Dead Ringers

by Camilla Chafer

  "The house belonged to my grandparents. I inherited it. I'm not a rich kid, just a lucky one. That said, the portraiture doesn't always pay the bills, hence this." He waved a hand around the office. He leaned in, "I could use a lucky break on the portrait front. I'm hoping to get an exhibition together soon."

  "I'm sorry it had to come to this," I said, giving him my most doleful look.

  Hayden bit his lip, holding back a smile. "That bad, huh?" he asked.

  "It's not all bad," I admitted, shaking my head and causing my blond hair to spill forwards, "but I'm pretty new too so I'm still learning my way around."

  "I'll let you get back to plotting your escape or whatever you were doing."

  "Thanks for the coffee."

  "Anytime. Catch up with you tomorrow? Maybe I can pick your brain on how this place runs."

  "Okay, sure."

  I ducked my head and pulled out my notepad, reviewing my notes again. Then I glanced up, looking around for Hayden. I saw him leaning over the picture editor's desk. Both of them were pointing to something on the desk and talking. I made a mental note to ask him about his paparazzi work. If he knew where to spot celebrities, that was the kind of information I needed for my gossip column. I hoped he would be interested in sharing his knowledge, although I wasn't sure what I could offer him in return beyond possibly buying a photo to illustrate the column from time to time. The gossip column typically used whatever photos were available, and the obituary column used whatever photography the family was willing to supply or stock images if the person had any kind of status. If I could persuade Bob to give me some more features to write, perhaps I could persuade him to let Hayden shoot the portraits? As far as trades went, mine wasn't a good one but it was the best I had.

  A glance at my watch told me it was time to pack up and head home. I could do with a break from my swirling thoughts and I had an evening soirée to arrange. I didn't worry about being challenged for leaving the office at the appointed hour; everyone was used to reporters coming and going as they pleased. With one last glance at Ben's empty desk, I packed up my things and left. By the time I reached my car, my phone buzzed. I juggled my purse and laptop into one hand as I beeped my car open and reached for my phone. Tossing my things onto the passenger seat, I read the message: Long day. Might be late x.

  I smiled. Ben was coming!

  On the way home, I swung by the grocery store and picked up chips, dips, wine and a case of beer. A few minutes later, I parked directly in front of the apartments. I had the case of beer in my hand and the laptop on top when Mike strolled past. He stopped, walked backwards and gave me a long assessing look. "Liquid dinner?" he asked.

  "Hah! I'm having people over."

  "By people, you mean…"

  "Everyone we know and like."

  "Hurrah! Women!" Mike reached for the beer. "I'll carry that for you."

  "Thank you." I retrieved the grocery bags and my purse from the car. "I need to put them in the refrigerator until they get here."

  "Not a problem," Mike said as I joined him on the path. Either side of us, the bougainvillea was in full bloom with vivid splashes of red, pink and orange. "How was your day?"

  "Frustrating. I think I found three more missing women."

  "What was your editor's take on that?"

  "I didn't tell him."

  "And Ben's?"

  "He spent all afternoon with his ex." It spilled from my mouth before I could think. Mike winced. "Do you need pity sex or revenge sex?" he asked.

  I pulled a face. "Neither!"

  Mike looked confused, but I wasn't sure if it was genuine or he was playing with me. Probably both. "You always react like I'm not being kind," he said.

  I blew a raspberry at him. "You're self-serving."

  He pushed open the door for me to step through. "One day you'll be grateful," he said, following me.

  I rolled my eyes as we headed towards the stairs. "That day will never come."

  "You…"

  "Don't say it!"

  "Spoilsport," snorted Mike.

  My cellphone buzzed again. I unlocked my door, deposited the wine in the fridge and held the door open for Mike to add the beer while I checked the screen. I was half expecting Ben to change his mind and tell me he was on his way already. Instead it was Jenna announcing she was nearby and would come over earlier than expected.

  "I'm going to change into my swimsuit," I said, deciding that I needed to cool off and relax before my guests arrived. "I need a quick swim."

  "Okay," said Mike. He shoved the fridge door shut and waited.

  "Out!" I ushered him from the kitchen through my apartment door, shutting the door behind him.

