James Conway - In Cold Blonde

“I guess you’re right, I’m being silly, sorry,” Syd said, knowing she should just shut the fuck up but unable to stop herself. “Besides, she’s happily married.”

“Exactly,” Ryan said, not thrilled to be reminded of that. “So now let’s talk about something important, murder and our Lady in Red. The way I see it we’ve got two possibilities. One, Colin Wood was the only victim and the 2 carved into his chest was misdirection.”

“Since we’ve found no evidence of a victim number one, a definite possibility.”

“Or, two, there was a victim one, still unaccounted for, and there is going to be a victim three or there has already been a victim three and our phones will ring any second with the location of a new crime scene.”

“Be still my heart,” Syd said. “A new crime scene is exactly what we need. A new body means new clues. But if this crime was revenge for a rape of some sort, what’s with multiple victims?”

“A gang rape?”

“Maybe, but does Colin Wood seem the type to be involved in a gang rape? I don’t know; I’m still leaning toward a nutjob going after all her old boyfriends. But that raises the question, why now?”

Ryan finished his last rib, dropped the bone on the table. “God, that was good.” Syd was done too, even though she only ate half her rack. Ryan asked for a check and a takeout carton. “Well,” Ryan said. “Until Colin Wood’s father or Kathy Tuttle’s attorney call us back, there’s nothing more we can do tonight.”

Actually there was, Syd thought. They could talk about the lottery and Anne’s idea to set up a foundation. Syd hated the idea. The Lotto ticket wasn’t Ryan’s and he had no right to take the money. But she could see Ryan was a bit fragile tonight, so Syd decided to wait and stay in safer waters.

“Then you won’t mind if I ask you a favor?” Syd said, her green eyes flashing.

“No, sweetie, what?”

“Take me home and fuck my brains out.”

Ryan laughed. There was something so sexy about this innocent girl next door talking dirty. And in bed there wasn’t an innocent bone in her body. “I have a better idea,” he said. “Let’s leave your brain intact and I’ll fuck everything else.”

Ryan thought making love to Syd was like starring in porno. She was so enthusiastic it was almost like she was being paid for it. And she would do anything, wanted to do everything. Take tonight, for example. As soon as they walked in the door of Ryan’s apartment, Syd kicked off her shoes, pulled off her blouse, stepped out of her dress and yanked off her panties. Then she stood before him, stark naked, threw her arms out by her side, turned a slow circle and said, “Where would you like to start?”

He chose her belly button. It was an innie; he kissed it, flicked his tongue into it a couple of times, then blew a raspberry. She laughed, pulled Ryan to his feet and kissed him. It was a hungry kiss that seemed to inhale him, not just into her mouth but into her body.

Her hands expertly undid his belt buckle and his pants fell to the floor. She pulled his shirt off as he stepped out of his pants, then she dropped to her knees, yanked off his boxer shorts and took him into her mouth.

When Syd gave him head, she seemed to enjoy it more than Ryan. She groaned with pleasure as her hands caressed his balls.

Suddenly the thought of another woman giving him head invaded Ryan’s brain. Anne. The first time they made love was in her crappy studio apartment shared by three broke co-eds. All four of them were in the apartment that night, Ryan and Anne, plus Anne’s two roommates. Ryan and Anne had finished off a bottle of Merlot and been making out while her roommates watched American Idol and pretended to ignore the horny lovers. Ryan and Anne had their hands all over each other and Ryan ached for them to be alone. Anne got the message and led them into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed she dropped to her knees, freed Ryan’s hard- on from his pants and wrapped her mouth around it. Ryan was so turned on that he immediately felt himself ready to blow. Oh, God he’d said then, gripping the back of Anne’s head.

“Oh, God,” he said now, gripping the back of Syd’s head.

Back in college, as Kelly Clarkson sang a song on Idol, and Anne’s lips and tongue worked him to a climax, he said, O h, Anne, yes, baby, yes.

And now, as Syd expertly brought him to an orgasm he blurted, “Oh, Anne, yes baby, yes.”

Syd’s eyes popped open.

Ryan’s eyes popped open.

And they both thought the same thing.

“Oh, shit.”

Alice’s fingerprints were everywhere. Wearing her surgical gloves, Alice wiped down the entire hotel room: the bathroom, the champagne bottle, glasses, plates, silverware, end table, doorknob, light switches. She knew she’d probably left DNA in the bed but she didn’t care. Her DNA wasn’t on file anywhere, so it couldn’t be used to catch her, just convict her. And right now, she was only concerned with avoiding capture and, since her fingerprints were on file, she had to be sure to get rid of every single one.

She glanced down at Adam’s body, but that’s all it was now. A slab of meat. Adam was gone, he was obliterated a few milliseconds after the bullet pulped his brain. So it didn’t bother her to cut off his penis and stick it in his mouth. She did it more for her legacy than out of rage at this point. If the brutality of her revenge made another potential rapist stop and think, mission accomplished. If it made another woman fight back, mission accomplished.

Alice didn’t believe in God anymore, but she did believe in Satan. She couldn’t understand the people who thought you couldn’t have one without the other. One look at all the evil in the world should be all it takes for everyone to realize we were living in Satan’s playground. You always read about schools or churches collapsing during earthquakes killing scores of innocents. When was the last time you read about a whorehouse going down in a natural catastrophe? Wake up people!

Three down and one to go. But Alice needed time. Once Adam’s body was found, it wouldn’t be long until the police connected him to Colin Wood and Zachary Stone. From there, with a little research, they’d be able to predict her next victim. So the Lady in Red needed to buy as much time as possible before Adam’s body was found.

She rolled the room service cart into the hall and then called down and told room service the food was fantastic and they’d find the cart in the corridor.

Then she called the hotel operator and told her she and her husband had just flown in from Shanghai and needed to sleep. Please hold all their calls until further notice.

She wiped off the telephone, took a final look around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, and then saw Colin’s Platinum card lying a few inches from Adam’s outstretched hand. Damn, so much to remember.

She picked it up, shoved the credit card in her purse and then fished Adam’s wallet out of his discarded pants pocket. She knew he had a Black American Express card, she’d seen him use it to pay for the drinks. She would have preferred a Platinum one so they would all match, but the black one would do.

She also took the wad of hundreds out of his other pants pocket; the extra money might come in handy.

And now just one final touch remained. She bent down to his right hand. She took the thumb and folded it into his palm and then folded his pinkie on top of his thumb. Then she laid his hand, palm down on the floor. She looked at the result and smiled. Perfect.

She triple checked the room; satisfied, she grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign. The sign hanging on the doorknob should keep the housekeepers at bay in the morning and perhaps throughout the afternoon. With luck, the body wouldn’t be found for at least twenty-four hours.