Until that terrible day.
But she’d gleaned enough information to serve her purposes today. The waitress arrived with their drinks; when she left, Alice said, “Anyway, I loved high school. I was an athlete, a tennis player, and I actually thought about turning pro, but I blew my knee out senior year and that ended that.”
“Okay, now this is freaky,” he said. “I was an athlete too, a football player. Until a linebacker cut my knees out from under me and shredded my ACL.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it? Not just the pain, but also the shattering of all your dreams, all your expectations. It was like starting over at seventeen.”
Those were Adam Devlin’s exact words eleven years ago and he stared at her in wonder. “That’s exactly what it was like,” he said, looking at her as if for the first time. There was something special about this woman, something wonderful. And this was going to be more than a one night stand, he decided. Much more.
THIRTEEN
Looking at a dead body is never easy. Looking at your dead son is agony. “That’s him,” Nick Wood said grimly. “That’s Colin.”
Nick Wood was an impressive-looking guy. Ryan guessed he was sixty, and in great shape. Trim, handsome, with a long face and bushy eyebrows, he dressed casually in khakis and a blue Polo golf shirt. He wore a thick gold bracelet on one hand and a ruby encrusted school ring on another. Expensive jewelry, but he could afford it. He was a very successful contractor, Ryan knew, building many of Orange County’s most prestigious high rises.
Ryan waited to see what Nick Wood would do next. Some people kiss their loved ones; others take a hand or stroke the face. Nick Wood just stared, shook his head as if disappointed, then asked, “Do you know who did this?”
“No, not yet,” Ryan said leading Nick Wood into the hallway where Syd waited. “We’ve got some leads we’re following, and we were hoping you might be able to shed some light.”
“You said it was a murder.”
“A woman met him in a bar, they went back to his car and we believe she shot him.”
Ryan could almost hear the gears working as Wood digested the information. Something complicated was going on in there, more than just grief. “Is something bothering you, sir,” Ryan asked.
“Could it have been self defense?” Nick Wood asked.
“Self defense,” Syd asked. “Why would you think that?”
Ryan connected the dots. “You’re thinking about the date rape three years ago.”
Nick Wood was surprised. “You know about that?”
Ryan nodded. “We heard Colin avoided prosecution because you settled out of court.”
Wood shook his head. “Colin had this… problem with women. My fault, I guess, I don’t know.”
“Why would it be your fault?” Syd asked.
“Colin’s mother died when he was six years old. I never remarried, but I dated, a lot. And I was never shy about bringing the women back to the house.”
“So Colin grew up watching a parade of women march in and out of your bedroom,” Ryan said.
“And we used to joke about it. Grade them on a scale, 1-10, that sort of thing. Colin would grade them on looks and I’d grade them on performance. Then, when he got into high school and started dating, I’d grade his dates on their looks and he’d grade them on performance.”
“How charming,” Syd said.
Wood glanced at her, shrugged. “I’m a pig, I know. Or was. Karma has a way of catching up with all of us. I got prostate cancer, the operation left me, well, let’s just say I’m incapable of judging performance anymore.”
“And now that you can’t fuck anymore, you’ve stopped thinking of women as sex objects?” Syd snapped.
“Syd…” Ryan said, his tone telling her to shut up. She knew better. Never let your personal feeling affect an interview.
“No, it’s all right, Detective,” Wood said. “She has a right to be angry. I treated women like shit for years. And so did Colin. That’s why I asked if it could have been self-defense.”
“It’s possible,” Ryan said. “But under the circumstances, it’s doubtful. It doesn’t feel like a spur of the moment attack. We think it was planned. Perhaps by a woman he offended in the past.”
“We’d like the name of the woman you paid off three years ago,” Syd said. “And any other women you know who may have had a grudge.”
“Kathy Tuttle was the woman three years ago. She lived in Santa Monica, I think, but I sent the check to her lawyer. I can call my office and get you the information.”