  "Wear the really tiny, pink one. That'll show Ben," he yelled from the other side.

  I shook my head and tried hard not to laugh. Shucking my work clothes into the hamper in my bedroom, I pulled on the white swimsuit with the peekaboo side panels that I bought a couple of weeks ago but didn't get a chance to wear. It was sexy but not "look at me" obvious and Daisy said it was hot. Plus, I didn't want Ben to know I was perturbed by his meetings with Gabi. I didn't need to compete. A supermodel said I looked hot in it. If Ben's attention wandered elsewhere, that was his problem, not mine.

  Grabbing a towel and slipping my feet into flip-flops, I picked up my keys and phone and made my way downstairs, wondering where all my neighbors were. Not that I saw them often but I was slowly making friendly headway with some. Tossing everything onto a lounger, I sank into the pool and swam a couple of languid laps, emptying my thoughts of everything and everyone. On my second lap, I realized I could hear the sounds of classical guitar so I paused at the edge of the pool to look around. Mike was in the lounger on the other side of the pool and he was playing. I pushed backwards, doing the backstroke as I stared up at the sky.

  Was this the life the missing women sought? Sunshine, pool, a handsome man in their backyard serenading them with his guitar? I huffed a small laugh. Mike was not serenading me. He was just practicing for an upcoming gig or something of that nature.

  Mike began to sing about falling hard. I rolled my eyes, flipped over and swam another length. When the music stopped abruptly, I stopped swimming, looking around as I treaded water. Mike set down his guitar and was making his way to the doors which meant Jenna had probably arrived. Since my head was no longer underwater, I could also hear my phone ringing. I swam the short distance to the side, climbed out and grabbed it.

  "Hi, Ashleigh. Are you on your way? The pool's warm."

  "I am but I wanted to tell you something first."

  "Yeah?"

  "I was thinking about Bonita Rodriguez some more and I had an idea. I ran a search through our Jane Does and I got a hit."

  My breath stilled. "You did?"

  "Yeah. I went to check for myself so I could be sure. Bonita was brought into the morgue five months ago. We dropped the ball on the case. Big time."

  "She's dead." It wasn't a question, just a statement. April was dead. Bonnie was dead.

  "Yes."

  "How?"

  "The ME ruled murder but didn't have any way to connect her to a case. Without an ID, things didn't get joined up. I'm not saying it's connected…"

  "But you're not saying it's not," I finished. The silence on the other end of the line told me I was right. "The method of her death…" I started.

  Ashleigh interjected, "Similar. Very similar," she sighed.

  "It's the answer I did and didn't want."

  "I'll be a little late but I'll still be there tonight. We can talk some more then."

  "Okay." I hung up, closing my eyes briefly, thinking about Bonita Rodriguez alone in the morgue, unclaimed for months.

  "Whoa," breathed Mike.

  I looked up at him, shaking my head sadly. This wasn't the news I wanted to hear. "You heard?"

  "Nah. Heard what?"

  I frowned. Mike looked as stunned as I felt, although, strangely, not as disappointed. "What is it?" I asked.
/>
  He took a deep breath. "Your swimsuit is see-through."

  Chapter Eight

  Two hours later, I changed out of my white swimsuit which I swore was not transparent, despite what Mike said. Although I did not fail to notice he averted his eyes after his shocking announcement, suggesting it revealed more than I intended. But knowing Mike's penchant for pranks, I couldn't be entirely sure. Now I wore my pink bikini, a printed caftan over the top, and was well on my third glass of wine. I'd long given up swimming for fear of drowning and my hair was already dry in the early evening warmth.

  "Your swimsuit really wasn't see-through," said Jenna. She poked my leg, ensuring I was paying attention. "I don't know why you believe anything Mike says."

  "He seemed to be telling the truth," I sulked, glad Mike was out of earshot. He left to answer the door. "Now I'll never be entirely sure. That swimsuit is strictly for sunbathing and posing only."

