“Don’t we all?” Tom said.
16
Day 2 -Night
Harri Harper took a left onto Baxter Street off of Silver Lake Boulevard and parked in front of Roxanne Miles’ craftsman home.
She had dropped Tom at the PAB and gone back to her desk only long enough to find Roxanne’s address and do a quick internet search. Her IMDb page was typical of a working actress with no major roles in any major films. It looked busy for a few years and then, nothing.
She’d gotten lucky because Roxanne lived across from the Silver Lake Reservoir. She could stop by and interview Roxanne on her way home.
Harri checked the time. It was only six-thirty in the evening. She’d made it here in a record time. Roxanne had no idea Harri was coming as she hadn’t called ahead. She was taking a chance with that, but surprise interviews often gave her the best information. She lived close enough to Roxanne that she could try to catch her in the morning if she wasn’t home.
Roxanne’s address had a half number and Harri discovered she lived in the back house of the lovely craftsman perched on the hill. The view of the reservoir from the home was as good as Harri’s. She wondered if Roxanne shared the view, as well.
Harri walked down the paved driveway to the side of the main house, twinkle lights lighting her way to a small gate. She unlatched the hook, opened the gate, and walked into the small, green backyard. The cute guesthouse was tucked in the corner. No view but surrounded by a lush flower garden. Harri could smell night jasmine intermingled with fragrant roses, and that other night-blooming flower that smelled incredible, but she had no idea of the name.
Harri pulled out her badge and knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” came a voice from the other side of the door.
“I'm Detective Harriet Harper with the LAPD. I’m looking for Roxanne Miles. Is that you?” she asked.
She held up her badge to the eyehole in the door. The door opened up a crack. A brown-haired woman with large hazel eyes and a tentative look on her face peered out. She was not as young as Harri expected her to be.
“What is this about, officer?” Roxanne asked.
“I’m a Detective. We found an actress dead yesterday. Her name was Sophie Lambert,” Harri said.
“I saw the news about that this morning.” Roxanne nodded. “I'm so sorry that happened but what does it have to do with me?” she asked.
“May I come inside so we can talk?” Harri asked.
Roxanne hesitated for a moment.
“Please,” Harri said. “I won’t take up too much of your time.”
Roxanne closed the door, unlatched the chain, and let Harri into her home.
First hurdle jumped. Harri gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you.”
“Sure, of course,” Roxanne said as she led Harri into the living room “Do you want something to drink? Water or something?” she asked as Harri sat down on the overstuffed couch. She glanced around, noting a small coffee table and an armchair. Nearly everything was in the shabby chic style. The walls were covered in bookcases filled with fiction books. The TV was paused on Netflix.
“Sorry to interrupt your evening. I’m good, thank you.”
“What does this girl’s death have to do with me?” Roxanne asked as she sat down in the armchair.
Harri noted her brown hair in a messy bun, and the flowered maxi dress she wore. She thought of Elle Lambert, in almost exactly the same outfit, with almost the exact same expression of weariness. Roxanne looked like she could play an ethereal woman with her long neck, high cheek bones, and curved mouth. She seemed more scrawny than slim, Harri thought.
“A source gave me your name and number,” Harri explained. “They believe you could have relevant information as to what might have happened to her.”
The expression on Roxanne’s face darkened. Her eyes flashed with anger and Harri worried the woman would kick her out on the spot.
Roxanne’s hands balled up into fists. “First that asshole makes me go through my whole story,” she spat out her words. “Promises he's going to get this huge piece in the newspaper and expose them all. I wait and nothing happens. It was complete bullshit. He made me tell him every detail of the most horrific thing that ever happened to me, to ever happen to anyone I know and then nothing. Now, he sends YOU and thinks I’m going to put myself through that again? You’ve got some nerve, Lady.”
Her face reddened and Harri could see tears in her eyes.
“Roxanne, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harri said carefully. “I am here investigating the death of Sophie Lambert. I’m with the LAPD.”
Roxanne pulled herself together somewhat. “Stephen didn't send you here?”
“No. A woman named Helena McCarthy gave me your name. She told us you might be able to help us. Can you tell me what happened to you?” Harri asked.
Roxanne was quiet, lost in her own thoughts. Harri glanced around the room again. There were no photos of Roxanne anywhere. Harri knew that for an actress, that was unusual.
“As long as you promise me you'll do something about it,” Roxanne said.
“I won’t make you any promises that I can’t keep,” Harri said. “I need to know what you're going to tell me first.”
The two women stared at each other in silence. Harri had no problem with silences and waited her out. Roxanne had not gotten what she’d expected from the journalist after baring her soul and Harri understood that. She hoped if she waited confidently in silence, Roxanne would give her a chance. Finally, Roxanne looked away, down at her hands.
“What’s this journalist’s name again so I can follow up with him?”
“Stephen Ladner,” Roxanne replied in a tired voice. “He worked for the LA Times, or so he said.”
Harri wrote his name down. “And what did you tell him?”
Roxanne looked back at her with a cold anger in her eyes. “I told him about the organized abuse of young female actresses,” she said.
“Are you talking about the casting couch?” Harri asked.
