Anne’s message was first. She sounded so fucking happy, he thought. Hard to believe it was all an act. Ryan had no intention of calling Anne back. He’d see her soon enough.
Hanrahan called reminding Ryan to schedule his interview with the Force Investigation Division. Whenever an LAPD officer uses deadly force, they are required to get cleared by the FID. Ryan would call them as he drove to the California Lottery office.
Ryan’s stepbrother, Johnny, called suggesting they meet at Santa Anita racetrack next week so Ryan could look at a promising two-year-old filly. Ryan decided he’d call Johnny back, never.
The last call was Newport Police Detective Alex Cortez, offering his congratulations and wanting to schedule a meeting, hopefully at a bar serving cold draft beer, so he could hear the blow by blow. Ryan liked Cortez and would call him as he drove to the lottery, too.
But that was it, just four messages. Not the one he was hoping for. Not the one he was counting on.
Ryan showered and dressed quickly. He put on his blue suit instead of his usual sport coat and slacks. He knew he’d finally have to face all those microphones today and he wanted to look his best.
He thought about his father’s last appearance in front of the press. He stood atop the steps of the Criminal Courts Building declaring his innocence and predicting a jury of his peers would find him not guilty of tax fraud.
It was a marvelous performance that convinced everyone but the jury.
Years later, when his father was dying, Ryan went to visit him in prison.
“Any regrets?” Ryan asked.
“Yes,” his father said recalling that fateful day in court. “I should have worn my blue suit.”
But that was Ryan’s father. Live life and never apologize. “Life is not a dress rehearsal,” he’d tell the young Ryan as one wife would leave and another would move in. “There are no second chances, no do-overs. Savor every day.”
And his father did. Even his time in jail. He never looked back, never second-guessed. He’d come to his crossroad, made a decision and walked proudly to the end of the road.
But Ryan’s father never considered other’s feelings in his calculations. As far as Joseph Magee was concerned, the world revolved around him; he was the star of the show and everyone else was an extra.
It must have been nice to be that emotionally isolated, Ryan thought. It may have been wrong by a lot of people’s standards, but it gave his father comfort every day. Right or wrong, his father knew who he was.
And up until this moment, Ryan thought he had a pretty good idea who Ryan Magee was. He tried to be fair, honest, hard working, not too judgmental (tough when you’re a cop) and a fair arbiter of right and wrong.
But Ryan suddenly realized that a man can’t really define himself until every tenet he thought he believed in is pushed to the limit. Ryan never thought of himself as greedy, but he suddenly understood the value of committing fraud to collect thirty-four million dollars. The hopes and dreams of so many people depended on him taking that Lotto money, and as Anne said, if you don’t take it, no one gets it.
Ryan never thought of himself as naïve, but Anne had manipulated him with ease.
Ryan cherished his integrity, yet he’d slept with Anne, betraying Syd.
Ryan’s carefully constructed self-image had disintegrated under pressure, and he had to accept the fact that life is not black or white. We’re often forced to live in the gray area and our ability to navigate those waters is what really defines you. And so far, he wasn’t doing too well.
Ryan looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. But all that was prologue, Ryan decided. All that mattered now was what he did today.
But he still needed a little help from his friends.
FIFTY-ONE
Lucinda McCarthy, vice-president of the California Lottery, was thrilled. “Just look at all the media,” she said to Anne. “I haven’t seen this much excitement since Raul Hernandez won fifty-four million dollars in 1985.” They were standing in the middle of the Studio City Holiday Inn ballroom as news crews from CBS, NBC, ABC, FOX, Channel 5, Channel 9, CNN and even Univision set up around them. There were also a growing number of well-wishers; uniformed cops, detectives, friends Ryan had made over the years. “Of course, that was only the Lotto’s second year,” Lucinda went on. “And it was our biggest jackpot to date so simply everybody was clamoring for an interview. These days we have to give away handfuls of Scratchers just to get the local channels to show up.”
“Yeah, well, Detective Magee has become quite the celebrity.”
Lucinda’s eyes searched the room. “Is he here yet, I’m dying to meet him.”
