Marcia Clark - Blood Defense

“Did anyone take photos of you?”

Dale nodded. “When I got arrested. But it’d been more than a week by then. I don’t know if the photos will show much.” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “You’ve got to believe me-when I left her apartment, she was alive. I know she was.”

“Did she say anything?”

“Yeah, when I said I was sorry, she told me to go fuck myself.”

“Where was she? On the floor? On the bed? What was she doing?” The more detail he could give about how she’d looked when he left her, the more credible he’d sound.

Dale paused and let his gaze drift over my shoulder. “She was on the floor. And she was starting to push herself up.”

“Do you think she was high that night? And when you say she was using, I assume you mean something serious, like meth or heroin?”

“Heroin, yeah. I don’t know for sure that she’d been using that night. But she seemed high. It should be in the tox report.”

We wouldn’t get the toxicology and autopsy reports for a while. It’d be good if the tox report backed up his story, but it wasn’t of critical importance right now. There was no question about cause of death. Chloe hadn’t overdosed; she’d been stabbed to death. “And where was Paige during all this?”

“Out. On a date with a guy they called Mr. Perfect. I saw her when I came to pick up Chloe that evening. Chloe said she probably wouldn’t be back till morning.”

“Who’s Mr. Perfect?”

“I don’t know. They never used his name. But I figured he was married because I remember hearing Chloe drop a comment about Paige not really needing to get all fixed up for their dates, since they never went out anywhere.”

So he lived in LA. “When you and Chloe got back to the apartment, Paige was gone?” Dale nodded. “And you never saw Paige again.” Dale shook his head. “So you’re saying someone else must’ve come in after you left and stabbed them both?”

Dale’s expression was bleak. “I know how it sounds, but that’s what had to have happened.”

He was right; it did sound impossible. But it was the only story that would get him off the hook. As much as it sucked, I knew I’d have to run with some version of it.

“Did Chloe ever mention anyone she was having problems with? Anyone who threatened her or-”

“No.”

“What about her dealer? Maybe she owed him money or pissed him off because she wouldn’t buy from him anymore…?”

“It’s possible. And I’d bet whoever she’s been buying from lately is working on the show, because a couple of times when I picked her up at the studio, she seemed loaded.”

I’d have to check that out. And I’d have to get every detail he could remember about Chloe and what she did every day, especially in the last week or so. The more I knew about her, the better my chances of finding someone else I could pin this on. “What about Paige? Did she have any enemies that you knew of?”

“No. But I do know she was no druggie.”

“What about jealous boyfriends? Or Mr. Perfect’s wife?”

“I wouldn’t know about boyfriends. And Mr. Perfect never came to the apartment. Plus…” Dale trailed off.

“Plus, what? You’d have heard if the wife had found out?”

“No, I probably wouldn’t. But if the wife knew about Paige, knew where she lived, why go to her apartment to get into it with her? Why not wait till Paige was in a place where she didn’t have to worry about a roommate or neighbors?”

Good point. And that probably let out Mr. Perfect, too. But we’d try to find out who he was anyway. A married man could make a great decoy to throw at the jury. “Do you know of anyone else Paige might’ve confided in? Someone who’d know who Mr. Perfect was?”

Dale shook his head. “But I know what I’d do if I were running this case: I’d talk to the people she worked with, check her Facebook page for friends and hangouts, see what’s on her phone or her computer. And, of course, any family you can find.”

I knew this was coming. And I didn’t mind. Matter of fact, I’d have been a little worried if he didn’t try to give me some pointers. He was a detective; it’s what he did. But I had to get him thinking from the other side of things now-he wasn’t a cop anymore; he was a defendant.

“Here’s the thing, Dale. We have to be careful who we talk to and what questions we ask. From what you’re telling me, it’s entirely possible the cops don’t know about Mr. Perfect. So we can’t tip our hand. Because if they find out about him, they’ll do everything they can to prove he’s not a possible suspect. They’ll try to find an alibi for him, or witnesses who’ll say his wife knew about Paige and didn’t care or… whatever. We don’t want that. The more straw men we can point to, the better. We’re not looking for the truth or the real killer. We’re looking for reasonable doubt. Got it?”

He stared at me for a moment, his expression stricken. It was a tough adjustment being on the other side of the lawsuit. But after a few seconds, he nodded with a look that was respectful… admiring, even. It caught me off guard.

“I just remembered something,” Dale said. “Given what you told me, I don’t know what you want to do with this, but Chloe was on the phone with her sister, Kaitlyn, when I came over. They were pretty close. You might want to check her out.”

“We’ll wait and see what the cops get out of her first. I don’t want her telling them what we asked about. And we’ll check out Paige’s connects on the down low. Alex, the guy you saw when you came in, is a fabulous investigator.”

“You just hire him? Because I didn’t see him on your website.”

“Yeah, he’s new, but he’s a real score.” And when his guilty plea got into the system, he’d also be a real felon. But I saw no reason to overshare. “For now, just for the purpose of giving quotable quotes to the media, I’m going to say we’re looking into the burglar theory.” I didn’t see how that could hurt anything. Since they didn’t get any prints, they’d never catch the burglar.

Dale nodded. “You think the case is going to stay this big?”

I stared at him. You killed a beloved actress and her best friend. Hell yeah, I do. “I think it’s likely, yes.” I mentally reviewed the information he’d given me. We’d covered all but one area. The coroner wouldn’t be able to narrow down the time of death to any less than two hours. But if the time of death was more than two hours after Dale left, we’d have a shot at selling his defense. “So you left immediately after the fight?” Dale nodded. “You know what time that was?”

He shook his head. “Late. After midnight.”

“Where’d you go?”

“I went home.” Dale sighed. “And yes, I live alone.”

It figured. “An apartment or a house?”

“A house.”

Getting worse. “Run into anyone on the way? See any neighbors when you got home?”

“No and no.” He sighed. “I know. It’s a shitty alibi.”

“The kind innocent people usually have. At least that’s what I tell my juries.” I gave him a little smile. His smile was strained. “Have you heard about any of the evidence they found yet?”

“No.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s crazy to be on this side of a case.”

I didn’t say, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He didn’t need any more depressing news right now. “Let’s take tonight to think about this. In the meantime, speak to no one. Not the press, not another cop, not your friends. For now, you have no friends. Not even Rick Saunders.”

He looked upset. No, more than that. He looked wounded. “You’re not going to take my case?”

I’d been more than ambivalent about it before. But in that moment, I knew what my answer had to be. “I will take your case. I just wanted to give you the chance to sleep on it.”