In Cold Blonde (5 page)

“Oh, I absolutely recognize him now,” Syd said, staring down at Colin
Wood’s body.  Ryan and Liz stood next to her in the morgue examination
room.  “He did this great guest shot on
Grey’s Anatomy.
  Gave
head to Ellen Pompeo in a Starbuck’s bathroom.”

“Did he take his shirt off in the episode?” Liz asked. 

“Actually, yes.”

“Did he have this 2 carved into it?”

“Not so much.”

“Then let’s stay focused, shall we?”

“I’ve got Higgins searching VICAP for any recent victims with numbers
carved on their corpses,” Ryan said.  “I know we’ve got no open LAPD files
that match.  You determine the cause of death?”

“There are two gunshot entrance wounds beneath the scrotum, the bullets
ripped through just about every internal organ; one was imbedded in his spinal
cord, the other in his heart.  Death was probably instantaneous.  The
slugs were small, looked like .25’s.  I sent them to Forensics.”

Ryan and Syd exchanged a confused look, tried to picture the murder. 
Ryan asked, “Did you find any evidence of fabric in the wounds?”

Liz smiled, the game was on.    “No.  The gun was
pressed against bare skin.”

“Bare skin,” Syd said, the possibilities swirling in her brain. 
Something stuck.  She asked, “Did you autopsy the penis?”

“Yes,” Liz said, thinking, she’s got it.

Realization dawned on Ryan.  “Did you find any seminal fluid?”

“The vans deferens was swimming in it.”  Liz said, thinking, they made
a pretty good

team. 

“She was blowing him,” Ryan said, the picture now crystal clear.

“Wow,” Syd said.  “This chick has got some serious
cohones
of
her own.”   

“Any chance of DNA on the penis?” Ryan asked.

Liz shook her head.  “Just his.  I found traces of an
antiseptic on the skin.  Looks like she wiped it down before cutting it
off.”

“She must’ve really hated this dude,” Syd said.  “I mean, talk about
premeditated.  She picks him up in a bar, seduces him in his car, gives
him head before killing him, takes out a scalpel, gloves and antiseptic and
goes to work.  And then taunts
us
with a 2 carved into his chest.”

Ryan shook his head.  “Something’s not making sense.  If she
hated him enough to rearrange his body parts, wouldn’t he have recognized
her?  Known her?”

“You thinking Colin’s girlfriend, Abigail?” Syd asked.

“An obvious place to start, but maybe too obvious.”

Liz said, “She could just be a freak who hates men.  Then the 2
would make more sense.  She’s decided to rid the world of men, one cock at
a time and she’s keeping count.”

Ryan considered.  “Makes more sense than someone killing all her old
boyfriends, but at this point, anything’s possible.  I just hope we find
victim number one before there is a victim number three.”  Ryan started
for the door, Syd on his tail.

“Hey, Ryan,” Liz called after him.  “One more thing.” 

Ryan turned.  “Anything, Liz.”

“Can I borrow a million bucks?”

“Oh, shit, you heard.”

“Everyone’s heard, Ryan.  Congratulations, baby.  But be
careful, you’re about to have a whole bunch of new best friends.”

The L.A. County Morgue is on Mission Road near downtown L.A., about a
fifteen- minute drive from Ryan and Syd’s Hollywood office.  They were
still in Ryan’s Mustang; they hadn’t had a chance to go the station and switch
to their LAPD issued Crown Vic.  But they were headed there now.

“You ever hate a guy enough to want to cut his dick off?” Ryan asked.

“Yes,” Syd said before she could stop herself.  Syd’s stepfather
wasn’t the only one to have abused her.  There were scores of men.

But Syd wasn’t ready to tell Ryan about that part of her life, yet. 

If ever.  

“Whose dick would you have cut off?  Have you mentioned him?”

“No,” Syd said, then she fashioned a lie.  “He was just some creep from
high school; he pretended to like me just to win a bet with some friends. 
Broke my heart.”

“Asshole.”

“Do me a favor, Ryan.  Don’t ever break my heart.”

Ryan answered without thinking about it.  “I won’t, I promise.”

