"You can call Detective Ashleigh Smith and ask her opinion about me, then call me back," I said, eager to set him at ease. The last thing I needed was a clammed-up detective. I had no other leads to follow regarding Anna.
"Don't wait by the phone," he said and hung up. A few minutes later, my phone rang. "Smith says you can be trusted. I pulled the file, which was easy since it's been on my desk for a year while I've been working another long case. What do you want to know?"
I told him all the information I had on Anna's life and disappearance and he confirmed everything was accurate. "What can you tell me about her disappearance?" I asked.
"Not much. I got surveillance footage of her on the bus. No one harassed her or seemed to follow her. She was the only one to get off the bus at her stop. I got more video footage from a convenience store that shows her walking past a few minutes later and nothing after that. I calculated how long it would take her to walk home but she didn't pass the camera going that direction at all. So I calculated all the different directions but she doesn't show up on any camera between her last known whereabouts and her house. I concluded something must have happened to her within two blocks heading north of that convenience store."
"Something happened? Such as?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
"But you're thinking it was nothing good."
"Now you're putting words in my mouth… but, yeah," he sighed. "Anna Sanchez seemed like a smart, decent, young woman. She had a good relationship with her family. Her roommates didn't report any problems. Her employer said she was doing okay although not overly successful. I can't see any reason why she would suddenly disappear. I figured maybe she got mugged and hurt, or hit by a car, something accidental, but she never turned up at a hospital and we never found a body."
"Were there any indications she could have been taken against her will?"
"That's what I concluded but, before you ask, I don't have anything to back it up. I couldn't find a dropped purse or a witness or any evidence, not even a vehicle that took off in a hurry. No one reported hearing screams or any disturbances of any kind."
I made fast notes as I pondered his words. "Is it possible Anna could have known her abductor?" I asked.
"Yes, or at least she felt safe with him or her."
"If she didn't know her abductor, what would have made her feel safe?"
"All kinds of people convey an air of safety. Someone in uniform like a cop or an EMT. A mom with a child who needs help. A work colleague. Someone whose car broke down, asking to use her cellphone. But before you ask, I didn't find anyone who saw Anna or anyone who was approached in that manner. I asked around but the case went cold the minute she stepped off the bus and vanished."
"How can someone disappear without anyone seeing a thing?"
"I have asked myself the same thing countless times. What's your interest in this case?" he asked.
"I think there might be a connection to other missing women."
"Give me their names and I'll look into it."
I reeled off the names and added, "Detective Smith is the lead on April's case and Sammy's only been missing a couple of weeks."
"I know April Beam is dead. I watch the news like anyone else. Bonita Rodriguez sounds familiar."
"Her case was assigned to Detective Salmon. Detective Smith located her in the morgue."
"Yeah, I know Salmon. He's on leave. What made you put these women altogether?"
"Same physical appearance. Same MO on the disappearance, where no one saw a thing. Also, the women were all very isolated. New to the city, no family here, not many friends." I paused, wondering if I should mention Sirens Talent Agency, then decided not to since not all the women on my list were clients.
"The isolation would make them an easy target. If they're as physically similar as you say, then they might have been irresistible to someone," agreed Detective Martinez.
"Have you come across the name Ryan Ellison? It might be connected, might not."
"The Ryan Ellison? The producer? Sure, he's made some of my favorite movies. Why do you ask?"
"Have you ever heard any rumors that he might be too hands-on with some of the cast members?"
"Not a rumor I've ever heard. Any substance behind it?"
"None yet," I admitted. "It's just an angle I'm looking into."
"I'm not suggesting anything, of course, but I'd like to discuss the cases with Smith. I'll let you know if anything stands out."
"I'd appreciate that, thank you."
"Between you and me, any break in this case is more than welcome. I've got a daughter about to turn eighteen. She wants to be an actress too. When I think about Anna Sanchez disappearing off the face of the earth, I feel sick to my stomach."
I wished I could call the detective on Danika Jones's case next but since he was permanently unreachable, that just wasn't possible. I had no idea who might have taken over his workload. I called LAPD's switchboard and left a message but held no hope of anyone calling me back. I still crossed my fingers, however, for a return call. Danika's case had to reside with someone, unless it was already relegated to the cold case division. Even worse, what if her file were somewhere else, languishing in a warehouse, all but forgotten?
As I pondered my next steps, my cellphone flashed with a message. Hayden sent details of the party, highlighting the black tie dress code, along with a photo of the official invitation. He suggested we carpool since he had the invitation and the guest list was very strict. I replied with a quick thumbs-up emoji and a thanks.
Returning my attention to the map I was annotating prior to speaking to the detective, I had an epiphany. There was little use in checking out the last known movements of Anna or Danika. Their trails would be ice cold after so long and it was unlikely anyone who was in the area at the times of their disappearances would remember anything now. In the year or two between their vanishings and now, businesses and people changed, so my brief idea of walking around and looking for some kind of sign would be a waste of my time. Plus, only Anna and Danika's cases could be narrowed down to the site of the abduction. Bonita's was unclear. April’s, too. That left me with Sammy.