Anne scanned the room, too. “No, not yet.” And he hasn’t called me, Anne thought. I hope nothing’s wrong. Then Anne spotted someone she wanted to talk to almost as much as Ryan. Syd. Okay, Anne thought. This should be fun. “Excuse me, Lucinda, there’s someone I need to see.”
“Of course, I’ll see you in a bit and, oh, before I forget,” Lucinda handed Anne a manila envelope. “Here’s what I call my Survival Guide for Lotto Winners. A list of names and numbers of some wonderful professionals who can help Ryan access the full potential of good fortune.”
And all related to you, no doubt Anne thought. “Thank you, I’ll make sure Ryan gets this.” Anne tucked the envelope under her arm, weaved her way through the camera and cables to the other side of the room where Syd was pouring herself a cup of coffee from a refreshment table.
Syd saw Anne coming. And Anne’s body language and attitude sent alarm bells ringing in Syd’s brain. Anne projected a sense of smug superiority and worse, ownership; ownership of the thing Syd held most dear. Ryan.
“Detective Curtis,” Anne said, extending her hand. “Anne Rogers, we met in the bullpen.”
“I remember,” Syd said with a smile, but she ignored Anne’s outstretched hand, leaving it hanging awkwardly between them.
“So it’s going to be like that,” Anne said. “And I was hoping we could be friends.”
“No you weren’t,” Syd said.
“You’re right,” Anne said, lowering her hand. “I wasn’t.” Anne decided to play a bit with her prey before she finished her off. “Actually, I’m surprised you’re here.”
“Really, and why’s that?”
“Well, after what happened between Ryan and me last night, I thought…” Anne trailed off correctly reading the desperate curiosity in Syd’s face. “Ryan is such a wonderful lover,” Anne said, knowing each syllable pierced Syd’s heart. “I was a fool to ever leave him, a mistake, by the way, I won’t make again.”
So there it was, Syd thought. Ryan did sleep with her. The final, delicate strands of hope elevating Syd’s spirit snapped.
“Did he happen to mention our reunion last night?” Anne asked.
It took a real effort for Syd not to slap the smugness off Anne’s face. But, not willing to give this bitch an inch, Syd said, “No, we were a little preoccupied.”
“Ah, yes, the Lady in Red, of course. Congrats.” Something caught Anne’s eye, Ryan was walking into the ballroom, and as much as Anne was looking forward to delivering the coup de grace on Syd, she wanted to talk to Ryan more than anything. “Let’s talk later,” Anne said and stepped past Syd, crossing the ballroom toward the door.
Syd turned to see what had distracted Anne, and as she’d expected, it was Ryan. Well, Syd thought, he can have his greedy bitch and he can have his stolen Lotto money. I’m out of here. Syd stepped back out of sight, and as reporters and friends called out to Ryan, Syd slipped out the ballroom door.
Anne noticed Syd’s exit and smiled victoriously.
Meanwhile, Ryan’s eyes were riveted on his cell phone. He just received a text message and as he read it, he smiled. He snapped his phone closed as Anne reached him.
“Darling,” she said opening her arms and stepping towards him.
He put his hands out, catching her at the waist and keeping her at arm’s length. “Morning,” he
said stiffly, his eyes searching the room.
Whoa, thought Anne. Something’s up. What the hell’s happened?
“Have you seen Syd?” Ryan asked.
“No,” Anne said innocently, making a show of looking for her.
“She told me she’d be here,” Ryan said, frustrated.
“Is everything all right, Ryan?” Anne asked. “I’ve called you a couple of times this morning and — ”
“Everything is great,” Ryan interrupted. “But I’ve changed my mind about a couple of things.”
“What things?”
“You’re about to find out. Wait here.” Ryan took a step toward the stage, then stopped and turned back to Anne. “Oh, by the way, Rick says hello.”
Anne’s face fell as Ryan walked away. Rick? Oh, no, what did Rick tell Ryan? The worst thing possible, Anne realized. The one thing she couldn’t afford for Ryan to know.
The truth.
Anne rushed forward, grabbed Ryan by the arm spinning him around, then pulled him close and said in a desperate whisper. “You can’t believe anything Rick says, he’s a pathological liar.”
