Blood Defense

FIFTY-TWO

I was glad we were about to get the phone, but I wasn’t jumping for joy. It’d cost way too much. “Yeah, great.”

She folded her arms. “Samantha. I’m still pissed off, too. But this is what Alex put himself on the line for.”

I gave her a sullen look. “Exactly.” Getting the phone didn’t make up for what he’d been through. “I’ve got a two-thirty meeting with Detective Rick Saunders. Tell Chas I’ll get there around five.”

I was hoping Rick Saunders might be able to give me more information on Ignacio, the alibi witness for the Jenny Knox murder.

But at noon, I got the call I’d least expected.

Michelle buzzed me. “We must be on some kind of a roll. I’ve got Storm Cooper on the line.”

The stuntman who’d been Paige’s boyfriend once upon a time. We’d been leaving him messages for the past three weeks. I clicked over. “Samantha Brinkman here. Thanks for returning my call.”

His voice was cold, hostile. “I wasn’t going to call you back, except I heard you said Paige was the real target.”

“You’ve been watching the trial?”

“No. A friend told me. I just got back from a shoot in Helen’s Bay yesterday.”

Where the heck was Helen’s Bay? “Then you never spoke to the police?”

“Of course I did. I called ’em the minute I heard about Paige’s murder on the news.”

But I hadn’t seen his statement in any police report. “Can you spare me a few minutes to talk? You can come to my office. Or I’ll meet wherever you want.”

“Meet me at Mel’s Drive-In on Sunset.”

That was about thirty minutes away. “How about twelve thirty?”

“That’ll work.”

Mel’s is a retro-style drive-in diner on the Sunset Strip. The wall-to-wall windows that face the street give customers a view of the boulevard-and give the whole world a perfect view of everything and everyone inside the place. I would’ve preferred something more private, but I didn’t want to risk bartering over the location. Storm was curious, but I could tell he’d blow me off in a hot second if the meeting was too much of a hassle.

I told Michelle to wish me luck and took off, hoping I could score a booth away from the window. But when I got there, I saw that all the back tables were filled. I was stuck with the row of booths against the window. I took a seat at the end and ordered coffee. Twelve thirty came and went. At a quarter to one I took to checking my phone every five minutes. When he hadn’t shown up at five to one, I figured I’d been stood up. But since I didn’t have to meet Rick Saunders until two thirty, I decided to give it another few minutes.

At one o’clock, Storm Cooper finally appeared. He clomped in on worn-out motorcycle boots, a black helmet with flames on the sides tucked under his arm.

He was handsome in a rugged, manly man kind of way-dark eyes that crinkled into crow’s-feet; a weathered tan; and long, wavy brown hair. I held up a hand, and he stomped over and slid into the booth across from me.

I’d considered how to approach this. I doubted Paige had told him about “Mr. Perfect.” Storm was an ex, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about her other lovers. So I decided to take an open-ended approach. “Thanks for meeting me.” He grunted and pushed back his hair. “Where’s Helen’s Bay?”

“Northern Ireland. Been there for the past couple of months.”

The waiter came over, and he ordered a cup of coffee.

“Were you in town when Paige was killed?”

His eyes hardened. “Yeah, I left a few days after. What makes you think Paige was the target?”

The honest answer was wishful thinking. I knew that wouldn’t cut it. But being the defense attorney means you get to play your cards close to the vest. “I can’t really talk about the defense. It’s privileged. But I promise I’ll tell you when it’s all worked out. Deal?”

He gave me a narrow stare. “I’m outta here at one thirty regardless. So fire away; it’s your dime.”

The waiter brought Storm’s coffee, and he dumped five packets of sugar into it.

“I’m going to need you to start at square one, because I never saw any police report with your statement in it.” Storm frowned and gave me a skeptical look. “I have no reason to lie about that. Especially with the time limit you just gave me.”

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.