In Cold Blonde

by James L. Conway

  By then they had invited everybody in the restaurant to their wedding, led a boisterous rendition of the Macarena, and to cap off the evening, made love in the middle stall of the men’s bathroom. Anne’s orgasm was so loud that Ryan and Anne got a standing ovation from the crowd as they walked back to their table.

  “We had fun, didn’t we?” she asked with a naughty smile.

  Actually, the next morning Ryan was completely embarrassed by their behavior. He thought they’d been silly and obnoxious. In fact, he was surprised the other patrons had put up with their nonsense. But over the years Ryan had seen other we’re-so-in-love-we can’t-stand-it couples make complete fools of themselves in restaurants and Ryan now understood what was going through the other patrons’ minds: Look how crazy in love those two are, I remember feeling like that, God I miss feeling like that.

  “We did have tons of fun,” Ryan said, smiling warmly at the memory. “But if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stick to beer tonight.”

  Anne laughed. “Fear not, my Scorpion slurping days are behind me, too.” And as if on cue, a waitress arrived with a vodka tonic for her and a Michelob draft for him.

  “I hope you don’t mind but I already ordered our drinks.”

  “Not at all, thank you,” Ryan said.

  “My pleasure.” They toasted and drank. Anne was pleased; she’d chosen Trader Vic’s not for the drinks but for the memories, and from the wistful look on Ryan’s face, it worked.

  It more than worked. In fact, Ryan had spent the drive over to the Beverly Hilton convincing himself that he was going to keep his relationship with Anne strictly business. He was in a relationship with Syd. Though he had feelings for Anne, she was the past. Syd was the future. But looking at Anne now, remembering those heady days, his resolve was melting. Could you be in love with two women at the same time, he wondered.

  And then he found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss Anne again.

  Stop it! You’re here for business he scolded himself. “So,” Ryan said. “I don’t have a lot of time; anything I need to know before the big presentation tomorrow?”

  Like a fly fisherman stalking a wily bass, Anne felt Ryan slip the hook. No matter, she knew time was on her side. “Okay, first things first; how much of the thirty-four million do you want to put in the foundation?”

  “Funny you should mention that,” Ryan said. “When I first agreed to take the money, I thought I’d put all the money in the foundation. But the more I think about it, the more I think I should keep some of it for myself.”

  “I agree completely,” Anne said. We’re going to need a few million to live on, she thought. But she said, “Once the money is in the foundation, you won’t be able to use if for personal use. So if you put, say, half the money in the foundation to get it going — seventeen million dollars is an incredibly generous initial donation by the way — and kept seventeen million for yourself, that would enable you to take time to assess your personal needs, and if you decide you want to donate more to the foundation later, you can.”

  Seventeen million was a lot more than Ryan had considered keeping. But Anne was right; he could always donate more later. “Tell you what,” Ryan said. “Let’s start with a twenty-million-dollar donation; it just sounds better, you know, giving away more than half. That still leaves fourteen million for me, but I’m sure I’ll donate most of it to the foundation later.”

  Not if I have anything to say about it, Anne thought. But she said, “Excellent idea. And the press will eat it up.” She dropped her voice imitating a newscaster, “Cop donates tens of millions to charity.”

  “I’m really not comfortable with the media,” Ryan said. “They’re not exactly a detective’s best friend.”

  “But they’ll be the foundation’s best friend. The more people who know about the foundation, the more people you’ll be able to help.”

  Ryan was very uncomfortable with his face all over TV, magazines and newspapers. A natural modesty was one reason, but there was also a nagging concern about the tow truck driver. He could see Ryan on TV, remember him, remember losing his own Lotto ticket and realize the money is really his.

  It’s still not too late, Ryan thought. Once he took the money, he’d committed fraud. For the rest of his life he’d feel guilty about it. For the rest of his life he’d be worried about a phone call from the tow truck driver.