“I wish that was it,” Roxanne rolled her eyes. “No, detective. I was groomed to perform sex acts on powerful industry men. Do you understand?”
Harri was quiet, giving Roxanne room to continue.
“They’re organized and prey on vulnerable girls who are just starting out in this industry. It’s an entire network. They have a lot of people working for them.”
“Grooming?” Harri asked. “Like what a pedophile does?”
“Yes,” Roxanne leaned back into the chair. “My therapist explained that to me. I’ve been working with her since it happened.”
“Start from the beginning, Roxanne,” Harri said. “I want to hear your story.”
Roxanne nodded and took a deep breath.
“I was young and new to town. My home life in Texas was not great. I came out here alone. My first mistake. I was only seventeen. I found myself a manager and he sent me out on auditions almost immediately,” Roxanne began.
Harri could see Roxanne’s hands tremble. “Do you want to get a glass of water?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“How long ago was this?” Harri asked.
“Five years ago,” she said.
Harri looked up at Roxanne. She’d put Roxanne close to thirty or older, not early twenties.
“I know,” Roxanne said as if she could read Harri’s mind. “I look older than twenty-two. I fell into drugs and alcohol after. Those both age you fast. I’m clean now, but the last three years have taken a toll on every part of my being.”
Harri nodded and still said nothing. She waited for Roxanne to continue.
“I was at an audition and this woman comes and sits next to me and starts chatting me up. I tell her I'm starting out and we commiserate on learning our lines and I think nothing of it.”
Suddenly, Roxanne jumped up from her seat and went to the fridge in the small kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and called out to Harri.
&nb
sp; “You want any?”
“No. I’m still good,” Harri said.
Harri watched Roxanne in the kitchen. She was a jumble of nerves and Harri understood the water was a poor substitute for the alcohol of her choice. She was trying. Harri expelled her breath and patiently waited for Roxanne to continue her story.
“I started seeing her at more auditions and she was friendlier every time. I know why now. That’s the first step in grooming. Identify and choose a victim. But I was young. I didn’t see it. I was vulnerable and alone. My parents should have never sent me out here on my own, but they couldn’t have stopped me.”
She gulped down her water and began to pace in front of Harri. “I kept seeing her at my auditions. We became friends. I mean, I stupidly thought she was my friend. She ran lines with me. We’d go for coffee. She said she was an actress and I had no reason to not believe her, to not trust her. That’s number two, by the way, in the manual for grooming.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” Harri said. The pain pouring out of Roxanne was almost unbearable to witness. Shame seeped out of her. “You were only seventeen.”
Roxanne ignored her. “She invited me to meet a producer on some big action film. She dangled this opportunity for a part. A way to get my SAG card. Every actor at the beginning of their career needs to get their card. She identified my need and provided me with an incredible opportunity. The producer was legit. I knew his name. I’d read about him in the trades. Number three - identify and fill the need.”
Roxanne refilled her glass of water and continued to pace. “I agreed to meet with the producer who was charming and nice and gave me a speaking part in his movie. I got my SAG Card. I was thrilled. Thrilled. I thought I was on my way. Like it was really happening for me. Then she asked me to go to a party with her and of course, I wanted to go to a party and rub elbows with a who’s who of this town. What girl wouldn’t want that?”
Roxanne sat back down in her armchair, her body now limp. “She brought me to that party and I just felt so grateful, so indebted because this woman introduced me to this producer, and I got the part. So, we’re at this party with a bunch of faces I’ve seen on TV and in magazines and she starts asking me to do things for her. All normal like. Like this is an everyday occurrence.”
Harri raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“Sexual things with some gross, old producer. I’m shocked and confused at the same time. This is my friend. She’s older, and grew up in LA, in the business. So, maybe this is how things happen out here? There was such an air of normalcy about it. Anyway, I declined, and she says ‘okay’ like it’s no big deal. She hands me a drink instead.”
“Did she get you drunk?” Harri asked.
“Worse. She roofied me,” Roxanne said as she closed her eyes.
Harri knew she was pushing away the horror and she sat patiently for a few moments, giving Roxanne time.
“I came to in the morning,” Roxanne continued. “I didn’t know where I was, in some room. All I knew was that I’d been raped, but I had no idea by whom.”
“Did you report this?” Harri asked.
“Of course not.” Roxanne sighed. “That's how they get you. First, she got me a meeting with the producer. Then she paid for some acting classes for me since I was broke, and she was dripping in money. I was indebted. I took advantage of her, right?”
Roxanne’s voice comes out fast and hyper. This woman is still clearly suffering from PTSD five years later, thought Harri.
“They see what you need and give it to you,” Roxanne said. “Wrapped up in a huge red bow like a miracle from Santa Claus. And then comes the big ask. So, when you do get assaulted, like I did, the shame is just, it’s just overwhelming and confusing. I trusted her. I thought she was my friend. I thought she believed in me and wanted to help me succeed. I mean, we talked like we were besties and I told her so much, so many things, and all she did with everything I said was use it to, to lure me. To trap me.”
Roxanne paused, breathing deeply to regain her composure.
