Read Online In Bed With the Badge by Marie Ferrarella - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marie Ferrarella
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scotch,” Wilson responded, frustrated. A huge sigh escaped his lips. “No, I’m okay,” he amended.
“What happened next?” Sam coaxed.
Wilson seemed to brace himself. “They made us sit in chairs and tied us to them. Then they emptied our house.”
“How long were they here?” Riley asked.
Wilson shrugged. There seemed to be no way to gauge time. “Maybe an hour at the most.”
“It felt like forever,” Shirley chimed in over his voice.“And when they were finished, they put rags over our faces.” Hysteria reentered her voice as she said, “I thought they were going to kill us—”
“They used chloroform,” Wilson interrupted, talking over his wife. The disdain in his voice was impossible to miss. “Knocked us out so that we couldn’t try to stop them.”
“Like that could ever happen,” Shirley murmured under her breath. It was still loud enough for all of them to hear.
Rising in his seat, Wilson looked as if he was about to argue with his wife again. Sam put his hand firmly on the man’s shoulder, pressing him back down onto the sofa.
“You can tell it all to the marriage counselor later,” Sam told him sternly. “Right now, we need a detailed list of everything that’s missing.”
“I don’t know everything that’s missing,” Wilson snapped. “This is a big house, Officer—”
“Detective,” Riley corrected before Sam had a chance to.
“Whatever,” Wilson huffed out, dismissing the difference in title at the same time. “I just know they took most of my wife’s jewelry.” That brought up another bone of contention as he glared at her. “I told you to leave it in the safety deposit box at the bank.”
“Then I’d have to go to the bank whenever I wanted to wear something,” Shirley complained. By the sound of her voice, this wasn’t a new argument. She turned to look at Riley, seeking an ally. “What’s the point of having jewelry if you can’t wear it?”
“Well, you certainly can’t wear it now, can you?”Wilson jeered. “Because they’ve got it,” he emphasized heatedly.
This all had such a familiar ring to it, Riley thought, although her mother had never defended herself. For the sake of her children and hoping to cut the scene short, her mother had always let her father unload on her.
Riley hated the sound of an argument. “And the longer you bicker,” she said, addressing them both, “the less of a chance we have of recovering anything.”
“Who are you kidding?” Wilson demanded, turning on her. “You’re both just going through the motions, covering your tails as it were. We’re never going to see any of what those two made off with and you know it.”
Sam answered before she could. “That’s certainly true if you waste time arguing and don’t cooperate,” Sam told him coldly. Wilson shut his mouth. “Now is there anything else you remember?”
When Shirley looked at them blankly, Riley elaborated. “Did either of them have any kind of an accent? Or did either one of them slip up and call the other by a name?”
“They were just ‘Smith’ and ‘Jones,’” Shirley told them.
“Those are aliases,” Wilson shouted at her in disgust. Shirley looked at Riley, silently appealing to her to help.
Riley shook her head at Wilson. There was a smattering of sympathy in her expression. “Most likely,” she agreed. “Can you remember anything else? Anything at all?”
Clearly frustrated as well as contrite, Shirley shook her head. Then suddenly, the light seemed to dawn inher eyes. “Wait a minute,” she said excitedly. “Garlic.” Looking from one to the other, she told them, “I remember garlic.”
“Garlic?” Sam repeated uncertainly. He exchanged glances with his partner.
“What the hell are you babbling about now, woman?” Wilson demanded angrily.
This time Riley clamped her hand on the man’s arm. “Mr. Wilson, don’t have me ask you again to refrain from belittling your wife.” She struggled to keep her
“What happened next?” Sam coaxed.
Wilson seemed to brace himself. “They made us sit in chairs and tied us to them. Then they emptied our house.”
“How long were they here?” Riley asked.
Wilson shrugged. There seemed to be no way to gauge time. “Maybe an hour at the most.”
“It felt like forever,” Shirley chimed in over his voice.“And when they were finished, they put rags over our faces.” Hysteria reentered her voice as she said, “I thought they were going to kill us—”
“They used chloroform,” Wilson interrupted, talking over his wife. The disdain in his voice was impossible to miss. “Knocked us out so that we couldn’t try to stop them.”
“Like that could ever happen,” Shirley murmured under her breath. It was still loud enough for all of them to hear.
Rising in his seat, Wilson looked as if he was about to argue with his wife again. Sam put his hand firmly on the man’s shoulder, pressing him back down onto the sofa.
“You can tell it all to the marriage counselor later,” Sam told him sternly. “Right now, we need a detailed list of everything that’s missing.”
“I don’t know everything that’s missing,” Wilson snapped. “This is a big house, Officer—”
“Detective,” Riley corrected before Sam had a chance to.
“Whatever,” Wilson huffed out, dismissing the difference in title at the same time. “I just know they took most of my wife’s jewelry.” That brought up another bone of contention as he glared at her. “I told you to leave it in the safety deposit box at the bank.”
“Then I’d have to go to the bank whenever I wanted to wear something,” Shirley complained. By the sound of her voice, this wasn’t a new argument. She turned to look at Riley, seeking an ally. “What’s the point of having jewelry if you can’t wear it?”
“Well, you certainly can’t wear it now, can you?”Wilson jeered. “Because they’ve got it,” he emphasized heatedly.
This all had such a familiar ring to it, Riley thought, although her mother had never defended herself. For the sake of her children and hoping to cut the scene short, her mother had always let her father unload on her.
Riley hated the sound of an argument. “And the longer you bicker,” she said, addressing them both, “the less of a chance we have of recovering anything.”
“Who are you kidding?” Wilson demanded, turning on her. “You’re both just going through the motions, covering your tails as it were. We’re never going to see any of what those two made off with and you know it.”
Sam answered before she could. “That’s certainly true if you waste time arguing and don’t cooperate,” Sam told him coldly. Wilson shut his mouth. “Now is there anything else you remember?”
When Shirley looked at them blankly, Riley elaborated. “Did either of them have any kind of an accent? Or did either one of them slip up and call the other by a name?”
“They were just ‘Smith’ and ‘Jones,’” Shirley told them.
“Those are aliases,” Wilson shouted at her in disgust. Shirley looked at Riley, silently appealing to her to help.
Riley shook her head at Wilson. There was a smattering of sympathy in her expression. “Most likely,” she agreed. “Can you remember anything else? Anything at all?”
Clearly frustrated as well as contrite, Shirley shook her head. Then suddenly, the light seemed to dawn inher eyes. “Wait a minute,” she said excitedly. “Garlic.” Looking from one to the other, she told them, “I remember garlic.”
“Garlic?” Sam repeated uncertainly. He exchanged glances with his partner.
“What the hell are you babbling about now, woman?” Wilson demanded angrily.
This time Riley clamped her hand on the man’s arm. “Mr. Wilson, don’t have me ask you again to refrain from belittling your wife.” She struggled to keep her
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