James Conway - In Cold Blonde

Alice muted the TV as the announcer handed off to the weatherman. Okay, she thought, my picture is finally out there. But the shot isn’t great and I had my hair down when I was with Adam. Anticipating this, Alice wore her hair tied back for this morning’s encounter with Blake, and would keep it back for tonight’s rendezvous.

But since the police had found Adam’s body it was just a matter of time until they tumble to her. And if they were smart enough to put two and two together, they could soon predict Blake would be her next victim. It might take them some time, a day or so at least she hoped, but just in case they were waiting for her when she went back to Blake’s beach house, it was time to leave the message.

Her manifesto.

Alice took out the cell phone she bought last week at Best Buy, switched on the video recorder, turned it toward herself and said, “Test, test, test, this is a test.” She shut it off, spun the phone around and hit play. Her face filled the screen and was slightly distorted because she held the phone so close. “Test, test, test, this is a test.” Her recorded image said.

Alice was satisfied. She erased the test, turned on the video recorder, held the phone a little further away, a final surrender to vanity, and started talking.

“Who is she?”

“We don’t know, yet,” Ryan said to Emily Devlin. “But, with your help, we’re hoping to find out.”

Emily Devlin, Adam’s widow, sat in the living room of their Brentwood home in her tennis outfit, a tight, pink Adidas Response Court tank and white Response Court skirt. Her Adidas Barricade V tennis shoes completed the ensemble given to the Devlin’s by a grateful Adidas Corporation after Adam signed his superstar client, Olga, to an exclusive contract.

Though she’d been worried enough about Adam to report him missing early that morning, Emily wasn’t so worried she’d miss her Wednesday tennis league. She was just returning home, having kicked Alisha’s butt 6-3, 6-1, when Ryan and Syd drove up.

Emily correctly assumed they were cops as they climbed out of the Crown Vic, and the grim expressions on their faces told her Adam must be dead. Tears were already flowing as the cops introduced themselves and the pretty female officer told her that they were sorry but her husband was dead, murdered.

They followed her inside, allowing her silent time to digest the news. She led them into the living room, dropped onto her white Thomasville Affinity sofa and stopped crying long enough to ask, “How did it… what happened?”

Ryan and Syd exchanged a glance. This is where is got delicate. Hearing your husband was dead was one thing, finding out he was killed by a woman, in a hotel room, after they had sex, and then had his penis cut off was something completely different.

“Mrs. Devlin,” Syd said. “Your husband was at the Bel Air Regent Hotel with another woman.”

The tears seemed to stop falling midstream and freeze on Emily’s pretty face.

“We believe she may have killed him.” Syd took out a color printout of the close-up of the Lady in Red from the security camera. She showed it to Emily. “Do you recognize this woman?”

Emily wiped away the tears, looked at the picture. She shook her head. “Who is she?”

“We don’t know, yet,” Ryan said. “But, with your help, we’re hoping to find out.”

Emily looked at the picture again. “Was she a client?”

“We don’t think so,” Syd said. Then gently, “They had sex, Mrs. Devlin. In a hotel suite. That’s where your husband’s body was found.” No reason to dump the mutilation on her right now, Syd decided. She’ll find out soon enough. “Are you sure you’ve never seen her before.”

Emily stared at the photo. “No, I’ve never seen her before.” Then a few gears meshed as Syd’s words sunk in. “My husband was having an affair?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Syd said.

Emily looked first at Syd, then at Ryan. Her brain was processing the information, the implications of Adam’s affair and death. “Where did you get this picture?”

Ryan answered. “It’s from a hotel security camera, taped last night at six twenty-two.”

“There is a video of them together?” Emily asked.

“Yes,” Syd answered.

“Do you have a copy of it with you?”

Ryan had asked security to burn them a DVD before they left the hotel. “We do,” Ryan said.

The Devlins had a screening room; video projector, Blue-Ray DVD player, and surround sound system provided by Sony. The six theatre chairs were supplied by La-Z-Boy; Orville Redenbacher’s company donated the popcorn maker, but the Devlins actually paid for the 15-foot Draper projection screen.

And it was on that giant screen that Emily Devlin watched her eager husband and the Lady in Red stroll toward the elevator.

“He looks happy,” Emily said icily. “And I see he’s got his favorite champagne, Cristal. Nothing but the best for Adam. Is she a hooker?”

“We don’t know,” Syd said.

“She looks like a hooker, don’t you think? Cheap, tawdry.”

Actually, Syd thought, the Lady in Red looks anything but cheap and tawdry. She looked classy, confident, and sexy as hell.

Then a horrifying realization dawned on Emily. “What are you going to do with this video?”

“Use it to find your husband’s killer,” Ryan said. “We’ve distributed it to all the news outlets. We’re hoping someone recognizes the Lady in Red and tells us who and where she is.”

Panic seized Emily. “But you can’t! You’ve got to get those videos back!”

Ryan threw a confused look to Syd. “It’s too late, Mrs. Devlin, I’m sorry. They’re already running.”

“Then stop them, immediately.”

“We can’t,” Syd said.

“But don’t you see, it’s so embarrassing! Everyone’s going to know Adam was cheating on me. I’ll be a laughing stock!”

Ryan caught Syd’s eye, clocked her surprise. People, Ryan thought. You just never knew how they’d react. “With all due respect, Mrs. Devlin, this is a murder investigation. We think this woman has killed three men and may kill more. Our first priority is to find her and stop her.”

Any trace of grief was gone. Humiliation and anger fueled her words. “Look, let’s be honest. I knew Adam had the occasional affair,” then with a defiant look to Ryan she added, “We both had affairs.”

Syd found it interesting Emily aimed that comment at Ryan. A fuck you to men or a provocative statement to flirt?

“But I have the decency to keep mine private,” Emily said. Then another realization rocked Emily. “Could this woman have been a girlfriend? Someone he’s been seeing for a long time?”

“We have no way of knowing that yet,” Ryan said.

“Motherfucker,” Emily said racing for the phone. “Shit, what’s his number?” she said to herself and then apparently remembered because she quickly dialed. “Thomas, its Emily Devlin… Adam’s dead… Yeah, yeah, me, too. Listen, has he made any changes to his will since we did the Trust papers… Oh, thank God… What… Murdered, it’s on TV apparently… yes, yes, let’s talk later.” She hung up. “I’m sorry,” she said to Ryan and Syd, “Where were we?”

Watching you make sure you’ll get to keep all of your husband’s money, Ryan thought. “We were trying to find your husband’s killer,” Ryan said. “Do you know Zachary Stone?”

“Who’s Zachary Stone?”

“He is, or was, a lawyer in Orange County.”

Emily thought about it and then shook her head. “No. The only people I know in Orange County are Adam’s parents. He makes air conditioning ducts, I think, and she’s a big muckity-muck at one of the banks.”