  Anne saw the sudden concern wrinkle Ryan’s forehead. She knew what that meant; he was worried about something, and for a righteous man like Ryan it could only be one thing. “Stop it,” she said.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop over-thinking it, Ryan. You’re worried about the tow truck driver, aren’t you?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “First of all, he probably doesn’t even remember buying the damn ticket much less losing it. Second of all, even if he did, there is no way he would have remembered you. You were standing in line behind him. Third of all, even if he did remember you, he didn’t see you pick up his ticket, because if he had, he would have asked you to give it back. And finally, there is no way he could know whether you bought your own Lotto ticket. He can’t prove anything. He has absolutely no legal standing. Plus, remember, if you don’t take the money, nobody gets it. You’re going to do wonderful things with this money, Ryan. So, relax. Enjoy Fate’s fickle finger.”

  Anne’s words soothed Ryan. “I always knew you’d make a great lawyer.”

  Anne reached across the table taking Ryan’s hand. “Reminds me of what you said the first time you kissed me? Remember?”

  He smiled, remembering. “I do. I said, ‘I always knew you’d be a great kisser.’”

  Anne suddenly leaned across the table and kissed Ryan; a sweet, tender kiss, short but full of promise. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you yesterday,” she said, hovering, her lips inches from his, waiting for him to make the next move.

  “That bitch!” Syd said. She was watching them through a pair of binoculars from one of the hotel’s pool-facing rooms. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, of course; there’d been no way for her to plant a bug with such short notice. But she didn’t need sound to see what was going on. That bitch had kissed Ryan, whispered something to him and was now waiting for Ryan to kiss her back. “Don’t do it, Ryan,” she said to the empty room.

  Syd had called her friend, Kevin Osaka, who was the Hilton’s head of security. Syd had led an undercover sting at the Hilton when she worked vice. A string of hookers were using the Lobby Bar as a feeding pool and while the well-heeled male executives staying at the hotel appreciated the convenience of free cable, wireless internet and plentiful hookers, the many female executives staying in the hotel found the ladies of the night degrading. Or unfair competition. Either way the hotel management had to do something about it so the LAPD was happy to oblige. Kevin and Syd formed a friendship and when she called him a half hour ago asking for a room with a view of the Trader Vic’s lounge, he hooked Syd up, no questions asked.

  Syd wasn’t surprised Anne was trying to seduce Ryan. It’s what Liz predicted, and from Syd’s limited exposure to Anne, what she expected.

  This was the ultimate test, Syd realized. She’ll finally find out if Ryan really loved her. She had her concerns. From the beginning of their relationship Syd had been the aggressor. She’d jumped him in the file room. She was the first one to say I love you. It took Ryan another two weeks before he said those magic three words, two weeks filled with Syd saying “I love you” followed by expectant gazes. In a way she felt she guilted him into it. A feeling reinforced when Liz told her that Ryan had trouble committing to relationships after Anne left him.

  So, let’s find out where we really stand, Syd thought. Okay, Ryan, your move.

  Ryan’s lips tingled. His heart raced, his dick was rock hard. Jesus God he wanted to kiss Anne. He wanted to ravage Anne. Her skin was so soft, her scent intoxicating. A montage of images from the hundreds of times they made love flooded his br
ain: fingers, feet, lips, the nape of her neck, the sweet taste of her clitoris, her deep-throated orgasms, the massage of a million small kisses, his explosive orgasms.

  Ryan’s eyes went from Anne’s big brown eyes to her full, luscious lips. For years Ryan had wondered what he had done wrong. What had he done to lose Anne? He relived countless conversations looking for a clue. And he spent hours dreaming of a way he could win her back. He’d finally given up, feeling silly and juvenile.

  But deep down he’d always hoped for a moment just like this, another chance to kiss her, another chance to make love to her, another chance to win her back.

  And here it was.

  And though a fleeting image of Syd seared his conscious, the biological beast that rules the subconscious blotted it out. After all, it’s just one kiss. That can hardly be classified as a betrayal.

  Just one kiss.