Four words.  I won’t, I promise.  Ryan said them because it’s
the kind of thing you say when you’re really just telling someone what they
want to hear. 

Syd heard an oath. 

They would both remember those four words for a long time.

  “Something’s up,” Ryan said as they pulled up to the Hollywood
Station.  News vans clogged the street and a pack of cameras and reporters
blocked the sidewalk. 

“Maybe the mayor’s inside,” Syd said, then noticed the hungry look in the
reporter’s eyes.  “Or the governor.”  They parked in the lot, climbed
out of the car.  Ryan carried Colin Wood’s laptop, Syd had Wood’s check and
appointment books.  They headed for the back door.

“That’s him,” one of the reporters called, pointing.  “Hey, Ryan!”
she started jogging toward Ryan and the others followed, also calling out to
him.

“This can’t be good,” Ryan muttered as they were surrounded.  Ryan
knew most of the reporters; he’d given many interviews over the years.

The pretty blonde from CBS asked, “How’s it feel to be the richest cop in
L.A.?”

The redhead from ABC, “The richest cop in the world!”

NBC’s brunette, a former beauty pageant winner who Ryan dated briefly
asked, “We heard you won fifty million dollars.”

FOX’s ponytail, “I heard a hundred million.”

Syd watched the chaos, amused as Ryan held up his hands.  “Hold on,
everyone.  Quiet, please!”

Reluctantly, they all shut up.  Ryan’s eyes flicked from one
reporter to another, from one camera to another, all staring at him, expectantly.
 He milked the moment then said, “No comment,” and plowed through the
cameras. 

“What about the murder, this morning?” NBC’s brunette asked.  “What
can you tell us?”

Ryan turned back to the pack.   “Nothing yet, we’re still
awaiting notification of next of kin.”

“The bartender said he was an actor.”

“In this town, isn’t everyone?”   

“One last question,” ABC’s redhead called out.  “Are you married?”

“Only to my work,” Ryan said.  Then he swiped his ID card in the
reader, threw open the back door and disappeared inside, Syd in his wake. 
He slammed the door behind them.  “Fuck, how’d they find out about the lottery?”

“Good news travels fast.”

Ryan wasn’t so sure it was good news. 

“Think about it,” Syd said as they headed for the Homicide bullpen. 
“A few hours ago a handful of cops at the crime scene heard you won the lottery. 
So one cop tips someone in the media, whose assistant texts her friend at
another station and in a cyber second
everyone
knows.”

“Cop wins money.  BFD.  Aren’t there more important stories to
cover?”

“You don’t get it, do you?  Everybody dreams of hitting the jackpot. 
Everybody.  And whenever someone hits the Lotto for twenty or thirty or
forty-six million dollars, the winners are paraded on the
TODAY
show,
profiled in
US Weekly
, and trotted out in front of an eager
public.  It’s wish fulfillment, Ryan.  People want to share your
joy.”

Ryan wasn’t feeling too joyful.  He was conflicted.  Not only
about whether he should take the money, but also whether he should he tell Syd
the truth.

Syd, meanwhile, had worries of her own.  “I’m not sure I liked the
way they were looking at you.”

“Who?”

“Those female reporters.  Usually we’re just information sources;
they look at us for a story.  But those prom queens with microphones were
eyeing you for dinner.  You just got a lot better looking, Ryan.”

“I do feel taller.”

Syd cupped her hand over his crotch.  “And this definitely feels
bigger.”

Ryan laughed as Syd dropped her hand and they turned into the
bullpen.  It was 10:00 a.m., rush hour in a homicide bureau, because even
though most of the detectives spent the day on the streets conducting
investigations, they started and ended each day in the bullpen.  And
almost every one of the sixteen desks was occupied.  A hum of busy
conversation filled the air, punctuated by an occasional burst of laughter. But
as Ryan and Syd crossed to their desks, the conversation slowly died and then
the room was quiet, all eyes on Detective Ryan Magee.   

“What?” he asked.

Suddenly everyone started clapping and cheering.  Ryan was popular,
but now he was forty-seven million times more popular.  These men and
women were Ryan’s friends, and they were genuinely happy for him.  And
that just made Ryan feel even worse.  He realized that if he said,
the
ticket isn’t mine, give the money to someone else,
he’d be letting them
down.

