A Cold Day in Hell Page 26

Violanti seemed not to notice and went on. “And the bite marks on my client’s shoulder were proven to be from the victim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the bite marks break the skin?”

  “Her dental pattern was clearly visible.”

  “I didn’t ask you that,” he admonished. “I asked did she bite hard enough to break the skin. Did my client need stitches? Was there any of his blood found in her mouth?”

  A moment of stony silence, then, “No.”

  “Could that bite mark have been a passion mark? Like a hickey?”

  “Objection!” Church called out. “Calls for speculation.”

  The judge nodded. “Sustained.”

  Violanti moved in closer. “David Spencer gave you everything you asked for, correct? Swabs, a statement, he let you take pictures?”

  “Correct.”

  “Did you ask Anthony Vine for any of those things?”

  “No.” Joe knew his face was stone now.

  “Did you ask anyone else for those things?” he pressed. “Anyone?”

  “No.”

  “So, what you’re telling me and this jury is that you never followed up on the possibility of any other suspect?”

  Joe’s voice was tight when he answered. Keep it under control. “He was the only suspect.”

  “Really? How long after the discovery of the body did you make an arrest?”

  “Approximately seven hours.”

  “Seven whole hours.” Violanti let that sink in with the jurors. “And you call that a complete and thorough investigation?”

  The veins were bulging in Church’s neck now as he yelled, “Objection!”

  Violanti was unshaken; he was doing some damage. Joe wanted to reach across the witness stand and throttle him.

  “Withdrawn. Detective Wheeler, how many homicides have you investigated since you’ve been with the Garden Valley Police Department?”

  “There have only been two homicides since I started, both committed by the same suspect.”

  “You’ve only handled one other homicide case in your entire career, correct?”

  Heat crept up Joe’s neck. “Yes.”

  Violanti nodded along, as if trying to do the mental math. “With your limited experience, you believed seven hours was enough time for a proper investigation?”

  “Objection!”

  “Overruled.” But the judge sounded interested. “Answer the question.”

  Joe took a deep breath. “I think I’m a very experienced detective. I’ve worked on hundreds of other types of cases. The district attorney consulted with me on all the evidence before David Spencer was charged.”

  “I rode in a plane once. Does that make me a pilot?”

  One of the young female jurors burst into a snort of laughter and Joe felt an urge to punch that bitch in the mouth.

  “Objection!” Church slammed both hands on the prosecution table. “Your Honor! I move to have that statement stricken from the record!”

  The judge looked down his glasses at Violanti. He was not amused. “Mr. Violanti, no more of that. The jury is instructed to disregard that last statement.”

  Stricken, Joe thought, what horseshit. It’s already out there. And the little prick knows it.

  “Sorry, Your Honor.”

  “Continue, but carefully, Counselor.”

  “Of course,” he said, trying to look sheepish, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Sorry, Your Honor,” he repeated.

  “Get on with it.”

  Joe could tell the judge was getting frustrated with Violanti’s shitty tactics. Hopefully, the jury was too.

  Violanti jumped right back in. “Detective, are you aware that a tracking device was found on Katherine Vine’s vehicle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you present when it was discovered at your police impound, attached to the underside of her vehicle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever follow up as to how such a device came to be placed on her car?”

  “No.”

  “No?” Violanti asked as if he were shocked.

  “No,” Joe said, trying to control his voice, his demeanor. The jury wouldn’t like it if he came off as a hothead.

  “Did you ask Mr. Vine if he placed it there?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” Violanti asked, as if this mystified him.

  “It didn’t seem connected to the crime.”

  “A tracking device, reporting her every move, didn’t seem important?”

  Beneath Joe’s expensive suit coat, puddles were forming under each armpit. He felt an irritating drip down his side. “There was no way to trace it. I looked into that. And no way to say when it was placed under the vehicle.”

  “But you never asked Anthony Vine about it?”

  “No.”

  “Because you arrested my client?”

  “Yes.”

  “And your investigation was over when you put the cuffs on David Spencer?”

  “The investigation wasn’t over, per se, but the case was cleared with arrest.”

  “It wasn’t over?” Violanti’s eyebrows shot up. “What follow-up did you do?”

  “We still needed the DNA reports, the autopsy findings, a background investigation—”

  “Wouldn’t you want to have those things before you rushed out and made an arrest?”

  Joe looked to Church as he was rising to object to the question. Violanti stepped in between their lines of sight and pounded his fist down on the edge of the witness stand. “Don’t look at him. He didn’t ask you a question, I did!”

  “Objection! Objection! Objection! Badgering the witness, out of order—”

  Violanti overrode Church’s objections with his own. “Your Honor, this investigation was a sham, my client was arrested before they even had all the evidence—”

  “Objection! The defense attorney is now testifying—”

  “Not another word!” the judge boomed, drowning them out. “Both of you! In my chambers now!”

