James Conway - In Cold Blonde

“So Officer Curtis lowered her gun to the floor and placed her hands above her head. Then she began to slowly approach the suspect. The official language reads, ‘With disregard for her own safety and a high degree of courage and bravery,’ she asked the suspect to please release the hostages and take her instead. Closer and closer she stepped, gently urging him to let the hostages go.

“Finally the suspect took the gun away from the teenage girl’s head and pointed it at Officer Curtis. That gave her partner the opening he’d been waiting for. He fired, killing the suspect.”

“Wow,” Anne said, impressed. The diminutive, freckled-faced little red head was full of surprises.

“She got her detective shield and was transferred to Vice. She distinguished herself both as an undercover officer soliciting johns on the street and in a deep cover operation to break up a Russian white slavery ring. The brass was impressed and she got her pick of assignments. She chose Homicide.”

What Travis didn’t tell Anne was that he also checked on Syd Curtis’s new partner in Homicide, Ryan Magee, and discovered that Ryan and Anne used to be married. And Travis heard that Magee had just hit the Lotto. Judging by her LAPD photo, Syd Curtis was a looker; so, like any trained detective, Travis put two and two together and figured Magee was fucking his partner and now that he was rich, Anne wanted Magee back. And since Anne was paying Travis six hundred dollars a day, he was perfectly willing to help her for as long as possible.

“Now that’s all official file stuff,” Travis said, sipping his club soda. “But I did find out some intriguing inconsistencies. On her police application she lists her name as Syd Curtis from Riverside, California. She claims to have attended Arlington High School before getting an AA at Santa Monica College. Santa Monica College does list her as a graduate but there is no record of her ever attending Arlington High School. In fact, there is no record for her in the State of California before she got a driver’s license ten years ago when she was eighteen.”

“Kind of old to get your first driver’s license,” Anne said.

“That’s what I thought,” Travis said. “And there’s more. A friend of mine works at the Police Academy and I had him pull her application. A letter of recommendation accompanied the application, written by an LAPD officer, Andrea Templeton. Syd Curtis’s address while she attended the Police Academy was the same as Andrea Templeton’s.”

“They were living together?”

“Apparently. Officer Templeton was killed in the line of duty a few days before Syd Curtis graduated from the Academy. I checked her obituary; one line stuck out to me.” He referred to his notes again. “In lieu of flowers please send a donation to the Gay and Lesbian Alliance against Defamation.”

Anne tried to make sense of this. “GLAAD? What’re you saying, Andrea Templeton was gay?”

“I don’t know. But that kind of obit is generally a pretty good indicator.”

“Do you think she and Syd Curtis were lovers?”

Travis shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only been on the case for a few hours. But I could try and find out. I’m also curious about Syd Curtis’s life before she suddenly appeared at Santa Monica College. We know she lied about going to Arlington High School, I’d like to know what else she’s lied about.”

“Me, too,” Anne said. “How much time do you need?”

“One day, maybe two.”

“Excellent. And, Travis, don’t bill Rogers, Middleton and Roberts for this; I’ll be taking care of it personally.”

“Of course,” he said, her request confirming his suspicions. “I’ll call you when I’ve got something.” Travis collected his files and left.

Secrets and lies. Everybody’s got them, thought Anne. It was one of her favorite things about being a lawyer, finding those lies, exposing the secrets, exploiting a weakness. And sometimes what you found even surprised someone as cynical as Anne.

Surprise me Syd, thought Anne.

Surprise the hell out of me.

Alice was staring at herself on television. Surveillance footage taken at the Bel Air Regent Hotel showed her walking to the elevator with Adam.

Adam looked so, what was the word, expectant, yes, expectant. Look at that smile on his face, she thought. Joyful but still a little bit naughty. You could almost feel his enthusiasm as they walked. Here was a man who ruled his world. Here was a man about to get laid.

The blonde didn’t look so bad either, if she did say so herself. The short skirt showed off her long legs, the low cut blouse showcased her tits, and the sexy way she walked promised carnal delights.

She owed it all to Charlotte, her look, that is. Charlotte came to the Institute three years ago; she was bi-polar and a sex addict. They had all sorts of fancy theories for sexual addiction these days — compulsion, disease, impulse control disorder, sexual desire disorder — but Charlotte happily called herself a nymphomaniac. In fact, during her three-month stay, Charlotte seduced three of the doctors (two men and a woman), four nurses (all women), three orderlies (men), six patients (four women and two men) and a husband she found in the atrium who was waiting to visit his wife.

And here was the thing; Charlotte wasn’t that pretty. Average at best. And for a long time she had trouble seducing the people she wanted to have sex with. So she taught herself how to use clothes, make-up and attitude to become irresistible.

“But it takes discipline,” she told Alice as they lay naked together. Alice had watched Charlotte sleep her way through the Institute, and though not gay, Alice was so fascinated by Charlotte and her spellbinding sexuality that Alice slept with her just to experience it. And the pillow talk afterward changed Alice’s life.

“You have tons of potential, Alice. But right now you’re dumpy, frumpy and grumpy. You need to lose weight, look and dress better and learn to exude . Exude fun. Exude mystery. Exude sex.”

Charlotte made Alice her personal project. She worked out with her at the gym and taught her what to eat; Alice lost twenty pounds in a month. Alice’s brown hair was blah, so Charlotte convinced Alice to dye it blonde. Her brown eyes were dull so Charlotte got her green contact lenses. Losing the weight brought out Alice’s cheekbones; Charlotte taught her how to use make-up to accent them. And, of course, clothes make the woman. So Charlotte worked with Alice using pictures from magazines to design an ideal wardrobe. But color was the key. With Alice’s blonde hair and green eyes, her new dominant color had to be red.

Last but most important was attitude. It’s tough to get depressed, suicidal people to simply change their personality, so Charlotte made it a game. Alice needed to pretend she was someone else. A movie star blend, if you will. Charlotte taught Alice to walk like Charlize Theron, flirt like Angela Jolie, listen like Anne Hathaway and laugh like Scarlett Johanssen.

As Alice perfected her skills, she didn’t realize that one day she would be using them for revenge. But she could have never ensnared the fearsome foursome without Charlotte’s life lessons.

The image on the television switched to a blow up of the surveillance photo, now just a close up of Alice, with a phone number beneath it. The announcer said, “These images were just released by the Los Angeles Police Department and this woman is being sought for questioning in a number of homicides. The Police request that if you’ve seen this Lady in Red or know her identity, please contact the LAPD at the number on the bottom of your screen.”

The picture switched back to the two shot of Alice and Adam. Then the camera zoomed in on Adam. “Once again, sports agent Adam Devlin has been found dead at the Bel Air Regent Hotel.”