“You said your former husband tried to buy Paul’s love.”
“He gave him money. And he bought Paul his BMW.”
“How often did they see one another?”
“They got together maybe once a month. Adam would take Paul to a Lakers game or out to dinner.”
“You said that Paul called you at work yesterday. What do you do?”
“I have my own real estate agency.”
“I imagine that’s a lot of work.”
She didn’t answer at first but then said, “I took a client out to dinner last night and didn’t get home until late. I just assumed Paul was spending the night at a friend’s house. He was always with his group, what he called his entourage.”
For a moment she showed a fleeting smile, but it quickly turned into a flinch; it hurt too much for her to remember.
“Tell me about his group.”
“They were boys from his high school. When they went out, there were always four or five of them.”
“Did he have a best friend?”
I got a small nod. “He’s known Jason Davis since sandbox days.”
“I’ll need Jason’s personal information, along with the names, telephone numbers, and addresses of Paul’s entourage.”
She reached for a black address book on the desk and extended it to me. “I know most of them by their first names, so I had Paul enter their names that way.”
Michelle closed her eyes for a moment and in a tired voice she said, “Look for Alec, David, Cody, Sam, and Jason. They were his mainstays.”
She leaned back in her chair. Because she was no longer hunched forward, I could now see the rips in her blouse. There were tears in at least half a dozen spots. My scrutinizing didn’t go unnoticed.
“When I was a girl, I watched as my grandmother ripped apart her clothing when she learned her sister had died. I remember how she looked so crazy. Her face was all contorted, and she attacked her clothes in this violent, terrible way. Back then I couldn’t understand why she would do such a thing. Now I do. But I didn’t stop at just ripping my blouse. That wasn’t enough. So I started tearing my hair out. And the only reason I stopped doing it was because the pain began making me feel better, and that was wrong.”
“Can I call someone to be with you?”
“My daughter is flying home. She’ll be here tonight.”
While I filled out my field interview cards with the phone numbers and addresses of Paul’s friends, Michelle Klein stared into space. Every so often a tear made its way down her cheek. When I was finished, I stood up and once more offered my condolences. She said nothing until I began closing the door behind me.
“Get the bastard,” she said.
After I left the Klein house, I called Jason Davis. Judging from his reaction, he didn’t yet know of Paul’s death and couldn’t understand why an LAPD detective was asking to meet with him.
“What’s this concerning?” he asked.
“Paul Klein,” I said and didn’t elaborate further.
Although Jason was eighteen, I offered him the option of either speaking to him at his house in the presence of his parents or meeting him somewhere. Jason decided he didn’t want a cop questioning him in front of his parents and suggested we meet at a coffee house on North Beverly.
“I’ll be easy to spot,” I said. From experience I knew it was better to get the matter of my appearance out of the way early. “Just look for a guy with an ugly scar on his mug.”
When I arrived at the coffee shop, I found all the outside tables deserted, which was as I hoped. Southern Californians aren’t known for braving the elements, and with the thermometer hovering around sixty degrees, they had retreated indoors. I told Sirius to park himself and then went inside. There wasn’t much in the way of food still available, but I found an egg salad sandwich that didn’t look too mushy.
The sandwich went well with the hot coffee, or at least what I ate of it did. Sirius got the lion’s share. While waiting for Jason, I called Gump. He and Martinez were still working the crime scene at the park and would probably be there most of the night. According to Gump, LAPD Media Relations was in the process of releasing a statement to the press detailing the circumstances of Paul Klein’s death.
“The shit’s just about to hit the fan,” Gump said. “The media air force has been trying to get footage all day. They know there’s a body in the tree, and they know there’s something
As if to emphasize what Gump was saying, I could hear the sounds of a helicopter flying low over the crime scene.
“I guess the kid’s father is some bigwig, right?” Gump asked.
“He’s a producer.”
“That figures. Media Relations tells me he’s got a press conference scheduled right after their announcement. Supposedly, he’s going to offer a million-dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of his son’s killer.”
“That’s all we need,” I said, knowing that kind of money would bring every crackpot with supposed information to the party. “We’ll have to pull some uniforms to handle the calls.”
“Yeah, we might as well just open our own psychic hotline.”
A preppy-looking kid, hands in his designer jeans, made a slow approach to where I was sitting. He acted wary, looking from me to Sirius and then back to me again.
“I’ll get back to you,” I told Gump.
I pocketed my phone and motioned for the kid to sit, saying, “The dog’s friendly.”
Before sitting he asked, “Can I see some ID?”
I pulled out my badge wallet and showed him my detective shield. When he finished looking at it, Jason Davis sat down in a chair opposite me.
“Michelle Klein told me you’ve known Paul for a long time.”
“My whole life,” he said.
“If you haven’t heard then, I am afraid Paul is dead.”
Jason’s mouth opened and he stared at me in disbelief.
“He was murdered yesterday,” I said.
I continued to watch him. Jason’s surprise and shock looked real.
“Do you know anyone that might have wanted to harm Paul?”
He shook his head and said, “I can’t believe it.”
“Are you aware of anyone that threatened Paul?”
“No. This is crazy.”
“Paul’s body was purposely put on display. He was nailed to a tree, which suggests to me that this killing was personal. Can you think of anything Paul might have done that might have made anyone want to do that to him?”
Jason shook his head again.
“When was the last time you saw Paul?”
He thought for a moment and said, “Yesterday at school. He was supposed to meet up with us last night but he was a no-show. We called him a few times, but he never picked up.”
“Where was he going to meet you?”
“At the Music Hall.”
Laemmle’s Music Hall 3 is a movie theater on Wilshire Boulevard.
“Who else was there with you?”
“Sam Drexler, David Popkin, and me.”
I already had the other boys’ names; they were part of Paul’s group.
“Were you surprised when Paul didn’t make it?”
“We just figured something came up.”
“So you saw the film without him?”
He nodded.
