In Cold Blonde (9 page)

Looking at a dead body is never easy.  Looking at your dead son is
agony.  “That’s him,” Nick Wood said grimly.  “That’s Colin.”

Nick Wood was an impressive-looking guy.  Ryan guessed he was sixty,
and in great shape.  Trim, handsome, with a long face and bushy eyebrows,
he dressed casually in khakis and a blue Polo golf shirt.  He wore a thick
gold bracelet on one hand and a ruby encrusted school ring on another. 
Expensive jewelry, but he could afford it.  He was a very successful
contractor, Ryan knew, building many of Orange County’s most prestigious high
rises. 

Ryan waited to see what Nick Wood would do next.  Some people kiss
their loved ones; others take a hand or stroke the face.  Nick Wood just
stared, shook his head as if disappointed, then asked, “Do you know who did
this?”

“No, not yet,” Ryan said leading Nick Wood into the hallway where Syd
waited.  “We’ve got some leads we’re following, and we were hoping you
might be able to shed some light.”

“You said it was a murder.”

“A woman met him in a bar, they went back to his car and we believe she
shot him.”

Ryan could almost hear the gears working as Wood digested the
information.  Something complicated was going on in there, more than just
grief.  “Is something bothering you, sir,” Ryan asked. 

“Could it have been self defense?” Nick Wood asked.

“Self defense,” Syd asked.  “Why would you think that?” 

Ryan connected the dots.  “You’re thinking about the date rape three
years ago.”

Nick Wood was
surprised.  “You know about that?”

Ryan
nodded.  “We heard Colin avoided prosecution because you settled out of
court.”

Wood shook his head.  “Colin had
this… problem with women.  My fault, I guess, I don’t know.” 

“Why would it be your fault?” Syd asked.

“Colin’s mother died when he was six years old.  I never remarried,
but I dated, a lot.  And I was never shy about bringing the women back to
the house.”

“So Colin grew up watching a parade of women march in and out of your
bedroom,” Ryan said.

“And we used to joke about it.  Grade them on a scale, 1-10, that
sort of thing.  Colin would grade them on looks and I’d grade them on
performance.  Then, when he got into high school and started dating, I’d
grade
his
dates on their looks and he’d grade them on performance.”

“How charming,” Syd said.

Wood glanced at her, shrugged.  “I’m a pig, I know.  Or
was.  Karma has a way of catching up with all of us.  I got prostate
cancer, the operation left me, well, let’s just say I’m incapable of judging
performance anymore.”

 “And now that you can’t fuck anymore, you’ve stopped thinking of
women as sex objects?” Syd snapped.

“Syd…” Ryan said, his tone telling her to shut up.  She knew
better.  Never let your personal feeling affect an interview.

“No, it’s all right, Detective,” Wood said.  “She has a right to be
angry.  I treated women like shit for years.  And so did Colin. 
That’s why I asked if it could have been self-defense.”

“It’s possible,” Ryan said.  “But under the circumstances, it’s
doubtful.  It doesn’t feel like a spur of the moment attack.  We
think it was planned.  Perhaps by a woman he offended in the past.”

“We’d like the name of the woman you paid off three years ago,” Syd
said.  “And any other women you know who may have had a grudge.”

“Kathy Tuttle was the woman three years ago.  She lived in Santa
Monica, I think, but I sent the check to her lawyer.  I can call my office
and get you the information.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said.  “Can you think of any other women?”

Wood considered for a long time, and then shook his head.  “I don’t
know.  The Tuttle girl was the only one he told me about, because he had
to.  He needed the money.  If there were others in the last few
years, I’d have no way of knowing.”

Ryan and Syd stood in the doorway watching Nick Wood get in his
Lexus.  They had gotten the name and number of Kathy Tuttle’s attorney and
Ryan had called LAPD Media Relations to let them know they could issue a press
release with Colin Wood’s identity.

As Wood drove off, Syd asked, “You believe in karma, Ryan?  Like
Casanova there and his prostate cancer.”

“Actually, I do,” Ryan said, then realized that was one of the reasons he
was hesitating about picking up the Lotto money.  Enough, he
thought.  Time to tell Syd, at least get her advice about what he should
do.  He looked at Syd.  “I need to tell you something.” 

