At one of the pretrial motion hearings Mahoney had argued successfully that the Wenzel Corporation had nothing to do with Joe Wenzel’s private life, and that the defense must not be permitted to besmirch the reputation of one of the city’s leading businessmen. No mention was to be allowed of whatever irregular arrangement had been reached with Joe Wenzel about his employment with the company, and since all the Wenzels had ironclad alibis for the night of the murder, they were not to be implicated by any suggestion or innuendo of any complicity in that murder.
Afterward, Barbara had said furiously, “But you better believe if he opens a forbidden door even a crack, I’ll be in there like gangbusters.”
That afternoon when Mahoney called Larry Wenzel to the stand, she was on full alert for a door left open a crack. Larry Wenzel was as impeccably groomed as before, with a fine gray suit, tie, freshly shaved and coiffed. Nora and both sons were in the courtroom, and they all could have posed for a clothing ad for a glossy magazine. Luther, the older son, had inherited Nora’s fair complexion and blond hair. Gregory looked very much like the photograph Barbara had seen of Larry and Joe when they were about his age, ruggedly handsome, with thick dark hair and a muscular build.
Mahoney led Larry Wenzel through a few opening statements: the company had been in Eugene since 1975; the Cascadia Motel restaurant and lounge were company property; Joe Wenzel had lived in the motel after a fire destroyed his house.
“Do you recall an occasion when the motel manager, Mr. Ormsby, spoke to you about your brother’s behavior regarding the defendant?”
“Yes.”
“And did you do anything about that?”
“I talked it over with my wife, and we agreed that Joe’s personal life was none of our business, but I was curious about the lounge and restaurant receipts, which Mr. Ormsby said had improved considerably since she started playing the piano. We, my wife and I, visited the lounge to look over the books and saw that there was a vast improvement. Joe had a remarkable sense of business, and I knew appealing to the businessman in him would be effective. I suggested that he confine his attention to the piano player during her off-hours, not distract her when she was working.”
“Did you hear of any more complaints following that talk?”
“No. I assumed he was following my advice. I never gave it another thought.”
“Now, on Friday, August ninth, Mr. Joe Wenzel deposited a check from the Wenzel Corporation for five thousand dollars, and withdrew one thousand in cash. Did you speak to your brother about that check?”
“Yes. He called on Thursday and said he needed an advance against his next paycheck. Since his checks were on an automatic electronic deposit schedule, it would have been a little hassle to do it that way, and I suggested that he could simply pick up a check. I asked him to meet Nora, my wife, at an auto repair shop and drive her home to meet me after she left her car there, because I wanted his advice about some property I was considering for possible development. I told him that if I was delayed Nora could sign the check, but I hoped to see him that late afternoon. I had a business trip scheduled, and had to leave on Saturday morning and didn’t expect to return home until Wednesday of the following week. I wanted to talk to him before I left if possible. As it happened, I was delayed, and my wife signed the check and he was gone when I arrived home.”
“Why didn’t you have him drop by your office to pick up the check?”
“Nora was going to be tied up in meetings, and I was out on Friday. I had three properties to inspect, and it took all day to cover them.”
“All right. Did your brother say why he needed the check?”
“Yes.”
“What was his stated reason?”
“He reminded me of our talk about the piano player and said there wouldn’t be any more complaints, that he was taking my advice and dealing with her in her off-hours. I’m afraid he used rather crude language.” He turned an apologetic grimace toward the jury. “He said he planned to buy himself a piece of her ass that weekend, and there was nothing like cash to thaw a…” He shrugged. “Anyway, he had been drinking and his language tended to become vulgar at those times. I was a bit disgusted and cut the conversation short.”
“Mr. Wenzel, did your brother specifically mention the defendant? Did he use her name?”
“Yes. He used her name, and he also referred to her with various street obscenities.”
“When your brother was drinking, did he become physically abusive?”
“Sometimes, especially with women.”
“Did he drink to excess?”
Wenzel shifted in his chair, then said in a low voice, “I’m afraid he was an alcoholic. He was cursed with an illness he couldn’t control. Since our father died of alcoholism, I was concerned about it.”
