"Your friends mentioned another potentially missing woman. April Beam?"
"Yeah, that's her. I didn't know her really well but she was sweet."
"What about Cindy and Erin?"
"I don't think they knew April at all and from what I remember, April was new to town, just starting out. She went missing two months ago, I think. Just poof! Disappeared!"
"And April didn't go home either?" I knew she didn't because Ashleigh told me but I wanted to hear Cindy's opinion.
"I couldn't say because I don't know. Maybe she did and she just didn't want to keep in touch with anyone. A lot of people have a bad experience out here and prefer to forget about it. Most people at least say goodbye but I guess some don't want to."
"What do you mean by a bad experience?"
"Anything from being disappointed in themselves to having something nasty happen on a set. Some of the girls feel they have to do stuff they don't want to do just to get a job. Sometimes they don't even get the job afterwards. They're ashamed of what they had to do. Sometimes they say no and it happens anyway."
"Sexual assault?" I asked.
Cindy nodded. "People think they're untouchable here. I mean that in the legal sense. Everyone else is touchable but the law won't touch the perpetrators. If you're just starting out here, say one wrong word, get one rejection, and your career is done. It's gross."
"Could that possibly have happened to Sammy?"
This time, Cindy shook her head. "No, Sammy would have said something. She would have told me. We promised to always have each other's backs. Some frat boys tried it once in college and she complained directly to the dean even though she knew it was her word against theirs and the creeps would lie. She isn’t afraid to stand up for herself."
"Good to know," I said, making a note.
"If someone hurt her, she would go to the police. She wouldn't hide," added Cindy.
"What about dates?"
"She would knee them in the balls if they tried anything on that she didn't want."
I glanced up from my notepad. "I meant, was she dating anyone?"
"Oh." Cindy held back a smile. "No, she wasn't. She split up with her boyfriend after we graduated and there hasn't been anyone serious since."
"Is she still in touch with the ex?"
"No, he went back home to Canada. They left on good terms but I know they didn't stay in touch."
"Is she dating here? Using any apps?"
"She's been on a few dates from an app but we talk about that stuff first and she always texts me and tells me about them. That's our system. We text each other a photo of the guy that we're meeting. She didn't have any dates lined up."
"Have any of the previous dates ever hassled her? Done anything that made her uncomfortable?"
"No. And before you ask, she never gives out her address to a casual date. She always met them somewhere and never accepted a ride home. She'd call an Uber."
"She sounds pretty responsible."
"She is, which is why I'm so worried! If you want a real story about LA, about actresses and our lives here, try to find out why my friends are missing."
Cindy didn't have much more to tell me, except that Erin flew out to an unexpected job the previous evening and would be away for a month. I wrapped up the interview with a promise to call her if I learned anything, and the request that she do the same. By the time I returned to the office, I could understand Cindy's concern. Sammy's disappearance was completely out of character. If she hadn't taken off on her own accord, where was she? Did someone hurt her? It was an awful prospect.
With my obituary on Clyde Goodwin now filed, I had to put aside the Sammy Turturro story for a while and tackle my entertainment column. That involved checking my email inbox for tipoffs along with my texts and messages to see if anyone called something in. I was slowly developing my contacts — the people on whom I could rely for supplying entertainment snippets because of their relationships with the celebrity — but finding enough juice for the column to satisfy both Bob's and the readers’ tastes was a ceaseless effort. I knew I wasn't the best person for the position but since it was my job, I intended to give a damn good performance at it.
An email arrived a couple of hours ago from a "stringer," a person I encouraged to spot anything that looked like a story they could pass on for a small cash fee. The stringer caught two minor soap stars getting cozy in a bar the previous evening and took a reasonably good watermarked photo to prove their claims. Hands entwined, the couple were kissing. A quick check online revealed both were recently single. The kissing gave me enough information to spin two hundred excited, breathy words about the smooching. I sent the fee and an email popped back quickly with the unwatermarked photo, one that I could send to the newspaper's layout team to include with the article as unequivocal evidence.