  The three of them trooped into chambers. Like children caught fighting in the school yard, Joe knew both attorneys were getting chewed out by the judge. After a few minutes everyone came back and the judge declared that unless Violanti had any other points to make with the witness, Joe was stepping down. He instructed the jury to disregard the outburst.

  Violanti told them, “I’m done, Your Honor. The witness can step down.”

  “Respectfully, Your Honor, I’m not,” Church snapped. “I have some redirect for the witness.”

  “I’ll agree to the redirect, as long as you made it quick,” the judge advised, his tone telling Joe that his patience was worn thin by both of the attorneys.

  A half hour later Detective Wheeler was off the stand and sitting in the gallery along with the rest of the spectators.

  He was furious. His undershirt was soaked straight through with sweat, making his shirt stick to him. His eyes stayed locked on Violanti, as if he was sizing him up for target practice. This was supposed to be his day. His star moment had been tarnished by the little bastard. He looked over at Lauren, who was whispering to her partner. That bitch is laughing at me, he thought. Laughing with another guy she’s screwing. She wouldn’t have been laughing last night if things had gone my way.

  He faced forward again. This was supposed to be my moment. The runt had actually stolen the spotlight from him. He had waited so long for this. He dug his fingernails into his thighs through his pants, savoring the pain. Even when David Spencer was found guilty, Joe’s victory would be incomplete.

  It was criminal.

  78

  The trial moved on.

  Lauren wanted to kiss Violanti for the show he put on at Joe’s expense. He had made him look like a mean,
incompetent asshole. Now he was sitting out in the gallery with a pissed off look on his face that wasn’t going to endear him to any of the jurors, that was for sure. After last night, any doubt had been erased as to what a psychopath Joe Wheeler really was. Seeing Violanti reveal a glimpse of it on the stand was a small victory for Lauren. Still shook up from their run-in, she tried to focus on the trial, not Joe sitting across the aisle.

  The next witness was the Vines’ maid. Anita Perez was a stout, smart, efficient woman. The type that not only worked for a household, but became part of it. Anita was olive-skinned and dark-haired, with the faintest trace left of her Madrid accent. Dressed in a simple yellow blouse and black pants, she clutched a patent leather handbag to her bosom. She twisted a frayed piece of the shoulder strap as they swore her in. It was probably her way to keep her hands from shaking, but it was distracting. The more questions she was asked, the harder she twisted and pulled.

  Anita stated that she had worked for the Vines since the twin boys, Jacob and Andrew, were born. Church took her through the events of the night and next morning step by step. Her testimony was exactly what Lauren expected it to be. No bombshells were dropped.

  After Church established his timeline, he went into the Vine family’s home life. Anita stated as she twisted that it was not out of Mr. Vine’s character to not come home some evenings. “Most of the time,” she said, “Miss Katherine didn’t seem bothered by it, but she was on a lot of medication and nothing seemed to bother her too much.”

  Katherine was a loving mother to her two sons, spoiling them and treating them with gifts whenever she could. “A good woman,” Anita declared as she began tearing up. “A good woman taken too soon.” The boys were devastated at the loss of their mother and Mr. Vine hadn’t been the same since. The house was not the same. She broke down on the stand and the judge let her have a few moments to collect herself. Lauren’s heart went out to her, watching her have to display her grief on the stand.

  Church declared he had no more questions.

  Violanti had no questions for her. Lauren knew he didn’t want to anger the jury by appearing to squeeze a poor, grief-stricken woman. Anita stepped down and practically ran from the courtroom, dabbing an old-fashioned handkerchief to her face. Lauren absently wondered if she had sewed the hanky herself.

  The prosecution then called the man Lauren had been waiting for: Anthony Vine.

  Vine stepped to the witness stand with the appropriate look of grief on his face. He wore a black suit coat over a white tee shirt with tan pants, like some sort of Miami Vice throwback. His hair was unnaturally black, to match his unnaturally tanned complexion and his overly muscular build. He was a man in his fifties trying to look like he was still in his twenties. The results were both sad and comical at the same time. Lauren thought his only saving grace had to be his money—why else would any woman be seen with someone like him? Power, she thought as she studied him on the stand. He has a lot of power around this rusty city. He holds the keys to a lot of doors. And maybe he also locked some of them.

  Carl Church was no fool. He put the affair with Jennifer Jackson out there right away. He led Vine step by step through his movements of the day of Katherine’s murder. Vine had gone to work, caught dinner with two business associates at Fiamo’s steakhouse, then met Jennifer Jackson at his condo on the waterfront. They drank some wine, made love, and fell asleep, not to wake up until the morning, when he rushed home to find his wife missing. Church rested.

  Frank Violanti walked toward the witness stand with the same deliberate slow stroll he used for Joe Wheeler. His fingertips dragged lightly over the polished desk as he made his way around it. Lauren admired Violanti’s nerve. He knew how to push all the right buttons. Anthony Vine sat glaring down at him from his seat. He was visibly becoming angrier with every second Violanti wasted. Finally, he stood before Vine, a tiny David to his tanned Goliath, and smiled.

  “How are you today, Mr. Vine?”