“He told me Rogers, Middleton and Roberts has never represented a lottery winner. You told me you had. So, simple question, have you ever represented a lottery winner?”
Anne stared at Ryan, her mind racing, trying to figure out what to say, how to parse the awful truth. Finally, shaken, her voice barely above a whisper, Anne said, “No.”
“Rick told me you and he forged some mortgage papers. Did you?”
“Yes,” Anne said and then regrouped. “Okay, I might have had an agenda when I first went to see you in the bullpen, I admit it, but all that changed last night. I love you, Ryan. I don’t care about the money. I don’t care about the foundation. All I care about is you, I swear it.”
Ryan could hear the sincerity in her plea, and felt a twinge of sympathy. But his mind was made up. “Sorry, Beautiful, we’re done.”
Crushed, Anne watched Ryan step on stage.
Lucinda was standing with a couple of Lotto officials and a heavy-set man in a suit he must’ve bought about twenty pounds ago. Behind them on a display stand was a six-foot check made out to Ryan Magee for thirty-four million dollars.
“Detective Ryan,” Lucinda said shaking his hand. “I’m Lucinda McCarthy with the California Lottery, congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Ryan said.
“And this,” Lucinda said, indicating the heavy-set man, “is Farid Nouri, he owns the store where you bought your ticket.”
Ryan shook his hand. “And how much did you win?”
“Twenty-three thousand, five hundred dollars,” Farid said.
“The store gets .5% of the winning jackpot,” Lucinda said.
“Does he get a giant check, too?” Ryan joked.
“No,” Lucinda said, laughing. “Just the Lotto winner. So, would you like to get started?”
“Just another minute or two,” Ryan said, eyeing the crowd. The now familiar faces of the press looked up at him expectantly, as well as friends and colleagues from the LAPD including Hanrahan, Chen, Katz, his former mother-in-law, Liz, and a distressed looking Anne. But no Syd.
Syd was hurrying across the crowded lobby toward the front door when she noticed Tony Ramirez running toward the ballroom with a man in tow. The man was big, with an unremarkable face but a very distinctive wardrobe — greasy coveralls. They rushed past Syd and Syd’s jaw dropped when she saw the logo on the back of the coveralls, Valley Tow and Salvage.
Tony reached the ballroom door, whispered something to the tow truck driver, then Tony stepped inside while the tow truck driver remained in the hall.
Fascinated, Syd started back toward the ballroom.
On stage, Ryan saw Tony walk in. Tony gave Ryan a thumb up. Ryan turned to Lucinda. “Okay, let’s get started, but first I need to tell you something.” Ryan pulled Lucinda to the side of the stage and whispered furiously in her ear.
As Ryan huddled with Lucinda, Syd walked back into the ballroom and up to Ramirez.
“Hey, Tony,” Syd said.
“Hey, Syd,” he said, but his eyes never left Ryan.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Now his eyes met hers. “You mean, you don’t know?”
“No.”
Tony barked out a laugh. “You’ve got one crazy partner, I’ll tell you that.”
On stage, Ryan turned to Tony and spotted Syd. A smile exploded on Ryan’s face. Then he turned back to Tony and nodded.
“Excuse me a second,” Tony said to Syd and then stuck his head outside the ballroom door. “Okay, buddy, you can go on up.”
The slightly baffled, though clearly excited man walked through the door and headed for the stage.
“Is that who I think it is?” Syd asked.
“The tow truck driver,” Tony said. “Ryan told me the whole story.”
“But, how did Ryan find him?”
“He got an idea at the crime scene last night when he saw the Lady in Red’s bloody fingerprints on the medicine bottles. It occurred to him that if the tow truck driver had any grease on his hands, there was a very good chance he left a print on the Lotto ticket.”
“That’s what you guys were talking about in the kitchen.”
Ramirez nodded. “He gave me the Lotto ticket and when I got to the office, I was able to bring up a print. Ran it through the computer, got a hit, Alan Moll. He had a commercial class C California driver’s license, which you need to operate a tow truck. I emailed his driver’s license picture to Ryan and he recognized him. So forty-five minutes ago I walked into Valley Tow and Salvage and changed Alan’s life forever.”