“Okay, okay, thank you,” he said, holding his hands up.   “But
tell me you don’t just love me for my money.”

That got a laugh, and after a spattering of “congratulations,” everyone
got back to work.

Syd checked her email.  “We got a preliminary report from VICAP on
the amputated penis.”  Her voice trailed off as she read.  “Jeez,
Louise, there are a lot of freaks out there who like to slice and dice.  Ryan,
there are like, fifty cases going back over twenty-five years.”

“What’s the most recent?”

Syd checked.  “Nine months ago in Miami.”  Syd quickly scanned
the summary.  “Victim was a Columbian drug runner; they caught the killer,
a shooter from a rival gang trying to send a message.”

“Can’t imagine that’s related; print them all out and we’ll take a look.” 
Ryan picked up his phone, called Ramirez at SID.   “Hey, Tony, it’s
Ryan.”

“Great, I’m glad you called.”

Ryan had heard that excited tone in Ramirez’s voice before, usually
before Ramirez dropped a bomb that broke a case wide open.  Ryan could
feel his pulse quicken.  “Talk to me, Tony.”

“You know how much you love my mother’s albondigas?”

“The world’s best meatballs, absolutely,” Ryan said, confused. 

“Well, I’ve put together a business plan for a national franchise, Maribel’s
Meatballs.   We’ll just have restaurants, to start; but I’ve got
plans for canned and frozen food, cookbooks, and a line of Mexican
spices.  And all we need is a little seed money, say two hundred thousand
dollars.”

Oh shit, Ryan thought.  Suddenly everyone thinks I’m an ATM.  But
he liked Tony and wanted to be polite.  “Sounds like a great idea,
Tony.  But I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to do with the Lotto
money, so this is way too soon for me to be looking at investment
opportunities.”

“But you won forty-seven million bucks, what’s two hundred thousand?”

“Thirty-four after taxes, but that’s not the point.  It’s too soon,
Tony, okay?”

Tony paused then said, “Okay.” 

Ryan heard the disappointment in his voice.  Ryan could imagine how
much Tony and his mom had invested in this dream, a dream they had no way to
realize.  Then, out of nowhere, someone Tony knew morphed into a potential
sugar daddy and suddenly
anything
was possible.   Of course he
had to ask Ryan for the money.  “Look, Tony,” Ryan said, regretting the
words even as he said them.  “I’m not saying no.  I’m just saying you
need to give me a little time.”

“Oh, Ryan, that’s great,” Ramirez said, his excitement palpable.  “You
won’t be sorry, man.”

“Hold it, I haven’t said yes, yet; I just said we’ll talk about it
later.”

“I know, I know, but when you read the business plan, you’ll realize this
is a no brainer.  I’ll send it right over.”

“Wait, whoa, what about the Colin Wood crime scene?   You got
anything for me?”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.  Not sure it’ll help much, but the blonde
hair we found, it’s human all right, dyed, but no root.  No root, no
follicle, no DNA.  It could also have come from a wig, so we’re can’t even
say for certain the woman was blond.  So, sorry Ryan, we’ve got nothing.”

Ryan didn’t expect much from Ramirez, but he was still
disappointed.  “Okay Tony, thanks.”  Ryan hung up, he looked up to
find Syd staring at him, Colin Wood’s iPhone in her hand.   She’d
checked for pictures and video; the phone had none.  But it was loaded
with music and the phone directory was extensive.   

“I’ve got two numbers for you: Andrew Wood, the victim’s father, and
Abigail Granger, former girlfriend.”

“Let’s try the father first,” Ryan said.  Syd brought it up on the
iPhone, tapped the number, handed the phone to Ryan.  He got an answering
machine.

“Sorry I missed your call,” a male voice said.  “Please leave your
name and number and I’ll call you back.” 

“He’s not home,” Ryan said to Syd, and then left his name and cell phone
number on the machine.  Ryan looked up Abigail’s number on the iPhone and called. 
It rang.

The first contact with a prime suspect was critical, so Ryan always
weighed his words and listened to their words very carefully.

