Winter of Frozen Dreams: A True Story of Passion, Greed, and Murder

Winter of Frozen Dreams: A True Story of Passion, Greed, and Murder

Language: English

Pages: 261

ISBN: 0809241056

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The story of the sensational Madison, Wisconsin, murders that stunned an entire community. Karl Harter unravels the grisly plot surrounding BArbara Hoffman, college student turned prostitute, whose cold-bloodied ambition would lead to an almost perfect crime. 25 black-and-white photographs.

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evidence, but it provided a fascinating lesson in human relations. It was not the talk that held the gist of this meeting; it was the negotiation and manipulation of that silent space that separates two human beings, that area of intimation and gesture, the region between faces where contact is established or deflected. Barbara was an expert in that territory. With Davies she controlled that zone, ruled its interior with the same quiet skill that a grand master employs to control the center of a

women at EDS Federal who shared office space with Barbara considered her polite and quiet. She never spoke about her personal life. Detectives working on the investigation were confounded. No one seemed to know Barbara. Her apartment held no mementos, no sentimental artifacts. There were no pictures of family or friends anywhere in the apartment; only the pornographic photographs were found. She was perspicacious and poised, and she had scuttled a professional career to satisfy the sexual whims

important, and that evening, at home, its significance hit him. Cyanide was characterized by an odor that resembled burnt almonds. Too hearty a snort and the fumes could cause illness or death. But how had such a strong smell gone undetected by Billy Bauman, who had extracted all the samples Kempfert handled and who had conducted the autopsy? The toxicologist paged through the medical literature. Approximately one-quarter of the population, due to a minor hereditary defect, does not perceive the

a private matter, she said, and what did he care anyway? He didn’t care, Curtis replied; he just didn’t want to see her do something dumb. Besides, he cautioned, people rarely fuck with insurance companies and win, especially when the prize is nearly a million dollars in cash. Sawyer must have been fucked up, Barbara said. He must have been hallucinating. But as she denied the story, Curtis noticed a chalkboard posted on the refrigerator. The slate contained a list of what might have been

pick—at 27 cents a pound. One block south of the vegetable stalls and coffee vendors Judge Torphy conducted a rare Saturday session. It was June 21st. The prosecution had switched its focus from Berge to Davies. The tactics did not vary. Slowly and methodically, the state plodded on with its presentation of evidence. Insurance policies and bank materials were subpoenaed and entered into the court record. On February 24, 1978, Metropolitan National listed Barbara Hoffman’s checking account as

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