“I wanted to crawl into a hole and die,” she said quietly. “Most days, I still do. Here’s the thing, Miss Lady Detective. So many girls have had this experience. I’m far from being alone.”
“How many girls?” Harri asked.
“I don’t know.” Roxanne shook her head. “A lot. That's what I told Stephen. There’s an organization behind all this. It’s systematic. They have very specific parties that aren’t like your typical Hollywood parties. These are all about showing off new girls for men who have everything…” Roxanne’s voice drifted off.
“Give me names,” Harri said, her jaw so tight that it was starting to throb.
“No way.” Roxanne shook her head. “I’m not sticking my neck out again. These people are powerful. They have unlimited funds. They could destroy my entire life with a snap of their fingers,” Roxanne said.
“Roxanne,” Harri said carefully. “I want to believe you, really I do. But you know I can’t help you unless you give me a place to start. Who was the producer? Do you remember where the party was?”
Roxanne was quiet, looking down at her hands once again. Finally, she looked back at Harri. “I can give you the name of the woman who groomed me.”
“What's her name?” Harri asked.
“Georgie Shipwell.”
Harri had never heard of the woman before. “You said she was also an actress?” she asked as she wrote in her notebook.
“Her father was Glenn Shipwell.”
Harri had heard of Glenn Shipwell. He’d been a famous leading man in the seventies. Had won at least two Oscars from back then. “You told all of this to Stephen Ladner?” Harri asked.
“Yes. I told him even more.” Roxanne nodded. “Mentioned some of the famous people I’d seen at the party that night. I could tell he was excited about the story. He called me a week later and told me he’d gotten a big break. I should watch for his article coming out in the next few weeks.”
“What happened?” Harri asked. She wouldn’t have been that upset with the man if everything had gone according to plan.
“I never heard from him again. The article never came out and when I called him, all he said was his editors killed it.”
Harri raised an eyebrow at that. “He said his editors killed the story?”
“Yes,” Roxanne said bitterly. “Sound familiar?”
Harri nodded assuming she was talking about the Winegardner case that was currently winding its way through the courts. Winegardner was a famous power agent who apparently had a penchant for raping his clients. His case blew up not only Hollywood, but adjacent industries like Music, Finance and Politics. Industries full of dominant men who like to abuse their power.
“Thank you for sharing your story with me,” Harri said. “Do you have any evidence that links you to Georgie Shipwell, or that party?”
“Evidence like what?” Roxanne asked.
“Text messages, email messages, any kind of physical evidence. Do you have the clothes you were wearing that night?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Roxanne shook her head. “It was five years ago. I had to change my phone, get a new email. I started over. My mom’s gone nearly broke with my therapy bills, and I…I honestly just want to forget. I just want my life back.”
Harri certainly understood that.
“Roxanne, do you have anything from that night? Your clothes, or?”
Roxanne closed her eyes. “You have to understand. It was all…tainted. I threw it all away. The clothes, the bag, the shoes, the makeup, the necklace, everything. I know I did everything wrong, but I couldn’t stop taking showers. I just, I couldn’t stop.”
Harri was disappointed, but she did understand.
“Do you think that’s what could have happened to Sophie Lambert?”
“Was she a teenager and inexperienced?” Roxanne asked.
“Yes, on both counts,” Harri said.
“Then she would be perfect,” Roxanne said.
“Were there other women who groomed girls? Or only Georgie?” Harri asked.
“I don’t know,” Roxanne answered. “I only saw Georgie, but I did see her sometimes talking to other girls.”
Harri tried to project calmness as she turned the conversation to where she knew Roxanne probably didn’t want to go.
“Roxanne, I need you to come down to the station and give a formal statement.”
“No, I’m not doing that,” Roxanne jumped up from her chair again. “I’m not going down there. I don't want to get involved in this again. I'm sorry about what happened to that girl and I hope you find who did it. But I'm not willing to put my neck out again. Maybe Stephen Ladner did me a favor.”
Harri had asked the wrong question, apparently. She closed her notebook as Roxanne headed toward the door.
“I don't really have anything more to tell you,” she said. The implication was that she wanted Harri to leave.
Harri obliged and walked to the door. “I understand that you don’t feel safe coming out in the open, but I'll need to call you once I dig up what happened with the journalist and what happened five years ago,” she said.
Roxanne nodded without saying a word, her big eyes were wide and she looked haunted again.
Harri’s heart felt heavy as she made her way back to the car, the twinkle lights a little less twinkly and the darkness surrounding her more oppressive. She knew it had been painful for Roxanne to tell her story, especially after whatever had happened with the journalist. Harri was grateful she’d trusted her enough to try again.
She was glad she was going back to her own home tonight. Jake had said that he'd be over around nine and she was really looking forward to giving him a big hug. She needed someone to chase the darkness away. This case was getting to her and she wondered if she was really ready to get back to investigating. The brutality of crimes could be hard to compartmentalize. Harri worked with empathy and the pain she saw tonight made her want to curl into a ball. It made her a better detective, she thought.
The Broken Trail: A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller (Harriet Harper Thriller Book 3) Page 10