It rang again and was answered.  “Hello, asshole.  What the
fuck do you want?”

Ryan had to smile.  Abigail obviously checked her caller ID and
thought Colin was calling her.  “Ms. Granger, this is Detective Ryan Magee
of the Los Angeles Police Department.”

There was silence for a moment, then, “Police Department…?”

“I’m afraid Colin Wood has been the victim of a crime, Ms. Granger, and
we’d like to talk to you.”

Ryan could almost hear her stiffen over the phone.  “What kind of
crime?” 

“He’s been murdered.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and then fear coated her next
words.  “Why do you want to talk to me?”

“Just routine, Ms. Granger.  We understand you used to be close to
Mr. Wood; hopefully you can give us information that will aid our
investigation.”

Another pause, she was thinking.  “Okay, I guess; I’m a hostess at
the Ivy.  I’ll be here all day.”

“My partner and I can be there in an hour.”

“You don’t wear uniforms or anything, do you?  I mean, it won’t look
good if I’m seen talking to a couple of cops.”

“We’re plainclothes detectives, Mr. Granger.  We blend in just
fine.”

A hesitant pause, then, “Okay.  Oh, can you tell me how he died?”

A logical question, Ryan thought.  The killer, of course, would have
known he was shot, but this could also be another way to deflect
suspicion.  “He was shot,” Ryan said.

“Do you think he suffered?”

“No, death was probably instantaneous.”

“Too bad,” she snapped and hung up.

Ryan handed Syd back her cell phone.  “That’s one angry woman.”

“Do you think she did it?”

“No.  But hopefully she’ll be able to help us figure out who did.” 
Ryan noticed Lieutenant Hanrahan at the door of his office.  Hanrahan
crocked his finger in a come-here motion.  “The boss wants us,” Ryan said
and led Syd to the Lieutenant’s office.  

“I heard about the 2 carved in Colin Wood’s chest,” Hanrahan said. 
“You think we’ve got a serial killer?”

“Not sure yet,” Ryan answered.  “The perp could have put it there to
throw us off.”

“No way, Chief,” Syd said, excited.  “She put it there to mark her
second victim.  Two down and more to come.  We’ve got a serial
killer.”

“Try not to sound so happy about it,” Hanrahan said.  “You positive
it’s a she?”

“I am,” Syd said. 

Hanrahan turned
to Ryan.  “How about you?”
“Probably.  She may be working with someone else, a guy, maybe; too soon
to tell.”

“Any precedent to numbers carved on a body?”

Ryan shook his head.  “Nothing in our database, we’re checking
VICAP.”

“The press have any idea yet?”

Syd laughed.  “They’re too obsessed with Ryan’s windfall.  A pack
of L.A.’s most beautiful reporters ambushed us on our way in, bombarding Ryan
with questions and wedding proposals.”

Hanrahan coughed up a throat full of phlegm, pulled a handful of Tootsie Roll
Pops out of his desk drawer.  He offered them to Ryan and Syd who both
shook their head.  Hanrahan unwrapped a cherry one for himself.  “Well,
I got a feeling serial killer will trump millionaire cop, right Ryan?” 
But when Hanrahan and Syd glanced at Ryan, Ryan was looking past them into the
bullpen. 

Syd followed his gaze to a beautiful brunette standing in the middle of
the room.  She had a Visitor’s badge pinned to her silk collar and was
obviously searching for someone.  Her eyes came to rest on Ryan. 
They looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then she gave him a
tentative smile.  Syd’s radar spiked.  “Let me guess,” she said,
keeping her tone neutral, “Your ex-wife?”

Ryan nodded.  “Anne.  I wonder what she’s doing
here.”  

Ryan had never told Syd much about his marriage.  Just said they got
married too young and it didn’t work out.  But Ryan looked wounded right
now.  Vulnerable.  Jealousy surged through Syd.  But she
couldn’t let Hanrahan sense it, or Ryan for that matter.  So, as
nonchalant as she could muster, Syd said, “Only one way to find out.”  

Without ever taking his eyes from Anne, Ryan nodded again and walked into
the bullpen.

“That is one beautiful woman,” Hanrahan said.