Stephen flopped himself down on his sofa, his legs and arms going every which way. The only other seat in the room was the desk chair, piled with manila folders bursting with paper. The desk was covered in files as well. She could see an old mac laptop underneath the smallest stack.
“Mind if I move these?”
“Sure,” Stephen said making no move to assist her.
Nice, Harri thought. She grabbed the pile and stacked them neatly on top of the printer. At least, she was near the window now. It had been a long time since she’d encountered smokers in Los Angeles. It seemed everyone was super health conscious here. Stephen had to be a chain-smoker by the smell of this place.
“Why do you think you were fired?” she asked, flipping open her notebook.
“For the record, I wasn't fired. I was laid off weeks before the main layoffs happened.”
“That was around seven months ago?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I wasn’t part of those.”
“And you were laid off after submitting your piece?” she asked.
“Two weeks after actually. They thought that was enough time to not make me suspicious. They were wrong.”
“Tell me about your piece. It was more than Roxanne’s story?” Harri asked.
Stephen crossed his arms and sighed. “I convinced five women to come forward with their stories. With Roxanne, my article included six women whose stories were similar. Some had photos as evidence and one woman even showed me a video. I wrote up my piece, thinking I was finally on a story that would make my career. I gave it to my editor, and at first, he seemed impressed. They waited ‘til the next day to tell me it wouldn’t run.”
“What reason did they give for not running it?” Harri asked.
“Legal wouldn’t approve it,” he said with a tight smile. “The men in my piece would most definitely sue. My editor told me the women’s stories weren’t enough, especially since none of them had ever gone to the police. Two weeks later I was laid off without much explanation.”
“That does sound retaliatory,” Harri agreed. “What did you uncover in your research for the piece?” Harri asked. The smells in the small apartment were beginning to give her a headache and she didn’t know how much longer she could last.
“What’s the angle of your investigation?” He came back at her.
Harri narrowed her eyes. He knew damn well she couldn’t discuss an ongoing investigation. He was a journalist, she reminded herself. He wanted information for knowledge. What she could say without jeopardizing her investigation?
“I met with Roxanne Miles last night. She gave me your name. She told me that she was groomed to perform sex acts on wealthy Hollywood power players at exclusive private parties.”
“It's so much more than that,” he said as a smile crossed his face that looked like a cat swallowing a canary.
He was an unpleasant man who apparently enjoyed playing games with information. Fine, she thought. If he told her what he knew. She would have no problem stroking his ego and telling him how important he is.
“What do you mean?” Harri prodded.
“It's a pyramid scheme,” Stephen said, his eyes glinting off the little bit of sunlight coming from the window behind her. He’d leaned forward as he said that. This was the big reveal.
“How so?” she asked.
“The main players get actresses to recruit other actresses. This ensures them getting more girls.”
“What do these recruiters get in return?” Harri asked although from what Roxanne had told her she had some idea.
“One of my sources told me they paid her a shit ton of money. Another source told me they’d offered her coveted parts in TV shows and film.”
“Were the recruiters abused by these men as well?”
“According to my sources, yes. It made sense with what Roxanne had already told me. Her case was five-years-old and the other girls I spoke to were more recent.”
“What did the recruiters offer the other girls?” Harri asked.
“Access,” he said with a conspiratorial smile. “What everyone wants in Hollywood.”
“Access to whom?”
“To parties, to stars, producers, directors, to the top acting coaches. These recruiters started the grooming process. Once the girls took the bait…”
Shame. That’s what made the scheme work. Harri’s anger flashed, but she maintained control.
Stephen sighed and continued. “The recruiters are ashamed of what’s happened to them, but they see a way out. They just convince themselves it’s no big deal. It’s the way to win the game. But they know they’re serving up other girls to be abused. One of my sources tried to kill herself from the all-consuming self-hatred. It really messes with their heads and makes them ripe for more abuse. It’s a vicious cycle. Once they’ve accepted the money, or the parts in a TV show, they’re trapped. It can all be stripped away. They’re also complicit. They’re part of the machine. So, it’s easier to pretend it’s just the way things work out here. It’s about commitment to their goals, and the money and the clothes and the access and the success are proof that they’re making it out here. They’ve conquered this town. Hollywood didn’t destroy them.” He shook his head and sighed again.
“How old were your sources when this happened to them?” Harri asked, furiously jotting down notes.
“Two were fifteen, three were sixteen and Roxanne was seventeen. The transactional nature of this whole arrangement was extremely confusing to all of them. We’ve all heard stories about Hollywood. Everyone laughs about the casting couch. The girls had no idea what was happening and really tried to normalize the abuse so they could go on,” Stephen said. His face was filled with disgust and his leg bounced up and down. He’d been affected by it all, too.
“Did you uncover who was running this?” she asked.
“My sources named numerous actors, producers, directors, and studio execs. Names people not even in the industry would recognize. One of my sources spoke about politicians, too. That’s the tripwire I hit in the piece. I doubt some Hollywood studio exec has enough clout at the LA Times to get me fired. But politicians.” He shrugged and his voice trailed off.
