Dead Ringers

by Camilla Chafer

  "Shayne!" I turned at the sound of Mike calling my name.

  "My friend, Mike," I told Hayden. "You go ahead. I'll catch up in a minute."

  "I'll wait by the door. The driver won’t mind a few more minutes." Hayden unlinked our arms and sauntered away, leaving me to meet Mike after a few steps in his direction.

  "What's up?" I asked.

  "Are you on a date?" asked Mike, leaning around me to check out Hayden.

  "No. He's a work colleague."

  Mike took a long look at my dress. "What happened to Ben?"

  "I have no idea. Ben seems to have forgotten I exist." I knew that because I checked my phone roughly once an hour all afternoon. Nothing.

  "Huh."

  "I know. I have to go. Hayden is taking me to a party that will help my story."

  "Huh." Mike didn't move.

  "I have to go."

  "Call me if your 'colleague,'" Mike added quotation marks, "gets handsy and you need a ride home."

  "No need for that. I'll mace him." I patted my bag. I didn't have any mace but I was confident in my ability to punch anyone who got frisky with me, Hayden included. He seemed a nice guy but I didn't want him getting the wrong impression. As far as I was concerned, this wasn't a date but a work mission. Plus, given Ben's behavior lately and what that possibly spelled for our relationship, I had to decide what to do about him before I even considered giving another guy an interested glance.

  Mike gave me a long, assessing look as he nodded. "Damn cool, Winter."

  Chapter Fifteen

  I stood on the mezzanine overlooking the ballroom. I couldn't be sure it was actually a ballroom since I never saw a ballroom in someone's house before, but a room that size could have been nothing else, right? I guessed the square footage of that one room was more than the area my entire apartment building was built on. And the furnishings in this one room alone could probably cover the annual salaries of everyone in my building. Everywhere I looked, there was something priceless and I was pretty sure the band playing in the room next door recently won several Grammy awards. I thought the chauffeur-driven car here was fancy but this was something else!

  "Nice party, right?" said Hayden, handing me a glass of champagne.

  "How did you manage to get on the guest list again?" I asked. "And who are your family? Do they live like this too?"

  "I know people," he replied with a wink. "And no, my family do not live like this. My mother lives with her fourth husband in Hawaii and my father is currently traveling the world in his yacht with his twenty-three-year-old wife. We had a nice house once with a nanny until my father married her — she was wife number two — but that's long gone."

  There was so much to unpack in that, that I started with the obvious question: "Your dad has a yacht?"

  Hayden shrugged. "It's a dinghy compared to the boats people here own. Do you want to circulate? I figure you came with a plan so I'm not sure how I can help."

  "I'd like to circulate soon. Do you know everyone here?" I asked as I followed the path of a man in his fifties below. He was weaving his way across the ballroom with a woman approximately thirty years younger. She wore a skintight, hot pink dress, and clutched his arm, giggling at something he said. I was pretty sure she wasn't his daughter. Or granddaughter.

  "No, just the hosts and a few others. I could probably guess a few names though. That guy over there? The one by the palm? He just directed a thriller that came out in all the top theaters last week. And the woman he's with? Former supermodel and his fourth wife. Soon to be ex, if the rumors are accurate. Over by the fireplace, see the bimbo?" Hayden nodded to a woman wearing a dress two sizes too small. "She's actually a top producer. Everyone wants to know her; no one wants to tell her to get a stylist. Speaking of stylists, the man now coming through the French doors is a stylist and apparently so much in demand, his waiting list has a waiting list."

  "Are you making all this up?" I asked.

  "No, it's true. You can check. Shall I go on?"

  I nodded. "Yes, please."

