“Hey, Tony,” Syd said.
“Hey, Syd,” he said, but his eyes never left Ryan.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Now his eyes met hers. “You mean, you don’t know?”
“No.”
Tony barked out a laugh. “You’ve got one crazy partner, I’ll tell you that.”
On stage, Ryan turned to Tony and spotted Syd. A smile exploded on Ryan’s face. Then he turned back to Tony and nodded.
“Excuse me a second,” Tony said to Syd and then stuck his head outside the ballroom door. “Okay, buddy, you can go on up.”
The slightly baffled, though clearly excited man walked through the door and headed for the stage.
“Is that who I think it is?” Syd asked.
“The tow truck driver,” Tony said. “Ryan told me the whole story.”
“But, how did Ryan find him?”
“He got an idea at the crime scene last night when he saw the Lady in Red’s bloody fingerprints on the medicine bottles. It occurred to him that if the tow truck driver had any grease on his hands, there was a very good chance he left a print on the Lotto ticket.”
“That’s what you guys were talking about in the kitchen.”
Ramirez nodded. “He gave me the Lotto ticket and when I got to the office, I was able to bring up a print. Ran it through the computer, got a hit, Alan Moll. He had a commercial class C California driver’s license, which you need to operate a tow truck. I emailed his driver’s license picture to Ryan and he recognized him. So forty-five minutes ago I walked into Valley Tow and Salvage and changed Alan’s life forever.”
“So he did the right thing,” Syd said, surprised. “He gave up all that money…” And then Syd thought about Anne, did she know about this? Syd searched the crowd then found a surprised, stricken-looking Anne staring at the stage. She looked absolutely miserable. So she didn’t know; interesting, Syd thought. Very interesting.
On stage, there was a flurry of activity. Ryan shook Alan’s hand and introduced him to Lucinda, Farid and the others. Lucinda was on her cell phone in the middle of an agitated conversation with someone.
“Let me get this straight,” Alan said to Ryan. “You could have kept all this money and no one would have thought twice about it. But instead you decided to track me down? We’re talking millions, man!”
“I know,” Ryan said. “And it was tempting. But, ultimately, Alan, they weren’t my millions.”
“Okay,” Lucinda said, hanging up. “I’ve just talked to our legal department. Mr. Magee, if you are willing to sign an affidavit that you saw Mr. Moll drop the lottery ticket and that you have just now been able to track him down, then the jackpot will be awarded to him.”
“Great,” Ryan and Alan said together.
“But you better get back on that cell phone,” Alan said. “Because I want to give a finder’s fee to Detective Magee.” Alan turned to Ryan. “How’d ten percent sound?”
“That’s four point seven million dollars,” a surprised Lucinda said.
“Three point four after taxes,” Ryan said. “But Alan, there’s no need. What’s yours is yours.”
“Then let me do what I want with it. Take the money, please.”
Ryan looked into the grateful tow truck driver’s face and smiled. “Thank you, Alan.”
“No, you crazy fool. Thank you!” Alan said, and then he threw his arm around Ryan and hugged him.
The press had no idea what was happening yet, but the frenzied conversations on stage had certainly piqued everyone’s interest so all the cameras were rolling when Alan locked Ryan in a bear hug. Clips of that embrace would lead every news story that night and grace the front page of tomorrow’s L.A. Times with the headline: Honest Cop Stuns Crowd.
FIFTY-TWO
“We have to talk.”
After a raucous forty-five minutes of answering questions about finding the lottery ticket and the Lady in Red investigation, Ryan climbed off the stage and made a beeline for Syd. As the reporters now lobbed their questions at the dazed tow truck driver, Ryan grabbed Syd by the arm and steered her to a quiet corner of the hotel lobby.
“About last night,” Ryan said.
“You fucked that greedy bitch.”
Syd said it matter of fact. No accusation in her tone, no indignation, no anger even. That surprised Ryan, he’d expected a scene of some sort. But, of course, Syd knew him better than he knew himself. She probably figured it out last night. Probably the instant she saw him.
“Yes, I fucked that greedy bitch. We can talk later about why. I’m not sure what it says about me, or about us, but I want you to know that it’s over, finally, completely, irrevocably.”
“I fucked over seven hundred men.”
“What?”
“And I killed two of them.”
Syd had decided if Ryan was going to level, so would she. In fact, she decided she’d never lie to Ryan again. “My stepfather abused me from the time I was fourteen years old. When I was seventeen, I killed him. I ran away from home and came to Hollywood, fell in love with a pimp who got me hooked on heroin and put me out on the street. Two years later I overdosed, was saved by a paramedic named Eric who helped me kick and get off the street. Eric was killed by my pimp, and I killed the pimp in self defense. Eric’s sister took me under her wing, helped me get through school and into the police academy. But when I was a hooker, I kept count for a while, how many men I’d slept with; I gave up at six hundred and seventy-one but didn’t get off the street until four months later. So seven hundred, give or take. And you fucked that greedy bitch, so the way I figure it, we’re even.”
Ryan laughed. “I always sensed there was more to Syd Curtis, but I had no idea…” Then he took Syd in his arms and hugged her.
Anne watched them from the ballroom doorway. The freckled face redhead looked ecstatic. Well, at least Anne knew she could destroy Syd’s career whenever she wanted.
Then Anne realized Syd wasn’t her enemy. Syd had done nothing wrong. Syd hadn’t stolen Ryan; Anne had lost him by lying. Anne knew that if she’d been honest with Ryan from the beginning, things might well have turned out differently. If she’d been honest with Ryan, it could very well be her in Ryan’s arms now.
So, Syd Curtis, Anne decided, you are getting a pass, for now.
“Excuse me,” Lieutenant Hanrahan said, brushing past Anne as he charged into the hallway. He spotted Ryan and Syd as they broke their embrace. “Cut that shit out,” he said joining them. “Or I’ll have to break up my best team.”
“You mean, you know?” Ryan asked.
“Please. Everyone knows. The way you two look at each other is downright combustible. So, play it cool in public and the LAPD’s most famous homicide detectives can remain partners.
“Now, I just got a call from our pal, Alex Cortez, in Newport Beach. Nick Wood is dead. He put a bullet through his brain.”
Ryan was shocked. “Grief?” wondered Ryan.
Hanrahan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I do, thought Syd. And soon so would the whole world.
Not grief but justice.
Nick Wood was dead. Rest in peace, Alice. Rest in peace.
EPILOGUE
Alice Waterman’s funeral was a media free-for-all. Video crews from around the world descended on Good Shepherd Cemetery in Huntington Beach. In a show of respect to the deceased, the FAA banned all air traffic over the cemetery to prevent the inevitable onslaught of helicopters from disrupting the ceremony.
The funeral was held a week after Alice’s death; but more importantly, just one day later, the LAPD released two videos: Alice’s gang rape and Alice’s courageous escape from Blake’s handcuffs, their ensuing battle and Alice eventually killing him. But it was a third video that got the most attention, the Lady in Red’s manifesto.