Dead Ringers

by Camilla Chafer

  "So I heard."

  "Who told you?"

  "Your puppy dog expression every time you look at him."

  I stuck my tongue out. "He's been acting weird and I don't know what to make of it and… it's unprofessional of me to talk like this with a colleague about another colleague."

  "I'm just a temp. Why is he acting weird?"

  "I don't know. He just keeps making excuses why he can't spend time with me and barely answers my messages. He doesn't call." I gulped and forced out the words, "And now he wants to talk."

  "That's not good but maybe he's just busy with work?"

  "He's not too busy to hang out with his ex."

  "Ouch." Hayden paused, fiddling with his camera as he glanced at me. "The woman from the deli?"

  "Yeah."

  "Huh."

  "Huh, what?"

  Hayden shrugged. When he didn't seem ready to say anything, I returned my attention to the album. There were dozens of photos of beautiful women. All different hair colors, face shapes, and sizes. Some of them were just the faces, neck and shoulders, others in sharply defined profile, but all were up close and uncompromising. Wearing minimal makeup, what stood out most were their expressions. Hayden managed to capture joy, anger, sorrow, wild abandon and pain in minute detail. "These are great," I told him as I continued to flip the pages. "You're really talented!"

  "Thank you. And FYI, Ben is a jerk."

  I glanced up. "You think?"

  "I don’t think, I know. Any guy that ignores you has to be. You're a beautiful woman, Shayne. You're smart, fun, interesting. You're the whole package."

  I restrained a pleased smile at the flurry of compliments. "Stop it!" I waved a hand at him.

  "If I were Ben, I'd be worried I was screwing up with you. Instead, he's off cavorting with a woman who's half everything you are… sorry. I didn't mean to say cavorting," he interjected as my face fell with the bolt of pain that punched my stomach. "I meant… what I mean is… he doesn't deserve someone like you if he's misbehaving."

  "I know," I sighed. "That's probably why he wants to talk."

  Hayden shook his head. "That's never a good thing to hear."

  "He sent it by text."

  "And you're waiting for his next move? Shayne, you make the move! Don't be a passenger in some guy's life."

  "I don't know what move to make!" I placed the album down and picked up another, this time looking through a mixed collection of portraits with varied settings. An elderly gentleman in a library, a hound at his feet. A middle-aged woman wearing pearls, her chin thrust upwards commandingly. Twins mirroring each other's poses and another where they appeared to be looking at each other through a mirror. I flipped page after page, marveling how well Hayden could manage to capture his subjects in the most fascinating detail.

  Hayden picked up a camera. "I know girls who behave like Ben. They're crazy about you one minute, the next, you're no better than something stuck to their shoe. I don't wait around for them to tell me what's happening in their life. I just get rid of them."

  "What if you made the wrong choice?"

  "It's better than making no choice. Where did I put that lens?" Hayden spun around, crouching to look for it in a bag.

  The third album was full of candid shots that appeared to be outtakes from photo shoots. A photographer shooting another photographer shooting a model perched on a gray horse. A group of models huddled together, winter coats thrown around their shoulders; and a couple of models relaxing on Adirondack chairs as they watched a set being dismantled. Mixed in with these shots were photos of the shoots. The colorful images made me smile.

  "Almost ready," called Hayden as I picked up another album. This time, I browsed headshots of various models, actors, and professional people. Several made me pause but only one made me gasp. I was sure the dark-haired, young woman in the photo was Anna Sanchez. I looked for a name but none was printed on the photo or the plastic sheet it was slotted into. Perhaps I was mistaken, but the woman looked just like her. I flipped through the remaining pages, searching for any other familiar faces but she was the only one.

  "Everything okay?" asked Hayden.

  "Yes," I murmured.

  "I think that book was from when I interned with Carlos Santiago. Remember him from the party?"

  "The guy with the shaved head?" I asked, recalling Hayden pointing out a man with a young brunette.

  "Yeah. That's him. I worked with him on and off for about six months. I was already a seasoned photographer but he taught me all about composition, which is priceless for my portraiture work. I was really lucky he took a chance on me; plus, I got to meet a lot of really cool people."