  "That guy with the shaved head beside the brunette young enough to be his daughter? Carlos Santiago, photographer to literally everyone you've ever heard of. I actually did an internship with him. Very cool guy. You probably saw a bunch of his photographs in the entryway. And see the woman in pink?" Over the next few minutes, Hayden pointed out several people in the film and music industries, and I recognized a clutch of Hollywood stars and musicians. Mostly though, the guests were people I wouldn't look at twice in the street. A couple hundred well-dressed people who could be anyone. I figured if I were in the film or TV industries, I might recognize more names and faces. What I did notice was many beautiful young women circulating amongst the guests. Lots of them were chatting with much older men. But so far, no Ryan Ellison.

  As we turned away from the crowd below, I saw the woman in the hot pink dress and the older man step off the staircase before disappearing along the corridor. Hayden noticed me watching and raised his eyebrows. "Don't ask, don't tell," he said.

  I wrinkled my nose. "So they’re doing what I think they're doing? And in someone else's home!"

  "This isn't really the owner's home. More a party space away from home. I think they spend a month a year here, max."

  "But there's a Monet on the wall!"

  "They probably own ten of them. I doubt this one is even their favorite. Let's go downstairs and mingle."

  "Sure." I hadn't seen Annette yet but I knew I was more likely to if we were downstairs with the rest of the crowd. I had two options: one, rely on Annette to introduce me to some of her model friends and glean more information that way. The second was to make small talk with anyone who bothered to give me the time of day and hope I eventually picked up some juicy morsels of information. "Do your friends know that kind of thing goes on at their parties?" I asked.

  "No idea. To be honest, I didn't even notice until you brought it to my attention. Let me refresh your glass," Hayden said, taking mine from me as we descended. When we reached the end of the staircase, I spotted Annette with two of her gazelle-legged friends and waved.

  "I just spotted a friend," I told him. "I should say hello."

  "I should say hi to the hosts, if they're even here. I'll find you." Hayden smiled as he peeled off towards the bar.

  "Who's the cutie?" asked Annette as I walked over to her, both of us air kissing in a manner I found utterly pretentious but apparently, obligatory. I'd already received, and given, several.

  "My colleague, Hayden. He knows the hosts," I explained.

  "He looks vaguely familiar. I've probably seen him at one of these parties before." She turned to the women with her. "This is Shayne, the one I was telling you about. This is Mara and Alison. They work for the same agency as me too. They're both happy to talk with you."

  Mara had a blond, pixie cut while Alison had long, red hair. Both were several inches taller than me and the three together, with their wildly different looks, cut a stunning trio.

  "Can we do that now?" I asked, glancing around. The room was spacious enough that we weren't crowded together but I feared being overheard by several people hovering nearby. "Perhaps somewhere more private?"

  "Let's head over there," said Annette, pointing to a doorway. The three of us followed her and ended up in a living room with several large couches and a vast array of bookcases. A couple of people occupied the furthest couch so we stayed as far away from them as we could.

  I pulled out my cellphone and asked if I could record them. They shared a brief look and I assured them that I would absolutely not name any of them before the women nodded their consent. I hit record on an app, then called up the pictures of the missing and dead women. "I'm trying to find out if any of these women attended the same parties you've been to. These three would be the most recent over the last few months," I said, pointing to Sammy, April and Bonnie. "But these two would have been more than a year ago."

  Mara shook her head first. "I don't remember se
eing any of them, but there are a lot of people and a lot of booze. I'm not sure I'll remember anyone here by midnight, never mind tomorrow."

  Alison took a closer look. "Maybe her," she said, pointing to Sammy. "She looks like a young Marguerite Casta. The casting directors are all over that look right now."

  "Are you sure you remember seeing her at a party like this?"

  "No, I can't say for sure. There are a lot of girls who look like her."

  "What about this guy?" I asked, pulling up the photo of Ryan Ellison.

  Annette's friends nodded. "Ryan's always at a party," said Mara. "He's kind of a big deal and he loves it when people kiss his ass. I tried talking to him once and he just told me to come back when I was somebody. He turns his charm on and off like a faucet."

  "Do you ever seeing him try anything on with the girls?" I asked.

  Alison laughed. "Trying and succeeding. He likes them young, pretty, and compliant. He loves the power kick."

