The Unbidden Truth (36 page)

“So get the proof,” she said with a shrug. “Fingerprint the whole gang and see if you get any matches from that tankless heater they put in my building.” Then she added, “Hoggarth, Greg's the weak link. And he's frightened. Start asking Mattie Thorne's neighbors if they saw a car leaving at around two-thirty in the morning.” She looked at her watch. “I'm afraid I have to excuse myself at this point, gentlemen. I'm due back in court very soon.”

“The three of us can continue in my office,” Hoggarth said. “And I'll want to talk to you a little later,” he said to Barbara. His voice was not friendly.

They shook hands all around and when they left, Diebold had the map and Romero had the copy of the tape. Frank turned to Barbara as soon as they were alone. “What the devil are you up to now?”

“A hunch, Dad. Just a hunch. You don't want to know.” She stretched. “Let's send Bailey for Shelley and Carrie, and let him swing by here for us. No point in wading through reporters at the house if we don't have to. We'll go to court, the jury will say they don't have a verdict yet, and we'll go home again. I'd just as soon stay here a bit longer.”

“That judge won't let them go more than another day,” Frank said. “Too close to Christmas. Tomorrow we'll know one way or the other.”

“Hung,” she said. “That's what we'll know.”

I
t happened exactly the way Barbara had predicted, and back in the house again, she sipped wine and grinned as Herbert related how Morgan had ripped the pants nearly all the way off a photographer who had tried to come over the back fence. “He's a good old dog, that Morgan,” Herbert said. “And them photographers don't have the sense of a flea. I told them and told them, but they don't hear, and if they hear they don't believe.”

Carrie was more strained than ever, and Louise was showing the same signs of tension. Waiting was the hard part, Barbara reassured them both, but it would soon be over.

“And then a new trial,” Carrie said. “We're planning an escape, Aunt Louise and I. We have it all worked out.” She attempted a smile but it was a poor effort.

 

The next morning the judge beckoned Barbara and Mahoney to the bench. “If they can't decide by three,” he said,
“I'm releasing them. They know something's up, all this crowd in the courtroom every day, and shopping to do, it's making them nervous and sore. They're snapping at one another like a bunch of turtles. Be back at three.”

He looked and sounded as sore as he said the jurors were. As they walked back to their tables, Mahoney glanced at Barbara and started to say something, then clamped his lips, and they both took their places and listened to the judge announce that court would be in recess.

They made their way through the reporters and photographers on the way out, and a few minutes before three did it again on their way in.

The jury filed in, the judge took his seat, and he asked the foreman if they had arrived at a verdict and was told no.

“Will the jurors be able to reconcile their differences?” he asked, and the foreman said no. He dismissed them and declared the trial a mistrial.

Barbara had asked Shelley to be watchful, to hang on to Carrie when the verdict came in, just in case, and Shelley was there, but Carrie couldn't repress a low moan, and she turned as white as a living person could get. She clung to the edge of the defense table. Run away, no matter what Barbara had said. Run. Hide. Kill herself. Anything except six more months of fear, another trial, imprisonment for six more months. She swayed, then steadied as Shelley grasped her arm and she felt Mr. Holloway's hand, warm and firm, on her shoulder.

Barbara felt a cold dread surge through her. Even anticipating it did not lessen the reality of a hung jury, another trial, a failed defense, a client at more risk than ever since now the prosecution knew what path her defense would take….

Judge Laughton nodded toward her table, toward Carrie, and said stiffly, “Ms. Frederick, you are free to go.” He rose and left the bench as if the aftermath of his words were of no concern to him, as if he didn't know that his was a meaningless statement, since the prosecution could immediately rearrest Carrie and call for a new trial.

The courtroom erupted as the jurors left the jury box; some of them headed for the defense table, others fled; reporters surged into the courtroom with flashbulbs popping, bright lights flashing.

Carrie's stomach spasmed when she saw Mahoney pushing his way through a crowd toward her and Barbara. She clutched Barbara's arm.

“Good job, Counselor,” Mahoney said, shaking Barbara's hand. “The district attorney's office is dropping all charges against your client.” He nodded to Carrie, turned and elbowed his way through even more people. “We'll take questions in the corridor,” he kept saying.

