Private Investigator Stories Novels & Stories

I said and waved my hand to my mom, indirectly telling him to deal with Jared's questions. I went to my room and decided to stay there until dinner time. I opened and turned on my laptop as soon as I entered my room. I had been waiting for a report from the investigator I hired to look into Stacey. Yes, both mom and I hired an investigator without each other knowing. Based on what I heard, mom's investigator had gathered a lot. I wonder what mine has accomplished. While waiting for the report, I cleaned myself and changed into something comfortable.

He either made up a new story for me to see, or he would change into a new story after I opened his safe like he expected last week. Either way, he is now forced to make a move, and moves leave traces. That’s where Adrian and his army of journalists come in -- they are the best detectives. They follow stories -- lies -- their whole life, and sometimes they have to deal with cases with much softer evidence than what the police get. We don’t need the police because we can’t prove any crime in Jack Fuller’s doing. But a dirty story about a local deep pocket? They can strip all his layers of cover like death ants.

Mason jumped in. “So what inspired you to chase this career, Mason? I'm sure you didn't just wake up and decided you want to become an investigator.” Dad, again with the questions! I was literally screaming in my mind. “Well, I grew up on the streets of downtowner New York. My eyes were opened to countless injustice and mysteries right from when I was young. I was also a very inquisitive lad then. It was then that I decided to help the wronged by becoming an investigator.” he narrated and I almost rolled my eyes.

I went back to the list. *** The next call was the one that was going to cost me. Patrick Lindock was the editor of a financial investigations unit that had broken three major corporate stories in the last two years. Like Rachel, he didn't owe me anything. He didn't need anything from me either. What he had was standards, real ones, and a deep professional irritation with perfectly packaged stories. "Patrick. I need a favour." "You don't call in favours, Maya." "I'm starting." A pause that told me he was already interested.

“I’m an investigative reporter for the Chicago Sun-Times, I know a lot of shit in this town. I write under a pen name, nobody knows it's me but my direct boss. Even he won’t give me up because my shit is too good. But saying a Reznikov is writing snitch stuff on other crime families? No way. I cover everything from police brutality to gang shit to organized crime. I’ve never written anything about our family, but you wouldn’t believe the shit I know about the Italians and the Chinese,” Ivan said, smiling. “How the fuck did we not know this,” Mickey said, slapping my leg. “I got a man you should talk to. He’s out running with the family right now. Ex-military, one of the best hackers in the w

he told me as our hands dropped away from each other. We walked to his couch and sat down across from each other, "I know that even though I've told you you'll be a key witness, you are incapable of staying off the case as an investigator. So, tell me what you've learned over the weekend," he asked. I was surprised by the lack of anger in his voice. He was dead on in his assumption that I wasn't going to stop looking for more stories like mine, and I started telling him about Stacia. I launched into the details, recounting everything I had learned over the past few days.

She listened intently to their stories, allowing their words to guide her in her search. After several encounters and countless conversations, Estella's perseverance bore fruit. She received a tip about a highly skilled private investigator known for his meticulous attention to detail and unparalleled success rate. Excitement coursed through her veins as she made her way to the investigator's office. The office was tucked away in a narrow alley, its door marked by a weathered sign that read "Fletcher Investigations." Estella entered, greeted by the faint aroma of old books and the sound of papers shuffling in the background. The investigator, a seasoned man with sharp eyes and a calm demeano

"It’s an honor to meet the Blackwood family. Your legacy has impacted many lives, mine included.” Alina smiled warmly. “Tell us more about yourself, Tracy,” Alina prompted. Tracy shifted slightly. "I’m twenty-five, and I’m an investigate journalist at Investico," Tracy explained. "My work mainly involves exposing the hidden tracks of media personalities and business moguls, finding the things they prefer to keep in the dark.” Aria’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Same field as me. Impressive.”Aria grinned, leaning forward. "Finally! Someone who can relate with me. Tell me, how did you find yourself in that world?”

“Your job is to connect dots. Not to draw imaginary lines between them. My lover and I took a private trip.” “A winter getaway. A man with a… dramatic nickname may have been in the same town. The world is full of people.” He finally let his eyes drift over the evidence, his expression one of mild distaste. “This is your case? A travel agent’s invoice and a ghost story? A real investigator,” he said, leaning back, “would have a body or at least a motive beyond… simple geography.”

I warned. “Alright, alright. Justin Harris, middle age, works for the Herald News as some freelance investigative reporter. He’s got the rep as we know already, balls and all. He’s got a cozy family up in the city while he’s holed up in some hotel outside of town. He’s been digging into the Mayor and his subordinates, some senators here and there and also the head investigator at the police” Bella and I share a glance. “That, and some high rated civilians in the area. Got to give it to this guy he has no respect for nobody, I wonder how the bastard sleeps at night.”