  "Like I said," interrupted Annette. "I am not his type."

  Alison laughed again. "Annette doesn't tolerate assholes."

  I smiled along with them although I caught a hint of something jaded in their eyes despite their humor. "What do you mean by 'the power kick'?" I asked.

  "It's not just him. So many of the men here are like that. They have everything they can buy and I guess that's not enough, so they act like they’re entitled jerks too. Ryan definitely gets off on the power he has over women. He's a somebody and they all want to meet him and he knows that. He's connected to so many people, he has tons of money, and the kind of lifestyle dreams are made of. He can have anything and anybody he wants but he'll be damned if he has to share the limelight with anyone." Alison leaned in, lowering her voice a little. "I knew his mistress. He put her in an apartment, bought her all kinds of fancy stuff, paid for her lifestyle, even got her a couple of parts in his films. When she finally bored him, he sent his assistant to tell her to pack up and leave. She thought they had a good thing going, like he was her boyfriend or something. Naive, huh? She tried to contact him afterward and he wouldn't take any of her calls. When she couldn't get any work here, she had to take a modeling job in Japan. She's waiting until he forgets about her so she can come back to the States and get some work."

  "He blackballed her?"

  "Pretty much. It's a message," Alison explained. "Do what he says, and take the exit and the jewelry consolation prize, make no fuss and get lost, or he can make life difficult."

  "Is that a regular thing for him?"

  "Yeah, I think so. He occasionally has a real girlfriend, or maybe it just looks real in the magazine photos, but he likes the control he gets when he's the one paying. Some of the girls understand the deal and milk guys like him for what they’re worth because they know it won't last. He'll get bored and she'll be out."

  "Has Ryan ever given anybody unwanted attention?" I asked.

  "Like making a pass?" asked Alison.

  "Like that," I agreed.

  She thought about it. "I don't think so but I'm not saying no. He gives attention and you want it, you know, any nice, little word or encouragement or piece of advice. He's connected. He can get you roles, make introductions, and if he asks a bit more… well, I've never heard any complaints about him."

  "Some of the guys get out of hand," added Mara. She sipped from her champagne flute and shrugged. "They want to wine and dine you to be seen with you, but if you say no, they think they're owed already. Assholes."

  "Jerks," agreed Annette.

  "What about at a party like this? Where there are a lot of young, pretty women and powerful men?" I asked.

  "We know the ones to avoid," said Alison. "I'm only here for the business connections but some of the girls don't mind a bit more. The agency even encourages it."

  "You all work for Sirens?" I asked and they nodded.

  "I'll admit to doing a bit more. One guy paid me a thousand bucks just to strip. He didn't touch me once. Just looked. Then he put the cash on the table and left," said Mara. "Occasionally, things have gone further. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not ashamed of it either. I have rent to pay and I don't want to wait tables for tips. It's an exchange. We each have something the other wants and so long as they don't degrade me, I'm cool with it."

  "I'm not here to judge you and, for what it's worth, I don't," I told her. "I just want to know if you heard any rumors about women like you getting unwanted attention or into any kind of trouble."

  "That happens too," said Mara, "but what the hell is anyone going to do about it if one of them gets handsy? I don't have a voice. I don't have power. The world stinks in that respect. I could go to the police and all they get is a 'Not me, officer! She's just out for a payday'."

  That was depressing but I believed it was probably true. "Have you heard any specific rumors?" I asked.

  All shook their heads, then Mara paused. "A lot of girls come and go quickly. They arrive here thinking they're going to make it and they don't. It's hard to say who left because they wanted to and who left because they had to," she explained.

  "Show me those photos again," said Alison. I unlocked my phone and she studied them. "They're Ryan's type. Young, dark-haired, pretty. Did he do something to one of them? All of them? Is that why you're asking so many questions?"

  "I don't know, but he might have a connection to them. That's not any accusation," I told them sternly. "It's a just a line of inquiry I'm investigating. Do you know if he's here yet?"

  "I saw him by the bar a few minutes ago," said Alison.

