Gnosis (7 page)

Montgomery shook his head. “We’re both defense attorneys, so the chances of us crossing swords are nil. I have dealt with him a few times, but nothing serious. Like I said, he tends to dodge real challenges. If I did face off against him at trial, I would eat his lunch. Now, that I would savor.”

“Did he take over Abe Basham’s practice?”

“Oh, hell, no. ‘Honest Abe’ would have had nothing to do with a guy like Rogers. Trust me, Abe and Rogers were at opposite ends of the morals spectrum. Abe was revered, Rogers is reviled. They operated in different galaxies.”

“Doesn’t Rogers have an office in the same building where Abe’s practice was located? On West Short Street?”

“Yeah, but Rogers moved in after Abe died. Prior to that, Rogers had an office in Chevy Chase.”

“Has Rogers ever been in trouble?”

“You mean, with the Bar?”

“Any kind of trouble?”

“If he has, I’ve never heard about it. I figure him for one of those slick types who knows just how far to go without going over the line. Caught or not, I’m sure he’s done his share of shady dealings.”

“You know Johnny Richards?”

“Nope. What’s going on here, Jack? Why are you inquiring about a slimeball like Colt Rogers?”

“You remember the Eli Whitehouse case?” Dantzler asked.

“Vaguely. I was a kid when it happened. He was a preacher or evangelist—something along those lines, wasn’t he? Killed a couple of guys.”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking about re-opening the case. Give it another look.”

“I know you pretty well, Jack. You wouldn’t do that unless you were convinced something was off. Are you?”

“No, I’m not convinced, and won’t be until or unless I find evidence that will convince me. But I do think there is reason for doubt.”

“Who was the lead detective on the case?”

“Charlie Bolton.”

“You’re pissing in the wind, my friend. Charlie
never
screwed up.”

“No. But I talked to him about it, and he admits he was never one-hundred percent certain Eli was guilty.” Dantzler got the bartender’s attention and ordered two more pints of Guinness. “Dan Matthews worked the case with Charlie. It was his first homicide investigation. Dan had no doubt about Eli’s guilt.”

“After you, Dan’s the best homicide detective I’ve ever run across. If he was convinced, and if Charlie didn’t prove the man’s innocence, I’d say you really are pissing in the wind.”

“I don’t know. My gut says otherwise.”

“A cop’s instincts can sometimes be more persuasive than the evidence. We’ve both known that to be the case. And no one has better instincts than you. If you feel it, give it a whirl.”

Dantzler finished off his Guinness, stood, and put two twenty dollar bills on the table. “By the way, Sean. I’ve never asked you what it’s like making your living defending assholes you used to put away.”

Montgomery chuckled. “It’s easy, Jack. I just hold my nose when they hand me the money.”

“Just make sure the stink doesn’t rub off on you.”

*****

Dantzler left McCarthy’s and walked back to the station. He stopped briefly at the front desk, engaged in a few minutes of small talk with Bruce Rawlinson, and then headed for the stairs. When he reached the second floor, he saw Eric standing outside of Captain Bird’s office.

“Hey, Eric,” Dantzler said. “You serious about wanting me to take a look at your novel?”

“Sure. If you have the time.”

“For you, Eric, I’ll make time.”

“Okay, what’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“Oh, yeah, there’s a catch,” Eric insisted.

“I’d prefer to call it a Hannibal Lecter-type exchange.”

“What?”

“I give you advice, you give me information. You know,
quid pro quo
. Like with Hannibal and Clarice.”

“What information? Specifically?”

“I want you to check the
Herald’s
obit page for a specific two-week period. Make it the two weeks prior to last Saturday. Really dig into the background of those who died. I want to know everything you can come up with.”

“What’s this about?”

Dantzler spent the next fifteen minutes bringing Eric up to speed on the Eli Whitehouse case. Eric listened intently as Dantzler gave a quick overview of the murders, his being summoned to meet the Reverend, discussing the matter with Charlie, the threatening phone call, and his intention to re-open the investigation.

Eric shook his head, a look of deep skepticism on his face. “I don’t know, Jack. Sounds to me like you’re fishing for minnows in the ocean.”

“No. The phone call changed everything. It convinced me the Reverend is telling the truth. When a stranger orders me to shut down an investigation I haven’t even begun, it can only mean one thing—something is going on.”

“Any parameters on the obits thing?” Eric said.

Dantzler thought for a second, then said, “Start with males, Lexington or Fayette County residents. If we need to branch out, we’ll do that later on.”

“What do you want me to look for? Besides a criminal background, of course?”

“Anything you find that might smell. Check finances, family members, business dealings. Pallbearers, if you have the time. Did the family request donations rather than flowers? If so, where did they want the money to go? It’s gonna require you to dig through a huge pile of manure in order to find the diamond.”

“If there even is a diamond.”

“It’s in there somewhere. We’ve just got to uncover it.”

“Okay. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.” Eric laughed. “
Quid pro quo
, huh? It’s more like
quid pro I got suckered
.”

