"I did."
"Then I guess I got off easy compared to them." Coral shook her head. "What a horrible thing to say. I'm sorry."
"It's an understandable reaction. I want to find out what happened to them and if there's a connection to your agent or any of these parties."
"You think one of the men there could have done it?"
"If they can do one terrible thing, they might be capable of another. Killers have to start somewhere."
Coral took a deep breath. "How can I help?"
"Tell me what you know. Names, agents, gossip, anything, no matter how irrelevant it might seem."
"I don't know where to start."
"Start with the first person who invited you to a party."
"That's easy. That was my agent, Jessica Suarez."
Chapter Ten
I didn't stop thinking about Coral all the way back to LA and a large part of me was furious. She'd been brave and confident enough to move to the city and get an agent. She was being brave now, dealing with the aftermath. After talking with her for a couple of hours, I concluded she was a decent woman, and even if she weren't, no one deserved to be treated the way she was. The only thing she refused to tell me was the name of the man who attacked her although she did agree to speak with Ashleigh. At the very least, the authorities had to know she wasn't missing any longer.
Although I was pleased that Coral was accounted for that didn't take away the very real possibility that a serial killer was preying on women. With every passing hour, I knew there was less hope for Sammy Turturro's survival. However, since there wasn't currently a media frenzy potentially spooking her abductor, I had to hope she would live long enough for someone to find her. April Beam stayed alive for weeks. It wasn't much of a hope but I had to cling to something while I investigated.
I walked through the LA Chronicle's door and plunked down into my chair. A quick scan of the office revealed a few missing faces and several more with their heads bent over keyboards and staring at screens. Bob ran the newspaper on a skeletal staff and a revolving door of freelancers so it didn't surprise me that there were several missing faces, staff reporters out hustling for their stories. When I first moved to LA, I expected the newspaper to be similar to my previous hometown newspaper, The Montgomery Gazette, but on a bigger scale. My imagination mirrored something from the movies; bright, earnest faces growling into phones, features debated seriously and someone periodically yelling to "stop the press!" On the first day, it was clear I hadn't done my homework. Running on a skeletal staff meant everyone just quietly got on with their work, and what they couldn't do by phone they did by footwork, and when they couldn't do that, a faceless freelancer would submit the copy. Plus, besides the front page and the first couple of pages semi-devoted to news, most of the newspaper was lifestyle "fluff." Entertainment mixed with regular columns, local environment, celebrity gossip (mine), the obituary (mine), and several pages of classifieds (destined for cat litter boxes).
"Hey," said Hayden, stopping by my desk. "How's it going? Late start today? Hot story?"
"Could be," I said, smiling.
"Is it always this quiet in here? I feel I should whisper."
"Not always, but it's not unusual either. How were the first couple of days?"
"Couldn't be better. Everyone's friendly," he said, pausing to wave to Martha as she bustled past with an armful of printer paper. She blushed and finger-waved back.
"I think you have a fan," I told him.
"Oh, please." Hayden rolled his eyes. "I didn't know if I'd enjoy the office work but it's nice being around people. Sometimes freelancing gets a little lonely."
"How can you get lonely in those paparazzi crowds?"
"It can be pretty lonely in that pack but what I was referring to was my home studio. People are sometimes chatty when I'm taking their portraits but there's a lot of setting up by myself, editing by myself, developing… you guessed it… by myself. Then I have lunch… I don't want to spoil the surprise but… also by myself."
"Would you like to have lunch together?" I asked. I was hungry after the drive and it was long past noon. I could do with the break.
"God, yes," he said, laughing.
"There's a coffee shop and deli down the street." I checked my watch. The lunch crowd would be thinning out. "We could go now?"
"Let me grab my stuff. You, Shayne Winter, are a life saver," laughed Hayden as he pointed "gun fingers" at me.
