Dead Ringers

by Camilla Chafer

  Twenty minutes later, I was showered, hair washed, fully dressed, and eating toast. So far, I was acing the day. A quick look at my phone's calendar showed I didn't have any meetings scheduled at the newspaper, which was just as well because I planned to spend the day chasing down leads, starting with Coral Nichols. Ashleigh confirmed she was missing and out of all the women, she was the one I knew the least about.

  Having already checked out her social media, and finding the last entry posted days before she was reported missing, there hadn't been any more activity. I knew I wouldn't be welcome at Sirens again and her new friends, Annette and Keisha didn't have a lot of information about her. I was sure they'd already told me everything they knew. Finding a trail to follow had me tapping my fingers in frustration against my morning coffee cup.

  Besides Daisy, I didn't know many people in the showbiz world. Jenna's management work until recently was exclusively for Chucky and Mike was in music. There was one person who might know something and she lived in my building!

  Pulling on sneakers, I hurried over to her apartment.

  "Hey," said Lina, when she answered the door in yoga pants and a tank top. "I saw you and your friends having a great time by the pool last night. Was that really Marguerite Casta?"

  "It was. You should have come down and joined us."

  "I would have but I was beat after the day I had. Come on in." She opened the door wider and I stepped into her bright, prettily-decorated apartment. "Can I get you a coffee or something?"

  "No, thanks. I actually wanted to pick your brain." Lina was a makeup artist and had a lot of steady TV work.

  "Sure. Go ahead, but if it's gossip you're looking for, I'm all out."

  "I'm trying to track down a model and you're the only person I can think of who works with them regularly. How would I go about it?"

  "Any particular one?"

  "Not a big name. Kind of a new girl, with only a few jobs under her belt."

  "Do you know her agent?"

  "Yes, but I don't think they'll help me."

  "Not even for a celebrity journalist? Loved that last column."

  "Thanks, and no, I'm pretty sure I'm not welcome."

  "Huh. Did you check her social media?"

  "Yes, but it didn't come to anything. She's not currently posting." I didn't want to go into why. There was no reason to tell Lina, not yet anyway.

  Lina flopped onto her couch and picked up a bottle of nail polish. When I looked down, I saw half her toenails were painted, and the other half were bare. "I guess it depends on what information you're looking for," she said as she opened the bottle.

  "Anything."

  "You could see who she tagged and prowl their social media. Maybe she's got family or close friends. Just because she's not posting on her own, doesn't mean she isn't tagged in someone else's."

  "I didn't think of that."

  "You could probably even figure out an address if you picked out the right information. A lot of people geotag their stuff without thinking about the consequences of essentially announcing their address online. Even when they do think about it and avoid putting their house number online, they don't remember posting a photo of their car and their front door or whatever. Everything a stalker needs to track someone down."

  "That is a scary thought."

  "The hairdresser on the set I'm currently working on got into a relationship with a guy who kept randomly bumping into her at places she went to like her grocery store, and her favorite café. Turns out, he stalked his way into her life for months." Lina shivered.

  "Are they still together?"

  Lina looked up from the nail she painted and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. She thought it was romantic. Why wouldn't she? It's the kind of stuff romantic comedies pretend is okay behavior. Until it turns into a psycho thriller anyway."

  "And your advice to me is do the same thing?"

  "I figure you have a good reason to track this person down, whomever they are."

  "I do. Thanks, Lina, I owe you one!"

  I headed back to my apartment with a renewed surge of enthusiasm. After an hour of searching, I came up with a solid lead. Coral Nichols had a sister with a different surname. I had to go back a few months and then cross-reference to be sure, but yes, Coral and Elise were definitely related. While Coral's social media was restricted to a lot of arty photos of her lifestyle, Elise's was sprinkled with family information. From there I found their mother and that's when I hit the jackpot: a recent set of photos recording a birthday party for a young boy whom I recognized as Elise's son. Balloons decorated the front of the house and when I scrolled past that first photo, I found it. In the corner of the picture, almost out of shot, was Coral. The photo was dated a week ago.

  So why was Coral Nichols still listed as missing?

  Chapter Nine

  With traffic, it took me ninety minutes to reach the Nichols' family residence. The neighborhood was nice. Single family homes, spacious lawns, late model cars. Given the time of day, it was quiet. Most of the working-age people were at their jobs and the kids were in school. No lawn mowers buzzed, no one shouted and the only person I saw in the few minutes I'd been parked was an older lady on a bicycle with a small dog in the basket.

  It was hard to believe Coral Nichols was still listed missing when she seemed to be living a nice life here. As I looked at the house, I wondered why she wasn’t in touch with any of her friends. They were close enough to list her as missing. Why didn't she call them? Why didn't she return to work?

  Her profession and the time frame for her being reported missing fit with my other missing women. Was Coral just an anomaly?

  The only way I could find out was by knocking on her door.

  A couple minutes of question prep later, I lifted the door knocker, striking it twice against the hardwood. When no one answered, I started to step back, ready to look into the windows until I heard soft footsteps approaching.

  An older woman with graying hair answered. "We don't buy anything at the door, honey," she said with a smile.

