In Bed with the Badge

by Marie Ferrarella

  And then she called Wyatt.

  “You’re sure they were the same ones?” Sam asked half an hour later. He’d just left Lisa, along with his apologies, at Brenda and Dax’s house. The couple had assured him that there was nothing to apologize for, they understood the erratic life police detectives were forced to lead. Now that he was here, Sam could hardly believe what Riley was telling him.

  The paramedics had arrived five minutes after she’d placed her call to them and, despite Howard’s protests, had checked out the man from top to bottom. Except for the bump on his head, sustained when the chair was knocked over, the only thing that was wounded was Howard’s pride.

  “I should have been able to fight them off,” he complained to Riley as the paramedics withdrew. “I placed second in my weight class at the gym.”

  Riley had heard the story more than once. “No disrespect intended, Howard,” she said softly, gently rubbing her hand along his back, trying to soothe away his agitation, “but you did tell me that was almost fifty years ago.”

  And then it suddenly hit her. Riley realized what had been bothering her since she’d come on the scene to find him unconscious and bound to the chair. “Wait a minute, were you in bed?”

  “No.” He tried to rise to his feet from the sofa but his legs were a little wobbly. He sank back down again just as Wyatt and Riley reached out to catch him. “I was waiting up for you. Like always.”

  Wyatt looked to Riley for elaboration.

  “Howard likes to make sure I get home in one piece,” she told him. “He’s my self-appointed guardian angel. Long story,” she added before turning her attention back to her neighbor. “But if you weren’t in bed—why would they have come in? They always come in when their victims are in bed.”

  “Did you have the lights on in the house?” Sam asked the man.

  “No, why waste it?” Howard asked defensively. “It’s not like I’m reading.”

  It still didn’t make any sense to Riley. “But they would have seen you—and you would have seen them if you were by the window.”

  His cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “I had to go to the bathroom,” Howard mumbled. “They jumped me right when I came out,” he accused, then shook his head. “I dunno who was more surprised, them or me. It looked like they were on their way to the staircase when I opened the bathroom door. Next thing I knew, the tall one was grabbing my arms, pinning them behind my back and the little guy started punching me. Dunno what they were afraid of since I couldn’t use my hands.”

  She winced as she envisioned the scene. She could almost feel the blows, but this wasn’t the time to be emotional. She had to be a detective first, not Howard’s friend. This could be the break they’d been looking for. “Howard, this is very important, did you recognize either of them?”

  “How could I?” he protested. “They were dressed in black with ski masks on.”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean was there something familiar about the way they moved, the way they talked? Was there anything unique to set them apart in your mind? A smell, perhaps. Did either of them call the other by a name?”

  At each suggestion, Howard shook his head. Until she mentioned smell. “The little guy smelled like garlic,” he told her. “And…”

  That was what one of the other couples had said, she thought, suddenly excited. “And?” she coaxed.

  “The tall, skinny one kept dropping his Gs. He sounded a little like that valet.”

  Sam and Riley exchanged glances. “What valet?” Sam asked.

  “That one at that place—” Howard looked frustrated as he tried to summon the right words.

  “Which one at what place, Howard?” Riley pressed gently.

  Howard closed his eyes for a moment, regrouping.

  All around them were members of the crime scene investigation unit, methodically going about their business, trying to piece together physical evidence. Riley heard one of the men complaining to the woman in charge that he’d almost gotten attacked by a tall stack of books. The stack, one of dozens, that had dislodged when he’d opened the door leading into the room.

  “Ethan was here last week,” Howard told her.

  “I remember.”

  “Ethan?” Sam looked from Howard to her. “Who’s Ethan?”

  “His son,” Riley said, not taking her eyes off Howard. “Go on.”

  “Ethan’s a doctor,” Howard tagged on. “He insisted on taking me to this fancy restaurant.” He snorted his disapproval. “I used to get weekly paychecks that were smaller than what these people charged for a meal, but Ethan insisted we go there, said he was paying. So I said I’d drive.”

  That meant that they had driven to the restaurant in Howard’s secondhand Mercedes. He babied that car, kept it in prime condition. Sundays would find him polishing and waxing the vehicle until it was almost blinding to look at.

  Alarms went off in Riley’s head.

  One slanted glance toward Wyatt told her they were having a mutual epiphany.

  “And you left your keys with the valet,” Wyatt said out loud.

  Obviously confused, Howard looked from Riley to her partner. “How else was he going to park my car?”

  “Is your house key on the same key chain as your car key?” Riley asked him, doing her best not to raise her voice or allow the building excitement she felt to surface.

  Again, Howard seemed puzzled. “I’ve only got the two keys,” he told her. “Why should I keep them on separate key chains? It’s easier to lose one of them that way,” he pointed out.

  Everything fell into place.

  Oh, God, could it really be as simple as that? The valets had access to the keys and to the client’s address because registrations were required to be kept in the glove compartment of each car on the road. All the valet needed to do was to copy down the address and make an impression of the house key. When his shift was over, he could take the impression to a locksmith who might be bribed to look the other way and have made a key.