Syd looked at him expectantly.  “What?”

Before Ryan could answer, his cell phone rang.  “Damn it,” he said
pulling it out of his pocket, ready to turn it off – then he noticed the
name of the caller, Anne.  “I better take this,” Ryan said.  “Why
don’t you call that lawyer and see if you can get an address for Kathy Tuttle.”

Ryan looked a little flummoxed, Syd thought, and she immediately
suspected that the call was from Ryan’s ex-wife.  But she wasn’t going to
say anything.  Not yet, anyway.  “You got it,” Syd said, stepping
into the parking lot.  “I’ll meet you at the car.”

Ryan answered his phone.  “Hello,” he said,   “This is a
surprise.”

“I know you said you were busy and we should wait a couple of days before
getting together,” Anne said.  “But, I don’t know, seeing you today made
me realize how much I’ve missed talking to you.  Any chance you can
squeeze in a quick drink a little later?  I’ll be in Hollywood; we could
meet at Musso and Frank, in like an hour or something.  But if you’re too
busy, I understand, no pressure.”

Ryan was torn.  Part of him wanted to drop everything and meet
her.  Another part of him wanted to tell her to go fuck herself.  She
had broken his heart. 

But she was a lawyer and he did have some legal questions he’d like
answered about his Lotto ticket.  And he was curious about what she
wanted.  So… “You know what, Anne.  I could probably use a
break.  Sure let’s get together.  I’ll meet you at Musso’s, how’s
seven o’clock?”

“Perfect,” Anne said, “Just perfect.”

There are three TVs behind the bar of the Windows Lounge, all tuned to
the same station.   The time was six-fifteen, and the local NBC
affiliate was in the middle of their news broadcast.  The sound was muted,
of course, can’t have TV chatter interrupting drunken conversation, and the
three 42-inch flat screens all cut to a picture of Colin Wood.  If those
in the bar could have heard the anchor, they would have heard that the victim
of the murder last night in the Havoc parking lot has just been identified as
Hollywood actor, Colin Wood.

Adam and Alice were on their second round.  Adam’s back was to the
TV’s, so he couldn’t see Colin’s picture.  Alice, however, had a front row
seat.  She expected the police to ID Colin, so she wasn’t surprised. 
She was interested to see what else they were reporting, how good a description
of her they had and what the police were saying about the investigation. 
But there would be plenty of time for that later. 

She turned her attention back to Adam.  He was rambling on about his
business now, how he had a personal hotline to the CEO’s of America’s top
companies, and he could set her up with the job of her dreams.  Yeah,
yeah, yeah, she thought.  Let’s just cut to the chase.  Rent us a
room already.

“So, are you hungry?” Adam asked.  “We could go somewhere, Spago’s
or Matsuhisa if you like sushi.”

Alice slid closer to Adam, dropped her voice to a sexy whisper. 
“You know what I really like?” she asked.

Adam could feel her breath on his face.  “What?” he asked. 

 “Room service.”  Then she touched his hand.  Voltage seemed
to flow through her fingers and shoot through Adam’s body.  He was caught a
little off guard but Adam was quick on the uptake.  “Rumor has it they
have room service in this hotel.”

“Really?  Such a shame we don’t have a room.”

He smiled.  “That’s a problem easily solved.” Adam got up. 
“I’ll be right back.”

Adam got a key from the front desk, bought a bottle of Cristal champagne
from the bar, grabbed two glasses and led Alice into the elevator.  They
were alone and when the door closed, he stepped into her arms and kissed her.

As a teenager Alice fantasized about the first time she’d kiss Adam
Devlin.  Sometimes she’d be at her locker, alone in an empty corridor and,
when she turned around, he’d be standing in front of her.  They’d look
lovingly into each other’s eyes, and then kiss.  Other times she’d be on
the staircase going up and he’d be coming down and they’d bump into each
other.  They stare wordlessly at each other and then kiss.  Or she’d
be in her bedroom doing homework and he’d crawl in through the window, take her
in his arms and kiss.   

Silly schoolgirl fantasies that never came true.   

