“What does ‘exonerate’ mean?”
“Clear his name.”
“Right.”
“So, tell me, Adam, were you having an affair with Elliot Anderson?”
“What? No. We were just friends.”
“The police found some illicit photographs on the premises. And lewd sketches.”
“He’s an artist. They do weird shit sometimes.”
“Does the ‘they’ you’re referring to include Cassius Peacock.”
“I guess so?”
“Did you or Cassius engage in sexual relations with Elliot Anderson?”
“No, definitely not. I know for sure I didn’t, and I doubt Cassius did either. They didn’t really get along.”
“That last bit is the sort of information you’ll want to keep to yourself,” Mr. Takeda says.
“Right. Sorry.”
“So, Elliot was an observer to your sexual practices?”
“Mr. Takeda,” I say, unable to look at him.
“The police will ask you these questions, Adam, and I want you to be prepared.”
“Okay then, yeah, he liked to watch.”
“And did you like him watching?”
“I’m an actor. I like anyone watching.”
“Would it bother you if you found out that Cassius and he had slept together?”
“Um, yeah. I’d be pissed.”
“Pissed enough to harm Elliot?”
“Maybe,” I say honestly.
“The correct answer is no, Adam.”
I chuff out a breath, frustrated with myself. “Okay, then no.”
“So, did you harm Elliot Anderson?”
“No.” I shake my head. “And they weren’t having sex. Or, if they were, I didn’t know about it. I never had beef with Elliot. He was a good friend to me. He’s the one who flew me out here and got me hooked up with a modeling agency. When Elliot was broke and needed a place to stay, Cassius offered him the pool house. He was very generous in that way.”
“So, you didn’t know Elliot was obsessed with you?”
“Was he?” I ask.
“He painted and photographed you almost exclusively. He watched you have sex with your boyfriend and cataloged it. From what I understand, he has lengthy diary entries devoted to you. Surely, you must have had a clue?”