  "Can you introduce me?" I asked.

  Alison laughed. "Us? We might be at this party but we don't move in the same circles."

  "You haven't met him before? He didn't ask to be introduced?"

  "I’ve met him but I'm not his type," said Alison, pointing to her red hair. "And Mara told you what he said to her. Annette?"

  "I'll see if he remembers me," she said.

  "You said the agency encourages other encounters?" I asked, changing the topic slightly. "How so?"

  "I'm not completely sure but I overheard Jessica's assistant talking once about how many girls were required for a party and how many were 'eager'," said Annette.

  "Jessica Suarez?" I asked and Annette nodded. "You mean, willing to sleep with the guests?" I clarified.

  Annette nodded again. "Sure. Sometimes they just want beautiful women to look good in the magazine photos because there's always a photographer nearby. Other times, the girls are there to sweeten whatever deal the host has going on. Maybe he wants to get some money guys to finance his next film and has to show them 'a good time'."

  "Or have something to hold over them," said Mara.

  "Why don't they just hire a madam?" I wondered. I received three skeptical stares and I winced. "Oh," I muttered, realizing this was exactly that.

  "Jessica is the madam," explained Mara. "She gets a fee for sending us. I have no idea how it goes through the books but it's probably just a standard modeling fee. Anything we make on top of that is ours to keep so her hands stay clean, always. Anyone asks, and she just sent hired bodies to stand around and look pretty. That's what models do, right? She has no knowledge of anything else, officially."

  "Unofficially, she knows who's up for what," added Alison. "She'll tailor who goes to what party according to what the hosts’ needs are."

  "Why don't the girls say no?"

  "And turn down a party like this? This isn't even one of the big ones. One good introduction leads to a solid role or the face of an advertising campaign and they balloon from being Undiscovered Sally from the five-story walk-up to Marguerite Casta in the penthouse."

  I knew that wasn’t Daisy’s exact trajectory to stardom but I didn’t chastise Alison since she was just embellishing a point. Even after a few more questions, neither Alison or Mara had much to add and I could tell they both wanted to get back to the party so I thanked them for their time. I ended the recording and shoved my phone into my pocket.
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br />   "I know that wasn't what you're looking for," said Annette. "I can keep asking around and let you know if I hear anything?"

  "Please," I said, trying to mask my disappointment. So Ryan Ellison was sleazy… It didn't appear he was doing anything that made anyone seriously uncomfortable or anything illegal. I could hardly shove the photos under his nose and demand what happened to the women. But if I could get a little bit closer, perhaps I might wrangle some kind of admission out of him. Since my own blond hair ensured I wasn't his type either, I wondered if I could even get close but I had to try.

  "There you are," said Hayden after Annette went off in search of more interesting company. I lapped the ballroom once, checked out the band and relieved the buffet of some food. "Where did you go?" he asked, coming to a stop next to the table.

  "I was talking to someone and couldn't find you," I told him.

  "I had to give your glass of champagne away. I could get you another but you might disappear again," he teased without a trace of annoyance. "Is the investigation going well?" he asked, leaning in. "You got something, right?"

  "Precisely nowhere," I said, although that wasn't strictly true. I had character references and more insight into the seedier side of Hollywood. If I wanted it, I might even have a story there but I wasn't sure I could write it without implicating the women who had to pay the biggest price. They didn't deserve that. Contemplating the possibility, I reached for a miniature sandwich and as I retrieved it, I looked up, directly at Jessica Suarez. She blinked in recognition, then started around the table, her gaze firmly locked on me as she headed my way. I really didn't want to get into any explanation about what I was doing at the party or how I got invited. I grabbed Hayden's arm and hurried him out of the room, grateful for the people who crowded the door after us, blocking her way.

  "What was that about?" asked Hayden, glancing backwards.

  "She knows I'm a reporter," I whispered.

  "And that's bad because?"

  "No one wants to talk to a reporter. At least, not anyone who's done anything bad."