“Did you maintain a good relationship with him?”
“Yes. I didn’t approve of his lifestyle, but he was the most astute businessman I’ve ever known and I had great respect for his advice. And he was my only living relative outside of my immediate family. I promised our mother years ago that I would always look after him and I did, always with the hope that he would seek help for his problems.”
“Had he been married?”
“Yes. Three times.”
“How long have you been married, Mr. Wenzel?”
He looked past Mahoney and smiled slightly at Nora. “Forty good years,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Wenzel. Your witness,” Mahoney said to Barbara.
Larry met her gaze with the same frank, open expression he had shown to Mahoney, that of a man who wanted nothing more than to be helpful in a difficult situation.
“Mr. Wenzel,” she began, “when your brother’s house burned, did he lose all his possessions in the fire?”
“I believe he did, except for the few things he had taken along on a trip.”
“He was out of town when the fire occurred?”
“Yes.”
“Did he collect insurance on the house?”
“Objection,” Mahoney said. “Irrelevant.”
“I don’t think it is,” Barbara said. “A few weeks later he said he needed five thousand dollars. It’s pertinent to learn how low in cash he might have been.”
“Overruled,” Judge Laughton said after a moment.
“The house was company property,” Wenzel said. “The corporation collected insurance.”
“I see. Did he have a lease arrangement, a rent arrangement, something of that sort?”
Mahoney objected again and this time was sustained.
“Whose idea was it to have him move into the motel after he returned home?”
“We discussed it, and he decided that would be best.”
“Do you recall when the fire occurred?”
“I believe it was on July seventh.”
“When did your brother return home?”
“The next day. I called him and he flew home the same day.”
“Did you meet him at the airport?”
Mahoney objected. “Your Honor, this is irrelevant.”
“It isn’t,” Barbara said. “I’m trying to learn how Mr. Wenzel’s handgun escaped damage or destruction in a house fire that destroyed all of his possessions.”
“Overruled,” the judge said, but he sounded impatient, and he was frowning at Barbara as if in warning.
“Would you like for me to repeat the question?” she asked Wenzel then.
“No. I did not meet him. He had left his own car at the airport lot and he drove himself to the motel.”
“He went straight there from the airport?”
“Yes.”
“When did you discuss his living arrangements with him after the fire?”
“We talked on the phone about it when I called him,” he said. “Later, I met him at the house site and we talked further.”
“At that time did you discuss building a new house for his use?”
He hesitated a moment, then said yes.
“Did you know that he owned a handgun?”
“I knew he had owned one years ago. I wasn’t aware that he still had it.”
“Mr. Ormsby testified that he told you about Ms. Frederick’s complaint on Tuesday, July 23, the day after she spoke with him. Is that your recollection?”
He shrugged. “I don’t recall the date.”
“How long after he notified you of possible trouble was it that you visited the lounge and inspected the books?”
“The following weekend,” he said. “I believe it was on a Saturday night.”
“That would have been on the twenty-seventh,” she said. She went to her table and picked up a large calendar, placed it on an easel and moved it to where it would be visible to the jury. It already had a note by July 23, the day Ormsby had talked to Larry about Carrie’s complaint. She made another note to indicate that Larry and Nora had visited the lounge on Saturday, July 27. “And how long after that was it when you spoke with your brother?”
“Not long. A day or two. I don’t remember exactly.”
“Isn’t it true that you and Mrs. Wenzel flew to San Francisco on Sunday, July 28, for a week-long vacation?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, and a new tightness appeared around his mouth, probably unnoticeable to anyone not looking for a reaction, she thought, watching him steadily.
When he hesitated, Mahoney called, “Objection. Improper cross. Irrelevant.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said. “I’m trying to fix a chronology of when various events occurred that Mr. Wenzel referred to in his testimony.”
The judge overruled, and Barbara repeated the question.
“I think that’s about right,” Wenzel said. “I just don’t recall those dates offhand.”
She added that note to the calendar. “So it was more than a day or two from the time Mr. Ormsby spoke to you that you spoke to your brother. Is that correct?”
“If you say so after consulting a calendar. I don’t remember exactly.”