“Thank you,” Ryan said. “Can you think of any other women?”
Wood considered for a long time, and then shook his head. “I don’t know. The Tuttle girl was the only one he told me about, because he had to. He needed the money. If there were others in the last few years, I’d have no way of knowing.”
Ryan and Syd stood in the doorway watching Nick Wood get in his Lexus. They had gotten the name and number of Kathy Tuttle’s attorney and Ryan had called LAPD Media Relations to let them know they could issue a press release with Colin Wood’s identity.
As Wood drove off, Syd asked, “You believe in karma, Ryan? Like Casanova there and his prostate cancer.”
“Actually, I do,” Ryan said, then realized that was one of the reasons he was hesitating about picking up the Lotto money. Enough, he thought. Time to tell Syd, at least get her advice about what he should do. He looked at Syd. “I need to tell you something.”
Syd looked at him expectantly. “What?”
Before Ryan could answer, his cell phone rang. “Damn it,” he said pulling it out of his pocket, ready to turn it off — then he noticed the name of the caller, Anne. “I better take this,” Ryan said. “Why don’t you call that lawyer and see if you can get an address for Kathy Tuttle.”
Ryan looked a little flummoxed, Syd thought, and she immediately suspected that the call was from Ryan’s ex-wife. But she wasn’t going to say anything. Not yet, anyway. “You got it,” Syd said, stepping into the parking lot. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
Ryan answered his phone. “Hello,” he said, “This is a surprise.”
“I know you said you were busy and we should wait a couple of days before getting together,” Anne said. “But, I don’t know, seeing you today made me realize how much I’ve missed talking to you. Any chance you can squeeze in a quick drink a little later? I’ll be in Hollywood; we could meet at Musso and Frank, in like an hour or something. But if you’re too busy, I understand, no pressure.”
Ryan was torn. Part of him wanted to drop everything and meet her. Another part of him wanted to tell her to go fuck herself. She had broken his heart.
But she was a lawyer and he did have some legal questions he’d like answered about his Lotto ticket. And he was curious about what she wanted. So… “You know what, Anne. I could probably use a break. Sure let’s get together. I’ll meet you at Musso’s, how’s seven o’clock?”
“Perfect,” Anne said, “Just perfect.”
FOURTEEN
There are three TVs behind the bar of the Windows Lounge, all tuned to the same station. The time was six-fifteen, and the local NBC affiliate was in the middle of their news broadcast. The sound was muted, of course, can’t have TV chatter interrupting drunken conversation, and the three 42-inch flat screens all cut to a picture of Colin Wood. If those in the bar could have heard the anchor, they would have heard that the victim of the murder last night in the Havoc parking lot has just been identified as Hollywood actor, Colin Wood.
Adam and Alice were on their second round. Adam’s back was to the TV’s, so he couldn’t see Colin’s picture. Alice, however, had a front row seat. She expected the police to ID Colin, so she wasn’t surprised. She was interested to see what else they were reporting, how good a description of her they had and what the police were saying about the investigation. But there would be plenty of time for that later.
She turned her attention back to Adam. He was rambling on about his bu
siness now, how he had a personal hotline to the CEO’s of America’s top companies, and he could set her up with the job of her dreams. Yeah, yeah, yeah, she thought. Let’s just cut to the chase. Rent us a room already.
“So, are you hungry?” Adam asked. “We could go somewhere, Spago’s or Matsuhisa if you like sushi.”
Alice slid closer to Adam, dropped her voice to a sexy whisper. “You know what I really like?” she asked.
Adam could feel her breath on his face. “What?” he asked.
“Room service.” Then she touched his hand. Voltage seemed to flow through her fingers and shoot through Adam’s body. He was caught a little off guard but Adam was quick on the uptake. “Rumor has it they have room service in this hotel.”
“Really? Such a shame we don’t have a room.”
He smiled. “That’s a problem easily solved.” Adam got up. “I’ll be right back.”
