The Unbidden Truth (27 page)

“Whatever he was or wasn't into has nothing to do with this trial,” Mahoney said furiously. His face was very red. “If he was a serial killer, it wouldn't have anything to do with this
trial. Next thing, you'll suggest that a cross-dressing hit man was hired. Another red herring.”

“That's an idea,” Barbara said.

“Both of you, cut it out now,” Judge Laughton said, regarding them with bitterness. “Ms. Holloway, as you say, a pattern has emerged. I see no need to draw it out further unless you can make a direct link with the trial we are hearing. Mr. Mahoney, I will take your motion under advisement.”

“Judge,” Mahoney said then, “her next witness is the architect, who has nothing to add except that Joe Wenzel was going to build an expensive house. Just more of the same kind of innuendo she's been presenting. She's trying a case against Larry Wenzel and he was in Bellingham, with more than enough eyewitnesses to prove it.”

“Mr. Vincent has a little more than that to add,” Barbara said, possibly angrier than he was. “Do you want to take over my case for me? Don't you have enough to do on your side of the aisle?”

“I said to stop this bickering,” Laughton said sharply. “Ms. Holloway, what will your witness testify to beyond the fact that Joe Wenzel was planning to build a house?”

“He met with Joe Wenzel every day until Friday of the week of the murder. Larry Wenzel never showed up. He never talked to Joe about Carrie or anything else that week.”

Mahoney threw up his hands in disgust. “So he made a mistake. What possible difference does that make?”

“Maybe we should let the jury decide if it makes a difference,” Barbara snapped. “Now you want their job, too?”

Judge Laughton stood up. “Beat it, you two. I'm going to call for the lunch recess, and I advise you to cool off and cool it when you get back this afternoon. Ms. Holloway, if you
stray beyond that fact, and if he objects, no doubt I'll sustain. You've made the point, and there's little to be gained in extending it further.”

 

During the lunch break Barbara went up and down the stairs at Frank's house endlessly. When Herbert asked if he should tell her lunch was ready, Frank shook his head. “She'll get a bite when she's ready,” he said.

Then, back in court, Barbara called James Vincent to the stand. He was a good-looking young man of twenty-eight, fair-haired, blue-eyed and very earnest. He gave his occupation: architect for a firm in town.

“Were you formerly employed by the Wenzel Corporation?” she asked. He said yes. “Were you assigned to do the preliminary planning for the house Joe Wenzel wanted to build?” He said yes again, and she said, “Will you tell the court something about the working arrangements you had with Mr. Wenzel?”

“Well, at first, for a few meetings we met at a brew pub. Later we met at the house site. It had been bulldozed level, and he wanted me to see the surrounding area. He liked to step off where the old rooms had been and where he wanted the new rooms. Then, after I began to make some sketches, we met at a café a lot, the Xenon, or the Ambrosia, or someplace like that, usually at an outdoor table, and I'd show him what I had so far and we talked about it. Then we'd go back to the site, and he would begin changing things.”

“Did you ever meet at your office?”

“No.”

“How did you get in touch to arrange to meet?”

“He had my cell phone number and he'd call, usually
around noon and say meet him in an hour or two, and he'd say where. Or at the end of a meeting he'd say to draw up what we'd been talking about and meet him the next day and he'd say where.”

“Did he ever fail to keep an appointment he made with you?”

“A lot of times he'd be late. You know, he'd say meet him at two at the site and he wouldn't get there until three or even later sometimes. And one time he didn't show up at all.”

“When was that, do you recall?”

“Yes, it was the Friday before he was killed.”

“That would have been on August ninth. Is that correct?”

“Yes. He said he'd be there at about one, but he never showed up. I waited until five and left.”

“Had you been meeting with him regularly before that day?”

“Every day that week. He had come up with a couple of new ideas he wanted me to draw, and we met at the site every day. He wanted a climate-controlled wine cellar and an acoustic room. So there were a lot of changes to make. He told me on Thursday, tomorrow, same time, same place.”

“So on August fifth through the eighth you met with him every day at the house site, and on the ninth, Friday he didn't show up. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

“What time of day were you meeting with him that week?”

“Well, I'd do drawings all morning, and then go to the site after lunch, about one-thirty, and wait for him there. Usually we left at the same time, around four or five.”

“On any day of that week did his brother Larry Wenzel join you?”

“No. He never came to the site when I was there.”

“On any of those days did you leave before Joe Wenzel did?”

“No. I never left first. I mean, he'd get a new idea of something and he'd want to tell me on the spot, not wait until the next day.”

“When you met with him was he drinking heavily?”

“The first few times when we met in a bar or something like that he had some drinks, quite a few the first two or three times, but after I began bringing sketches to show him and when we went to the site later on, he wasn't drinking. At first it was all just talk, about the biggest house in the county, with no definite plans in mind, I think, but when it began to take shape, he hardly drank at all.”

“Did he get dirty when you went to the house site?”

“Yes. He liked to walk through the site and pace off where he wanted things, and it was dirty. They had leveled it, but there was still ash, and blackened shrubs and things like that. He got pretty dirty a lot of times.”

“Did you ever see him wearing a wrist brace?”

“No.”

“On Friday when he failed to show up, did he call you to say he wouldn't be there?”

“No.”

“You said you waited for him until five. Did you have your cell phone with you?”

