Free Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 03 - Secrets at Sea by Peggy Dulle Page A

was being squished. I pushed the men away from each other. “So, it’s nice to see you so soon, Officer Ramirez. What can we do for you?” I said, trying to ease the tension.
    Officer Hansen stepped up beside me, between his partner and Tom. “We have this warrant,” he said, holding up a paper.
    Tom snatched it from his hand. “A warrant for what?” He stepped away to read it.
    “To search your hotel room,” Ramirez said.
    “Well, that’s rude,” I said. “We didn’t do anything. Why would you want to search our room?”
    “You’re an un-cooperative material witness to a homicide.” Ramirez glared, his eyes just narrow slits. “This is my town and I can search anywhere I want.”
    Tom flung the warrant at him, “So why are you here? Go, search the room, and stop bothering us. You’re not going to find anything, anyway.”
    Okay, that wasn’t exactly the truth. He’d find all my photos and certainly take them all. Then he’d wonder why I had them and ask more questions and make me answer them, too.
    Hansen said, “We already tried to search your room.”
    “What do you mean, tried?” I asked.
    Tom ignored my comment, “Then why the hell are you here bothering us?”
    “It’s just that you’ve been in town, how long?” Hansen asked.
    “Four or five hours,” I answered, “Why?”
    “You don’t seem like people who would throw their clothes and things all over the hotel room.”
    “What?” Tom and I said in unison.
    “Yeah, it looks like someone trashed your room between the time you left for dinner and when we got there to search it.”
    “There’s something going on that you’re not telling me,” Ramirez said, “and you’re not getting on the cruise ship until I know what it is!”
    Tom grabbed my arm. “Let’s get back to our room. I want to see what they’re talking about.”
    “We’ll follow you,” Hansen said.
    We got our car from the valet and drove back to the inn, Ramirez and Hansen following in their unmarked police car. To me that always seemed like an oxymoron. How could it really be unmarked if everyone could tell it was a police vehicle? After all, it had those lights by both side mirrors that you can focus on people and a row of blue lights in the back window.
    Tom parked in the lot and we walked toward our room, Hansen and Ramirez following us. It was like having Shelby herding me. Now I knew how little David felt and I didn’t like it one bit.
    Tom opened the door.
    “Oh my!” I put my hand over my mouth. Tom’s clothes were spewed everywhere. The couch cushions had been lifted and tossed to the side.
    I started into the room, but Tom stopped me. “Did you dust for prints or anything?”
    “Nope, it doesn’t do any good in these hotels,” Hansen said. “We’d get a million prints all layered over each other. Is anything missing?”
    “I don’t know yet,” Tom said.
    “Did you have another piece in here?” Ramirez asked.
    “Piece?” I asked.
    “Gun,” Tom said, scanning the room. “No, I left my Glock locked up at home.”
    Ramirez nodded and said, “The first thing I’d check is for your passports. We’ve had some people breaking into hotel rooms and stealing them.”
    Tom nodded.
    They seemed to be getting along a little better. Anything would be an improvement over the looming fist-fight from a few minutes ago.
    I didn’t say anything, but the first thing I did notice was that my pictures were gone - every single one.
    “I’ll check the bedroom,” I told them.
    “I’ll go with you,” Detective Hansen said.
    We went into the bedroom. It was in total disarray, too, with the bed sheets and comforter pulled off.
    Hansen raised his eyebrows. I’m sure he had noticed the twin beds, but he didn’t make a comment.
    “What about your passport or was it in your purse?” he asked.
    “It’s in my small suitcase.”
    “The one smashed over there?” he pointed to a corner.
    “Oh no!” I rushed over, opened the case and searched the