Assuming the cases were linked, Sammy was the most recent victim. I needed to start with her while there was still a chance I could find a witness with a fresh memory.
I flicked through my notes but saw no mention of where Sammy was last seen and when, so I called Ashleigh first.
"I heard you spoke with Detective Martinez," she said.
"I did. Thank you for putting in a good word for me."
"No problem. What else can I help you with today?"
"I'm trying to find the last known movements of Sammy Turturro. Can you help with that?"
"I can. She's officially registered missing now. Her roommate, Nadia Randall, reported it and Sammy's parents corroborate that she hasn't been in touch. Credit cards are unused, phone and social security not active."
I was pleased that Nadia took my advice and reported Sammy missing. "Does the report say where she was last seen? Nadia wasn't sure when I spoke to her."
"She couldn't be positive but she last remembered seeing Sammy leave for work at a bar on Friday night and she doesn't think she came home after the shift ended."
"Why isn't she positive?"
"I asked that and she said Sammy usually finished around two AM, and got home by three AM by which time she was already in bed asleep. Nadia also says she was doing a re-shoot that weekend so she didn't realize until Sunday night that Sammy's bed hadn't been slept in. Her best guess was Sammy went missing Friday night or in the early hours of Saturday."
"Sammy worked in a bar on Sunset, right?"
"The Diamond Lounge," confirmed Ashleigh. "Says in the report that an officer went over, spoke to someone who confirmed Sammy worked that night and completed her shift but didn't show up on Saturday, which ties in with what Nadia said."
"They didn't try to find out why Sammy didn't show up?"
&
nbsp; "Apparently, not. Seems they have a high staff turnover so it didn't surprise them when a bartender didn't show up. They figured she'd had enough and wanted to avoid the hassle of giving notice. They filled her position that same night."
"Without even checking if she was okay?"
"Seems that way."
"Cold. What about cameras?"
"The report says no."
"I can't imagine a bar on a busy street like that without cameras, can you?" I asked, frowning as I wrote "cameras?" and circled it.
"No, but I can't imagine they don't. And even if they did, it's unlikely they would keep two-week old footage. I'll check in with the officer they sent out."
"So we do know that Sammy disappeared somewhere between ending her shift and getting home. Her bed wasn't slept in, and we don't know if she made a detour, so that gives us a narrow window of time, say between two and five AM at the latest?"
"That would be my guess, but Shayne, I have to tell you, I still don't have anything to link Sammy to April's case. April and Bonita shared an agent, and the manners of death are similar, which gives me that possible link so my focus is there unless something pertinent turns up that indicates the others are connected."
"What about Danika and Anna?" I asked.
"Nothing about their lives overlaps with the others. There's nothing to suggest they're connected to each other or my case. But if you find something that changes the facts, I will take a look."
"I might have something but it's tenuous at best. Ryan Ellison. Have you heard his name mentioned?"
"Sounds familiar but I can't think why."
"He's a bigshot producer. I wondered if you heard any rumors about him overstepping with women?"
"No, but that doesn't mean he doesn't. Let me take a look in the system and see if there are any complaints." Ashleigh went quiet but I could hear the keyboard tapping. After a long moment where I started doodling, she said, "There aren't any complaints and he doesn't have a rap sheet. Is your source credible?"
"Hard to say," I said, since my source was, technically, me. "I'll need to do some more digging and let you know. See you over the weekend?"
"I'll try. Maybe tomorrow night? I'm not sure I can make it to Daisy's get-together."
I was ready to agree when I remembered I already made a commitment. "I have a swanky party to go to," I told her.
"Are you going with Daisy?"
Daisy was the only truly fancy person we knew so her assumption was logical. "No, I have other friends who hang with the fast crowd," I teased.
"Can't wait to hear all about it!"
My next call was to Jenna. "Wanna hang out in a bar on the Strip later?" I asked.
"Why the hell not?" replied Jenna. "There are worse ways to spend a Friday night."
"It might not be a wild night. I'm sort of investigating something."
"Exciting. On expenses?"
"On my own dime, unfortunately."
"You need to convince Bob to give you an expense account."
"I can barely get him to let me write something worthwhile."
"Something to aim for then. When are we meeting?"
I checked my watch. If I left the Chronicle now, I would have plenty of time to get to the Strip before it got crazy busy. That would give me an opportunity to check out the Diamond Lounge. Even though it might not be the wild night of Jenna's dreams, she would be good company. "Whenever you're ready to go," I told her.
"Give me a couple of hours. I'm with a client."
"A new one?" I wasn't surprised but pleased that Jenna had taken the step.
"That's right. I'm starting small with a few referrals. Just a handful of clients that I can give top quality service to. Ewww! That did not sound right."
I laughed. "I'll text you the address to meet."
I disconnected, found the address for the Diamond Lounge online and sent it to Jenna via text. A glance around the Chronicle made me realize the staff were already filtering out and since I would be investigating later and thus working, I figured I would leave too. I'd already been lucky to avoid any further confrontation with Ben, and I was pleased that Gabi didn't turn up again. The last thing I needed was another run-in with either of them. It still stung that I didn't know what was going on with Ben. Was he purposefully backing away? Would he tell me soon that he and Gabi had rekindled their old romance?
