“Russell?”
“Russell Kitson, the photographer. He was calling around looking for Marc because he didn’t show up for his shoot. That’s when I knew something was wrong. Marc was a party boy, but he never bailed on work. About a week later, Ashton told me they’d found his body.” Golden pressed his lips together and blinked a few times.
I gave him a few moments to recover. “Did you know of any friends Marc had in Malibu?” Golden shook his head. “When you saw him on Monday, did he mention any plans he had to go out there? Maybe to go to a party?”
“No. That’s what was so weird to me.” He shook his head. “When I heard they found him in Malibu, I was like, seriously? It seemed so random.” Golden sighed. “But then again, Marc definitely did get around, so…”
I asked some more questions, but Golden had run out of answers. When we’d finished, I thanked him for meeting with us.
Golden looked from Alex to me. “Do me a favor? If you ever find out what happened to him, will you let me know?”
“Sure.” Golden left and a few minutes later, Julie Berger and Ashton Laflame showed up-together. Julie, a thin, pale-skinned, black-haired Goth type, apologized. “Alex said you wanted to talk to us separately. But we’ve already been talking about it for months, so we figured, what’s the point?”
I gave them a little smile. “You’re probably right.” I asked how they knew Paige. They’d met her through Marc, when they all went out for dinner after a shoot. But they didn’t know her well at all. “How did you meet Marc?”
Ashton was buffed, but very lean and tan. “At the gym where I work.”
“And I used to work at the juice bar next door,” Julie said. “That’s where I met Ash. He brought Marc over, and we all got to be friends.” Her mouth turned down. “I really miss him. He was such a blast, so funny…”
Ashton nodded. “Kind of a wild child, but a really good guy.”
“So he was into weight lifting?”
Ashton shook his head. “Not at all. He came to the gym because the agency wanted him to put on some muscle. He was pretty skinny.”
Ashton and Julie filled out the picture a little more but not much more. They both had the impression Marc’s family didn’t approve of his “lifestyle,” but that was a guess. He didn’t talk about his family much.
The last time they’d seen him was the beginning of March, and he’d never said anything about having friends in Malibu or going to any parties there.
Ashton tapped a finger to his head. “I do remember him saying he went to a beach house once.” He frowned. “But that was a couple months before he… died.”
“And he just mentioned it that one time?” Ashton nodded. “Did he give you any details, like who he was visiting or where?”
“No, sorry. But that was typical Marc. He’d just toss out stuff like, ‘I went down to the desert for the weekend,’ or ‘We went up to the mountains.’ In the beginning, I’d ask who he’d been with or where they stayed, but he always kind of dodged the question, so I got the message and stopped asking.”
“Did you ever get the impression he was getting paid for taking those trips?”
Julie shrugged. “It’s possible. He was pretty, uh, relaxed about hookups. And he always needed money. Don’t we all?” Julie paused and shook her head. “But Marc loved to party, and he could be a little… careless.”
It all fit with what Michelle had read in the local news. A young guy who partied too hard one night and fell overboard. Or went for an ill-advised swim.
“When did you first notice he was missing?” Alex asked.
“Not till after they found his body,” Julie said. Ashton nodded. Julie’s eyes filled with tears. “I felt so bad for him. I just hope he wasn’t conscious. That he passed out and just…”
Ashton took her hand and squeezed it. “We kind of hoped you’d be able to find out how it happened.”
“We’ll try. And if we do, I’ll let you know.”
We thanked them and headed back to Alex’s car. Alex took the freeway-which right now was an endless sea of red taillights. “It sounds like Marc died within a few days before or after Paige was killed. But other than that, I can’t see any connection.”
“Me neither. But I’d like to take a run at that photographer. It sounds like he knew Paige.”
“Russell Kitson.” Alex held up his phone. “Already got his contact info. Where to now?”
I glanced at Alex. Man, he was good. “Home sweet home.” Michelle had scheduled an interview for me at five o’clock with an actual paying client. Things might finally be looking up.
But before Alex could make it to the freeway, I got a call. When I ended the call, I told Alex to turn around. “Dale’s in the infirmary. He’s been stabbed.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
We rode to the jail in silence. I couldn’t talk. My brain kept circling around How? and Why? Dale had said no one was giving him any trouble, and the guards were good to him. Not good enough. According to the nurse, Dale was stabbed multiple times.
When we got to the infirmary, I saw that Dale was hooked up to an IV, and he was asleep. I studied his face. His skin looked gray, and there was a furrow between his brows. A nurse came over to check his monitors, and I asked her how he was doing.
“He’s stable. But he’s in a lot of pain. He got stabbed three times. Luckily, no vital organs were injured.”
I asked her if she had any idea how it’d happened, or who’d done it.
The nurse shook her head. “I don’t know. We don’t have the report.”
A few minutes later, Dale woke up. He gave me a weak smile. “Hey. I guess this is the benefit of having my daughter as my lawyer.”
Ordinarily, civilians don’t get to visit inmates in the infirmary. I nodded. “What happened?”
“On the way to dinner.” He paused to catch his breath. His voice was low and rough. I was about to tell him I’d come back later, but he waved me off. “Hallway was crowded. Someone came up from behind… shivved me.”
“You didn’t see who it was?” Dale shook his head. “He didn’t say anything?” Dale shook his head again. “Where the hell were the guards?”
“Not their fault.” He paused to breathe again. “Got there fast as they could. Saved me.”
I was furious. I was going to sue everyone in this fucked-up jail. But I knew better than to rant about it here and now. “You sure you don’t have a beef with someone in here?”
“No. No one. Keep to myself.”
But he was a cop, and anyone could know that because his face was on television. They didn’t need any better reason than that. “How are you feeling?”
“Hurts, but they say I’ll live.”
“Do you know how long they plan to keep you here?” I wasn’t impressed with the security in this infirmary.
“A week?” Dale closed his eyes. He opened them with an effort. “Think that’s what they said.”
I told him I’d be back tomorrow. “Go easy on those jumping jacks.”
He tried to smile, but it came out like a wince. I checked with the nurse on the way out, and she confirmed they expected to keep him for a week. “But he’s strong. It might be less.”
“Can you get more security for him?”
She gave me a tired look. “Ms. Brinkman, I don’t blame you for asking, but we’re way understaffed. I’ll do what I can, but no guarantees. There’s a lot more of them than there are of us.”
I didn’t like it, but there was nothing I could do about it. “Can I call you for updates?”
The nurse sighed. “I guess. But no more than once a day.”
I needed her on my side, so I gave her the nicest, most ass-kissy thanks I could muster, and then got out of there before she could change her mind.