  Or who knows, maybe the valet could make the keys himself, Riley speculated. Once the valet made a copy of the key, he and his partner could drive to the address, case out the house and its surrounding neighborhood with a minimum of danger to see if a break-in would be profitable.

  Wyatt knew what Riley was thinking. But he had a basic problem with the theory. “If the thieves have a copy of the key, why wouldn’t they just break into the house during the day when everyone’s gone?”

  It was the simplest way to go, but simple didn’t always mean best. “Because there’s always a chance that someone might be in the house,” she guessed. “Doing it at night fairly assures them that everyone’s asleep so they can get the upper hand. Besides, I don’t think it’s just about the robbery.”

  “Then what?” Wyatt wanted to know.

  “I think it’s a power trip. The people they rob have things, can afford to go to fancy restaurants, are most likely better off than our thieves. To them, it’s ‘anything you’ve got, I can take away,’ that sort of thing.”

  Riley turned to look at her neighbor. Saying her theory out loud had gelled it for her. She threw her arms around him and hugged Howard as gently as she could, trying not to let her enthusiasm get the better of her.

  “Oh, Howard, I think you just might have solved the crime for us.”

  Howard looked almost bashful. “Glad I wasn’t banged around for nothing,” he mumbled.

  Riley laughed and pressed a kiss to the large bare expanse just above his forehead.

  “I’m just glad you’re all right. I’ll be right back,” she promised, getting up. Moving to the far end of the living room, she took out her cell phone.

  Wyatt followed her. “Who are you calling?”

  About to press a number on the cell’s keypad, she stopped for a second. “I’m going to see if our other victims ever went to The Crown Jewels Restaurant.”

  He glanced at his watch. It was now close to eleven o’clock. “Isn’t it a little late to
be calling?” he pointed out.

  “Justice never sleeps.” Riley pressed a single button and the phone on the other end of the line began to ring.

  “You’ve got them on speed dial?” he asked.

  “Sure. Just until the cases are solved. Why, don’t you?” she asked.

  But before Wyatt could answer, she held up her finger, asking for silence. She heard someone come on the line.

  “Four out of five is a pretty good track record,” Riley declared some twenty minutes later. She, Wyatt and Howard had adjourned to the kitchen to keep out of the crime scene investigators’ way as she made the rest of her calls. “Everyone but the Marstons remember going to The Crown Jewels Restaurant some time before they were robbed.”

  “I’m sure they enjoyed going down memory lane with you at almost midnight,” Sam commented.

  “I doubt if any of them are heavy sleepers anymore,” she answered. “And maybe they’ll sleep better once we get the bad guys.”

  “But are they the bad guys if the Marstons never went to The Crown Jewels?” Sam asked. “Their home invasion was exactly like the others and we’d need a hundred percent match in order to establish—” Sam didn’t get a chance to finish.

  Riley’s cell phone rang.

  Flipping it open again, she put it against her ear. “McIntyre. Yes. What? Oh. Okay.” Sam saw a radiant smile blooming on her lips. “Well, thank you for calling back, Mr. Marston. Yes, yes, that was extremely helpful. And yes, I would ground him if I were you. Uh-huh. I promise I’ll let you know the second we find out. Goodbye.”

  “What’s extremely helpful and who are you grounding?” Sam asked the second she flipped the cell phone closed again.

  “You look like the cat that ate the canary,” Howard observed, curiosity getting the better of him, as well.

  Excitement vibrated in Riley’s voice as she filled in Sam and Howard about the home invaders’ other victim. “Mr. and Mrs. Marston didn’t go to The Crown Jewels Restaurant, but it seems that their son took his dad’s credit card and his girl there. Junior overheard the conversation and just confessed.”

  Howard shook his head. “Teenagers. Absolutely no respect for money these days.”

  “Not to mention that if he hadn’t taken his girl there, his parents wouldn’t have been targeted by the home invaders. He’s probably going to be grounded until he collects social security,” she commented just before clapping her hands together. “Okay, now we’re batting a thousand. What do you say you and I have a late lunch at The Crown Jewels tomorrow? We’ll use my car.”

  It seemed like the way to go. Except for one thing. “Why your car?” Sam asked.

  “Elementary, my dear Watson. Your registration will tell them that you live in an apartment. These people only rob houses.”

  He conceded the point, but there was a larger one to consider. “This is a long shot, you know. There’s no guarantee that they’ll take the bait. I mean, they have to park hundreds of cars during the week.”

  “That’s why I’m going to ask to borrow that rock that the chief gave Rose for their last anniversary. That, and a few other ‘trinkets’ from the family should do it. If I sparkle enough,” she looked at Sam and batted her eyelashes, “I’m sure I’ll move right up to the top of their list.”

  It crossed Sam’s mind that Riley sparkled enough without any jewelry, but, since they weren’t alone, he decided to keep that to himself.

  Chapter 15

  “I know you want to keep your neighbor out of this if possible, but I think we should bring those valets in for questioning. This plan of yours just isn’t working,” Sam told Riley.

  He was sitting in his car, parked down the block and across the street from her house and talking to her via his cell phone. His muscles felt cramped and he was going just a little stir crazy.