“Could be I made a fool’s deal, Eric. Depends on how good your book is.”

“It’s a helluva lot better than the obits page. I can promise you that.”

Eli lay in his bed in the prison infirmary, eyes closed tight, as though by so doing he could miraculously shut out the pain along with the light. Lying there, with a half-dozen needles jabbed into veins in his arms and the back of both hands, extremities now black and blue from the relentless torture, he felt like a pin cushion. No human should experience such indignity.

He wanted to curse God, to rail against a Maker who would allow such misery, such affliction, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t dare, never, regardless of the circumstances, however grim and horrible they might be. Eli knew better, knew that despite the intense and bitter feelings he now felt, nothing could erase his awe for the Almighty. Awe . . . and fear. To love God is required; to fear him is the true beginning of wisdom.

The pages of history are replete with cautionary tales about men and women who voiced angry displeasure at God and the consequences they suffered. Eli often told his parishioners—and his own children—the story of Kierkegaard’s father, Michael, who, while still a young boy, cursed God. That single moment of anger, only a split-second in the space of a full lifetime, placed such a heavy burden on young Michael that he never cast it away. He remained throughout his life a sad, broken, and remorseful man.

Never, Eli warned, admonish the Almighty, no matter how bad or tragic or dire the circumstances that fire your anger. His ways are not our ways, and no matter how hard we try, we can never comprehend them. His plan for each of us is his alone. We are merely his instruments, his humble servants.

And yet . . . at this moment, it took all of Eli’s will and strength to contain the angry feelings that roiled inside him. The pain he felt now was unbearable. His lungs burned like they were in flames. It felt like a mad wolverine was in his chest, chewing relentlessly at his insides, consuming his very being inch by inch. The cancer was, Eli knew, eating him alive.

The morphine available to him could ease the pain, but Eli wasn’t ready to go that route. Yes, the pain was unbearable, yet at this point he preferred suffering to being doped up and out of it. Once you choose to bury the pain behind a cloud of drugs, you also choose to abandon life as you know it. That option wasn’t acceptable . . . yet. Eli did not want to be dead while still alive.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why God had placed such a heavy burden on him. He had always been God’s faithful servant, a true believer. Yes, he had sinned, fallen victim to temptation, to lust, but he was cleansed through God’s love and mercy. He had tried to obey the Commandments, to live a pious life, to be a loving husband and devoted father. A protective father. He had taken the blame for sins he didn’t commit. Spent three decades in prison for a sentence that wasn’t rightfully his to serve.

Eli wondered if perhaps this was the sin that caused God’s wrath. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the blame. Maybe he should have pointed fingers at the real perpetrator. Maybe, by allowing a murderer to go free, he was, in God’s eyes, as guilty as the killer.

Maybe—

But he had taken the only path available to him at the time. He had but a single option then and he had taken it. Any loving father would have made the same decision. Eli simply did not believe God would elect to punish him for following his conscience in a matter involving the safety of his wife and children. God could not be that cruel and uncaring.

God had to understand.

God
must
understand.

Tears rolled down Eli’s cheeks as he drifted off to sleep.

Dantzler spent the next day studying the murder book for the Eli Whitehouse case. The report was detailed, thorough, clean, and as easy to read as a Michael Connelly novel. Exactly what you would expect from Charlie Bolton.

The specifics of the case were simple: On the night of April 5, 1982, Greg Spurlock and Angie Iler saw smoke and flames rising toward the sky. Curious, they drove in the direction of the fire, eventually arriving at the site, an old barn located next to a small pond. By this time, around midnight, a hard rain had begun to fall, effectively putting out the fire. The couple went into the barn, where they discovered the bodies of Carl Osteen and Bruce Fowler. The couple then drove to a small gas station several miles away and phoned the fire department and police.

Charlie Bolton had Dan Matthews contact Eli and ask him to come to the site. Eli arrived at two forty-five a.m. Eli was told the names of the deceased, and asked if he knew them. He stated that he did not. He was asked if he was aware of any reason why drugs would be on the property. He did not. He was also asked if he owned any weapons. He said he owned a Winchester rifle and a .22 caliber pistol. At approximately four-fifteen, Eli was allowed to leave the scene.

At five p.m. that same day, Charlie and Dan met with Eli at his house. During their talk, Dan showed a .22 pistol to Eli and asked if the weapon belonged to him. Eli said no, his was locked inside the safe. Dan asked Eli to open the safe, which he did without hesitation. Eli expressed disbelief when he saw the .22 was missing. Charlie informed Eli that the weapon now in police possession would be turned over to the ballistics experts for testing.

At approximately ten on the morning of April 6, Eli was brought to the station and officially interrogated by Charlie and Dan. The interrogation lasted more than three hours and covered a surprisingly wide range of topics.

Dantzler read the typed transcript of Eli’s initial conversation with Charlie and Dan several times, eventually returning to the section in which they discussed the .22.