I turned and hurried through the crowd before they could ask any more questions.
Of course, that was bullshit. About the only thing my investigation had uncovered was a few lame straw men and some pretty shaky fringe witnesses. But hopefully, it’d make them let go of Geoffrey. More important, I hoped it’d make them focus on Paige.
The idea of making Paige the focus didn’t just pop into my head. I’d been giving it some thought. If Paige was the target, then Dale was an unlikely suspect. He had no motive whatsoever to kill her. So the more I could beef up the Paige angle, the better. If I could come up with even one more witness to make that theory stick, I’d keep beating the Paige drum to the press every chance I got. And after hearing it on the news over and over again, the jury would be more inclined to buy it.
As they say, a lie repeated often enough becomes the truth.
THIRTY-SEVEN
I got into Alex’s car. “Get me out of here.”
He pulled away. “How’d it go?”
“It was nothing.” I told him what I’d said to the reporters about Paige being the target. “I just wish it were true.”
“We might be able to make it true enough if we get something out of Marc’s buddies.”
“Who’ve you lined up?”
“Marc had a lot of friends, but only three had connections to Paige. Golden Crossman, Julie Berger, and Ashton Laflame. Golden’s a model, too, but Julie’s a graphic artist and Ashton’s a personal trainer.”
“Who did you tell them we are?”
“I told them the truth. As far as I could tell, none of them was real tight with Paige. So they may not love the idea of talking to us, but they don’t hate it as much as Paige’s buddies.”
Good. It’s always easier that way. Especially if we eventually needed to drag them into court. “Where are we going?”
“Silver Lake. I told them to meet us at the Starbucks on Sunset. It has an outdoor patio. We’ll probably get enough privacy out there.”
No question about that. It was a typical March day: some blue sky peeked between the clouds, but the sun was too weak to take the chill out of the air. Only dedicated smokers would be sitting on the patio.
“You didn’t schedule them all at once, did you? Even your damn book must have said-”
Alex sighed. “Of course not. We should have Golden first, then Ashton-”
“Ashton Laflame? Is that for real?”
“Every bit as real as ‘Golden.’”
As predicted, we practically had the patio to ourselves. Our only company was two young girls in tank tops and low-rise jeans who shivered over their cigarettes. Alex and I had just settled down at a table in the far corner of the patio with our grande-size coffees when Golden showed up. His blond hair was slicked back off a face so perfect it could only have belonged to a model. Beautiful skin; straight nose; a wide-ish, sensual mouth; and deep sapphire eyes. On him, the baggy, beat-up jeans; T-shirt; and flannel jacket looked like haute couture.
Alex introduced us. Golden leaned back in his chair and gave us a measuring look. “I wasn’t going to meet with you. I was a friend of Paige’s, you know.”
Alex stepped in smoothly. “We do know. And I understand completely. So if at any point you feel uncomfortable talking to us, just say so, okay?”
That seemed to relax Golden. He dipped his head. “Fair enough.”
I nodded at Alex, a signal for him to keep going. “Did you already know Paige before you met Marc?”
“Yeah, we did an ad for JC Penney together.” He swiped a crumb off the table. “Paige was good people. We didn’t hang all that much, but whenever she came across possible gigs for me, she’d pass along the info.”
Alex took out his notepad. “How’d you meet Marc?”
“He lived in the guest house next door to my building. Part of his rent was walking the dog for the owners. I was heading out to the liquor store down the street one day, and he was like, ‘I could use a beer.’ But he was flat broke, so I spotted him the beer and we got to talking. He’d been bouncing around, doing whatever he could. At that point he was a busboy at Oasis, but the money was lousy and he was looking for a better deal. You’ve seen his photos?”
I nodded. “He definitely had the looks for modeling. How come he didn’t think of modeling?”
Golden shrugged. “It just wasn’t in his lexicon. He was twenty-two, born and raised in Blencoe, Iowa-population three-and he’d only been out here a year. Maybe less. I hooked him up with his first gig.” Golden paused. “Well, actually, it came from Paige. She’d offered it to me, but I was already booked, so I asked if she’d push for him. She did, he got the gig, and he started making real money.”
“And she and Marc got to be friends?” I asked.
Golden had a sad smile. “Of course. That was her thing, always looking out for the strays.”
Like Chloe and Tonya. “Was it ever more than that?”
“I seriously doubt it. Marc always claimed to be bi, but I think he played more for our team than yours. They might’ve occasionally been friends with benefits, but nothing more.”
“Were you and Marc ever…?”
Golden shook his head. “Marc was too much of a player for me.”
“How often did you see Paige?”
“Not often. We’d hang out after a shoot, help each other find gigs. But we could go for weeks without talking. I guess you’d call it a work-ship. Work with a skosh of friendship.”
I probably wouldn’t call it that-a little too cute. “Did she ever talk to you about guys she was dating?”
“No.” He paused and stared at the table. “But I think I saw one of them. He rode a bike. I saw him pick her up at a couple of shoots.”
“A bike, as in motorcycle?” Golden nodded. “You ever talk to him?”
Golden shook his head and gave a little smirk. “He seemed like the macho type. Probably wasn’t all that excited about meeting some fag model.”
If so, then Paige’s motorcycle buddy was an asshat. Good to know. “His loss,” I said. “What else can you tell me about Marc? I mean, besides the fact that he was a player.”
Golden sighed and shifted in his seat. He took a moment before answering. “He was basically a good guy. He’d never screw you over or anything. And he was a lot of fun. Pretty artistic, too, had a good eye for color. He talked about getting into graphic design. But he was… reckless. He’d hook up whenever, wherever-at parties, in bars. Hell, he even wound up in bed with someone he met grocery shopping.” Golden shook his head. “I can’t say I expected something bad to happen to him, but it’s not that big of a surprise.”
“Did you ever get the impression he did it for money?”
Golden’s eyes flickered at Alex, then came back to me. “Sometimes, yeah.”
I didn’t know where this was heading or if it had anything to do with Paige, but I decided to let it spool out. “Did he ever tell you about the people who paid him?”
“No. Marc never named names. He just dropped hints every once in a while about having an extra income source. And he never expressly said it was money for sex, but I could read between the lines.”
“Did he and Paige do a lot of modeling work together?”
“I can’t say it was a lot, but it was more than Paige and me. I started getting more magazine work, so I didn’t need the online gigs as much.”
“When was the last time you saw Paige?”
Golden rolled his eyes. “God, it’s been a while. Three months? Maybe four.”
“What about Marc?”
“The last time I saw him was on March sixth. I remember because it was the day before my birthday. He came by with a couple of beers and we watched that reality show about the pawnshop in Vegas-he loved that show.” Golden smiled to himself for a brief moment, then his smile dropped. “Anyhow, that was a Monday. A few days later… Thursday, I think, the agency called and said Russell was looking for him.”