Blood Defense

TWENTY-FIVE

Majesty was one of those high-end restaurants that did the minimalist swank thing. Very subdued décor-original abstract art and clever hanging lights that were virtually sculptures. I noticed the chef and sous chefs were already working in the kitchen, and delicious smells were floating through the air.

The manager, Bernard Shore, reminded me of the English butler character in one of those old movies. Slicked-back steel-gray hair, a pinched nose, and permanently pursed lips. He even gave a prissy sniff when he saw us at the door. Bernard made us come in through the back door and pointed to the closest table to the bathroom. “You can sit there.”

I looked at all the empty tables. Message received. “Why don’t we start with you?”

Bernard’s expression showed he’d like to tell us why not. But he said, “Fine,” in a bored voice.

We were all still standing. Bernard didn’t wait for a question. “Paige was a beautiful girl and a hard worker. She never gave me any trouble. That’s all I know.”

I pulled out my notepad. “So you hired her without knowing anything about who she was? Where she worked before? Whether she had a rap sheet?”

Three twentysomething guys and a woman about the same age came in through the back door carrying aprons. The waitstaff was starting to show up.

Bernard gave me a hard look, then deliberately turned his gaze over my shoulder. “I know she got her BA at Cal State Northridge. And she used to work at Ciao on Sunset.” Bernard’s sour expression told us what he thought of that restaurant.

“Did you know who she was friendly with? Who she might’ve been dating?”

“I had no idea and no wish to know.”

Alex looked at Bernard and leaned in, trying to force the man to make eye contact. It didn’t work. Another two young guys and two women with aprons came tumbling in, laughing.

I tried again. “Then she wasn’t particularly friendly with any of the staff here?”

Bernard gave an irritable sigh that blew the smell of industrial-strength mouthwash into my face. “I didn’t take any notice of that. I’m not a den mother; I’m the manager of a high-end restaurant. What my employees do on their own time is their business. As long as it doesn’t affect their job performance, they can socialize with pelicans for all I care.”

I stared at Bernard. His eyes remained fixed over my left shoulder. I turned to see what was back there. Just the door. I’d noticed some of the waitstaff throwing us glances while we talked to Bernard.

Alex spoke up. “Did Chloe ever come in here?”

“No.” Bernard glanced at his watch. “I have to get to work. You’ve got ten minutes to talk to the staff-if they want to-and then you’ll have to leave.”

I smiled at the manager and held out my hand. “It’s been lovely chatting with you.”

He ignored my hand and headed for the kitchen.

The waiters and waitresses had gathered at a large round table near the front of the restaurant. Alex was scoping them out. “I think one of the guys is on the team.”

I gave him an apologetic look. “I hate to play the gay card, but…”

“I don’t.”

We walked over to the table. I followed a few paces behind to let Alex storm the beachhead. When he introduced us, their expressions ranged from wary to downright hostile. More fun was on its way. The guy Alex had clocked sized Alex up, then turned his head. So much for the gay card.

I stepped up and talked fast. “Look, we’re not here to dig up dirt on Paige. A lot of questions are coming up about the case against Dale Pearson. It’s not as slam-dunk as the press makes it seem. And if Dale Pearson didn’t do this, then the person who did is still out there. You want to make sure you do everything you can to get that guy, don’t you?”

A couple of them nodded. A couple of them shrugged. But the rest weren’t buying it. One of those, a woman whose hair was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head, and who looked like the oldest of the bunch, stood up. “I know he’s your father and all, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re defending a murderer. I get that you’re just doing your job. But I don’t have to help you do it.”

She walked off. Alex’s “teammate” gave him a cold look and left with her. A couple of others seemed inclined to do the same but stayed seated-probably out of curiosity. One of the younger-looking waiters, who had a tattoo of an iron cross on his neck and wore black-framed glasses, watched them leave, then turned back and studied Alex and me for a moment. “I’ll talk to you, but I doubt I’ll be of much use.”