  "I'm not selling anything, ma'am. I'm looking for Coral. Coral Nichols."

  She turned and called over her shoulder. "Coral, honey. Someone here to see you. It's been a while since one of Coral's friends visited," she said to me.

  "Who is it, Mom?" The young woman that hurried down the staircase shared the same facial features as the older woman but where the woman was short, Coral had to be almost six feet tall and slender. Her hair had changed from her last photo and she now had long braids.

  "Shayne Winter," I said, sticking out my hand. Coral frowned but shook it anyway. "I'm a reporter from the LA Chronicle."

  "What does a reporter want with you?" asked Coral's mom, still holding onto the door.

  "I'll handle it, Mom. Why don't you go back to whatever you were doing?"

  "If it's about her modeling work, you're too late. She says she's retired," said the mom with a roll of her eyes. "Let me know if I should bring tea."

  "No need for tea," said Coral as she crossed her arms, filling the doorway and looking less than friendly. "What do you want?"

  "Did you know you are currently reported as missing?" I asked, shooting the question at her in an attempt to disarm her. I didn't know why she appeared so hostile but hostile people don't freely answer questions. I needed her to soften up.

  She frowned. "Missing? I'm not missing. I'm here."

  I smiled warmly. "I can see that and I'm glad you're okay. I'm researching a story on missing women with showbiz backgrounds and your name was given to me by some of your concerned friends. They were afraid something happened to you."

  Coral's shoulders dropped and her hostility was replaced with worry. "Who?"

  "Annette and Keisha. They're concerned. They say you haven't been answering calls."

  "I guess I did take off pretty quickly."

  "May I ask why?"

  Coral darted a glance behind her, seemingly searching for her mother. "What does it matter to y
ou?" she asked.

  "Like I said, I'm researching missing women and I'm looking for connections. You don't have to say, if you don't want to," I said, wondering what was going on with her. "But you should call the Los Angeles Police Department and tell them that you're okay and safe. They won't contact anyone if you don't want them to."

  "It's not that… I should call Annette and Keisha. It's sweet that they were worried about me."

  "I'm sure they would like to know that you're okay."

  "How did you find me anyway?"

  "Social media. I checked people connected to you and found your sister, then your mom."

  Coral glanced away and sighed. Clearly, I missed something, but what? Perhaps if I gave her some more information about the other missing women she might open up. I reached into my purse and pulled out the photos I printed. "I told you there are other women who are missing. One of them was signed up with the same agency as you and two were signed nearby at a different talent agency. Perhaps you knew them?" I asked, offering her the photos.

  She took the sheet, her gaze moving between the photos. "I know her face," she said, tapping a short nail against April's headshot. "I saw her on TV. They said she was murdered."

  I nodded. "Her name was April Beam."

  Coral returned the sheet. "I'm sorry. I didn't know her, only from the news report. Why did you think I might?"

  "Her agent was based near yours. When I heard you were missing, I thought there might be a connection."

  "But that girl's dead," she said, frowning.

  "Yes, and so is another one," I told her, figuring honesty was the best policy here.

  "You thought the same creep did something to me too?" Coral shivered.

  "I wasn't sure what to think. I've heard rumors that some agencies aren't great to work for and I'm concerned harm is coming to young women in the industry."

  Coral's eyes fixed on mine. "What do you mean?"

  "That some talent agents encourage girls to take on the kind of work most girls wouldn't want."

  "You know about the parties?"

  "Was that why you left?" I asked, purposefully evading her question.

  Coral darted another glance behind her. Then she stepped back and I thought she would slam the door in my face. Instead, she grabbed her purse, calling out, "Mom, I'm going for a walk."

  I stepped back, giving her space to step out but instead of stopping when she pulled the door shut, she hurried past me, leaving me no choice but to rush after her. Coral slowed as we hit the sidewalk and for a couple of minutes, we walked without talking. From the corner of my eye, I watched Coral playing with her hands, holding them and twisting. "It's not like you think," she said. "They tell us we're just going to hang out, talk to some businessmen and get free drinks. Some important people go to these parties. It's supposed to be easy money and a good way to make connections. Get seen."

  "Important people?"

  "People in the industry. Directors and producers. They kind of sell it to us as networking. We get dressed up, look beautiful, young and hot, and stand around talking to the kind of people that can get us work."

  "People? Men?" I asked.

  Coral nodded. "There are women there too to lend some legitimacy to these parties so I'm not sure the hosts or even all the guests know what’s going on, but there's other stuff too. You see guys taking a girl somewhere more private."

  "Like a bedroom," I said, not needing her confirmation. I knew what she was hinting at.

  "I went to a couple of the parties and I liked it. It was fun getting dressed up and feeling like you're running with LA's 'in' crowd. I got introduced to people and I had my photo taken for a magazine a couple times. It was fun talking to all kinds of interesting, successful people. I didn't really realize what was going on at first. I actually thought the girls were hooking up for the fun of it. I was so naive."

  "Are you sure they weren't?"