I barely unpacked my stuff so I shoved everything into my desk drawer with Hayden returning just as I stood and grabbed my purse. I took one last, almost forlorn look at Ben's empty desk, and walked out with Hayden only to walk directly into Ben.
"Hey!" he grinned. His blue eyes sparkled and for a moment I appreciated how handsome he was. Then I reminded myself how absent he was lately. "It's been a while! Where have you been, Shayne?"
"Where have I been?" I frowned and stopped myself from poking an accusing finger at his chest. "Where have you been?"
"On assignment. Might have an exciting story. Got a great interview." He held up his phone. Like me, he often recorded his interviewees on an app.
"I read your last byline," chipped in Hayden. "Serious stuff. Same story?"
"No, my contact said they don't have any leads so it's just another sad body dump unfortunately."
"Oh, really?" I said, wondering who his contact was. Clearly, it wasn't Ashleigh even though she said as much.
"Unless you know something I don't?" asked Ben, looking back at me.
"No updates from my contacts either," I replied, skirting around the issue of what updates and what timeframe. No way would I give Ben a hint that there was more to the story than he currently thought. I piqued his interest enough last time the topic came up.
"There're really no leads?" asked Hayden. "Surely someone saw something?"
"Apparently not. I canvassed the area and there aren't any houses on that stretch of the canyon. No traffic cameras either. It's a dead zone."
"Terrible pun," I said flatly.
Ben winced. "Oops. I didn't mean that. Sorry, you are…"
"Hayden." Hayden stuck out his hand and they shook. "I'm filling in for the regular photographer. Shayne and I are just heading out to lunch if you want to join us."
"Right. Yes, I saw that photo…"
"I take so many," said Hayden to me.
"Yeah." Ben frowned. "I really need to transcribe this stuff."
"Another time, man," said Hayden.
"Yeah, another time," I sulked and with a toss of my hair, tried very hard not to stomp away. The first time Ben and I spoke to each other in days and he couldn't spare a few minutes to join us for even a coffee? Well, fine! If his transcription was so important, he could have it.
"What was that about?" asked Hayden, jogging to catch up with me.
"What was what?"
"Seemed kind of frosty back there."
"It's nothing," I lied. "I'm just hungry."
We walked over to the deli with Hayden chatting about his work and telling me a funny story about the time he was hired to take an elderly lady's portrait by her husband. She thought it was for some kind of erotic "boudoir" shoot, leaving Hayden both horrified and professional. By the time we reached the deli, I held my sides, howling with laughter.
"And then," added Hayden, also smiling broadly, "they ordered the largest size print they could get and I had to pick it up. I'm scared the printers think I have an old lady fetish. I've never been back there!"
"I can't believe you did all that with a straight face!"
Hayden pushed the door and held it open for me and we joined the end of a dozen-person queue. "Gotta be professional," he quipped. "Hey, I was looking at some of the Chronicle's official byline photography and I hope you don't mind me mentioning that your shot is a little overdone on the white balance."
"I have no idea what that means."
"I could give you a boring explanation or, and I hope you don't take offense, but I co
uld shoot some new photos for you? Totally free, of course."
I blinked in surprise. "Really?"
"Sure. I have some free studio time and so long as I email them to you, it won't cost you anything. You don't even have to use them if you don't like them."
I thought about it for a few seconds. My byline snapshot was a few years old and maybe a photo session would be a good ego boost. I could play around with some looks, maybe do something different with my hair… "I'd like that, thanks, but I really should pay you."
"Just refer anyone who likes the photo to me, and give me credit if you ever use it on a book jacket or something like that. How does that sound?"
The queue snaked forwards and I glanced back at Hayden. "Like it's too good an opportunity to miss. That sounds great, Hayden, thank you for offering." I insisted on paying for Hayden's panini, chips and juice, along with mine even though he argued that he hadn't even photographed anything yet and I owed him nothing. After I won the argument, we settled at a small table in the corner to eat, idly watching people on the sidewalk pass by.