“If you returned home on August third, a Saturday night, that would be eleven days,” she said. “Did you speak with him on Sunday?”
“I may have done so,” he said.
“Before or after you played golf?” she asked, keeping her gaze fixed on him.
“Not on Sunday,” he said. “I think it was Monday, a working day. I met him at the house site.”
“You spoke with him in person, not on the telephone?”
“Yes.”
“That would have been on August fifth,” she said, adding that to the calendar. “Almost two weeks from the time you learned about the complaint. Were you not concerned about the matter?”
“Not particularly,” he said after a moment. “I was more interested in the increase in business than his private affairs. But I didn’t put a high priority on it.”
“All right. Did you leave work to go meet him at the house site?”
“Objection. Counsel is beating this into the ground, Your Honor. And to no purpose.”
“I agree. Sustained. Please move on, Ms. Holloway.”
She nodded. “Did you see Mr. Vincent at the house site that day?”
Wenzel hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”
“You stated that your brother was planning to rebuild on the site. Would the new house have been company property the same as the one that burned?”
“Objection! This is all extraneous and has nothing to do with the trial we are hearing.”
The judge sustained it, and then said, “At this time the court will have a ten-minute recess.”
After the judge walked out and the bailiff was leading the jurors from the courtroom Barbara murmured to Frank, “I always suspect he wants a little nip of something to sustain life.”
Frank grinned and nodded. And Carrie said, “Wenzel has the eyes of a snake, just like his brother. He’s scary.”
“Come now, he’s a leading businessman,” Barbara said. “Let’s have a cup of coffee. We won’t get back to it until about four, I’m afraid.”
Shelley stood up, but Frank was already on his feet. “I want to stretch my legs,” he said. “I’ll bring coffee back.”
Barbara was watching Wenzel and Mahoney having a conference at the prosecutor’s table. She suspected, or perhaps simply hoped, that Wenzel was giving orders and Mahoney was explaining why he couldn’t follow them.
When Frank returned, he said, “The press is out there waiting. They want to talk to the Wenzels, I suppose. I told Bailey to forget using the lot across the street. He can circle the block until we appear. I don’t want us to wade through reporters, photographers and a video crew on the way out.”
When court was in session once more, Mahoney stood up and asked permission to approach the bench. Judge Laughton motioned them both forward. “What now?” he snapped. Barbara caught a whiff of mint.
“Counsel for the defense is dragging this out through malice or spite or something to no purpose, Your Honor,” Mahoney said indignantly. “Mr. Wenzel has an important meeting in the morning, and he doesn’t want to be held here unnecessarily.”
The judge looked at Barbara. She shrugged and said, “I’m doing the best I can. Of course, I can always try harder.”
She thought she recognized a glint in the judge’s eye that suggested that he knew exactly what she meant. He sighed, then said, “Do try harder to be brief.”
“Mr. Wenzel,” she said, when all the players were once again in place, “we’ve established that you finally spoke to your brother about Ms. Frederick’s complaint on or about Monday, August fifth. Did you speak with him again that week before Thursday?”
“No.”
“Did he call you on Thursday at work?”
“No. I was home when he called.”
“Is that when he said he needed the five thousand dollars right away?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Were you surprised that you had seen him only a few days before that and he had not mentioned it then?”
“Not really. He was unpredictable.”
“On what days does your company make the electronic transfers of salaries?”
“The first working day of each month.”
“That would have been on Thursday, August first. Is that correct?”
“If that was the first working day of the month, that’s correct.”
“Oh, I have the calendar here. We can refer to it—”
“Objection,” Mahoney said a bit stridently. “We stipulate that it was the first working day.”
“Thank you,” Barbara said to him, smiling. She turned back to Wenzel. “So on the first of the month your brother received his regular monthly paycheck electronically. I assume he was well paid by the corporation for his invaluable advice.”
Not a tinge of sarcasm colored her words, but Wenzel’s mouth became tighter. “He was well paid,” he said. His reasonable, measured tone was starting to become a bit frayed, the words more clipped.
