course."
"Quite a motive."
"Yes, but she'd have to be really stupid to take out a policy and then kill the insured less than two weeks later. It almost makes it look like a coincidence."
"Yeah, maybe, but not all murderers are smart," I noted. "She may not have thought it through. What do you have on the victims?"
“Kramer said they were reported missing by Mrs. Wenzel Friday evening, August 2nd, I think. According to Wenzel, her husband phoned around noon and told her he'd pick the kids up from school and spend the afternoon with them. She said fine and went shopping. They never made it home. A formal missing person's report wasn't filed until the next afternoon since the father supposedly had the children."
"What else do they have?" I asked.
"A neighbor and friend of Charlotte, Janet Kaufman, claims the Wenzels were having marital problems. She says Mr. Wenzel was unfaithful and may have mentally abused her."
"What made her think that?" I asked.
"She claims Charlotte often seemed disoriented and complained of having blackouts. She thinks Gabriel or Gabe, as they called him, liked to knock her around."
"Did she see any physical evidence of that?"
"No. She couldn't remember seeing any bruises, but Mrs. Wenzel apparently wore a lot of makeup."
"Yeah, but you couldn't hide serious bruising with makeup," I said.
"How else would you explain the blackouts?" Bart asked.
"Could be drugs?"
"Yeah. Maybe. But they didn't find anything stronger than aspirin in her house."
"Anything else?"
"According to Mrs. Kaufman Gabe had a lot of issues. She said he was a control freak for starters. They had an elaborate security system with cameras everywhere designed, not only to keep intruders out, but to keep an eye on his family. It was almost like his wife and children were prisoners in their own home."
"So, you think Charlotte just got sick and tired of it and decided to put an end to it?" I asked.
"That's what Kramer thinks."
"But, why the kids? Mothers don't usually kill their children . . . unless they're insane," I noted.
"The blackouts could be a sign of mental illness," Bart replied.
"Maybe."
"Anyway, later that day I met up with Kramer at the McKinney police station. He'd picked up Charlotte Wenzel for questioning. When I got there, Kramer had been in the interview room for some time questioning her. I watched through the one way mirror. She's a young, pretty Asian woman. She looked exhausted and was having difficulty keeping her eyes opened. Kramer was pacing in front of the small table where she was seated. He was relentless but Mrs. Wenzel was sticking to her story. I wasn't sure Kramer was going to be able to break her. That's when I heard footsteps quickly coming down the hall. I turned and saw Stan approaching."
"Oh, God," I moaned shaking my head.
"He wanted to know why we were still questioning his client."
"His client?”
"That's what he claimed," Bart replied. "He said he'd called over to the station and told them she was not to be questioned without her attorney present."
Paula shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bart. I had no idea. I’m going to go have a chat with Stan right now. I can’t believe he’d do this to you."
Bart acted like he believed me but he was still angry with Stan as was I. When I got back to my office, Maria told me Stan and Mrs. Wenzel had just gone into a conference room where I joined them. Mrs. Wenzel was a brunette. She wore a mid-length black skirt, tan top, and sandals. Stan stood up. "This is my partner, Paula Waters." We shook hands and then sat.
I wanted to say something to Stan before he got started but I couldn't do it in front of Mrs. Wenzel. He must have known Bart would get pulled off the case if he took Charlotte's case. I couldn't believe he'd stabbed me in the back.
"So, Mrs. Wenzel," Stan said. "I hope they didn't treat you too badly at the police station."
She rolled her eyes. "They take me to room and let me sit long time with no food, no water."
"I know," Stan replied. "They can be very inconsiderate."
"But, thanks to you they let me go after only eight hour."
"Eight hours. I'm sorry. As soon as I heard you were being questioned, I called them, told them I was representing you, and that the interview was over."
"So, I your client?" Charlotte asked skeptically. "I not complaining; just confused.”
I frowned and gave Stan a look. What was going on? He obviously hadn't met Charlotte before and she hadn't hired him, yet he told the police he was her attorney. I folded my arms and waited with great anticipation for an explanation.
"Yes, you looked a bit surprised when you saw me."
She shook her head. "Shocked better description. I don't have money and family in Japan."
