Gnosis

by Tom Wallace

  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.

  Charlie: Tell us again. When was the last time you used the weapon.

  Eli: Two weeks ago.

  Charlie: What were the circumstances?

  Eli: Circumstances? There were no circumstances simply took the pistol to the lake by the barn and fired several rounds. I do that periodically to ensure that it is in working order.

  Charlie: Was it in working order?

  Eli: It worked perfectly, as it always did.

  Dan: Here’s where we run into problems, Mr. Whitehouse. Your fingerprints are on the weapon and…

  Eli: Of course, my fingerprints are on the gun. I told you. I used it two weeks ago.

  Dan: But the gun had been fired more recently than two weeks ago. And I’m betting ballistics will confirm that it was the weapon used to kill those two boys in your barn.

  Eli: That can’t be. It just can’t be. The gun was locked in the safe. I would swear to it. I had not removed it since I last used it. If I had used it to commit murder, do you think I would be stupid enough to leave it at the crime scene? Or to let you look into the safe without a search warrant?

  Charlie: Who besides you knows the combination to the safe?

  Eli: My wife, of course. My two sons. And Abe Basham, my attorney.

  Charlie: That’s it? You’ve positive of that?

  Eli: Yes.

  Dan: I have to tell you, Mr. Whitehouse. This does not look good for you. And if ballistics does bear out my suspicions, things are going to look a lot worse. What it’s going to mean is, you committed these murders.

  Eli: I did not. As God is my witness, I did no such thing.

  Dan: Well, let’s wait and see if the evidence has the same eyes God has.

  Several pages later Dantzler read the transcript of Eli’s second interrogation. This one took place the next day, after he had officially been charged with the crime. For this meeting, Abe Basham, Eli’s attorney, was present.

  Charlie: Do I need to read you your rights again, Reverend?

  Eli: It’s not necessary.

  Abe: Why don’t you do it anyway, Detective? For the sake of protocol.

  Charlie: John Elijah Whitehouse, you have…

  Eli: This is not necessary, Abe.

  Abe: Have it your way, Eli. Proceed, Detective.

  Dan: Mr. Whitehouse, it appears as though God and the physical evidence are not on the same page. We have your prints on the murder weapon discovered at the crime scene. That pretty much makes it a done deal. Why not confess? Tell us how it went down?

  Eli: I can’t confess to a crime I did not commit.

  Charlie: Then give us a scenario that backs your story.

  Eli: I can’t.

  Dan: You claim you were at the church when the murders occurred? Right?

  Eli: Yes. I was working on Sunday’s sermon.

  Dan: What time did you return home?

  Eli: I’m not positive. Around midnight, I would say.

  Dan: Can anyone verify that you were at the church?

  Eli: No.

  Dan: You made no calls to your wife or kids? No one called you?

  Eli: No.

  Dan: The evidence points directly at you and you have no alibi. You did it, Mr. Whitehouse. There can be no other explanation.

  Eli: I did not do it.

  Charlie: Convince me.

  Eli: I have nothing else to say.

  Dan: Why not confess, Reverend Whitehouse? I’ve always heard confession is good for the soul. You, being a man of God, should know that better than anyone.

  Abe: Don’t say another word, Eli. That’s it, fellows. We’re done here.

  Dantzler briefly scanned interviews with Eli’s wife, children, Abe Basham, and several members of the congregation. The verdict was unanimous-Eli could not have committed these murders. Unfortunately for Eli, not one of them could provide an alibi proving his innocence. At the time of the murders-estimated by the medical examiner to have occurred between nine-thirty and eleven that night-no one could remember seeing Eli Whitehouse.

  Charlie and Dan had every right to arrest Eli for the crime. The full weight of evidence pointed directly at him. The murder happened on his property, the murder weapon was his, it had his prints on it, and it was at the scene. That alone was damning enough. Throw in lack of an alibi and the case became, as Dan said, “a done deal.”

  Dantzler had seen plenty of suspects convicted on much less evidence.

  Still-

  Three areas troubled Dantzler. The first was motive. Or, more specifically, lack of a motive. Why would Eli kill two young men he did not know? During the entire investigation, Charlie and Dan never established a connection between Eli and the victims. What could possibly have been his motive for ending the lives of two complete strangers?