“Tell me about these parties,” Harri said.
“There were passcodes to get in. Very exclusive. Lots of security. The parties must have cost a lot of money, so I think there must have been someone like an admin controlling all of that. There had to be someone who coordinated the event planning, which is a ton of work, and then the security, and the exclusivity. From what I was told, the homes were all over the exclusive neighborhoods around the city and it sounds like they’d use a location for a while, then move on to something else, so that would mean they must have been short-term rentals, or something.”
Harri considered what he was and realized he was probably right. He’d been on the story for a long time and had obviously thought about a lot of the behind-the-scenes coordinating that had to have been happening.
“Did any of your sources speak about getting drugged?” she asked.
“All of my sources had been roofied. Alcohol also flowed freely.”
“And none of these women went to the police?” she asked.
“That's where the genius of this horrifying little operation comes in to play,” Stephen said. “These girls ended up getting acting parts and they would get into classes with well-known acting coaches. Or they’d land a good part in a big movie. If they went public with that, these power players could easily discredit them. It would just be a he said/ she said and then the lawyers would come in with defamation suits, the career would be gone, the connections would dry up, the access would disappear and the public would see them as gold diggers who got what they wanted and then called rape. And that’s all before the shame and self-hatred hits. The manipulation in this whole thing is breath-taking. Meanwhile, girls are being assaulted every year.”
“How did you convince them to go on the record?”
“Th
ey’d all left the business. Gotten therapy and wanted to see their day in court. Brave women, all of them. I failed to do that,” he choked out.
“Tell me their names,” Harri said.
“No.” Stephen shook his head. “I need to call my sources and ask if they still want this all to come out. They need to be prepared.”
“What about the recruiters and the organizers? Did you uncover who was behind this?”
“I had names of the men who’d abused the girls. I hadn’t uncovered the money trail, though. That was never my strong suit. I could get people to talk to me, but when it came to financials, I’d lose the thread.”
“Did your article name these men?” Harri asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I have the article?”
“No,” Stephen said.
“Why not?”
“It’s my insurance policy,” Stephen said. “You have enough to investigate. If I give you everything right away, you’ll toss me away like everyone else has.”
“I’m an LAPD detective. You’re hindering an investigation.”
“You have nothing to exchange,” he said. “I’ll just say the article doesn’t exist and I was laid off due to budget cuts. If you talk to my former bosses at the LA Times, they’ll say the same thing, I bet.”
“Stephen, I can’t give you an exclusive unless I can close the case. I need the information you have.”
He didn’t reply but shook head.
“I could get a warrant and take every scrap of paper out of here. Your phone. Your laptop, everything.”
“You really think I’m stupid enough to leave all my research lying around here?” he asked her with a toss of his head.
“Fine. Call your sources to see if they’d be willing to speak with me.”
“I’ll do that today,” Stephen promised.
“One last thing,” Harri said. She hated leaving without any names, but she could tell Stephen wasn’t going to budge on this point. He wanted to be part of the investigation.
“How did this group communicate? Schedule the parties. Tell the girls where to go and who to bring?”
“They did most of the organizing for the parties through Snapchat and Facebook messenger. There were codes for everything, so again. There had to be at least one coordinator somewhere putting it all together. Here's another tidbit for you. All my sources told me there was a lot of video and photos being taken. I’m thinking some of those had to be used for blackmail on some of these wealthier men and the girls, too. It's the perfect scheme to make money from wealthy perverts while having them incriminate themselves. They become beholden to the organization. They're not going to say anything because they know there’s dirt on them ready to be released at a moment’s notice.”
“Did you ever find anyone else who worked in this organization?” she asked. “Caterer’s, bartenders, DJ’s?”
“Never could find anyone. They must be using their own crew over and over. Which means they probably have blackmail on all of them, too.”
Harri stood up. “Call me as soon as your sources reply. I want to speak to them immediately if they’re willing to talk.”
“Good luck with keeping this case active, Detective.”
“What does that mean?” Harri asked, annoyance creeping into her voice.
“I’m betting on you being shut down and fast,” Stephen said.
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Harri said.
She left Stephen sitting on his couch, deep in thought and hurried to her car, excitement growing at the information he’d given her.
He’d given her a lot to track down and she had to speak to Tom Bards. She didn’t like the fact that Stephen wouldn’t give her the names of the men who’d abused his sources, but she hoped the women she spoke to would. What was clear to her though, was he hadn’t found the key player to the organization as he called it. If this was a pyramid scheme, who was on top pulling all the strings?
20
Day 3
Harri Harper walked into the ‘Get Your Java’ coffee shop on First Street in Little Tokyo. On her way back to the office, she’d gotten a phone call from Tom Bards asking her to meet him there.