Carrie looked stunned, her hand on Barbara's arm shook violently, and color flared on her cheeks, drained away. “Does that mean they aren't going to try me again?” she whispered, disbelieving.

“Sure does,” Barbara said and embraced her. Carrie was shaking as if with a seizure.

Some of the jurors were drawing near them, and some reporters who had rushed into the courtroom were cornering any juror they could get near, in spite of the bailiff who was trying to restrain them. Most of them, some with microphones, were pushing their way toward Barbara's table intent at getting to Carrie, the mystery child who had been resurrected. Then Hoggarth was at Barbara's side.

“We'll go out through the back way,” he said, motioning a uniformed officer to come along. The bailiff led them out through the maze of halls to a rear exit. “I'm sending you home in a police car,” Hoggarth said. “I'll flag down Bailey and come with him in a few minutes. We have some arrangements to make.”

 

Carrie held her tears until they entered the house and she saw Louise, then she wept. “I'm sorry,” she said, laughing and weeping. “I'm free, but I can't seem to stop crying.”

“They aren't going to try her again,” Barbara told Louise. “All charges are being dropped.” Louise looked as near tears as Carrie was, and they both went into the living room. “Lt. Hoggarth's coming along with Bailey,” Barbara said to Herbert. “Don't let Morgan tear off his pants, okay?”

He grinned his big grin. “Now wouldn't that be a sight. A homicide detective getting chewed up by a guard dog.”

When Hoggarth arrived and was introduced to Morgan, he shook his head. “Mountain lions and a dragon. You keep funny pets.”

They went into Frank's study, and this time Shelley was with them.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Barbara said when they were seated. She had wine, the others were drinking coffee. She felt that she had earned wine, and she had been drinking so much coffee she was afloat. “I said you'd be the one to see to it that no new trial will happen.”

He grimaced. “We had a conference, Diebold, Romero, the district attorney, a couple of others. It's a can of worms.”

“Box,” Barbara said and took a sip. “Box of worms.”

He gave her a suspicious look and Frank grinned and
leaned back in his chair. Frank's little composting worms were kept in a box on the back porch.

“It's a mixed bag,” Hoggarth said. “Mexican nationals killed in California, three murders in Oregon.” He was eyeing the wine longingly. “What will Ms. Frye do now? Where is she going? I'll make sure police protection is in place before she leaves here.”

“I imagine she'll want to go to her aunt's house. And in a few days I hope she'll have a passport and then take off for distant shores.”

“After she gives us a statement,” he said quickly.

She nodded. “If she's willing, and after she gets a little rest.”

He watched her take another sip of wine, sighed, and drank more of his coffee. “The two uniforms who brought you home will take her wherever she wants to go and they'll hang around until we get a plainclothes man on her. And we want the original of that tape.”

“When I know Carrie's on an airplane heading out,” she said. “I'll hold on to it until then.”

His lips tightened, but he held whatever comment he wanted to make. “You'll call us when we can talk to her? Soon, I hope. Our Mexican friend doesn't like our weather. He wants to go back south.”

“A couple of days,” she said.

He put his cup down and stood up. “That's it for now. Funny thing, though. The word's out that all charges have been dropped and the case is being reinvestigated. And someone let it slip that we're asking questions about Greg Wenzel's timetable for the night of the murder. Reporters got wind of it, asking questions. You can't keep a secret in this town.” He shook his head. “I'll be in touch.”

Frank went out with him and Barbara finished her wine. “You want to go on home, or sit in on my talk with Carrie?” she asked Shelley. “I have to tell her all about it.”

“I'll hang out with you,” Shelley said.

“Okay. Let's do it. They're in the living room.”

 

After she told Carrie all she knew about the deaths of her parents, and the death of Joe Wenzel, she said, “You're free to do whatever you want now. The police want a statement, and it's your decision. Also, you can talk to the reporters, or keep them away.” Carrie shook her head. No reporters. “You'll have police protection around the clock, and in a few days I expect you'll have a passport, and then the world's wide open for you.”

“Hamburg,” Louise said. “We'll both go. I'll see to the tickets.”