  Now I thought about it, one of the models in the candid shoots did look familiar. I reached for the other album and flipped through to the photo I recalled. Yes, just to one side, almost out of view, was that April Beam? I raided my memory, trying to remember anything that suggested she did a photoshoot like this but I couldn't think of a single one. The woman was wearing a lot of makeup and not the primary subject. She could have been anyone. Of course, I was on the lookout for any sign after my disappointing attempt to find evidence incriminating Ryan Ellison.

  "Ready?" asked Hayden. "I’m almost finished preparing the background paper since we need a plain background."

  I shut the book, shaking away my moment of silliness. Hayden rolled down the huge sheet of paper and was wedging it to the floor with large blocks. "Sure."

  "See anything you like?"

  "I really don't know what I'm looking for," I told him. "You're the expert."

  "Then let's try a few things out and see what works best." Hayden grabbed a stool and positioned it in the center of the backdrop, motioning for me to take a seat. "We'll make some notes and when we come to do the shoot properly, we'll get some different outfits and I’ll call that makeup artist I mentioned. You can even bring your friends if you want to make a proper afternoon of it. It's not my usual thing, but I'll make an exception if I can get you to smile."

  "Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked as I took my position on the stool.

  "Why the heck wouldn't I be?" countered Hayden. He paused behind the camera. "Now look this way…"

  Chapter Twenty

  Mike and I sat on my couch sipping the beers he arrived with. "You could just text him," said Mike.

  I snorted and said nothing.

  "I bet you already called a tribunal with your lady friends about this."

  "I have not!" I decided not to mention the hour Ashleigh, Daisy, Jenna and I spent discussing Ben and his suddenly cool behavior.

  "But you're going to."

  I shrugged, which was better than admitting I was seriously contemplating calling all the women I knew and asking them to decipher Ben's terse text. "I have better things to do," I told him. "I got an alibi for the one guy I thought was a serial killer. Now I have to find out who the actual guy is and Ashleigh just happens to have him in custody. I still have a lot of work to do." I failed to add, if I didn't, I could kiss my headline goodbye. More important than scooping the story was Sammy Turturro's life. Every day that passed meant her time was running out. Yes, it was a cliché, but true. The shame of failure, both to Sammy and myself, weighed heavily on me and there was only one way I could shake it.

  Getting up, I walked the few steps to the murder board and stood in front of it, hands on my hips, contemplating the plethora of information. Surely, the answer had to be in there somewhere, amongst the photos of the missing and dead women, and the background checks I did on them. There had to be a connection that I missed. Then I realized there was something I never added: Daisy's crazy fan mail. Grabbing a pen, I wrote a note. Could the killer be one of the people fixated on her? It seemed likely but until I found the connection, I couldn't be sure. Plus, I didn’t know if Daisy kept all the nasty mail; she said her assistant usually dealt with it. Didn't Ashleigh say she didn't find any connection between her perp and Daisy? I frowned hard at the makeshift m
urder board. My investigation started to revolve around Daisy, but was I wrong there too? What if Ashleigh's creep was killing women who had nothing to do with Daisy at all?

  My cellphone buzzed on the table. "Daisy," said Mike, handing it to me.

  "I was just thinking about you," I answered.

  "You must be psychic," said Daisy, sounding unhappy.

  "Is everything okay? Did you get another nasty letter?"

  "No, I just got home and someone broke into my apartment!"

  "What!?" I yelled. Mike sat up straighter, visibly alarmed, and I waved for him to wait while I found out what was going on. "Someone got inside?"

  "Yeah, they did something to the lock and broke in. They've been through everything but I don't think anything was stolen. Isn't that weird?"

  "Very weird," I agreed. "Please tell me you're not there alone."

  "I called the concierge as soon as I realized someone had been inside and he's standing beside me now. The police are here too. They're taking a look around and I have to file a report but they think someone might have disturbed the perp before they fled without taking anything."

  "I meant the bodyguard. Where is he or she? Please tell me they're on their way."

  "No. I called the studio and they said the earliest they could get someone here is tomorrow."

  I held back the string of expletives I wanted to utter. My panic wouldn't help Daisy one bit. "I don't think you should stay there tonight. Not alone," I told her. "I'll come over."