  Ryan leaned forward, their lips met, and then their tongues. And she tasted just as good as he remembered.

  “Oh, Ryan,” Syd sighed. Syd lowered the binoculars, heartbroken. Syd knew that her world had just tilted; she didn’t know what she was going to do about it.

  Her cell phone rang. She answered. “Hello.”

  “Alex Cortez, here, Syd, how you doing?”

  “Fine, Detective,” Syd said, and her own problems vanished as she heard the excitement in his voice. “You’re calling me with good news, aren’t you?”

  “Does the name, Alice Waterman, mean anything to you?”

  Syd ran it through her mental database. “No.”

  “Jonathan Battle, one of the names you gave me, was very helpful. He remembered this incident in high school, pictures of one of their classmates emailed to hell and back. The girl was naked making love to a couple of guys. You could only see her face, the men’s faces were never visible, but Battle had heard rumors, rumors that Colin Wood was one of the guys involved.”

  “And Adam Devlin? Were they both involved?”

  “He couldn’t remember. But he didn’t think so.”

  “And Alice Waterman was the girl.”

  “Yep. Battle said she dropped out of school a few weeks after the incident, doesn’t know what happened to her. I ran her name but she’s not in our system. But I found out her parents still live in Santa Ana.”

  Syd had stuffed all her notes on the case into her backpack and brought it with her. She dug out the yearbook, found Alice Waterman’s picture. “I’m looking at Alice Waterman’s high school picture, Alex, and I’ve got to tell you, this girl looks nothing like the Lady in Red.”

  “People change,” Alex said.

  “Maybe,” Syd said her excitement waning. But a lead was a lead, and Syd would run with it. “Good work, Alex. You got their address?”

  “8276 Bella Vista. I can meet you if you like, but my little one’s got her dance recital tonight and I promised I’d be there.”

  “No problem. My partner and I can handle it. I’ll call you with a full report.”

  “Thanks, Syd. Good luck.” Cortez hung up.

  My partner, Syd said to herself. My backstabbing, bitch-kissing partner. She picked up the binoculars and looked, they weren’t kissing anymore, they were talking again.

  “Okay, that was a mistake,” Ryan said. It’s not what he felt, however; he felt like he wanted to kiss her again. Right here. Right now. But that would be wrong for so many reasons. “Look,” he said. “I haven’t been completely honest with you; I’m in a relationship.”

  “Really,” Anne said, doing her best to seem genuinely surprised. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

  Ryan had never publically revealed their relationship to anyone, but since Anne was going to be around a lot now, he knew she’d figure it out sooner or later. “Syd,” he said. “My partner.”

  “She’s adorable,” Anne said. “And a very lucky girl. How serious are you? I mean, are you guys talking about getting married?”

  “Way too early for that, I think, but I guess you could say we’re pretty serious.”

  So am I, Anne thought, and your little redhead doesn’t stand a chance. Time to wreak a little havoc. “That’s wonderful, Ryan. I just hope your sudden wealth doesn’t ruin the relationship.”

  “Why would the lottery affect the relationship?”

  “Does she know about the tow truck driver?”

  Ryan’s expression went from confusion to understanding. “Yes. And frankly, she’s not crazy about my taking the money.”

  “Wait a minute. She actually wants you to turn down the Lotto?”

  He nodded. “She thinks it’s dishonest to take the money.”

  “Even though you plan on giving most of it away?”

  Ryan shrugged. “She’s got high standards.”

  “So do I,” Anne said. “And my standards demand we take that money and use it help scores of people in need.”

  “No need to get defensive, Anne. I agree with you. I’m taking the money.”

  “Sorry, I just have so little patience with… misplaced righteousness.”

  “She means well.”

  Time to sow a few seeds of doubt, Anne thought. “And she’s not going to get angry every time you use some of the money for yourself? A new house? New car? A vacation for the two of you? She’s not going to remind you the money you’re spending isn’t really yours?”