“So he did the right thing,” Syd said, surprised. “He gave up all that money…” And then Syd thought about Anne, did she know about this? Syd searched the crowd then found a surprised, stricken-looking Anne staring at the stage. She looked absolutely miserable. So she didn’t know; interesting, Syd thought. Very interesting.
On stage, there was a flurry of activity. Ryan shook Alan’s hand and introduced him to Lucinda, Farid and the others. Lucinda was on her cell phone in the middle of an agitated conversation with someone.
“Let me get this straight,” Alan said to Ryan. “You could have kept all this money and no one would have thought twice about it. But instead you decided to track me down? We’re talking millions, man!”
“I know,” Ryan said. “And it was tempting. But, ultimately, Alan, they weren’t my millions.”
“Okay,” Lucinda said, hanging up. “I’ve just talked to our legal department. Mr. Magee, if you are willing to sign an affidavit that you saw Mr. Moll drop the lottery ticket and that you have just now been able to track him down, then the jackpot will be awarded to him.”
“Great,” Ryan and Alan said together.
“But you better get back on that cell phone,” Alan said. “Because I want to give a finder’s fee to Detective Magee.” Alan turned to Ryan. “How’d ten percent sound?”
“That’s four point seven million dollars,” a surprised Lucinda said.
“Three point four after taxes,” Ryan said. “But Alan, there’s no need. What’s yours is yours.”
“Then let me do what I want with it. Take the money, please.”
Ryan looked into the grateful tow truck driver’s face and smiled. “Thank you, Alan.”
“No, you crazy fool. Thank you!” Alan said, and then he threw his arm around Ryan and hugged him.
The press had no idea what was happening yet, but the frenzied conversations on stage had certainly piqued everyone’s interest so all the cameras were rolling when Alan locked Ryan in a bear hug. Clips of that embrace would lead every news story that night and grace the front page of tomorrow’s L.A. Times with the headline: Honest Cop Stuns Crowd.
FIFTY-TWO
“We have to talk.”
After a raucous forty-five minutes of answering questions about finding the lottery ticket and the Lady in Red investiga
tion, Ryan climbed off the stage and made a beeline for Syd. As the reporters now lobbed their questions at the dazed tow truck driver, Ryan grabbed Syd by the arm and steered her to a quiet corner of the hotel lobby.
“About last night,” Ryan said.
“You fucked that greedy bitch.”
Syd said it matter of fact. No accusation in her tone, no indignation, no anger even. That surprised Ryan, he’d expected a scene of some sort. But, of course, Syd knew him better than he knew himself. She probably figured it out last night. Probably the instant she saw him.
“Yes, I fucked that greedy bitch. We can talk later about why. I’m not sure what it says about me, or about us, but I want you to know that it’s over, finally, completely, irrevocably.”
“I fucked over seven hundred men.”
“What?”
“And I killed two of them.”
Syd had decided if Ryan was going to level, so would she. In fact, she decided she’d never lie to Ryan again. “My stepfather abused me from the time I was fourteen years old. When I was seventeen, I killed him. I ran away from home and came to Hollywood, fell in love with a pimp who got me hooked on heroin and put me out on the street. Two years later I overdosed, was saved by a paramedic named Eric who helped me kick and get off the street. Eric was killed by my pimp, and I killed the pimp in self defense. Eric’s sister took me under her wing, helped me get through school and into the police academy. But when I was a hooker, I kept count for a while, how many men I’d slept with; I gave up at six hundred and seventy-one but didn’t get off the street until four months later. So seven hundred, give or take. And you fucked that greedy bitch, so the way I figure it, we’re even.”
Ryan laughed. “I always sensed there was more to Syd Curtis, but I had no idea…” Then he took Syd in his arms and hugged her.
Anne watched them from the ballroom doorway. The freckled face redhead looked ecstatic. Well, at least Anne knew she could destroy Syd’s career whenever she wanted.
Then Anne realized Syd wasn’t her enemy. Syd had done nothing wrong. Syd hadn’t stolen Ryan; Anne had lost him by lying. Anne knew that if she’d been honest with Ryan from the beginning, things might well have turned out differently. If she’d been honest with Ryan, it could very well be her in Ryan’s arms now.
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