Adam got a key from the front desk, bought a bottle of Cristal champagne from the bar, grabbed two glasses and led Alice into the elevator. They were alone and when the door closed, he stepped into her arms and kissed her.
As a teenager Alice fantasized about the first time she’d kiss Adam Devlin. Sometimes she’d be at her locker, alone in an empty corridor and, when she turned around, he’d be standing in front of her. They’d look lovingly into each other’s eyes, and then kiss. Other times she’d be on the staircase going up and he’d be coming down and they’d bump into each other. They stare wordlessly at each other and then kiss. Or she’d be in her bedroom doing homework and he’d crawl in through the window, take her in his arms and kiss.
Silly schoolgirl fantasies that never came true.
But now she was kissing him and it was, surprisingly, wonderful. They melted into each other. Their tongues found a perfect rhythm, their bodies fit seamlessly, and even their breathing was in sync. It felt like they belonged together.
With a Ding, the elevator glided to a stop. The door opened and their lips parted, but their eyes were still locked together. “You are unbelievable,” Adam whispered.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Alice said, grabbed his hand and led him off the elevator. “What’s our room number?”
“1224,” Adam said, stopping in front of the door.
“My new lucky number,” she said.
He opened the door. As they stepped inside, he put down the champagne and glasses. Alice dropped her purse on a chair and then turned back to the door. It was a big, heavy door on a pneumatic hinge and took a few seconds to close. Once it snapped shut Alice threw the dead bolt.
“Now where were we?” he asked. Adam took her hands, pulled her to him and kissed her.
It felt so good, she thought. She knew it shouldn’t. And she knew she shouldn’t be so aroused, but she was, in fact, soaking wet.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She hated this man. Hated what he had done to her. She was there to kill him, not fuck him.
But, still this was the fulfillment of that schoolgirl fantasy; why not let it play itself out.
His hands slipped under her blouse. She wore no bra and he cupped her breasts, his fingers massaging her nipples. She groaned with pleasure.
Suddenly Adam picked her up, carried her across the room and gently dropped her on the king size bed. He pulled off her blouse, her skirt and finally her shoes. He kissed the soles of both her feet then slowly kissed his way along her ankle, past her knee, up the thigh. He spread her legs and kissed the outside of her panties. She arched her back shoving her pussy into his face. He inhaled her scent, nibbling her clitoris through the thin, red fabric.
“Jesus, God,” she murmured.
Adam pulled off her panties. She was bare, smooth, soft. Perfect. He sunk his face into her, taking her clitoris between his lips, his tongue gentle but insistent. He wanted to make this beautiful woman come. He wanted her to think he was the greatest lover she’d ever had. This was not the norm for Adam, who usually just took what he wanted and moved on. But he wanted to make love to this woman, not just fuck her. He wanted tonight to be special.
“Oh, yes,” Alice groaned as the first wonderful thrumming of an orgasm stirred deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around his back, dug her fingers into the sheets. “Fuck, yes,” she breathed, her hips now moving in rhythm with his tongue.
Suddenly Alice realized how much she loved him then, and still loved him now. Maybe she misjudged him that night. Maybe he only did what he did because he was drunk.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, the wonderful moment was here. “Yes, yes, yes…” Her toes curled as the orgasm rocked her. “Oh, God!”
Adam felt her convulse as she climaxed. It was an incredible turn-on to watch her ecstasy, to feel her body vibrate as pleasure surged through her. He rolled over, stripping off his shirt, pants, and Calvin Klein Briefs. He was hard, Viagra hard, without the chemicals. She was the drug tonight and he was hoping to overdose.
Adam planted one arm on either side and suspended himself over her. “You are so beautiful,” he said, staring into her sparkling green eyes.
“Shut up and fuck me.” She said it with a desperate urgency that thrilled him.
He lowered his hips and ever so slowly entered her. Making love to this incredible woman was monumental and Adam wanted to cherish every millimeter of this first time inside her. She was tight, warm. Delicious.