I had a lucky celeb sighting while in the supermarket the previous weekend when I spotted a recent award-winning singer picking up several vegetable items, which I spun into a paragraph on their healthy lifestyle. I even threw in a possible vegan switch that was mostly hyperbole, and what it could possibly mean to the singer's life. Was there a new lover to impress? Or a significant video due to be filmed? It was a stretch for a story but I was desperate.
I shot a text message to Cindy, asking her to send me her Insta handle in case I could add that to my column as something "hot and happening." Then I made a note to check up on Nadia's career progression so I could help her out with some praise.
When I noticed movement ahead of me, I glanced up. Ben was in Bob's office again with his back to me. Although he was standing, a woman sat in the chair next to him. Seeing only the back of her head, her long, glossy, dark blond hair didn't look familiar. I wasn't aware of any new recruits so perhaps she was from advertising. I shrugged, uninterested and glanced down at my screen. I needed a couple more stories to file this piece. Someone had to have something for me. I thought about calling Daisy but she was adamant not to exploit any of her colleagues for my gain and I certainly couldn’t exploit my friendship with her.
My phone trilled and I grabbed it.
"Donna Monroe here," started the woman on the other end of the line. "I have a story for you."
"Shoot," I replied, grabbing my pen. Donna was an agent for several mid-level TV stars and a champ at pushing publicity at any given opportunity.
"One of my clients has just signed a contract for a huge cosmetics campaign. There's potential for her to go global once the commercial is aired next month."
"Which client?" I asked.
"Can't tell you. Lips are sealed."
I sat back in my chair. "Not much of a story."
"It is when I tell you who her co-star is," she said. "It rhymes with Rad Hit."
I sat up. "Brad Pitt?"
"Like I said, can't say a thing. They just wrapped up shooting today in the desert. Apparently, the heat was intense."
"It is the desert."
"No, duh," Donna tutted. "Between the stars. Could be a hot romance in the making."
"Thanks for the tip."
"If it gets printed, I'll make sure something else good comes your way."
"No promises," I told her as we hung up. A few minutes later I'd written: Rumors are swirling on set of a new cosmetics campaign being shot for TV about the sizzling heat between the leading lady and her A-list man. Our source says the chemistry was intense. Sales are apparently set to explode once the commercial is aired next month.
It didn't matter that I hadn't included names; anyone could search online for them.
"Shayne!"
I looked up as Bob yelled my name and waved my hand while clicking save with the other. Ben squeezed through the doorway behind him and so did the woman, laughing and smiling at something Ben said before smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from her slim-fitting, white sheath dress. Ben said something else. Pressing a hand to her chest, she laughed again.
"Do you have my column?" Bob yelled.
"Yes, Bob," I yel
led back.
Bob turned, said something to Ben and the woman, then plodded back into his office. The woman glanced his way then leaned into Ben, laying a hand on his forearm as she smiled up at him, talking softly. The pair of them walked out of the office and when they passed me, Ben gave me a tight smile. I waited a couple of minutes for him to return and when he didn't, I sighed and turned back to my laptop.
"Shayne!"
"I'm sending it now!" I shouted, making myself jump with the volume of my own voice. I winced at the screen. I was a paragraph short. Then a bright idea sprang into my head. Why not? Cindy helped me today with all my questions and she was working hard. Why not give her a helping hand? I added to my column: Gorgeous newcomer, Cindy Hartford has been working on medical drama ICU the past two weeks while casting directors are arguing over who gets to sign her up first. With a nearly flawless memory, stunning good looks, and a roster of talents, she could be the next star in the making. Meanwhile, stunning Crunchy Corn star, Nadia Randall is poised to seal the deal on her first movie role. We just know she's going to stun audiences with her abundant talent.
Yes, that also stretched the truth but it was what gossip relied on. Taking a grain of truth and stretching it into something sensational. Plus, I liked Nadia and Cindy; if I could use my job to help them out, I was happy to do it.