"Do you ever wonder what those people are doing?" asked Hayden. "Like, where are they going? Where did they come from? Why did they think those shoes are okay?"
"All the time. It's the curse of a journalist's brain."
"Curse?"
I took a bite of my panini and swallowed before I answered. "I always wonder what their story is. Does that person have a career? Why does she look angry? Why is he so sad? Why is that person furiously typing on their phone? Why isn't that kid in school? So many stories."
"So little time," added Hayden. "What you see is what I try to capture in my photography. That moment of clarity, or joy or pain."
"Pain?" I raised my eyebrows.
"Emotion is all in the eyes. So evocative. That moment when I capture it and I know I have the perfect shot. Then the viewer can have a visceral experience." Hayden pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and opened it. I started to protest, thinking he was still determined to give me the money for lunch but instead he handed me a business card. "Take a look at my website and tell me what you think. We can build your shoot around whatever you like."
"It's just a byline shot."
"That doesn't mean your body has to be turned away, with your face looking earnestly at the camera. Awful suit, white blouse."
I laughed. "That's every journalist headshot."
"So let’s make yours better."
"Bob will have you shoot the whole team if he likes it."
"I've seen some of the photos. I don't think that could hurt." He set down his panini and picked up his freshly squeezed juice and sucked on the straw. "So what's the hot story? Some celebrity caught with their pants down?"
I grinned. "If you've seen that recently, I'd appreciate the tip for my celebrity column."
"'Fraid not."
I shrugged. "I thought it was too good to be true. No, I'm working on a story about the seedy side of show business," I told him, skirting around the actual story.
"The seedy side?"
I chewed while I pondered what to tell him. I didn't know Hayden well and although he seemed nice, I didn't know if he were connected to other journalists. I'd always been taught to protect my stories as much as my sources. "My sources tell me an agent is encouraging women to attend parties as escorts," I told him, keeping the truth to myself.
Hayden whistled softly. "Prostitution?"
"Not exactly. I don't know if the talent agent gets a cut, but my sources tell me money does exchange hands. I want to get inside one of these parties and check it out for sure."
"Who do you think is involved?"
"Besides the agent, I'm not sure yet. If I got into one of the parties, I could ask around and try and get more information. If I have some information, people will talk."
"Are you sure about that?"
"No, but it's a start and it won't hurt to check. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to get into a party stuffed with casting directors, producers, directors and the kind of beautiful women they want to be seen with."
"Have you any idea how sexist that sounds?"
"Every idea," I agreed with a sigh. "But if I can get a story and bring down some of these creeps, perhaps that starts to change?"
"By ruining careers?"
"By reporting on the realities that young actresses and models have to face in Hollywood. Maybe actors, too. If anyone is doing anything unsavory, that's on them, not me."
"There could be an argument against putting someone's personal life into the public domain. I assume no one is forcing these people? It's transactional."
"A source tells me sometimes it's forced."
"Well, that's a different story and I think I can help."
"You can? You can introduce me to someone?"
"Even better. You can be my ‘plus one’ to a party in Pacific Palisades tomorrow night. All kinds of people will be there and I know there will be a lot of models as well as actresses. The owners are hotshot producers. Would that work for you?"
"Absolutely! And how do you know these people?"
"Family connections," Hayden said. "The couple invite me to things from time to time and are always generous with their introductions. I usually leave with a commission or two. If you give me your number, I will message you the details and we can work it out from there." Hayden leaned in smiling. "I feel like I'm the detective's sidekick here. This is exciting stuff!"
I laughed. "A lot of reporting is just asking the same questions over and over. It's not nearly as exciting as you think it is."
Hayden pretended to look disappointed. "Don't spoil it for me."
I was about to tell him how I once reported on a Brony convention when someone knocked into my chair, launching me into the table. My drink started to spill and Hayden caught it just before it tipped over. "Saved you," he said as we both looked up.
"Oops! My bad!" The woman shrugged and started to turn away but not before I realized it was Gabi and the man behind her was Ben, looking startled.