Then they were moving together, slowly at first but within moments their lovemaking intensified as mouths met, hands groped, legs flayed and a frenzied, almost desperate need gripped them both.
Soon, oh, way too soon, Adam felt his orgasm coming. He tried to think it away but failed and gave himself into its power. He thrust, deeper and deeper until he practically exploded inside her.
He clung to her as he came, finishing with a deep, passionate kiss. He was still deep inside her. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. “That was unbelievable.”
“It sure was,” she said. “And the best part is we’re just getting started.”
Adam smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Alice rolled them over so she was on top. “Only this time,” she said. “I’ll do all the work.”
And she began to make love to him.
FIFTEEN
Ryan and Syd drove to the Hollywood station. Syd knew something was up. Ryan had been unusually quiet. She’d expected him to finish the conversation he’d started before his ex-wife called. What could be a more provocative opening then, I need to tell you something? But they’d driven in silence while her imagination rifled through a horrifying catalog of possibilities: We have to stop dating. I want a new partner. I’m going back to my ex-wife. I have herpes.
Finally, unhappily, Syd prompted him. “What was it you had to tell me?”
Ryan looked at her, confused; he’d been so preoccupied with the upcoming meeting with Anne that he’d blanked. “I’m sorry, sweetie, what?”
“You said you had something to tell me.”
Oh yeah, Ryan thought. The Lotto ticket. He briefly reconsidered, almost ashamed by the truth. Then glanced at Syd, at the fear in her eyes. Of course, he realized, she assumes I’m going to say something about us. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt Syd, so he took a breath then told her about the garrulous guy in greasy coveralls who took forever in the 7-Eleven buying beef jerky, a six pack and a lottery ticket with his one dollar change. And how, after the tow truck driver left, Ryan bought a pack of Rolaids and walked into the parking lot to see the Lotto ticket on the ground and the tow truck driver getting in his vehicle. It would have been easy for Ryan to pick up the ticket and get the guy’s attention, but his stomach hurt and Ryan was so annoyed with the big-mouthed driver that he just let the guy drive off. Then he picked up the Lotto ticket and stuck it in his glove box.
“The Lotto ticket may be worth millions of dollars,” he concluded. “But it’s not mine.”
“Holy shit.”
“And then some.”
Syd sat bac
k in her seat and let the implications settle in. “Let me ask you a few questions.”
“Shoot.”
“Was there a name on the tow truck driver’s coveralls?”
“Probably, but I didn’t notice.”
“On his truck?”
“I’m sure, but I didn’t pay any attention. Same for the license plate, I didn’t even look.”
“So you have no way of tracking him down?”
“No.”
“And did he ask the clerk for certain numbers or was it a quick pick.”
“A quick pick.”
“So the tow truck driver would have no idea what the numbers were or that he actually bought a winning ticket?”
“That’s right. And it was six months ago, I doubt he even remembers buying or losing it.”
Ryan had been through the identical thought process countless times himself since he found out the ticket was a winner, but it was nice to get someone else’s take on his dilemma.
“So no one would ever know that you didn’t buy the Lotto ticket.”
“That’s right.”
Syd liked to think she had a reliable moral compass. Well, except for murdering the motherfuckers who have done her wrong. And, like Ryan, she was a cop. She knew the law. “If I remember my Academy law classes properly,” Syd said, “lost property, in this case, the Lotto ticket, belongs to whoever owns it, in this case, the tow truck driver. Just because you find something doesn’t mean you now own it. The law requires that all lost property be turned in to the police. If you keep lost property and don’t disclose it, it’s theft. That applies to a bag of diamonds, an envelope full of money or a quarter lying on the ground. Finders are not legally entitled to be keepers.”
“Exactly. Even when, like in this case, no one knows its lost property. Even when, like in this case, the lost item is worth millions of dollars.”
“If you don’t claim the money, what happens to it?”
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