We took the two now-empty chairs. I asked whether anyone knew whom Paige was dating. The tattoo guy in the glasses, who said his name was Greg, spoke first. “I think she had a friends-with-benefits thing going with a guy.” He looked around the table. “Remember that dude on the motorcycle?” There were nods and Oh yeahs. “I think he was an actor or something. But she never really talked about him.”

The waitress with freckles and a ponytail added, “I thought I remembered her saying he was a stuntman, but he might’ve been an actor.”

But no one knew his name. “Did you ever hear about her dating someone who was famous? Possibly married? Someone she called Mr. Perfect?” The ponytailed waitress gave me a dirty look. I shook my head. “I’m not looking to slam her for it. I have information that she was seeing someone like that and he might have a reason…”

Greg nodded. “We get a lot of famous people coming in here. But I never knew about her dating anyone famous. Or married.”

The others agreed. A young girl, tall and thin, with long dark hair and exotic features, came in through the back door. The ponytailed waitress pointed her out. “That’s Tonya. I think she and Paige used to hang out.”

Bernard had emerged from the kitchen and was shooting us daggers. I gave him a friendly wave. He tapped his watch, then turned and went back into the kitchen.

I got up and started to pass out my cards, but the ponytailed waitress held up a hand. “Wait, um… I hope you don’t mind my asking, but what’s it like? You know, him being your father. Is it totally weird?”

I was no stranger to the power of the media, but the speed with which this story had spread was breathtaking. It felt like I’d been asked that question a million times during the past few hours, but I still had no better answer than the simple truth. “Yeah, it really is.” I told them to give me a call if they thought of anything else, then we headed over to Tonya.

Now that I got a better look, I realized I’d noticed her in the group photo on Paige’s Facebook page. She’d been in the background, but there’d been something about the way she stood, like a deer poised to bolt at the slightest sound, that made me take a second look. Otherwise, I probably would’ve skipped right past her, because her face was closed off in a way that said, Don’t notice me.

Tonya looked a lot younger in person than she did in the photo. Alex and I introduced ourselves. She glanced from me to him without expression, but I could feel the tension in her body, and I knew she was about to tell us to buzz off.

I talked fast. “I know we’re probably the last people you want to see, but we only want to figure out who did this.” I gave her my spiel about the possibility that Dale was innocent and wrapped up with a line I use with reluctant witnesses. “And I promise we’ll keep whatever you say confidential.”

That was a big fat lie. Well, sort of a big fat lie. If she didn’t have anything helpful, I really would keep it confidential. And if it hurt us, I’d take it to the grave. But if she said anything I could use, I’d haul her into court and pry her statement out of her with Crisco and a crowbar.

Tonya tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “D-do you really think someone else did it?”

“I think it’s very possible. But I need to get more information.” I gave her a gently pleading look.

“I don’t really know anything. I didn’t see her the night of the…” Her lip began to tremble. She bit down on it.

They’d obviously been close. This was exactly the person I was hoping to find. Someone who might know Mr. Perfect. I had to go easy on her, though, or she’d shut us down. “How long had you known her?”

“About six months. She was really nice to me.”

“Did you guys ever hang out after work?”

Tonya nodded. “A little. We’d go out for drinks, stuff like that.”

She’d tried to make it sound occasional, no biggie, but she was a lousy liar. It’d been more than “a little” and more than just drinks. “Did you know who she was dating?”

Tonya’s eyes slipped over to Alex, then came back to me. “No.”

Yes. But she clearly didn’t want to talk in front of Alex. I looked at my watch. “You probably have to get back to work. Why don’t we meet up after? Drinks are on me. But it’ll just be you and me. Alex won’t be able to make it. Are you okay with that?”

She nodded. I suggested we meet at the Tower Bar on Sunset. It had private corners and it’d probably be quiet on a weeknight by the time she got off. I took her contact information. She said she could get there by ten thirty.

Maybe, finally, I’d found someone who could give me an inside line on Paige’s life.

And especially on Mr. Perfect.