“You might not always want to work. You never know-”
I turned onto my street. “I do know. I’ve gotta go.”
“You can show up late. Or just come for drinks.”
“I really can’t.” The sad, inexplicable thing was, I knew I’d probably go anyway. And so did she.
When I got home, I changed into sweats and poured myself a double shot of Patrón Silver-a gift from a client who’d cleaned house when she went into rehab. The press was well on its way to making Dale’s case a daily feast, and the jury pool was out there listening. I’d need to start using those reporters to talk to that pool right away-about burglars and drug dealers and maybe ex-boyfriends. Basically, anything that would point the finger at someone else.
I thought about where we should start digging, made some notes, and put myself to bed early. I wanted to hit the ground running.
The next morning, I was up by six thirty. I finished my first cup of coffee, then called Dale. He sounded wide awake and clear headed. I told him I was arranging to surrender him at the station so we could avoid a parade. “Has the press found your house or your phone number yet?”
“Not yet.”
“They will. So try not to do a lot of running around. If anyone does call and you accidentally pick up, just refer him or her to me. You’ve got my number handy, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Get your place in order. Have they searched it yet?”
“Yeah. First thing they did. Left it a friggin’ mess.”
“They seize anything I need to worry about?”
“Just my set of murder knives.”
“That’s a real knee-slapper, Dale. But watch out with the jokes. If the wrong person hears you, it won’t play well. So I’ll take that as a ‘no’?”
“No. I mean, they did what I’d expect. They grabbed my comb and the clothes I wore that night. I’m sure they will find my hairs and clothing fibers at the scene. But, so what? It’s no secret I was there that night. Hell, I was there a lot of nights.”
True. But still, if they found his hairs or clothing fibers on her body, it wouldn’t help. “They’ll probably toss your place again when the DA files, which could be any minute. So stand by. I’ll be back in touch.”
I showered and dressed in camera-worthy slacks and a blouse. Alex called while I was eating breakfast. “I’ve got the IO. His name is Wayne Little.”
I’d heard the name, but I’d never had a case with him. “Did he say when he thought the DA would get him the paperwork?”
“He thinks by this afternoon. And he said he’d call us as soon as he gets it and arrange a time for Dale to surrender. They’re planning to book him at Twin Towers.”