  The second troubling factor was the one that also bothered Charlie-why would Eli leave the murder weapon at the crime scene? Why not toss it somewhere? Or at the very least, wipe it clean of fingerprints? Only an idiot would leave it next to the bodies, in plain sight, and Eli was no idiot.

  Dantzler, like Charlie, had a problem with how the murders were carried out. Single shot, back of the head, small caliber weapon-that had professional hit written all over it. Was it reasonable to believe Eli Whitehouse, a man who had not committed a violent crime in his life, had suddenly morphed into a cold-blooded Mafia-style hit man? That a man of God had suddenly become Bugsy Siegel? Dantzler wasn’t buying it.

  Eli Whitehouse, the Reverend, did not commit these murders. Dantzler was now all but certain the man was innocent.

  And that conclusion brought Dantzler face to face with the biggest puzzle of all-why would Eli take the blame, then silently spend the next three decades behind prison bars? Why didn’t he fight it with greater vigor? What was the reason for his silence? What was he afraid of? Who was he protecting?

  Who was the real murderer?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dantzler’s background check on victims Osteen and Fowler yielded nothing new or enlightening. Both were 1980 graduates of Lafayette High School, both came from broken homes, both had spent one semester at a technical college before dropping out, and both were unemployed at the time of death. Both had twice been arrested for smoking pot, each arrest stemming from police raids at the home of schoolmates after neighbors complained of outdoor partying, loud music, and unruly behavior. Those two incidents were their only run-ins with the law.

  In short, there was nothing serious or legally noteworthy in either man’s background. These were not hardened criminals or serious drug offenders. They were lost, misguided youth, nothing more.

  This was attested to in Charlie’s report by Malcolm Sherwood, a teacher at Lafayette. Sherwood knew the boys well, and had them in class when they were juniors. He didn’t hesitate to give them a mostly thumbs-up review.

  “Neither had it easy, and neither was a saint by any means,” Sherwood had said at the time. “But given their difficult home situations, I would say they turned out fairly well. Neither one ever caused me a whit of discipline problems. And to the best of my recollection, neither was ever in serious trouble during their high school years.

  “Bruce was an extremely bright young man; he was especially
strong in math, which I taught. Carl was an above-average student, but not quite as strong as Bruce. Like many young people from lower middle class backgrounds, they were not predisposed toward learning. As a result, given their mental capabilities, I would classify Carl and Bruce as classic underachievers. Both could have been so much more, given proper guidance. Not unlike many, many students I have encountered during my years as a teacher.”

  Sherwood went on to say he had no idea who would have wanted to kill his two former students, or why. He couldn’t fathom them being involved with the criminal element, although he did acknowledge the two boys were “probably not unfamiliar with certain aspects of the drug culture.” However, Sherwood expressed surprise when told drugs other than marijuana were found at the crime scene.

  Next, Dantzler went over the testimony of Greg Spurlock and Angie Iler, the young couple who discovered the bodies. Neither had anything relevant to offer, although Dantzler was struck by one statement made by Greg.

  I don’t think they were killed in the barn.

  That was a peculiar observation, especially from someone who spent perhaps a minute at the crime scene. What did he see that caused him to say that? Why would he pick up on that detail? And why hadn’t Charlie or Dan followed up on it?

  Dantzler grabbed his phone book and began searching for a Greg Spurlock listing. He found four, including one with home and office listings for Gregory Spurlock, M.D. For no particular reason he chose that one first. He dialed the home number and got the answering machine. Choosing not to leave a message, he then tried the office number. After patiently listening to a long list of numbers for connections to various departments, he was instructed to dial zero for the front desk.

  A harried-sounding receptionist answered, quickly informing Dantzler that this was the office of Doctors Eades and Spurlock, specialists in internal medicine, and would he please hold. Two minutes later she came back on the line.

  “Sorry for making you wait,” she said. “It’s been a real zoo around here today. What can I do for you?”

  Dantzler identified himself and asked if Dr. Spurlock was available. He was told that the doctor was currently with a patient, his last of the day, but he should be free within the next half-hour. Dantzler left his name and number and asked the receptionist to have the doctor give him a call at his earliest convenience.

  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.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  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?”