Gnosis (9 page)

Milt Brewer was standing in the doorway when Dantzler hung up. He closed the door and stepped inside the office.

“A doctor, huh?” he said, taking off his coat. “Personal or job related?”

“Greg Spurlock was the young man who found the bodies in the Eli Whitehouse case,” Dantzler answered. “I’m trying to track him down.”

“Man, you’ve sure got a hard-on for this case. You really think it’s worth your time and effort?”

“I’m convinced Eli Whitehouse is innocent.”

“Let me tell you, Ace. If you’re right, it means Charlie and Dan, two of the finest homicide investigators this department has ever had, were both wrong. It also means they sent an innocent man to prison. Any way you slice it, I don’t like the sound of that particular tune.”

“Neither do I. But . . .” Dantzler opened the murder book, found the section where Greg Spurlock was interviewed, turned the book around, and pointed to an underlined sentence. “Take a look at this.”

“
I don’t think they were killed in the barn
.” Milt looked up and shrugged. “Okay, so what’s got you so buzzed? It’s just an observation made by a kid. What the hell could he possibly know?”

“Yeah, but why did he make that observation?” Dantzler asked, pulling the murder book toward him. “What did he see? And why didn’t Charlie or Dan follow up on it?”

“Maybe they did and it led nowhere. Maybe Dan looked into it and decided it wasn’t worth noting. Not every single detail makes it into the murder book.”

“Dan wasn’t the lead detective—Charlie was. And Charlie was notorious for writing down everything. If it’s not in there that can only mean they didn’t notice it, or if they did, they didn’t check it out. Either way, I don’t like the sound of
that
tune.”

“All I can say is ask Charlie about it,” Milt said. “With the memory that old coot has, he’ll have an answer for you.”

*****

Twenty minutes after Milt left for home, Dantzler’s phone rang. The caller was Dr. Spurlock.

“Yes, Doctor,” Dantzler said. “I’m trying to locate a Greg Spurlock who discovered two bodies in a barn back in nineteen eighty-two. Would you by any chance be the person I’m looking for?”

“One and the same,” Spurlock said, chuckling. “That was certainly the most memorable date I ever had.”

“No doubt,” Dantzler said, adding, “if you can spare me a few minutes, I would like to ask you about that night.”

“What . . . you writing a book about the case?”

“No. I’m just looking into it, and I have a handful of questions I’d like to ask. Get certain loose ends cleared up.”

“Loose ends? After almost thirty years? What loose ends could there be?”

“Can you spare me the time, Doctor?”

“Sure. Let’s see, it’s a little past four-thirty. I have rounds at Central Baptist Hospital, beginning at seven. What I need now is nourishment. If you don’t mind talking while I feed my face, I’ll be more than happy to meet with you now. Say, thirty minutes.”

“Sounds good. Where?”

“What about Paisano’s, on Nicholasville Road?”

“See you in thirty minutes.”

Paisano’s, a quaint, quiet, dark Italian Ristorante, was virtually empty when Dantzler walked in. Two women sat at the elevated bar to the left, and an elderly couple was seated at a table to his right. Straight ahead he spied a lone male sitting in a booth against the back wall. The man waved as though Dantzler was a long-lost friend he was seeing for the first time in years.

“Greg Spurlock,” he said, motioning for Dantzler to join him. “You’re Detective Dantzler. I’ve seen your picture in the paper numerous times. You’re something of a tennis legend around here, aren’t you?”

“Legend may be taking it a bit too far.”

Dantzler sat across from Spurlock, who was tall, thin, and completely bald. He wore gray slacks, blue shirt, and a light yellow sweater tied around his neck. A pair of white Nike running shoes completed the aging Yuppie ensemble.

“Have you dined here before, Detective?” Spurlock asked.

“It’s been a while.”

“Terrific food at a reasonable price. If you’re hungry, dinner’s on me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“Glass of wine, maybe?”

“No, thanks.”

“So, what do you want to know about my memorable date from hell?” Spurlock said, smiling. “I remember every detail . . . like it happened an hour ago.”

“I can imagine. It must have been a traumatic experience for you.”

“Scary more than traumatic. And exciting in an odd way. After all, it’s not every day you see two murder victims.” Spurlock leaned back. “Fire away with your questions, Detective Dantzler.”

Taking out his notepad, Dantzler said, “Approximately how far do you estimate you were parked from the barn when you saw the smoke?”

“Hmm. I’ve never really thought about that.”

“How long did it take you to get to the barn from where you were parked?”

“Oh, less than ten minutes, I’d say. No, maybe closer to fifteen. It had been raining hard most of the night, so visibility wasn’t all that great.”

“At any time did you hear gunshots?”