  "I already made a reservation at Chateau Marmont. I'm going to grab a bag and go. Shayne, could this just be a weird coincidence? I mean, the gross fan mail and those poor girls who were murdered and another one missing?"

  "I don't know," I told her honestly. "That you haven't been robbed is weird. If it were a straight-up burglary, your TV and jewelry or something like that should be missing. If you were targeted, I would expect something more intimate to disappear, like your jewelry or your clothing. Something a crazy fan might want."

  "Yeah, that's what I thought too," sighed Daisy. "I don't think anything's missing but I'll check again."

  "Make sure someone stays with you."

  "I will."

  "Is your driver still there?"

  "No, I sent him home when he dropped me off at the door. I figured I could walk from the curb to my building safely."

  "Will the concierge stay with you until you pack? Do you trust him? I'm with Mike. We can be there as fast as traffic allows."

  "He'll stay with me and I've known him for a couple years but… can you meet me at the hotel? I could drive my own car but I don't want to be alone tonight. I feel weird and gross."

  Sympathy flooded through me. "Sure. I'll meet you there."

  "Bring Mike too."

  "We'll make a party of it. You'll have the best time and forget all about this," I told her.

  "You're the best," said Daisy. "Thank you so much, Shayne. I'm sorry for all the trouble."

  "We're friends. This is no trouble at all," I replied, trying not to make her feel worse.

  "Are you free tonight to play bodyguard for Daisy at a fancy hotel?" I asked Mike when we disconnected.

  Mike contemplated that. "How fast can I say yes without appearing overly eager?" he asked.

  "I'll take that as an unequivocal yes," I laughed, a little bit of the tension easing. Then I told him what happened, which took all the humor out of me. With one last hopeful look at the murder board, in case an answer suddenly revealed itself, and now with Daisy's safety as my top concern, I turned and said, "Let's go pack a bag."

  Since Mike insisted on driving, I called Ashleigh on the way. "Not much to report," she told us. "It looks like we might have to let this guy go. My captain says all our evidence is circumstantial. Maybe he's just unlucky enough to have coincidentally met the victims, but his lawyer is kicking up a real stink. We either have to find something to charge him with in the next few hours or he walks."

  "That doesn't sound good. Do you still think he did it?"

  "I don't know. He had an alibi for when April Beam's body got dumped so unless he's working with a partner, it might not be him," Ashleigh said in a resigned voice.

  "Could that be possible? I didn't consider a partner."

  "It's a possibility but unless there's a strong indication of who it might be, we can't do anything. We've combed his communications and nothing stands out. No regular calls to a particular friend or relative. No burner phones. No overtly creepy behavior. He doesn't even have any past misdemeanors. I think we'll have to admit defeat."

  "That sucks."

  "Tell me about it. I hope you called with some good news. Anything stand out to you?"

  "Since I can't even guess this guy’s name, no, but something else came up. Did Daisy call you?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Her apartment was broken into not too long ago. She found the lock picked when she got home."

  "Was anything taken?"

  "Not so far as she could see. Why break into her place if not to steal something?" I gulped as a new thought gripped me. "Could someone have planted something?"

  "You said she noticed the lock was picked?"

  "Yeah."

  "Someone who wanted to plant something wouldn't want anyone to notice that."

  "Good point."

  "You're still thinking this is connected, aren't you?"

  "It crossed my mind but Daisy did show us all that crazy fan mail so it could be another weirdo fan who's just trying to get close to her. It categorically can't be your guy since he's in your custody."

  "He didn't even blink when her name came up during interviews," said Ashleigh. "I searched his home myself. There's not a scrap of anything to suggest he has or had any interest in her. Not even an Internet search on his computer or phone."

  "That could just mean he's good at covering his tracks."

  "I don't think he's that smart," said Ashleigh. "Poor Daisy. I am so glad I'm not famous and don't have to put up with that crap. Are you going over to her place now?"

  "No. She's checking into a hotel for the night. We're going there."

  "Text me the address. If I get off, I'll meet you. Is Jenna with you?"

  "No, just Mike."

