He took a sip of his coffee as he mulled that over. “Fair enough. I’ve known Paige for four years. Met her when she visited Chloe on the set of Hard Times. Chloe had a bit part.”
“So you and Paige dated?”
“Yeah. For two years, off and on. Off and on is about the only way I ever get to date. I’m on the road a lot, on location.”
“Who ended it?”
He slouched down in the booth. “She did. Said she couldn’t take all the coming and going. Can’t say I blamed her, but I’ve got to make a living.” He pushed around some stray sugar granules that’d fallen onto the table.
“But you remained friends?”
Storm nodded. “I kept hanging around. I guess in the back of my mind I was hoping she’d want to get back together. But we wound up seeing less and less of each other. She never seemed to have time for me. This past year I barely saw her at all.”
“Did you know if Paige was dating someone else?”
He set his jaw, a dark look on his face. “Toward the end, yeah. It was maybe a month before she… died.” Storm paused and stared down at the table for a moment. He took a deep breath, then continued. “I stopped by her place to see if she wanted to have dinner. She was on her way to some big party, and she was dressed up in heels and diamonds, the whole nine yards.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the photo of the stolen jewelry. “Yeah. Can’t say that’s exactly the same necklace, but it looked like that. I asked where she got it, and she said some rich guy gave it to her.”
“Did she tell you who he was? Or say anything about him?”
He shook his head. “I asked, but she dodged me, said it was none of my business. Which I guess it wasn’t.”
“Did you tell the police all this?” He shook his head. “Why did you call them?”
“Because when I heard the story on the news, I realized I saw her that day.” He folded an empty sugar packet into an accordion. “I thought they’d send someone out to talk to me, but they just took my statement on the phone.”
“You saw Paige the day she died?” Storm nodded. “Where?”
The waiter came by and offered to refill our coffees. I shook my head. I hadn’t touched mine. Storm signaled for more.
“I was driving north on Malibu Canyon and I stopped for a red light at the intersection of Malibu Canyon and Mulholland Highway. I was about to turn right onto Mulholland when I saw her. She was stopped at the light, across the intersection from me. And she was heading toward Malibu.”
Malibu. Where Marc had been found.
I leaned forward. “What time?”
“About six thirty.”
“Then it was almost dark. You’re sure it was her?”
He took a sip of coffee. “Definitely. There’re streetlights at that intersection. Plus, I recognized the car. I waved to her, but I guess she didn’t see me. That’s when I noticed there was a guy in the passenger seat.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. Never saw him before.” Storm’s phone rang. “I gotta take this. Excuse me.” He got up and walked outside.
I quickly pulled up Marc’s Facebook page.
Storm came back. “Look, I gotta jump.”
I held up my phone. “Is this the guy you saw in the car with Paige?”
He took the phone from me and studied it. “Yeah, I think so. Who is he?”
“Marc Palmer. He was a model who worked with Paige. His body washed up on the shore in Malibu about a week after Paige died.”
He frowned as he gave the phone back. “Hell of a coincidence. So that’s why you said Paige was the real target. You think they’re connected.”
I nodded. “Especially after what you just told me.”
“Then it’s important?”
“Very. But do me a favor, don’t tell anyone about this, okay? I’d rather not have your statement get tossed around by the press.” Or the cops-who’d probably wind up proving that it was nothing more than the usual defense red herring.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, the press is all over this case, isn’t it?”
I gave him a weary nod. “It’s nonstop.”
He stood and picked up his helmet. “Later.”
Actually, I wasn’t so sure the two deaths were connected. But with Storm’s testimony, I thought the jury might. It was exactly the kind of intriguing sideshow juries loved.
Or, as I’d call it in my closing argument: reasonable doubt.
FIFTY-THREE
I asked Rick Saunders to meet me at Mel’s since I was already there and it was close to his station. I was glad I’d saved myself a trip. He didn’t know Ignacio. He offered to ask around about him, but generating talk about my alibi witness was the last thing I needed.
By three o’clock, I was ready to go see Chas Gorman. I wasn’t supposed to get to his place until five o’clock, but I had a feeling he’d be around. Chas seemed like the kind of guy who was always around. And I was right.
As an added plus, he was almost sober. Either he was getting a late start or his stash was running low.
Chas smiled when he opened the door. “Hey, thanks for coming over.”
“Hey, thanks for having me.” He’d offered to bring the phone to me, but I wasn’t about to take any more chances with the damn thing.
He led me to the living room and gestured for me to take a seat on the lumpy brown couch. “I’ll be right back.”
He was as good as his word. In less than a minute he was back, an old flip-style cell phone in his hand. It looked like the one Scott’s siblings had shown us.
“Just so you know, I had no idea Scott did that burglary. I was really pissed when I found out.”
I opened the phone and checked out the photos, just to make sure it was the right one. It was. “How long have you guys known each other?”
“A few years. And I’ve never known him to do shit like that. But I think he got himself in debt to some heavy dudes, and it’s making him act crazy.”
I could well believe it, but I didn’t care. His “crazy” had landed Alex in the hospital. Screw him. “Thanks, Chas.” I headed for the door.
He followed me. “The press was all over this place a few days ago.”
That would’ve been the first day of trial. I paused at the door. “Anyone try to talk to you?”
“Not that day, no.”
“But another day?”
“Yeah. Not sure if it was a reporter, but it was right after Alex came by.”
I’d sent Alex to the building to find out if Chas and Scott were friends. “Who was it?”
“Dunno. But whoever it was banged on my door for, like, a half hour. It was really weird.”
“Male or female?”
Chas shrugged. “Female? No, male.” He sighed. “I’m not sure.”
“He didn’t give you a name?”
“No. I didn’t answer the door, just played dead.”
As always, talking to Chas was an exercise in frustration. His fried brain coughed up tantalizing fragments, but they never coalesced into a solid piece of information.
I thanked him again and left. When I got to my car, I opened Paige’s phone and checked her voice mails. Nada. There were a few texts between Paige and Chloe sent a couple of days before they died. But they were just mundane messages about picking up the dry cleaning and Taco Bell for dinner. I went through the photos.
Again, nothing intriguing. Just Paige and Chloe horsing around and joke-posing. I felt a pang of sadness looking at their young faces. I scrolled more quickly. I didn’t need any more reminders of what a tragedy this was. And then I found a photograph that got my attention. It’d been taken two months before the murders.
I looked at my watch. It was three thirty. The perfect time to go see Alex. I’d been planning to check in on him, and I knew he’d want to see this photo.