17 smug

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Across the table, in a small room with a two-way mirror, Al did what he does best - interrogate people.

Josie and Al looked at each other knowing they had nothing on him and very little time to hold him there.

"Why did you kill your wife?"

"Oh come on Detective.... You can do better than that." Shaking his head in disgust.

"Were you fighting with your wife on the day in question?"

"Who doesn't?" Shoulders shrugged.

"Answer the question." Chimed in Josie.

MacMillan looked at her with distain and snarled. "Yeah, we quarreled."

"Then you packed your bags and left?" Al asked.

"She left first. Then I left."

Al and Josie looked at each other realizing that Mrs. Wadsworth got that part correct.

"What was in the suitcases?" Josie regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth.

MacMillan started to laugh ironically.

"That's all you got, information from a senile senior citizen that watches everything through her front window, but can't remember what day of the week it is?"

"That's enough! Don't say another word Dennis." His high-power lawyer in his $3,000 designer suit burst through the door.

"Yeah, yeah. Save your breath." Al scrapped his chair across the floor and stood up. He knew he had nothing. "We're finished .....for now."

As Al left the room MacMillan smugly asked, "Hey Detective? Aren't you going to ask me not to leave town?"

"You watch too much television."

Al promised himself he would wipe that arrogant grin off MacMillan's face one day.

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