James Conway - In Cold Blonde

“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.”