“Good. You're welcome to stay here, of course, or you can go to your aunt's house, whatever you want to do.”

“The house with a thousand rooms,” Carrie said. She looked at Louise. “Can we go there?”

“I can't think of a better place.”

“I'll be in touch,” Barbara said, “and you have my number if you want me for anything. Call me when you decide about giving the statement to the investigators. If you do, I'll be there. Did you see a license number?”

“No. I was just looking at the man I thought was a king.”

“Carrie, there's something else that needs saying. You said you've been running away from it all your life, but you have to ask yourself if you were running away from it, or searching for a way back to it in order to right a terrible wrong. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You were such a small child,
and now you and another brave woman in Mexico have both come forward, and you'll be the ones who will bring them down. Two brave women who had to tell the truth. Remember that when you start blaming yourself again.”

They stood up and Carrie gave Barbara a long, searching look. “I'll never forget you,” she said. “I can't repay you in any way, I know that. But I'll never forget you.”

They packed their things from the upstairs bedroom, and Herbert walked out to the police car with them. When the car left, the media cars and vans followed.

It was five o'clock and already dark and foggy again. Another typical December night, Barbara thought, watching the vanishing taillights. “You might as well take off, too,” she said to Shelley when Herbert came in.

“I'm ready when you are,” Bailey said to Shelley. “Do you want me to call off my guy at her house?” he asked Barbara.

“After tonight,” she said. “And Alan too.”

“Do I get my walking papers now?” Herbert asked in a mournful tone.

“A couple more days,” Barbara said. “Why, do you have a big date or something coming up?”

He grinned. “Nope. A new recipe I want to try out on your dad. But it takes time. A couple of days will do it.”

She went to the kitchen and poured another glass of wine and in a moment Frank joined her. “You still look keyed up,” he said. “Usually along about now the adrenaline's gone, the system says is that all, and you sort of poop out.”

“I don't think it's quite over yet,” she said. “We'll see.”

At the stove Herbert was stirring something in a pot. Without looking at her he said, “Barbara, my old pal Darren's been calling every day, just to see how you are, like that. He
didn't want me to mention it and, dang, there it slipped out. He asked me to call him when the coast is clear. Reckon I can give him a call?”

“No,” she said. “Don't you dare.” She walked from the kitchen.

Frank scowled at Herbert. “You're going to wear out that spoon or the pot.” He went to his study and gazed at the wineglass Barbara had left there earlier, and he cursed under his breath.

At seven-thirty, as Herbert was setting the table, Morgan barked once, and a moment later the doorbell rang. Herbert opened the door and Hoggarth stormed in.

“Where is she? And muzzle that monster dog.”

Barbara came down the stairs as Frank emerged from his study. “What happened?” Frank asked.

Hoggarth was looking at Barbara with a mean and bitter gaze. “You were playing them off against each other. You've been talking to them from the start, not the fucking jury. You knew something like this would happen, didn't you? Larry Wenzel's been shot dead, and Nora Wenzel said a stranger did it.”

“For God's sake,” Frank said. “Tell us something.”

“I am. She says a guy came to the house and Larry Wenzel took him to his study, and they began yelling at each other about more money. Then she heard a shot and went running to see what was going on and the guy slugged her in passing and took off.”

“Did you happen to have anyone watching the house?” Barbara asked from the bottom of the stairs.

“Happens I did,” he snapped. “No strange car drove in and left in a hurry. She came to and called the cops and they found her husband dead.”

“And no doubt Luther was home with his wife and a few other people, while Greg happened to be somewhere else with a bunch of other people,” she said. “How about that?”

He looked at her with murder in his eyes. “You planned it all. You knew she'd turn on him, didn't you?”

“She killed Joe,” Barbara said. “Greg took her to the motel and she called her daughter-in-law from that room at eleven, and then waited until she reasoned that Joe was alone. She knocked on his door, went in and shot him. She stood outside his door laughing with a dead man until she was sure someone saw her enter. He was already dead by then. Then she waited for Greg to pick her up again at three. I told you he was the weak link. He'll break and tell you all about it. No hit man. No stranger. Just another little bit of family business.”