  As she sat in the dark in her living room, Riley hoped that the sight of her house locked down for the night would give the home invaders the go-ahead signal. So far, nothing had happened.

  Though she didn’t want to, she was beginning to agree with her partner. She and Wyatt had been at this for almost two straight weeks now with no success. Night after night went by and still no sign of the home invaders.

  She’d thought for certain that flashing her borrowed jewelry would be a definite come-on to the robbers. That and the fact that when the valet had brought back her car, she’d loudly refused, as they’d previously agreed, to allow Wyatt to give the man a generous tip.

  “You don’t need to give him that big tip,” she’d admonished. “For heaven’s sake, it’s not like he had to fight off some roving gang of bikers to bring the car to us. He just drove the thing around the corner. Honestly, Sam, you’re just too generous for your own good.”

  If looks could kill, Riley would have been dead on the spot. The glare the valet had given her would have cut her to ribbons.

  Maybe it had been the wrong valet. But he’d been tall and thin and looked exactly as Howard had described him. Besides, the valet dropped his Gs, just the way Howard had remembered.

  Riley sighed into her phone. “You’re probably right. This is getting us nowhere.” For all she knew, they were still at square one, except she had a gut feeling that she was right: valets operating at The Crown Jewels Restaurant were behind the robberies. Nothing else made sense to her. “Go home to Lisa.”

  “Will do. Good night, partner,” Sam said, flipping his phone closed.

  He tossed the phone onto the seat next to him. The seat Riley ordinarily occupied. This surveillance cut into not just the time he spent with his daughter, but the time he spent with Riley, as well. They hadn’t gotten together intimately since this surveillance began and he missed her. Missed being with her. Missed the scent of her skin, the feel of her body against his. He missed the sound of her breath growing erratic as they came together, pleasuring one another.

  He’d never felt this way about a woman before, not to this extent and not for this long. He’d certainly never caught himself longing for a woman the way he longed for Riley.

  This was all new to him and confusing as hell.

  Or maybe not so confusing, just scary, he amended, because, like it or not, he felt vulnerable.

  Sam glanced at his watch. He knew Riley was right, he should be getting home. For the last few days, Riley’s mother had volunteered to stay with the little girl so that Lisa could sleep in her own bed and not have her routine constantly disrupted.

  Six months ago if anyone would have told him that the Chief of Detectives’ wife would be babysitting for his daughter and that he would be physically—and emotionally—involved with the chief’s stepdaughter, he would have laughed until gasping for breath. He’d had no daughter and he just wasn’t the lasting kind. Women came and went in his life like the seasons back east, one fading away just as another came along.

  What a difference half a year made, he mused.

  Maybe he’d wait just a little longer, Sam decided. He didn’t want to leave too early, just in case…

  Forty-five minutes later, tired, Sam called it a night.

  There was no point in doing this, he thought. The robbers weren’t coming. He needed to go before he was too exhausted to drive and fell asleep at the wheel.

  Putting his key into the ignition, he turned it on. The car quietly came to life. Going up the next driveway, he turned his car around and began to drive down the street that eventually led out of the development.

  It was late and hardly any vehicles were on the road. Anyone with an ounce of sense was home. Where he needed to be.

  Even though it hardly felt like home without Riley there.

  Don’t start in, just get home, Sam silently lectured himself.

  Coming to the edge of the development, he passed a car heading in. Sam pressed his lips together to stifle a yawn. Damn, but he was tired.

  Riley bolted upright.

  Was that a noise, or just an overly realistic dream spilling out into her awakened state?

&
nbsp; She listened intently, trying to decide.

  Leaving her living room, at the last minute she’d left a pile of books right by the front door—just in case. If someone came in, they’d knock the books over when they opened the door.

  That was what she’d heard, the books being knocked over. She was sure of it.

  Her heart pounding, Riley grabbed the telephone receiver to call for backup.

  There was no dial tone.

  The line was dead.

  And she’d left her cell phone downstairs.

  Thank God she hadn’t put her service revolver away in its usual place, she thought. Instead, she’d brought it to her bedroom and placed it on the nightstand. She put her hand on it now for reassurance.

  Slipping quickly out of bed, she made to the doorway as quietly as possible. Holding her breath, she crept to the hallway.

  Someone from the left grabbed her by the waist, pulling her so hard, he all but knocked the air out of her. The gun was wrenched out of her hand.

  And then there was this awful pain in the back of her head. He’d hit her with something hard.

  Riley struggled to keep from fading into the darkness that grabbed her. Instead of fighting back, she pretended to be limp, hoping that the home invader would drop his guard.

  Whoever had hit her was carrying her down the stairs. And then she felt herself being roughly deposited onto a chair. It was now or never. She knew what came next. Duct taping her to the chair. The second she made contact with the seat, she leaped up, grappling with her assailant.

  She’d caught him off guard. But not his partner. Behind her Riley heard a gun being cocked.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, bitch,” a raspy voice warned.

  “Good advice. I suggest you follow it.”

  A split second earlier, the unlocked door had slammed against the opposite wall. Riley whirled around and saw that Sam had his gun out and pointed toward the robber with the gun on her.