"Well, there is someone who cares about you," Stan said. "I can't disclose who it is, but they hired me to defend you." Charlotte's puzzled look deepened. "Of course," Stan continued, "I can't defend you unless you want me to. If they arrest you, they'll provide you with a court-appointed attorney—usually someone just out of law school."
Her eyes narrowed. "Court-appointed attorney?"
"Right. That's why I asked you here today—to get your consent and hopefully get started on your defense. A murder case is complex and it's important we get to work right away."
Charlotte looked at Stan for a moment seeming uncertain as to how to respond. Then she raised her dark eyebrows and said, "So, my choices are to have top lawyer in Dallas defend me, or kid outa law school 'bout a week. Is that right?"
Stan shrugged.
"Gee whiz! That such a tough decision," she smirked.
I laughed.
Stan smiled. “So, shall we get started?"
She put her hand to her chin and looked up like she was thinking. "Ah. . . . Let's see. . . . Yes, I make decision. I think I go with the ace lawyer. I curious to know, though, who thinks I worth your big fee?"
Charlotte was a hoot. Here she was about to be charged with murder and she was acting like a standup comic. I wondered if she was always this funny. She'd be great fun at a cocktail party.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. It was a condition of my employment, but I assure you I'll do whatever I can to get you off and it won't cost you a dime."
Charlotte shrugged. "Well, okay. Why not? Go for it."
"Good," Stan said. "We've got a lot to do so let's get started. . . . Let's see. . . . First, you'll have to give us a little history. Paula and I know virtually nothing about you or your family’s disappearance."
The word abduction hit me like a brick. Suddenly I knew why Stan had taken this case. This had to have something to do with the aliens. Had Stan somehow figured out that this was an alien abduction case? If so, I could see him wanting to defend Charlotte, but who was fronting the money? I couldn't imagine.
"Okay. Ah. Let's see," Charlotte started. "Gabe, that short for Gabriel, and we met about five years ago at church group. I not like him much at first. He awkward and very clueless, as they say."
"Clueless? What do you mean?" I asked.
"Dense, stupid, slow, low IQ," Charlotte said like a Gatling gun spitting out rounds. "But as I get to know him better I see him actually pretty much genius."
"Really?" I replied. "A genius?"
"Yes, he work on some super-duper secret military project. He not like to talk ‘bout work much, but they don't pay idiots big money."
"Go on," Stan said. "Tell us about your marriage."
"Well, after while I see Gabe not so bad. He just a super smart geek with lots of brains, no common sense. His mother and father long gone died and he have no brothers and sisters. He need me. I knew I'd be as much mother as wife, but he have plenty of dough and want lots of kids like me."
Tears began to well in Charlotte's eyes and she swallowed hard. "We had three kids you know. Gabe was a good father. I wouldn't kill him," she said, I don't care what he do to me . . . I not that kin
da woman."
"What do you mean, no matter what he did?" I asked.
Charlotte sighed. "Well it no big secret he have other girls."
"Really," I said. "How long had that been going on?"
"Pretty much all the time. He not try to keep it secret either. In his mind it no big deal—at least for man. First time I griped him out, he just shrug and ask what was for dinner."
"Jesus," I said. "You've got to be kidding."
"No. If not for kids and money, I'd kicked him out long time ago."
"What was his nationality?" Stan asked.
"He not from here. He from Turkey. I think Turkey like Japan. Men do what want, women do what told."
"So I've heard. Where did you live?" Stan asked.
"We have big house in Richardson—two stories, five thousand square feet, pool, 3 car garage, A/C, close to schools," she replied like she was reading from the real estate section of the Dallas Morning News.
"Do you work?"
"No. Gabe not allow it. He say being a mother full time job. I used to be a nurses' aid but Gabe make me quit. I not complain, though. Nursing hard work."
"Yeah, I can imagine," I said. "So, tell me about the past few months leading up the abduction of your children and the disappearance of your husband?" Stan asked.
Charlotte's slanted eyes closed for a moment and then opened. She licked her pale lips with one quick sweep of her tongue. For a moment I thought she was going to lose it. Then she took a deep breath and replied. "First thing I notice is Gabe seem to having something heavy on mind. He very quiet, work long hours, always nervous ’bout something, didn't see him much. When I ask him what wrong, he say, nothing. I wonder if he want divorce."
"Did he mention divorce?" I
Act Normal, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 9 Page 4