  Jenna snorted a laugh, then looked up and smiled. "Daisy! Over here!" she called, waving. I glanced behind us, smiling when I saw Daisy walk over. Her maxi dress wafted around her legs and her hair bounced sexily, like someone just turned a wind machine and a camera on her. It didn't matter that we were her only audience, that was just the way the world worked for Daisy. Well, that's how it seemed until I remembered that the man she loved was murdered and she still struggled at coming to terms with his death. Now I thought about it, Daisy was filling a lot of her time with work and activities. Was she trying to occupy every second of her life expressly so she wouldn't have to think about Chucky? I held up my nearly empty glass of wine and contemplated it. Wow, that stuff made me wise.

  "Mike is tormenting Shayne," said Jenna when Daisy dropped her bag onto the adjoining sun lounger.

  "What's new?" asked Daisy with a wry smile. She unbuttoned her dress, revealing a tiny, white bikini.

  "And now you're tormenting Mike," I said, spotting Mike when he returned to the edge of the pool, still shirtless, beer in hand. "Good move."

  Daisy laughed. "Where's the last piece of our quartet?"

  "Ashleigh's on her way," I said.

  "She has been on her way for over an hour," added Jenna. "Where's Ben?"

  "Ben!" I forgot about Ben as I alternated between drinking away my mortification and trying not to think about Bonnie Rodriguez, dead in a morgue for months. I scrabbled for my cellphone, currently hidden somewhere under my towel, and when I found it, I held it aloft triumphantly. The screen was blank. Not dead, just empty. "No text from Ben. He said he'd be late." I shrugged. Ashleigh had a good excuse for being late: she was investigating and attempting to solve murders; Daisy called from her car when she left the set. And Ben? If Ben were too busy to hang out, he could get lost! I was a grown woman! I could take a hint. We hadn't been on a date for over a week, and there was no hint of one in the forthcoming week. Never mind that he spent the past couple of days with his ex. "Pour me another one," I decided, holding out my glass.

  "Shall I just put a straw in the neck of the bottle?" asked Jenna.

  "No, we're too civilized for that," I replied after seriously considering it. "Also, no straws. Ashleigh!" I cheered as Ashleigh walked over to the pool. "Guys! Ashleigh is here!"

  Ashleigh perched on the edge of the last available sun lounge and unbuttoned the jacket of her suit. I caught a glimpse of her gun peeking out from her waist holster alongside her badge. "How much has she had to drink?" she asked, looking between Jenna and Daisy. Daisy shrugged. Jenna held up three fingers.

  "Who?" I hiccupped. "You're overdressed. You don't even like wearing suits!"

  "I'm trying to look more professional. Anyway, I came directly from the station and I can't stay long. It's been a tedious day and I need to get up early but I wanted to say hi since I couldn't make brunch."

  Jenna leaned over and said something to Ashleigh that I couldn't quite catch but I did hear "Ben," "jerk" and "no call" which pretty much conveyed everything.

  "Me too," I decided. "I have an article to write."

  "Not about my case," warned Ashleigh. "You can't write anything yet!"

  "What about notes?" I sipped my drink. Delicious! My article was going to tell the true story about Bonnie Rodriguez and make up for the way her case was mishandled. Someone had to be on her team. I would be sure Ashleigh got credit as the detective who managed to put the pieces together, enabling Bonnie's identification. Perhaps Ashleigh would get a promotion. I loved my friends.

  "You can write notes," agreed Ashleigh.

  "Yay!"

  "What case?" asked Daisy.

  "The one about missing women that I've been looking into. Except two of them are dead and even more are missing," I told her. A thought popped into my head and I sat up straight. "Hey! They all look like you, Daisy! Dark hair, olive skin, the same kind of face shape and height. All actresses or models. Isn't that weird?"

  "Lots of people look like me," said Daisy.

  "Daisy's look is very 'in' right now," said Jenna.

  "Because you're so beautiful," I said, slurring slightly as I grinned.

  Daisy laughed and shook her head. "Someone needs to put you to bed."

  "Not Ben," I decided. "He's busy with Gabi, the celebrity wonder-journalist/ ex-girlfriend."

  "What?"

  "Who?"

  "Ex-girlfriend?"

  The questions came thick and fast, tumbling over each other as all eyes fixed on me.

  "If you want any help getting back at him…" Mike started.