This didn't bode well. Was the investigation already in danger, just as Stephen Ladner had predicted? Tom had never wanted to meet outside the office before. A coffee shop wasn’t the most private of places and she was unsure of speaking about their cases in public like that. Or could he be getting pressure from Lieutenant Richard Byrne to take her off the case? That was also a possibility.
Harri caught sight of Tom sitting at a table, holding a mug of coffee. She waved and walked over.
“You want anything?” he asked.
“I'm jumpy as it is meeting here. I think I’ll wait until I hear what you wanted to talk about it. Wouldn’t want to completely jump out of my skin,” Harri said, laughing to keep the mood light but secretly terrified by what he would say.
She sat down next to him instead of across from him so they could keep their voices lowered as they spoke.
“Sorry for the cloak and dagger. I didn't mean to worry you, but I wanted to tell you about my meeting with Byrne this morning. As you know, the PAB has ears everywhere,” he said.
“Don’t I know it,” Harri said as her knee started bouncing faster than Stephen Ladner’s had earlier.
Tom noticed her discomfort and put her out of her misery. “It’s not about you.”
That piece of news calmed her almost immediately. “What did he want? I didn’t even know he came in so early.”
“Surprised me too, to be honest.”
“He wants to close us down?”
“Affirmative. He called me into his office and asked me about the coroner’s report on Sophie Lambert.”
“He doesn’t think it’s murder?”
“Byrne isn’t convinced this should be an RHD case. Thinks it would be better handled by Hollywood Division. Especially since it appears to be a death caused by an overdose.”
“She didn’t get into the wall on her own, though.”
“He wants the case closed or passed on,” Tom said. “In the next few days. His exact words.”
“So how much time does that give us? We have less than forty-eight hours then?” Harri asked, resentment burning a hole in her gut.
“I’ve found something to contradict him,” Tom replied. “About this being an RHD case. I worked all last night going through records of drug overdoses that fit our criteria.”
“The criteria being?” Harri asked.
“Females between the ages of fourteen and eighteen that died of drug overdoses with ligature marks on their necks. The key criteria was they didn’t die of strangulation, but from the drugs.”
“You found more girls?” Harri asked in disbelief. Lots of people died of drug overdoses in Los Angeles but the addition of the ligature marks on the neck was too specific to be a coincidence.
“Twelve girls,” Tom said and put his hand on hers to quiet her. “I found twelve girls with that criteria. I emailed Grimley with the case file numbers to see if she had more information. All the girls were autopsied because of the ligature marks. It was a surprise finding that none of them died of asphyxiation.” Tom kept his gravelly voice low.
Harri checked to see if any patrons were close by. He’d picked the coffee shop well. It was empty besides them and the barista. Some new age music was playing loud enough for them to not be overheard.
“Have you received the toxicology report from Grimley yet on Sophie?” Harri asked.
“No, have you?”
Harri shook her head no.
“What did you have to tell me?” Tom asked.
“Oh boy, do I have a story for you,” Harri said. She then told him about Roxanne Miles, how Harri tracked down the journalist Stephen Ladner and his killed story about the pyramid scheme of using and abusing young actresses.
“He wouldn’t give you the names?” Tom asked.
“He’s prote
cting his sources. He said he’d call them to see if they’d be willing to talk to us. Stephen refused to give me names of the recruiters or organizers or abusers until he sees our case isn’t getting buried.”
“His article never came out in any other publications?” Tom asked.
“No,” Harri said. “He wouldn’t give me anything, either. I threatened him with a warrant, and he said he didn’t keep the research in his home.”
“Keeping it tight to the chest,” Tom remarked and sipped his coffee.
“He wants an exclusive which I promised him.”
“Was he fired for doing the story?”
“He believes he was retaliated against for putting politicians into the article.”
“But the article never came out,” Tom asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.
“He’s a worm, but not a slimeball,” Harri said, wrinkling her nose at the stench of his apartment. “Smelly too.”
“And now I have Byrne demanding we wrap things up. He might have a good reason to be squirrely,” Tom said.
“A lot of odd things going on, Tom,” Harri said. “I’m used to unseen forces moving the pieces on the chess board, but there are too many things at play on this one.” Harri thought again of all the balls Jorge Hernandez seemed to have dropped.
“I’m paranoid myself,” Tom said. “And I don’t get paranoid.”
“The Addison James’ case was strange from the beginning. Have you ever heard of someone coming to the chief of police and demanding a specific detective work on the case?” Harri asked.
“No.” Tom shook his head. “Highly unusual. Cronyism is a thing. Always has been, but never so blatant before.”
“What are our next steps?” Harri asked. “Should we compile everything and hand it off to Hollywood Division?”
“Hell no. I don’t want to, do you?”
“Absolutely not,” Harri said.
She was glad to hear Tom Bards was not one of those detectives that toed the line carefully. He was a veteran of the LAPD for over twenty years and must've had his share of politics encroaching onto his cases. For him to be paranoid about this case gave her pause.
The Broken Trail: A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller (Harriet Harper Thriller Book 3) Page 12