  “Am I supposed to answer that?”

  Violanti waved his hand, as if he was not concerned at Vine’s obvious hostility. “Withdrawn. Mr. Vine, you just went through your whereabouts with Mr. Church on the night your wife was murdered. You and Jennifer Jackson were at your condominium that night, correct?”

  “I already said we were.”

  “Of course you did. We all heard you say it.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the jury box. “And how long were the two of you together that night?”

  Church jumped up. “Objection, Your Honor, asked and answered.”

  “Sustained. Rephrase the question.”

  “Mr. Vine, at what time did you and Mrs. Jackson arrive at your condominium?”

  “I said about eight o’clock.”

  “And what time did you leave?”

  “About six thirty in the morning.”

  “You never left? The two of you stayed in the condo the entire time?”

  “Objection! Asked and answered!” Church was getting red in the face again.

  He’s going to stroke out by the end of this trial, Lauren observed. It looks like his head is going to explode.

  The judge dismissed him this time. “I’ll allow this line of questioning.”

  Violanti practically beamed. “Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Vine could you please answer my question?”

  “No. We never left.”

  “Never?”

  “Objection!”

  “Overruled. Move on, Mr. Violanti,” the judge cautioned.

  Anthony Vine clenched his teeth together. “We never left.”

  “And did you call your wife?”

  Vine nodded. “I told her I’d be working late.”

  “What time was that?”

  “About eight o’clock.”

  Violanti whirled around and went back over to the defense table. He grabbed a stack of papers and asked they be moved into evidence. Church asked to see them, bobbed his head once in agreement, and he passed them to the court reporter to be marked as exhibit 23B. Finally, he turned to Anthony Vine and handed him the papers. “Do you recognize these?”

  Vine ruffled through them. “Yes. They look like my phone records.”

  “Judge, let the record reflect that Exhibit 23B is, in fact, certified copies of Anthony Vine’s phone records for the month of June.”

  The judge looked at Church. “No objections.” Lauren watched Church lean in, no doubt wondering where Violanti was headed.

  “So entered,” Judge O’Keefe said. “Continue.”

  Violanti turned back to Anthony Vine. “On the evening your wife was murdered, do you see any calls or texts made to her cell phone? I believe I highlighted them for you?”

  He flipped through the pages and then stopped. “Yes. I see calls I made.”

  “How many calls did you make on that day to her phone?”

  He counted with his finger, carefully going down the column. “I made sixteen calls to her phone.”

  “Sixteen.” He paused and looked at the jury. “How many texts?”

  His lips moved as he counted. “Five texts.”

  “What time was the first call?”

  He squinted at the page. “8:39 in the morning.”

  “And what time was the last call?”

  Once again, he fished around the page. “8:02 p.m.”

  “No calls after that?”

  Vine looked again. “No.”

  “How about that night into the next day? What’s the next call you make, according to that?”

  He seemed to stiffen up. “To Carl Church at 7:53 a.m.”

  “Objection!” Church roared. “Relevance?”

  The judge looked annoyed with Church now. “I’ll allow it. Move on, Mr. Violanti.”

  “What time did you get home in the morning?”

  “About six thirty.”

 
“Was your wife home?”

  “No.”

  Lauren noticed sweat forming at Vine’s temple. She hoped the jury was close enough to see it.

  “Who was home?” Violanti asked.

  “My two sons and our housekeeper, Anita.”

  “We’ve already heard testimony from Anita that she tried to call your wife on her cell phone repeatedly that night and tried to reach you. Correct?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Why didn’t you try to call your wife on her cell?” Violanti stressed the word wife for effect.

  “Objection!”

  “Overruled!” the judge barked, and Church sank back into his chair.

  “When I got home, Anita said she had been trying all night. I was about to call the police when they knocked on my door. When the officers said to come with them, I called Carl. I wanted to know what was going on.”

  Violanti seemed to digest this and moved back over to his table. He fiddled around with his folders for a second, checked his notes, and looked up. “Can you look at Exhibit 23B again for me? Look at the day before the murder?”

  Grudgingly, Vine flipped through the pages again.

  “Can you tell me how many times you called and texted your wife’s cell phone the day before the murder?”

  Once again his finger moved down along the column. Vine cleared his throat before he spoke. “Twenty-one times.”

  “Twenty-one times.” It wasn’t a question. “You called and texted your wife’s cell phone twenty-one times the day before she was murdered. What time was the first call?”

  He looked down at the page. “8:21 in the morning.”

  “And what time was the last call?”

  “11:02 p.m.”

  “Where were you the night before she was murdered?”

  Now the path of the questioning was clear and Vine looked over toward Church. “Don’t look at him,” Violanti prompted again. “Look at me. Where were you at 11:02 the night before your wife’s murder that you had to call her cell phone?”

  “Objection!”

  “Sit down, Mr. Church!” the judge admonished. “No grounds for objection. Answer the question, Mr. Vine.”

  “I was with Jennifer Jackson at my office.”