Knight 02.5 - If I'm Dead by Marcia Clark Page B

little more lean muscle—but I’ve got firearms, a great leveler. Even as we spoke, a .38 Special was resting peacefully in its holster in my botto m desk drawer.
    This had never worried Bailey in the past, so I don’t know why I thought it would now. And it didn’t. Unperturbed, Bailey continued, “We got DNA on the spot of blood on the back of the passenger seat. It’s Melissa. So now it’s nailed down. They can’t claim ‘it could just be anybody, including the robber.’ ” She dropped the lab report on my desk.
    â€œNot as good as finding her body, but better than nothing, I guess. How big’s the spot?”
    Bailey held up her right thumb.
    I sighed. “That’s it?”
    It wa s good, don’t get me wrong. Especially because it was in a car that only Melissa drove, and it was on the passenger side. But a spot that small could be explained away as a random accident: So she cut herself, big deal. It happens. I wanted a piece of evidence that was a slam-dunk. This wasn’t it.
    Bailey added, “And we haven’t had any of those BS ‘sightings’ for the last four months.”
    That was true. The raft of phone calls we’d initially gotten from people who’d claimed to have seen Melissa in the weeks aft er her car had been found abandoned had largely dried up. The defense always loved to point to these folks to show the jury that there was reason to believe the victim was still alive. Most of them were either looking for their fifteen minutes or channelin g their victim “sightings” through tinfoil hats. But in this case all things worried me.
    â€œThat doesn’t mean they couldn’t still come crawling out of the woodwork at trial.” I picked up the lab report. “And, of course, our DNA expert Albert Kwan can’t say when the blood on the seat was deposited.”
    â€œLook, I’m a detective, not a magician. What do you want me to do? Go to the morgue and get you a body?”
    â€œGee, I didn’t think you’d want to. But if you’re up for it, I’m in.”
    Bailey glared at me, then continued, “And I talked to Kwan. You’re right, he can’t say exactly when the blood got there, but he will say it had to have been left there fairly recently for it to yield so much DNA, given the conditions.”
    â€œYeah, that’s cool, but—”
    â€œBut what? What innocent explanation is there for her blood to be on the back of the passenger seat?” Bailey demanded. “It’s not like she would accidentally cut herself and then drip blood near the bottom like that.”
    I held up my hand. “You’re preaching to the choir, Keller. I’ll be preaching to the twelve-headed monster. And that monster will be looking at Mr. Wonderful, never-had-a-parking-ticket, former Eagle Scout, now welfare-reform activist, and thinking, This guy killed his wife?”
    â€œHis rich wife, who se prenup cut him out if they divorced—”
    â€œAnd whose family, even if we lose this case, will have lawyers who’ll know how to tie up all that money in litigation until the guy’s in assisted living.” I had no doubt the defense would find a way to get that little nugget in front of the jury so they could argue that the defendant had no motive to kill Melissa. Of course, I planned to take every opportunity I could to point out that he didn’t have the legal sophistication to anticipate any of that. But all the defense had to do was raise a reasonable doubt; they didn’t have to prove what Saul knew. It was yet another stumbling block in this obstacle course of a case. Dwelling on it wasn’t making me feel any better, so I did a quick mental review of my to-do list, searching for a reason to get optimistic. I remembered we hadn’t heard back from our criminalist. “Did Dorian turn in her report yet?”
    Bailey pulled out her cell and