Spurlock shook his head. “I was pretty much into the making out scene at the time. Between that and the rain, I probably wouldn’t have heard shots if they’d been fired next to the car.” Spurlock waited until the waitress placed a half-carafe of red wine on the table before continuing. “I’m no hero, Detective. If I had heard gunfire, I would have gone away from the barn, not toward it.”

“Describe the condition of the barn when you arrived,” Dantzler said.

“There had been extensive damage near the section closest to the pond, but by the time we arrived, the fire was all but out.”

“What did you do when you got there?”

“I told Angie—Angie Iler—to wait in the car while I went inside. I wanted to make sure no one was in there, needing help. But Angie said there was no way she was staying in the car alone, so she followed me in. Big mistake on her part.”

“How far into the barn were you before you discovered the bodies?”

“I saw them the second I went in. They weren’t more than ten feet away from me. They were laying side by side, face down, hands tied behind their back. Not as much blood as I thought there might be, but still a gruesome sight.”“Did you consider the possibility that the killer—or killers—still might be in the barn? That you could have been putting you and Angie in danger?”

“No, I don’t think it ever crossed my mind. I just went in without thinking, really. Stupid thing to do, huh?”

“Anything about the way they were tied up that caught your attention? The knots, maybe? Or the rope?”

“Nope. Their hands were tied behind them, and they were bound around the ankles.”

“In reading through your statement to the investigators, you stated that you didn’t think the victims were killed there. I’m curious. Why did you say that?”

“Because I thought it was damn obvious.”

“Why?”

“There were drag marks behind each body. You know, like they had been killed somewhere else, then dragged to the spot where I saw them.”

“You’re positive?”

“You bet. And I told that to the detectives when I spoke with them. Why? They didn’t believe me?”

Dantzler shrugged.

“Damn,” Spurlock said, setting down his glass of wine. “I thought they would be all over that. I mean, those two guys were not killed where they fell. I’m no homicide investigator, but even I could see the two victims had been relocated.”

“They probably did look into it and decided you were mistaken.”

Spurlock shook his head. “No way was I mistaken about that. Those bodies had been moved.”

“You see, the problem is, there was no mention of a blood trail in the report, which indicates the bodies had not been moved,” Dantzler said. “According to the detectives, all blood was pooled around each victim’s head. A head wound tends to bleed quite profusely, so there should have been a blood trail had the victims been moved from some other location.”

“I’m a physician, Detective. Before going into private practice, I spent many years working in the emergency room. I know a thing or two about gunshot wounds. Sometimes you get a lot of bleeding, sometimes you don’t. That’s true of head wounds as well.”

Spurlock sipped wine, and then put down the glass. “Tell me, Detective. Was there an exit wound?”

“No.”

“On either victim?”

“No.”

“Well, that could explain why there might not have been heavy bleeding. Oftentimes, a gunshot victim loses more blood from the exit wound than the point of entry. And the bullet was small caliber, which could also be a contributing factor concerning lack of blood.”

“The girl you were with—Angie Iler—you still keep in touch with her?”

“Haven’t seen Angie since high school. Couldn’t tell you where she lives now. Back then, she lived on Longview Drive.” Spurlock leaned back as the waitress placed a plate of chicken parmesan in front of him. “I seriously doubt if Angie could tell you very much. She got out of there in a hurry when she saw those two dead guys. Went straight to the car. She was still shaking when I got there.”

“You didn’t touch either body, did you?” Dantzler asked.

“There was no need to touch them. I could see they were goners. I stayed in the barn maybe forty-five seconds to a minute after Angie left. Then I got in the car and went in search of the first phone I could find.”

Dantzler thought for a second, said, “What about the gun? Did you see it?”

“No.”

The timber of Spurlock’s voice changed slightly, and he glanced down and to his right. Dantzler could tell he had just caught Spurlock in a lie.

“You are positive about not seeing a gun?”

“Yes.”

“You mentioned earlier that the bullet was small caliber,” Dantzler said. “In fact, the bullet came from a twenty-two. If you didn’t see the gun, how did you know that?”

Spurlock put down his fork, picked up his wine glass, and emptied its contents. “Simply a surmise on my part. You know, from the obvious absence of an exit wound.”

A second lie.

“A moment ago you asked me if there was an exit wound. Now you’re telling me there wasn’t one. What am I supposed to believe?”

Spurlock poured wine into the empty glass. “Or it could be I’m remembering it wrong. Maybe I heard it from one of the detectives.”

Now the lies were starting to pile up. And, Dantzler could tell, the doctor was not a polished or comfortable liar.

Dantzler nodded, said, “I sense you’re leaving something out, Doctor. Something you saw or something you did. Either way, I need the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Spurlock said, a little too quickly. “The gospel truth. I saw the bodies, hung around for a minute, then booked. I didn’t touch or disturb anything. I swear.”