"Shayne, hey! I didn't realize you would be here," he said, recovering quickly.
"It's a deli and it's lunch time and I said we were going to lunch," I snapped before I could compose myself. Gabi and Ben? At another lunch? And apparently Ben had the right to look indignant. So much for Ben being so busy he had to work. Clearly, he wasn't too busy for Gabi in her slim pencil skirt, low-cut sleeveless blouse, and heels that easily added four inches.
"They have great paninis here," added Hayden. He took a large bite and looked at the sandwich appreciatively, barely noticing Gabi.
"We used to get lunch here every day." Gabi flashed a smile at Ben, her thick eyelashes fluttering. "It's like a trip down memory lane for us. I think Ben has tried every sandwich, right, honey?"
Hayden wiped his hands on his napkin and held out a hand to Gabi. "I just met Ben but I've seen you at the Chronicle too. Hayden Roth. We haven't been introduced yet."
"Hayden is the new photographer," said Ben, looking from Hayden to me. Gabi shook Hayden's hand, flashing him a broad smile now she had his attention.
"That's right. Although it's more a case of temp than new," Hayden explained.
"I'm Gabi Forrest," said Gabi as she dropped her purse onto the window seat at the next table. She leaned across, ignoring me. "I recognize your name. I went to one of your exhibitions a couple of months ago. The gallery's owner was my sorority sister and she insisted on adding me to the guest list. Fabulous photography. I can't imagine what you're doing at our little newspaper."
"Our?" I asked, puzzled. "I didn't realize you worked for the LA Chronicle any longer."
Gabi glanced at me. "Oh, I haven't for an age, but I like to keep in touch with all my friends there, and it has such a sweet place in my heart. Bob and I have been talking about me coming back but I said he had to sweeten the pie."
"Shayne took over the celebrity column," said Ben.
"You did? That's great," simpered Gabi. "I read
a couple here and there and it's so bighearted they took a chance on a new journalist. Career change, was it? I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon."
I bristled. "I was chief reporter at my last newspaper."
"We were all in college once," grinned Gabi, her hand patronizingly landing on my arm, while I envisaged punching her squarely on her perfectly formed nose. "Let me know if you need any tips? Little snippets aren't really my thing these days. I just love writing features. Maybe Bob will let you try one out? I could help you when I come back. Between you and me, we're talking features editor. I'll be your boss. Isn't that exciting?"
I opened my mouth to give her a sharp retort but nothing came out, unless it was so high-pitched only dogs could hear it. Gabi carried on obliviously. "It was nice to meet you, Hayden. Cheyenne, keep up the good work. I don't have long before meeting my agent so I must eat this salad. I like it to be exactly the right temperature otherwise the flavor just goes, doesn't it? Plus, it's so much healthier than all those carbs." She waggled her hand at my plate and bumped past me again to reach the next table, leaving me to lurch forward in an ungainly manner then rock backwards.
"Shayne, I…" started Ben.
"Gotta go," I said, dropping the last morsel of panini on the plate and standing. My mouth felt dry and the sandwich was flavorless. I couldn't wait to get out of the deli. "Hayden? Are you ready?" I crossed my fingers, hoping he got the hint.
"Absolutely." Hayden grabbed our drinks, nodding to Ben who stood motionless by our table, and ushered us out the door. I strode forward, Hayden hurrying to catch up. When he did, he leaned in and put on a high-pitched voice, "Between you and me, Cheyenne, I'm features boss bitch!"
I couldn't help laughing and then we were laughing so hard, we had to stop and hold our sides. "She's horrible," I said. More than that, why didn’t Ben step in to stop Gabi's barbed comments? "Just horrible."
"You're a good writer, you know that, don't you?"
I nodded. "But it helps to hear it, thanks."
"Anytime. Now let’s go work out how we're going to bust this party."
Chapter Eleven
Dead Ringers Page 11