  "Shut up, Mike," we all yelled.

  "I was going to suggest a little more running, a hot, revenge body, and then really nailing it to him with an article that will get picked up by all the nationals and then perhaps even a book deal from which you'll eventually sell the film rights," said Mike, looking shocked. "I'll write the music score for the film."

  "Oh." I pinched my lips together. "We thought you meant sex."

  "If you're offering…" said Mike with a shrug.

  "Nope! Also, I like the idea of a book deal but it feels like I’d be profiting off death. That's awful. My job is awful." My soaring optimism plummeted again. "Why am I a journalist anyway? Back when I was chief reporter, all I ever reported on were miserable cases about people killing other people and doing the death knock at the doors of sad relatives so I could get some quotes."

  "You're getting the truth out there," said Jenna. "Look how you helped me. No one believed my brother was murdered until you took up the case."

  "We'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did for Chuck," added Daisy. "I know you've helped plenty of other people too."

  "Lately by reporting on what they were spotted eating for lunch. I help people find the hottest new lunch spots."

  Jenna held back a laugh. "Your celebrity column is refreshingly non-bitchy. I enjoy it and I imagine others must too."

  "I agree," added Daisy. "All my co-stars read it, trying to guess who the people are that you won't name."

  "I like it too," said Ashleigh. "And if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have found that woman in the morgue. I can give some closure to her loved ones now."

  "Never read your column," interjected Mike, "but if I did, I'm sure I would think it's great."

  "Thanks, guys," I mumbled, a flush of pink rushing to my cheeks. Just when I was about to have a mini crisis about the work I did, they saved me by saying all the right things. Sure, I might not have an amazing headline story anytime soon, or even a scintillating double-page spread, but that didn't mean I couldn't help the women I identified for my story. They needed someone who wanted to find them, someone who could connect the dots and give them justice. It might be too late to save April and Bonnie but I could still get the truth out and find the person or persons responsible. I couldn't save them but maybe I could stop whatever fate they met from happening to another woman. I had to believe that. I had to.

  ~

  I awoke to absolute quiet. Pushing my hair back from my face, I raised my head off the pillow, finding th
e task surprisingly easy. I wriggled, rolled over, and stared at the ceiling, wondering exactly how I got to bed. I vaguely remembered Ashleigh going home, then Jenna deciding I had enough to drink before she and Daisy helped me upstairs. Then I grimaced, remembering the short, sniffling cry I had before they rolled me, fully clothed, into bed. "If Ben thinks hanging out with his ex is better than hanging out with you, he's sadly mistaken," Jenna told me. "And you can do much better. No more crying, Shayne. Everything will be brighter in the morning."

  Was it though? Was everything brighter? I wasn't sure. My mouth tasted like sawdust. A quick peek under the comforter revealed I still wore my bikini although I also had pajamas on. Sure, they were back to front but at least they were on. I had no idea how I'd gotten into them and it would probably have to remain one of life's unsolved mysteries. Also, I realized as I pushed up onto my elbows, I didn't have a hangover. Life was great!

  Squinting at the clock on my nightstand, I smiled. I wasn't even late for work. Then I picked up my cellphone. There were several messages. Daisy wanted me to text her when I woke up. Ashleigh suggested dinner as soon as the case was over. Mike wanted to know if I were single yet, and Ben texted an apology: Sorry I didn't make it. Let's hang soon.

  "Hang?" I muttered, wondering why he didn't even bother to type an excuse. "Hang?! Some apology."

  The annoyance gave me a renewed surge of enthusiasm for grabbing a headline, especially if it came with the joy of snatching it from under Ben. That would teach him that I was no woman to be trifled with. I was a hotshot reporter and ready to make a name for myself. It wouldn’t be long before I’d meet a headhunter and land a proper reporter's job at a great newspaper. Then I could wave goodbye to the LA Chronicle at last. All I had to do was get out of bed and take my first step towards my new future. So what if that future was currently lingering in reporter purgatory? Merely a hiccup in life's plan.

  I texted Daisy back to let her know I was fine. She immediately returned the text with a new one saying she was organizing the get-together for the four of us and would send further details soon.