  She may not say anything, Ryan thought. But there would certainly be that knowing look in her eye. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  “You know what, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Anne said. “Syd seems like a lovely, reasonable girl.” Okay, Anne thought. Time to move on the next part of her plan. She opened her briefcase. “You said you didn’t have much time, so let’s get down to business. I just have a couple of things for you to sign tonight.” Her hands searched the inside of the briefcase and then she looked up, apologetic. “Shit, I must’ve left them in my room. You mind coming upstairs with me? It’ll just take you a second to sign the papers and then you can be on your way.”

  Ryan looked at Anne with playful skepticism. “You just happened to leave them in your room? You sure this isn’t a trick to get me in your room, ply me with alcohol and seduce me?”

  You bet your ass it is, Anne thought. “No, not at all. Look, if you’d rather wait here, I’ll bring them down.” She quickly got to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No, don’t be silly,” Ryan said. He got up, dropped twenty on the table for the drinks. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Great. And no funny stuff, I promise.”

  “Deal.”

  So far so good, Anne thought as she slipped her purse over her shoulder. Now for the fun part. “The elevator’s this way,” she said and led Ryan out of the lounge.

  Syd watched Ryan and Anne walk toward the bank of elevators. He’s going up to her room, she realized. She’d lost him.

  Syd considered calling Ryan, telling him about Alice Waterman. That would be one way to get him out of Anne’s room. Ryan would certainly want to be in on the parents’ interview.

  But fuck him. He wants to sleep with his ex-wife, let him. Syd would handle it alone.

  Syd collected her things, and with one last look through the binoculars at the man she loved, Syd left.

  FORTY-TWO

  Alice stared at the TV screen stunned. After all the years of wondering what exactly happened to her that night, now she knew. The blanks were filled in, and now that she’d witnessed the horror firsthand, it was so much worse than she’d ever imagined.

  She’d been disgusted watching the three men rape her. But she expected that. What she hadn’t expected was the fourth man, the man who appeared at the end of the video. And that changed everything. Because now one more man had to die.

  But first she had to deal with Blake.

  “So,” Blake said. “Feel like talking about what you’ve just seen? Want to tell the world your side of the story?”

  “Sure. But I’d like some water first.”


  Alice wasn’t actually thirsty. But to get to the kitchen Blake had to pass in front of her. And maybe, just maybe…

  “Water? Sure. Or maybe wine, it might help you relax. I’ve still got that bottle of Chardonnay.”

  “No thanks, lately I found white wine gives me a headache.”

  He looked at her, surprised at her wit. “You know, you’re very hot when you’re funny.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “That’s more like it.” Blake stepped out from behind his desk and headed for the kitchen. As he passed Alice, she kicked her feet into the back of his legs knocking his feet out from under him. He hit the ground with a thud. Alice rolled over, dragging her feet toward his face.

  “Bitch,” he mumbled and started to get up.

  She kicked him in the face. His head bounced off her feet and into the wall. WHAP!

  “Cunt.”

  She kicked again and again and again. WHAP. WHAP. WHAP. His head bounced off the wall as blood erupted from his nose, his forehead and an eyebrow.

  He was unconscious. Alice crawled over him and flipped onto her back. Since her hands were cuffed behind her back she had to fish blindly in his pockets for the handcuff keys. If he even had them in his pocket.

  She came up empty in his front left pocket, but struck gold in his right front pocket. She twisted the fingers of her right hand trying to find the opening for the lock on her left handcuff. It was awkward, and painful, but finally the key slipped into the lock. She turned the key and the handcuff fell away.

  Oh, thank God, she thought. She unlocked the right handcuff and tossed them across the room. Then she quickly untied her feet.

  Blake was starting to stir. She thought about kicking him again, but the overwhelming desire to get her gun won out and she bolted into the living room to get her purse. She dug inside for the gun but couldn’t find it. She yanked open the mouth of her purse, her hands and eyes desperately searching every nook and corner. It wasn’t there.