I saved the file, attached it to an email and sent it to Bob, knowing that despite his protestations, he could probably manage to open an email. I glanced at my watch. I could get out of the office in ten minutes. It was a long day and I was drained. I couldn't wait to get home and kick back in front of the TV.
"Amazing to see Gabi, huh?"
I looked up and smiled at Martha, Bob's cheerful assistant, who was peering over my cubicle. She held two coffees and I didn't need to ask if one was for me. It wasn't.
"Hmm?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.
"Gabi." She pointed to the door a few paces from my desk. "That was Gabi with Ben. You know, our former entertainment columnist. She loved the job but she's been freelance for a while. Maybe she's coming back."
I heard plenty about Gabi and her bloated book of contacts and amazing ability to sniff out a story. When I got dumped with the entertainment column, I even studied all her columns in the LA Chronicle's back catalog so I could work out the style I needed to emulate while finding my own voice in the allotted word count. I had to hand it to Gabi, she garnered hundreds of stories with her great knack for identifying celebrities without actually naming them. Along with the column, Gabi carved out a great career interviewing celebrities, quickly climbing the star levels from newbies to hard-hitting interviews with the certified A-list. I wasn't sure what she did after leaving the Chronicle, but had no doubt it was something glamorous.
"Is that so?"
"Bob hasn't said anything but they looked very cozy in that meeting. Oh, don't worry, Shayne. I'm sure she's not coming to snatch the job out from under you. Maybe she was pitching features. That's more her thing these days."
"Great," I said through tightened lips. I couldn't get Bob to listen to a feature story about missing women but Gabi could waltz in and he was all smiles? So was Ben. I glanced around. Where was Ben?
"Back in the day, she and Ben were some team," continued Martha. "We all thought they would get married."
My head shot up. "What now?"
"Oh, they were quite the item. An office romance and then it was all over. Gabi met someone else, got married and left to have a baby and Ben was heartbroken before he took off for Florida."
"Huh." I frowned hard. I knew Ben took a sabbatical to Florida to look after his sick mom but the Gabi part was news to me.
"Is that your cellphone ringing?" Martha asked, pointing to my desk.
Under my notepad, something buzzed. I grabbed it, grateful for the reprieve. Ashleigh's photo flashed on the screen.
"I'll leave you to it," Martha called as she walked away.
"Shayne?" asked Ashleigh.
"Yeah," I replied, still distracted as I pondered Martha's gossip. Gabi was Ben's ex? Why was he in her meeting with Bob? And why did they walk out together and why didn’t Ben return? Also, she broke Ben's heart? From a brief search of my memory, I couldn't remember him talking about Gabi in anything other than collegiate terms, and even then, hardly ever.
"Shayne?" asked Ashleigh.
"Yes!"
"Did you hear a word I just said?"
"Bad line, sorry. Say it again," I mumbled.
"I said I got a hit on one of the names you gave me. I'm at the scene now."
My heart stilled. "Sammy Turturro?"
"No. The other one. April Beam. Shayne, she's dead."
Chapter Four
Ashleigh stood with her back to me, talking to a uniformed officer. I arrived at her location on a rarely used road bordering a canyon ten minutes ago. Since then, I spent most of my time behind the police crime tape waiting for her to become available. It wasn't a comfortable wait. The sun’s heat hadn't abated yet, dust and dirt spun into the air from myriad vehicles, and I felt dry and parched. Finally, just when I was deciding whether to stay or head back to the car for my water bottle, Ashleigh looked up, locked eyes with me, and walked over. Ducking under the crime tape, she avoided the camera crew that arrived after me who were now filming the uniformed cops surveying the area. When she reached me, she drew me to one side.
"It's definitely April Beam?" I asked softly.
Ashleigh nodded. "Looks that way."
"Did she have her ID on her?"
"No. No purse either. I have people searching the area just in case but I don't think they'll find anything useful."
