“If it was an old girlfriend, her number or picture could be in that phone,” Syd said. Cell phones were a treasure trove of evidence, from the phone directory to the picture and video files. And the cell phone cameras came in handy, too. There were a number of cases when victims have taken pictures of their attackers as they fled.
Ryan took the iPhone, turned to Liz. “Do you know what killed him?”
Liz dropped the penis in an evidence bag. “Not until I get him on the table.” Liz glanced at Ramirez, “How long before you’re finished, Tony?”
“We’re done,” Ramirez said.
“First impressions?” Ryan asked.
“We’ve got a little bit to work with. The killer wiped off any fingerprints, but we did find a long strand of blonde hair caught under aforementioned Patik Phillip.”
“The woman in the bar was a blonde,” Hanrahan said.
“And there was a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth, bright red. We swabbed a sample.”
“Can you get DNA?” Hanrahan asked.
“Only if there is any saliva which, sorry to say, is rare. But we’ll check. Otherwise, we didn’t find much else.”
“Check out where they were sitting at the bar,” Ryan said. “Maybe she left a print there.”
“We’re on it,” Tony said. The SID techs left as Liz waved over the two morgue attendants waiting by a gurney at the morgue van.
“I stopped by and saw your dad yesterday,” Liz said to Ryan.
“Really,” Ryan said, surprised. His dad had been dead for three years.
“My Uncle Elwood died; remember Elwood, he was the dentist.”
“Right,” Ryan said. “He had twin boys, and they both became dentists, too.” Ryan remembered because Ryan’s father had been a lawyer, as had his grandfather. And the expectation had been that Ryan would follow in the family’s footsteps. But life got in the way.
Ryan fell in love his junior year at UCLA. Her name was Anne Reich, a pretty brunette who grew up dirt poor in a Riverside trailer park. Ryan flipped for Anne; they had similar tastes in books, movies, food. She was smart, funny, attentive, and ambitious. They were the perfect couple, everyone said so, and they were soon daydreaming about getting married. Ryan wanted to wait until after law school, once their careers were safely on their way. But Anne got pregnant, and taking it as a sign, the happy couple got married the summer before their senior year.
Then life threw a one-two punch. First, Anne lost the baby. A miscarriage. Ryan consoled Anne, told her not to worry they would have plenty of babies.
Then the knockout punch; Ryan’s father was charged with tax fraud. Under financial strain from paying four alimonies and caught short by the bursting tech bubble, Ryan’s father had played a little fast and loose with the IRS. He was caught, convicted, disbarred and sentenced to six years in jail.
Ryan scraped together enough money for his last year of UCLA and Anne had her scholarship, but now there was no money for law school. So Ryan made a decision. He’d work while Anne went to law school. When she graduated, she’d go to work and pay for his education.
Not only had Ryan loved his six years with stepmom Liz, her stories about the Coroner’s office and police work intrigued him. So he joined the LAPD. Anne thrived at UCLA law school and Ryan loved the police force. But it was a financial struggle. A patrolman’s salary barely covered the studio apartment, groceries and incidentals.
The summer after her second year of law school Anne got a job as an intern at a big L.A. firm, Rogers, Middleton and Roberts. There she met Rick Rogers, son of founding partner,
Edward Rogers. He was five years Anne’s senior and an associate on the fast track to making partner. He was handsome, Harvard-educated, and rich. He also had a huge crush on Anne and pursued her relentlessly.
And then one night, Anne never came home. Frantic, Ryan worked the phone calling hospitals, friends, family, desperately trying to find her. She called in the morning to say she’d fallen in love with Rick Rogers and she wanted a divorce. Rick sent movers to clean her things out of the apartment while a shell-shocked Ryan looked on. Two weeks after the divorce was final, Rick married Anne.
Ryan was devastated. He tortured himself, wondering what he’d done wrong. Wondering what he could have done to keep Anne. His well-planned life had come completely unraveled. He was supposed to quit the police force and go to law school next year. But without Anne’s salary to support them, how would he afford it?
And suddenly, the idea of becoming a lawyer didn’t appeal to him very much. It hadn’t done much to insure his father’s happiness. And indirectly, law school had ruined his life with Anne. Besides, he loved being a cop. He was good at it. And it was his brothers in blue who gathered round him when Anne dumped him. So Ryan stayed a cop and never thought about becoming a lawyer again.
“Elwood was buried at Calvary,” Liz said. “Not far from your dad. So after the service I stopped by his grave.” Ryan’s father died of a heart attack while in prison.
“How’s he doing?”
“Still dead, but there were fresh flowers on the grave.”
Ryan nodded. “Maggie never stopped loving him.” Maggie was Ryan’s father’s second wife. She only lasted two years. “Not even after he dumped her for you, Liz. Maggie visits the grave every week.”
“Epic love,” Syd said. “Even in the teeth of a gale. That’s so romantic.”
“Pathetic if you ask me,” Liz said. “Ryan’s father was a self-centered son of a bitch who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. I’m just sorry it took me six years to realize it.” Liz started for her car. “I’ll call you guys when I know something.”
Hanrahan shook his head. “I can’t imagine waking up to that every morning. How’d your dad do it?”
“She makes a mean blueberry pancake,” Ryan said. “She’s also smart, informed and passionate about life.”
“Yet she spends her days sticking her hands in dead people, go figure.” Hanrahan sucked the last bit of chocolate off his Tootsie Roll Pop. “Anyway, the bartender’s inside along with a few of the customers who got a look at the blonde.”
“Don’t suppose the bar or parking lot had a surveillance camera?” Ryan asked.
“No,” Hanrahan said.
Syd pointed across the street. “There’s a 7-Eleven. I’ll check to see if they have a camera pointed in this direction.”
“Great idea,” Ryan said. Syd hurried off.
Hanrahan watched Syd cross the street. “If she was my partner, I’d have trouble keeping my dick in my pants.”
Ryan studied Hanrahan for any sign of suspicion, found none. “I’ve never had a thing for redheads,” Ryan said, not crazy about lying to his boss. Then he sprinkled on a little extra seasoning. “Besides, she’s got a boyfriend.”
“Good,” Hanrahan said, turning back to Ryan. “Because fucking your partner always ends the same way. You end up fucking yourself.”
YOU CAN GET A COPY OF IN COLD BLONDE AT AMAZON.COM OR AT A BOOKSTORE NEAR YOU…
James L. Conway has enjoyed a long and distinguished career in Hollywood as a writer, producer, director and studio executive. James lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two daughters. Dead and Not So Buried is his first novel.
You can find James online at http://www.jameslconway.com._
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