But now she was kissing him and it was, surprisingly, wonderful. 
They melted into each other.  Their tongues found a perfect rhythm, their
bodies fit seamlessly, and even their breathing was in sync.  It felt like
they
belonged
together.

With a Ding, the elevator glided to a stop.  The door opened and
their lips parted, but their eyes were still locked together.  “You are
unbelievable,” Adam whispered.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Alice said, grabbed his hand and led him
off the elevator.  “What’s our room number?”

“1224,” Adam said, stopping in front of the door.

“My new lucky number,” she said.

He opened the door.  As they stepped inside, he put down the champagne
and glasses.  Alice dropped her purse on a chair and then turned back to
the door.   It was a big, heavy door on a pneumatic hinge and took a
few seconds to close.  Once it snapped shut Alice threw the dead bolt. 

“Now where were we?” he asked.  Adam took her hands, pulled her to
him and kissed her.

It felt so good, she thought.  She knew it shouldn’t.  And she
knew she shouldn’t be so aroused, but she was, in fact, soaking wet. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  She hated this man.  Hated
what he had done to her.  She was there to kill him, not fuck him. 

But, still this was the fulfillment of that schoolgirl fantasy; why not
let it play itself out. 

His hands slipped under her blouse.  She wore no bra and he cupped
her breasts, his fingers massaging her nipples.  She groaned with
pleasure.

Suddenly Adam picked her up, carried her across the room and gently
dropped her on the king size bed.  He pulled off her blouse, her skirt and
finally her shoes.  He kissed the soles of both her feet then slowly
kissed his way along her ankle, past her knee, up the thigh.  He spread
her legs and kissed the outside of her panties.  She arched her back
shoving her pussy into his face.  He inhaled her scent, nibbling her
clitoris through the thin, red fabric.

“Jesus, God,” she murmured. 

Adam pulled off her panties.  She was bare, smooth, soft. 
Perfect.  He sunk his face into her, taking her clitoris between his lips,
his tongue gentle but insistent.  He wanted to make this beautiful woman
come.  He wanted her to think he was the greatest lover she’d ever
had.  This was not the norm for Adam, who usually just took what he wanted
and moved on.  But he wanted to make love to this woman, not just fuck
her.  He wanted tonight to be special.

“Oh, yes,” Alice groaned as the first wonderful thrumming of an orgasm
stirred deep inside her.  She wrapped her legs around his back, dug her
fingers into the sheets.  “Fuck, yes,” she breathed, her hips now moving
in rhythm with his tongue. 

Suddenly Alice realized how much she loved him then, and still loved him
now.  Maybe she misjudged him that night.  Maybe he only did what he
did because he was drunk.

 “Oh, God,” she moaned, the wonderful moment was here.  “Yes,
yes, yes…” Her toes curled as the orgasm rocked her.  “Oh, God!”

Adam felt her convulse as she climaxed. It was an incredible turn-on to watch
her ecstasy, to feel her body vibrate as pleasure surged through her.  He
rolled over, stripping off his shirt, pants, and Calvin Klein Briefs.  He
was hard, Viagra hard, without the chemicals.  She was the drug tonight
and he was hoping to overdose. 

Adam planted one arm on either side and suspended himself over her. 
“You are so beautiful,” he said, staring into her sparkling green eyes.

“Shut up and fuck me.”  She said it with a desperate urgency that
thrilled him.

He lowered his hips and ever so slowly entered her.  Making love to
this incredible woman was monumental and Adam wanted to cherish every
millimeter of this first time inside her.  She was tight, warm.  Delicious.

Then they were moving together, slowly at first but within moments their lovemaking
intensified as mouths met, hands groped, legs flayed and a frenzied, almost desperate
need gripped them both.

Soon, oh, way too soon, Adam felt his orgasm coming.  He tried to
think it away but failed and gave himself into its power.  He thrust,
deeper and deeper until he practically exploded inside her. 

He clung to her as he came, finishing with a deep, passionate kiss. 
He was still deep inside her.  “Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered. 
“That was unbelievable.”

“It sure was,” she said.  “And the best part is we’re just getting
started.”

Adam smiled.  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Alice rolled them over so she was on top.  “Only this time,” she
said.  “I’ll do all the work.” 

And she began to make love to him.