LA Famiglia - The Bellomo's Book one

My body jerked as they slammed a cupboard shut, my eyes directly in front of me.

“Where is he?” The older man barked at me.

“I don’t know,” I said firmly, refusing to look at him.

“You don’t know where your husband is?”

“You’ve been to his work?” I asked, finally looking up at the greying man.

“Yes and he isn’t there,” he responded, anger in his voice.

“Then I don’t know where my husband is,” I shrugged, my eyes going back to my off TV. He walked away from me, rummaging through some drawers in the hallway. I stretched my arms up as I stood, shouting over to him before I went into my kitchen.

“Did you want another coffee detective?!”

“No thank you Aria,” he chuckled. Moving past the officers destroying my kitchen, I turned my coffee pot on. It was far too late in the evening for coffee but I had a funny feeling they would be in my home for a while. I was doing what I was told, making them feel welcome but keeping my mouth firmly shut. This was probably the sixth time this month they wrecked my house, looking for what? Who fucking knows.

“You husband have any guns?” I sighed as I turned to the young officer, running my fingers through my short reddish dark hair. It was naturally wavy but in need of a good wash.

“Nope,” I said simply, turning back around to the coffee.

“Drugs?” He asked again.

“Nope,” I replied, pouring the hot liquid into my mug. I fancied a cappuccino but my Italian roots forced me to have just an expresso.

“We’ll find them,” the officer said behind me. I could really do with this guy shutting the fuck up.

“Nothing to find,” I shrugged, downing half of the coffee. My head was starting to bang and part of me wanted to go to sleep and leave them to it.

“We’ll be out of your hair soon,” the first detective appeared, giving me a smile.

“If you could, I want to go to bed,” I laughed, leaning against the kitchen side.

“If you talk to us it will be quicker,” he shrugged.

“About what?” I pulled a face, did they really think I was this fucking stupid?

“Your husbands business,” he said slowly.

“He works in construction, not much to tell,” I yawned. He gave up, sighing as he walked out of the kitchen. I watched the others turn the place upside down, drawers being ripped open and papers flung everywhere. I was pissed, knowing I would have to clean this shit up later. I had no fucking clue where Giovanni was, he had been gone for about four days and it was a bit of light relief. I’m sure he was fucking some nineteen year old somewhere but I was passed caring. It wasn’t like I could politely ask him to stop and he would and it wasn’t like I could ask for a divorce, I was stuck here. Being the ever dotting mob wife.