With a sigh, I packed up my stuff and drove home, dumping everything on the couch in the small living room. My clothing wasn't the right standard for a night at a bar, and since I didn't want to stand out, I hopped in the shower, washed my hair and redressed in tight, black jeans and a low-cut, red, silky top. I blew out my hair and added some makeup, pleased with the results. A brief flash of Gabi fluttering her perfectly mascara'd eyelashes burst into my head. Maybe I should dress up more often?
A knock at my door stopped me preening in the mirror and I padded over, barefoot, to answer it.
"I saw you come home," said Mike. He leaned casually against the doorframe and glanced over me with an approving nod.
"Stalker."
"You walked past my apartment. I can't not see you."
"True. Also, my eyes are up here."
"I know," said Mike, not moving his gaze from where it landed somewhere around my chest. "This is like when we first met and you couldn't stop ogling me."
"I did not!"
"It's okay. It's an understandable reaction. You still can, anytime you like."
"So far as I remember, you were asleep in my apartment, wearing little more than a sleeping bag. I was surprised to find you there, not full of lust."
"Still didn't avert your eyes." Mike grinned and laughed. "Where are you going all dressed up? Can I come?"
"I'm heading to Sunset Strip to investigate a story."
"Is the story 'how many drinks will you be bought tonight'?"
"No." I looked down. "Is this a 'buy me drinks' outfit?"
"No. It's a 'take me home' outfit. That blouse would look great thrown over a lamp."
I snorted in amusement and stepped back, leaving the door open for Mike to follow me inside. He stepped in and leaned against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him. I retreated to my bedroom to look for my ankle-length, stack-heel boots and when I returned, Mike had a beer in hand and appeared very comfortable on my couch.
"I can help," he said. "I'm playing a gig on the Strip later."
"You are?"
"Yep. I'll drive you. I know a lot of the bars. I could introduce you to people and hand my demo CD out at the same time."
"What's a CD?" I asked.
"Now I know you're kidding. You're not that young."
"How rude. Actually, I'm meeting Jenna."
"We can pick her up too. Can you act like groupies?"
"No."
"Just until the real ones turn up? I have a thousand of these CDs to get rid of."
"You have groupies?"
"Of course." Mike looked affronted. "I'm handsome and I sing."
"You're every mother's worst nightmare."
Mike's smile broadened. "I'm popular with the moms too. Ready to go?"
"Don't you want to finish your beer?"
"I only got it out of the fridge for effect. I haven't even opened it." He swung his legs down and got up, strolling into the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open and shut, then Mike reappeared, only to lean against the kitchen doorframe.
"Why do you keep leaning against stuff?" I asked, noting his weird behavior.
"Practicing for a photo shoot. Apparently, leaning against things makes me look casual and sexy. Today, I've leaned against a brick wall, a glass window, a tree and a very tall garden gate covered in ivy." He scratched his arm through the sleeve. "I may be allergic to ivy."
"Why are you having a photo shoot?"
"Some magazine is covering hot new performers. Apparently, I'm number one."
"I usually think of you as number two."
"Harsh. Get your purse, Shayne. I'm taking y
ou out!"
"No, you're not. You're giving me a ride."
"Don't forget tagging along. Get moving, Winter, you're up to something so I figure we've got a mystery to solve."
I filled Mike in on the details of my investigation as we drove and he listened with interest. We got to the Strip a half hour before Jenna was due to join us and Mike parked behind the bar that hired him to sing. Leaving his guitar case in the car, we walked the two blocks to the Diamond Lounge. A post-work crowd had already begun to sift through the doors but I figured the more casually attired would leave within an hour or two, making way for the Friday night party crowd.
We walked over to the bar and perched on high stools. The bartender, a tall, bearded man in a black t-shirt and jeans, tattoos all over his arms, nodded to us as he served another couple then walked over. His name badge read: Kelvin. "What can I get you?" he asked.
"Two Heinekens," said Mike.
"Coming up." Kelvin turned to the fridges running the length of the bar and grabbed two bottles, placing them on mats in front of us. "You two new in town?" he asked as he accepted the payment.
"No, we both live here," replied Mike. "But neither of us have been to this bar before."
"We get a lot of tourists wanting to experience the nightlife," said the bartender. "I figured you were kind of early so maybe you were new."
"Actually, I have a friend who works here that said we should check it out," I lied. I decided on the drive over that pretending to be Sammy's clueless friend would probably work best at coaxing her co-workers to talk. "Sammy Turturro. Do you know her? She works the Friday night shift but I guess she isn't in yet." I took a wide look around the bar, as if searching for her, before returning my attention to the bartender.
Kelvin shook his head. "Sammy quit a couple weeks back."
"Really?" I pouted. "Oh, that sucks. Did you hear that, babe? She's not here!"
"You called me babe," said Mike, a dopey smile appearing on his face.
I resisted the urge to eye-roll and continued, "She seemed happy here. Said it was a cool bar."
"I thought she was happy too. Came in and worked her shift, then didn't turn up for her next one. That was two weeks ago," said Kelvin.
"Did you work together often?"
Dead Ringers Page 13