"She could have dropped it somewhere. Hey, how did you get an ID if she wasn't carrying anything?"
"Her fingerprints were in the system, thanks to an old DUI. Shayne, this was a body dump," she said, her voice low and serious. "Someone wrapped the vic in a rug, dragged her down the canyon and tossed her over there in that brush. From what I've seen so far, I'm looking at a kidnapping slash murder. If she dropped her purse, it was probably when she was abducted."
"But she's been missing for weeks!"
Ashleigh consulted her notes. "Seven weeks in total. No one seems sure of exactly when she first went missing but I do have a last contact from her cellphone which gives me somewhere to start."
"Has she been dead all this time?" I asked, darting a glance around my friend to the assembled police officers. Two climbed the steps coming off the canyon trail, their faces dour. Two more were directing traffic past the site while another asked the camera crew to move back when they tried to cross the crime scene tape line.
"No. The ME is taking a look now but he thinks two days, tops."
"Then where has she been for the past seven weeks?" I gulped.
"I assume that question was rhetorical," replied Ashleigh.
"It was. No need for the obvious answer. Her kidnapper took her and held on to her." I shuddered at the awful thought. I couldn't imagine what April might have gone through. I didn't want to.
"Unfortunately, it looks that way. How did you come by her name? The first time I heard it was when you asked me."
"I overheard some women talking about a missing woman when Daisy, Jenna and I were at brunch. They mentioned their friend, Sammy, whom I asked you about and April's name came up too. Both were actresses trying to make it in Hollywood."
Ashleigh snorted.
"Familiar tale?" I asked.
"Hear it all the time. You know how many actually succeed at showbiz in this town?"
"No."
"Me neither but I'm guessing the few at the top of the pyramid are standing on the broken dreams of thousands."
"Poetic. Also, depressing."
"That's the reality of it." Ashleigh unbuttoned her cuffs and rolled her sleeves up. A bead of perspiration trickled down her forehead and she brushed it away with the back of her hand without complaining about the heat.
"Who found her?" I asked.
Ashleigh nodded towards one of the marked police cars parked on the side of the road. The back door was open and a woman in her sixties sat in the back, her legs swinging out so her shoes were on the road. A spaniel lay at her feet, its head resting on its paws. "Dog walker hiking. Her dog slipped his lead and she followed him when he wouldn't come back. She called it in directly."
"Lucky find. Or unlucky, depends on how you look at it." I figured the older woman didn't consider herself too lucky.
"Lucky for us," decided Ashleigh. "Our victim wasn't in a shallow grave or hidden particularly well but she was quite a way off the trail and could have remained undisturbed for days or weeks before she was found. Dumping trash isn't uncommon so even if someone spotted the rug she was wrapped up in, they might not have thought it worth a second look. It's fortunate for us the dog kicked up such a fuss."
"Is that likely? That she might not have been found for a long time?" I clarified.
"Yes, but like I said, given the ME's timeline for death, I think this is a recent dump. Last night, maybe. Or early today. She wasn't here too long. I'm sure of that."
"What makes you say that?"
"The body's intact and we have a lot of coyotes out here."
I gulped. "I wish I hadn't asked."
"What else do you know about her?" asked Ashleigh.
"Nothing. Her name, the agency she signed up with. I spoke briefly to someone who was acquainted with her, but my focus was on Sammy Turturro, not April. Could the two disappearances be connected?" Even as I asked, I hoped not. April's fate didn't forecast good things for Sammy.
"Nothing suggests this was anything more than a random murder but I'll know more in the coming days after I've combed through her life, and the forensic evidence lab gets a chance to go over whatever they found on her."
"What about the rug?" I wondered.
"Unfortunately, it's a popular design and not very expensive. I've seen it in a dozen homes at least, but I do know it only went on sale a few years ago. Unfortunately, that doesn't narrow my search down. It's a low-cost commodity that people upgrade all the time. The killer might have found it dumped on the sidewalk for all we know."
Dead Ringers Page 4