  "I'm glad you'll be with her. Keep me updated and I'll see if I can get any information on the break-in."

  "This is nice," said Mike as we turned onto the hotel grounds. "Much better than the motel I'd stay in if I were burglarized."

  "You wouldn't even book a hotel. You'd couch surf at my apartment," I told him as I scanned the grounds with unconcealed interest.

  "So true," he agreed. "I'd eat all your food too."

  "You do that anyway."

  Daisy booked a bungalow and was waiting for us when we arrived. "I've been pacing for the last ten minutes," she said, hugging us both in turn. Dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, she looked ready for action but her eyes belied the worry. "I had the bellboy open and check the closets and the bathroom. I'm a wreck. Isn't that stupid? It's not like anything was even taken."

  "You've had a shock," I told her, rubbing her arm in my effort to comfort her. "It's understandable. Anyone would feel creeped out if someone broke into their personal space and touched their intimate things without permission."

  Daisy pulled an appalled face. "I am sending all my clothes out to be washed and dry-cleaned. Maybe I'll burn all my furniture."

  "You won't feel that way in the morning," I told her although I agreed that sending her clothes to be cleaned might make her feel better. I guess having a stranger touch them was a terrible violation of her privacy.

  "I'm lightheaded." Daisy dropped into a chair and flopped her head back while her fingers teased the bracelet she never took off. "I was going to cook when I got home so I haven't eaten in hours. Have you guys? Shall we call room service? My treat since I'm monopolizing your time and ruining everyone's evening."

  "Yes to ordering food and pfft! to everything else," I said.
r />   "We're your friends," added Mike. "Where else would we be if you needed us?"

  "You haven't even offered to cuddle me since you got here," said Daisy, sticking her tongue out at Mike. "This is why I know how concerned you are."

  "I only got here five minute ago. I was building up to that," said Mike. He plucked the room service menu from the table and handed it to Daisy. "Now you've ruined it by looking desperate."

  "Only Mike could say that to one of the world's most beautiful women," I added with a shake of my head. Finally, Daisy laughed.

  We stayed up until the early hours of the morning, sharing the many plates Daisy ordered and a bottle of champagne that she insisted on after announcing this was officially an impromptu party. We called Jenna, who declined joining us since she had a late meeting but also thought Mike and I had the bodyguard duty covered between us. Then we called Ashleigh but she didn't have any updates. Her report that there were no fingerprints found and the burglar also managed to evade the building's cameras was disappointing but she assured us the building managers were reviewing the security as a matter of urgency, and she would call again in the morning.

  We ended the night with all of us sticking our middle fingers up at the imaginary violator before Daisy and I fell, exhausted, into the two beds and Mike took the couch.

  By the time I awoke, stretching out under the plush comforter, the plates from last night had disappeared. In their place was a trolley laden with breakfast items. Daisy and Mike had also disappeared. Opening the door onto the private patio, I was wondering where they went when I heard their voices by the pool and the sounds of splashing. Since that sounded safe, I stepped inside and turned my attention to the food. I quickly heaped a plate with pancakes and bacon, and a side of fruit before pouring a large cup of coffee. I was halfway through eating when I remembered I didn't check my phone all night. I didn't even check in with Ashleigh again or reply to Ben!

  My phone was filled with messages. Three were from Ashleigh, and the final one from an hour ago said to ignore her as she spoke to Mike and was glad we all had fun. There was one from Ben asking again if we could talk. This time he added an "x." "Why would you add a kiss?" I asked the phone, like it might tell me. There were two messages from Jenna saying she wished she could have joined the fun before asking if Daisy was really okay? I replied quickly and said she seemed fine. Then there were several from Hayden with photo attachments asking for my feedback. I opened them, smiling when I saw myself. The photos were great, although I wasn't thrilled with my facial expressions in a couple. But Hayden definitely proved his talent even with a non-model like me. If only I had a chance to do my makeup and change my clothing for something more glamorous, I would have been thrilled. I sent him a text message praising his skills and suggesting that I do a re-shoot based purely on my presentation. Seconds later, he sent a "thumbs up" response. I didn't know what to do about Ben, so I ignored his text.