“Yes, but he didn't call. I just sat in my car and read a book. I kept thinking he'd turn up, but he didn't.”

She thanked him and said no more questions. When Mahoney said he had no questions, she suspected that his game plan was to simply discount this testimony as irrelevant. So Larry had made a mistake about when he talked to his brother. It didn't make any difference when that talk occurred.

 

That afternoon when Barbara called Mattie Thorne to the stand, Mahoney objected. “May I approach?” he asked, already advancing toward the bench. Judge Laughton motioned both attorneys forward.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Your Honor, we stipulated that Gregory Wenzel was in the company of six to eight other people from about eleven until about three in the morning on the night of the murder. There's no reason to drag his name into this trial at this time. Counsel is just going after the Wenzel family for her own ulterior purposes. Will she want to bring six or seven of those young people up to cast doubt on his alibi? Will she go after Larry Wenzel's business associates in Bellingham next? We'll be here until after the first of the year.”

“And I object to having Mr. Mahoney try my case,” Barbara said hotly. “I have no intention of trying to break Greg Wenzel's alibi.”

Impatiently Judge Laughton said overruled. “Let's just get on with it,” he said to Mahoney. “I'm calling it quits early today,” he said. “Around four. I have an appointment, so don't dally.”

Mattie Thorne was twenty-six and looked younger, as if she still carried a bit of baby fat on her face. She also looked nervous, but a lot of people did when they were called as witnesses.

Barbara had her give a little background and then asked, “Do you recall the events of the night of August tenth?”

Mattie nodded, then said yes.

“Will you describe what you did that night to the court, please?”

“I, that is we, my girlfriend and I, went to the Bijou that
night and met some friends there. Then we all went to the Steelhead, the minibrew pub, and had nachos and things. We all went to a couple of other places and danced and listened to music until the last place closed at two in the morning. Then Greg Wenzel took me and my girlfriend home.”

“All right. Now at two, when it was closing time at the last place you were, how did it happen that Gregory Wenzel took you and your friend home? Do you remember how that came about?”

“Yes. Bobby Brainard took us to the movie earlier, but he had been drinking beer and we decided he shouldn't drive, or that we didn't want to ride with him if he drove. We were just going to walk home. It wasn't far, six or seven blocks. And Greg said we couldn't do that, not at that hour. He said it wasn't really out of his way, and he hadn't been drinking because he had an upset stomach that night. He said he'd drive us home. Tina lives about a block from me, and that's what we did. He dropped her off and then took me to my apartment building.”

“Do you recall what time it was when you reached your apartment?”

“It was about fifteen after two by then.”

“And did he leave as soon as you arrived home?”

“No. He had said earlier that he missed the movie because he was feeling sick that evening, and when we got to my place, he asked if he could come in and use the bathroom because he wasn't feeling good, and I said yes. So he went in with me.”

“Had you been dating him before that night?”

“No. I never had a date with him.”

“How long did he remain in your apartment that night?”

“A few minutes, not even five probably. I asked him if he was okay and he said he was a little shaky, but okay. It's only about ten minutes from my place to his house, so I thought he'd be home in a few minutes and if he was feeling sick he'd be better off at home. I didn't really encourage him to stay. I was tired.”

“How do you know how far it is to his house?”

Mattie looked puzzled, then said quickly, “I never was at his house, but I know where it is, in the Crescent Estates, just a minute or two away from LCC. I went to LCC for two years, and it only took ten minutes to get there, so I knew.”

“Where is your apartment?” Barbara asked then. “Not the specific address, just an idea of where it is.”

“Off Franklin on Villard. Just a minute or two from the interstate once you get on Franklin, and then LCC in less than ten minutes. At that time of night even less than that.”

“Do you know what time he left your apartment that night?”

“Before two-thirty. I know that at two-thirty I turned off the lights and was ready for bed.”

Mahoney seemed at a loss about what to ask her since she had simply confirmed Greg's alibi. “Had you been drinking that night, Ms. Thorne?”

“A glass of beer at the Steelhead, then I switched to lemonade because I just wanted to dance later.”

“How can you be so sure about the time Mr. Wenzel left your apartment?”

She looked puzzled again, then said, “I looked at the clock when I went to bed. It was two-thirty. And it took me a few minutes to brush my teeth and put on my nightshirt and things like that.”

He let it go at that and she was excused.

Barbara had one more witness to call that day, Matthew Shiveley, who worked security two nights a week at the Crescent Estates. He was in his sixties, heavily built, and with a slight limp. He said he had retired, but needed a little extra so he took on the part-time security job. He worked from midnight until six in the morning on Saturday and Sunday nights.

“Were you on duty on the night of August tenth?” Barbara asked.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Exactly what were your duties as a security guard?”

“Not much. I sat in a little gatehouse and read most of the time. I checked in cars that got there after midnight, made sure they belonged there, and that's about all. There isn't a gate, but there's a speed bump so they have to slow down. A couple of times I'd drive through the subdivision and check things out, you know, for fires or something. It was a quiet job. Nothing ever happened.”

“When you checked cars arriving after midnight, did you keep a log, a record, anything like that?”

“Only if they didn't belong there. Then I was supposed to stop them and ask for ID and escort them to wherever they intended to go, or turn them around and see to it they left. You know, if the folks up there had company that got in late and I didn't know the cars, I'd stop them. No one else ever came in when I was working, just the folks who lived there, and once or twice visitors they had.”