wasn't really a big deal for Fred as he had served in the Militia and had worked alongside the top detectives in the city. Fred was quite a figure.

"Start over? Taylor, do you even know what has taken place? This isn't just losing a house or a company. It is about the loss of trust, of everything that we built." Whatever Taylor could have said was cut off by the sound of the front door opening as two men in suits entered, their faces serious. The lead man, who quickly introduced himself as Detective Freeman, looked around the room before his gaze locked on Veronica. "Ma'am," he said, taking a step toward her. "Are you Veronica Fury?" Veronica drew to full height, head tilted defiantly high. "Yes, I am. What is this about?" Freeman didn't flinch. "Mrs. Fury, you're under arrest for attempted murder."

“Excuse me, Officer. I’m Dominic Sylvester from Manhattan. This car belongs to me. My wife and son are missing. Officer Stanley Reeves from Midtown North Precinct sent me here for an update.” He checked my identity card and let me, Lucien, inside. “I’m Officer Hudson from the Mount Vernon Police Department. We received an update about the crime that took place here earlier. Two people have been murdered using two different weapons. One casualty is identified as your chauffeur, Freddie Smith. We are transferring his body to our forensic department for further investigation.” I gasped with horror as I clutched at my heart and staggered backwards. Freddie was dead! What could have happened?