  Coral stopped and turned to face me. "One night, I shared a taxi home and one of the girls showed me a thousand dollars in cash. Ten minutes 'work' she said. Easy money. Better than some crappy job in a restaurant busting her ass for tips. I remember being surprised but also not, you know. I think, in my gut, I knew something else was going on and everyone just looked the other way. She said she could introduce me if I wanted. I said no."

  "It's a lot of money to turn down."

  "It was nothing compared to how I would feel about myself later. I went to LA to be an actress, not to do that. Please don't misunderstand me, I didn't judge that girl and I don't judge any others who want to do that but it's not for me."

  "Okay," I said. We started walking again, the road was quiet except for the sounds of birds in a nearby tree.

  "I continued going to the parties because I thought it would be good to keep meeting these people. I just told myself whenever a party got too lewd, I'd just call a cab and go home. That happened once, you know. People just going at it in public." Coral pulled a face.

  "Did you get propositioned?"

  "Yes, a couple of times in the kind of language that says 'you know what I'm asking even though I'm not being explicit about it'."

  "I understand."

  "I declined in the same kind of language and it wasn't a problem. No one was forcing anyone to do anything they didn't want to. Then, a couple months ago, there was a party at a house I'd been to before. You should have seen it. A huge mansion, a kitchen bigger than my apartment in LA, and catering that probably cost more that night than I made in a year. Everyone was so glamorous. There was a producer there… I met him before too. He seemed so nice. He always made time to talk to everyone, even girls like me, who were nothing…" She stopped and heaved a breath.

  "You're not nothing."

  "I know. But in that world, you’re either a name or you're not. Anyway, this guy, he always took the time to chat to the other girls. He would give them advice, introduce them to someone who might be able to help, made sure we always had a drink and if he saw someone standing on their own, he would say hi or introduce them to someone. He was so nice. Everyone liked him."

  "And you did too?"

  "Yes! I thought he was great. I would see the girls pairing off with these sleazy guys but never him. Not that I witnessed anyway."

  "That doesn't mean it didn't happen."

  "I know. It could have but he seemed different. He didn't act like 'you do something for me and I'll get you a part or put a good word in for you.' None of that. He just listened and gave his advice and didn't make you feel silly or naive like some of the guys could because they were so powerful." Coral paused again, sighing as she stuck her hands in her pockets. I walked alongside her, knowing not to press her, just letting her get her story out.

  "The night at that beautiful mansion, he was there. I waved to him and he came right over to say hi. Then he introduced me to this cosmetics mogul and I was so grateful because I thought it might lead to something. I didn't see him again for a couple of hours and when I did, he was taking a breather on the terrace so I went over to talk. After a little while, he suggested we walk in the gardens. He said it was beautiful and he felt weird wandering around by himself. He wasn't a smoker so he would just be walking. He made it sound like I was doing him a favor and he was so nice… I said yes. We went into the garden and they had all these lights in between the pavers and the hedges were sculpted and there was a long, rectangular pond. It was like a French garden. I wondered if the people who owned the house ever used it and when I said that, he laughed and said he thought they barely used the house, never mind the garden. It's another life, you know."

  "It sounds pretty."

  "It was. Romantic too, in a way. We were walking and even though I knew we were alone, completely concealed from the house, I never felt threatened or worried. He was so nice."

  "But he wasn't, was he?"

  "No, he wasn't. We got to this courtyard built out of hedges with a bench cut into one side and a fountain in the middle. It's funny what you reme
mber, those little details. We sat there for a bit just talking until he kissed me. I was surprised. I didn't think he liked me that way and I wasn't sure I liked him that way. He was a lot older than me. I started to pull away and he got more forceful. He pulled at my dress and I said I didn't like that and he said I would. I told him I wasn't like the other girls and I didn't do that kind of stuff and he acted insulted. He said he didn't pay for what he could have for free. I pushed him off and got up. I adjusted my dress and said this wasn't right and that's when he grabbed me. I tried to push him off but he got me to the ground and my dress… I can still remember his breath next to my ear and his voice… He said he could have whatever he wanted and since he picked me, I should be grateful and he could make my life wonderful or he could make my life hell. He… he wasn't nice. I got out of there as soon as I could. I couldn't go back to the house so I found my way to the service entrance and one of the caterers took me home in her van."

  "I'm so sorry, Coral."

  "I couldn't tell anyone. Who would believe me? I was a model, not even a successful one. A woman of color. He was a famous producer, a white man, and everyone loved him. No one would believe me."

  "I believe you."

  Coral cut a glance at me. "You don't even know me."

  "And I still believe you."

  "I called my mom the next week and told her I was coming home. I packed up a few things and left. I wanted to get as far away from there as possible. I didn't tell anyone. I didn't know what to say. I figured I would deal with it later but time just passed and I didn't. I didn't tell my landlord or my agent. No one. I haven't even told anyone until now. I don't even know why I'm telling you."

  "Maybe I'm just the right person at the right time."

  "Maybe." Coral smiled a sad flicker of her lips. "Is that what happened to the girls in the photo? To the girl on TV?"

  "I don't know. Two of them are dead. The others are still missing."

  "And you thought I was one of them. Maybe dead too."