“Yes. In fact, I have here his bank statement at the time of his death.” She turned to Shelley, who had the sheet ready to hand her. She showed it to Mahoney, who looked it over with a frown, then to the judge, who barely glanced at it, and finally she handed it to Wenzel. “That statement shows that your brother’s account had a fifteen-thousand-dollar deposit made electronically on the first of the month, that his balance was twenty-eight thousand dollars in checking, twenty-two thousand in savings, plus some CDs, and a money market account.”
Wenzel took reading glasses from his pocket and put them on, then took a long time studying the statement. When he put it down, she said, “With that much money in the bank, accessible to him, can you account for his saying that he needed five thousand dollars right away?”
“I can’t,” Wenzel said. “As I stated earlier, I was disgusted and cut the conversation short. I didn’t want to talk to him when he had been drinking.”
“I see,” she said. “What time did you arrange for him to meet your wife on Friday at the auto shop?”
“I told him she would leave work to take the car over at four, and it would take her a few minutes there. He said he would pick her up at about twenty minutes after four.”
“It’s about a twenty-minute drive from the shop to your house, isn’t it? Possibly a little longer at the time of day on a Friday.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t time my trips to the minute.”
“If he picked her up at four-twenty, and took twenty minutes at a minimum to arrive at your house, that would put him there at about twenty minutes before five. He was at the bank at ten minutes past five and the trip back to town to the bank would have been a bit longer than going to your house, probably twenty-five to thirty minutes. I would like to set up a map to confirm the distances and possible time involved,” she said, glancing at the judge. He looked murderous. And Mahoney was livid.
“Objection! This is all irrelevant to the trial at hand!”
The judge beckoned them both to the bench. “What’s your point?” he demanded of Barbara.
“Your Honor, there was not enough time allowed for a discussion between the brothers considering those times and distances to travel back and forth. Possibly Mr. Wenzel misspoke when he said he wanted to ask Joe Wenzel for advice.”
“He said he was delayed. He meant to be there earlier,” Mahoney said sharply.
“Would you like to take the stand and testify for him?” Barbara asked.
“Knock it off, both of you,” Judge Laughton said. “Ms. Holloway, I’m warning you, don’t continue to drag this out indefinitely.” He motioned them away, then said, “Overruled.”
Moving leisurely, Barbara placed the map on her easel and, referring to it, made the same points. Then she said, “So he couldn’t have been at your house for more than five minutes. You stated that you knew he wanted to get to the bank to cash the check and might have assumed that he would want to start back to town before five. Had you left enough time for the discussion you said you wanted with him, the advice you were seeking?”
“I thought I’d be there earlier, and it would have taken only a few minutes. We had already talked the matter over.”
“Why didn’t you ask his advice on Monday when you met with him and had more time?”
“I didn’t think of it then.” He had started to snap off his answers, not quite rudely, but close.
“Where were you when you realized you would be delayed?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“But at some point you must have realized it. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Does Mrs. Wenzel?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call her to say you would be late?”
“I didn’t think of it.”
“Did it occur to either of you that she could have handed your brother the check at the auto shop and have their courtesy car drive her home?”
“No.”
A dark hue had come over his face, set in hard, furious lines. With his eyes narrowed as they were, he looked like the melodrama villain getting ready to drive the young widow and her infant out into the snowstorm. And that was exactly the face Barbara had been waiting for him to show the jury. She turned back to her table and lifted a paper. It was five minutes before five, and the judge’s gavel tapping on the bench was not unexpected. It was time to adjourn for the day.
They were met with flashbulbs, a videographer or two and several reporters. “Why are you going after Wenzel? He was in Bellingham, wasn’t he?”
“Move Carrie on out, Dad,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll catch up.” She smiled for the cameramen. “There are a lot of questions to be asked and answered. Since my client, Carrie Frederick, is innocent, I intend to ask them all.”
“Why him?”
“Will he be on the stand again tomorrow?”
“Is Carrie Frederick going to take the stand?”
She laughed and kept walking. “Too many, too fast. Carrie will take the stand in due time. Mr. Wenzel will be back tomorrow. I have more questions to ask him.”
“Here they come,” someone said. The videographer swung his camera around to catch the Wenzels as they walked out of the courtroom.