Gnosis

by Tom Wallace

  “Easy,” Dantzler replied. “He tells Richards the plane needs to be refueled, or he needs to grab a bite to eat. Something believable. Richards agrees. Remember, he trusts this person. At some point, the guy pulls a gun on Richards, orders him to drive to some deserted place, ties him up, puts him in the trunk, and shoots him. He drives back here, parks, gets in his plane, and flies home. Execution accomplished.”

  “The moral of this lesson is be careful who you trust,” Bird said, adding, “but whoever the shooter was, he has my sincerest thanks.”

  Laurie said, “If ballistics can match the forty-four we found in Richards’s Lexus with the slug that killed Colt Rogers, then that should bring down the curtain on at least one of these last two murders.”

  “You found a forty-four?” Bird said. “It’ll match. You can take that to the bank.”

  Dantzler stepped away from Laurie and Bird, took out his cell phone, and punched in Kirk Foster’s number. Kirk answered immediately.

  “Call your boss and have him signed the proper papers,” Dantzler said. “It’s time to bring Eli home.”

  After Dantzler put his phone away, Bird approached him, a stern look on his face. “You’re jumping ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Jack? Way I see it we only solved the Rogers murder. That’s it. We can’t be certain Richards killed Devon Fraley, although there is a high probability he did. But nothing has changed regarding Eli. His prints are still on the gun used to commit those murders in ’eighty-two. The bottom line is, we don’t have the answers to who killed those two kids in the barn, answers we need in order to prove Eli’s innocence.”

  “No. But I know where those answers are.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Dusk. To the west, the sun dipped deeper into the horizon. In a matter of minutes, it would disappear completely. The evening sky hung low over the city like a protective blanket. The air was still, as though the Earth and everything on it had ceased to breathe. The only sound came from a regal robin proudly perched on an overhead wire.

  Dantzler cut the engine and climbed out of his car. The adrenaline rush that fueled his energy had long since passed, leaving him weary to the bone, hungry, and badly in need of sleep. But none of this mattered now. This was, he knew, the final step on a journey that began when a dying man proclaimed his innocence in a prison gymnasium.

  Slowly, he pushed away from the car and walked toward the duplex.

  Up those steps, behind the door, was where he would uncover the truth. In there, the secrets would be revealed. Here, at last, he would find answers that had eluded him. Who killed those two kids in 1982, why they were killed, how the killer managed to get Eli’s gun, and why an innocent man would quietly agree to spend his life in prison.

  Those answers would come from the lonely, tortured soul who for three decades had lived in his own private hell.

  Tommy Whitehouse.

  Tommy opened the door before Dantzler stepped onto the porch. He was dressed in cut-off jeans, tank top, and white sneakers. He held a plastic cup in his left hand. After motioning Dantzler into the house, Tommy closed the door, moved in front of Dantzler, and held up the cup.

  “Dr. Pepper,” he said, sitting. “Straight. You can check it if you like.”

  Dantzler sat in the chair across from Tommy. “Your father is being released from prison, Tommy. He should be home sometime tomorrow.”

  “Rachel called thirty minutes ago. She and Kirk are already on their way to the prison. They’re flying down in a private jet. She hopes to have Eli home by midnight.” He swallowed hard and looked away. “She asked me to go with them, but…”

  “I’m sure your father will be thrilled to see you,” Dantzler said.

  “I don’t know about that.”

  Dantzler leaned forward. “I need the truth, Tommy. All of it.”

  “Truth? About what?”

  “About what happened in nineteen eighty-two.”

  “What makes you think I know anything about what happened?”

  “Come on, Tommy. You’ve had to keep dark secrets bottled up inside you for too long now. It’s time to let go of those secrets and come clean about what happened. About everything.”

  “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Detective Dantzler. Or why you think I have the answers.”

  “Because of the way you changed, the drinking, your self-imposed estrangement from your father. None of it happened by accident or without a good reason. Something catastrophic triggered it. Also, when we first met, you said something very interesting. You said, ‘my father is innocent, Detective Dantzler. That much you can be sure of.’ Now-”

  “I’m sure Rachel said the same thing,”

  “Yes, she did. But for her, it was more hope than anything. Not with you. When you said those words to me, you were stating a hard, cold fact.”

  Tommy set his cup down, leaned back, and washed his face with his hands. After almost a minute of silence, he finally said, “I can’t tell you what I know. And I wish you would go away and leave me and my family alone. If you persist in this quest, people are going to get hurt.”

  “Johnny Richards is dead,” Dantzler said. “His body was found in the trunk of his car about an hour ago. He’s no longer a threat to you or your family.”

  Tommy nodded but remained silent.

  “I suspect Richards killed those two kids in ’eighty-two,” Dantzler continued. “But I can’t know for sure unless you tell me what happened. You have to fill in the missing pieces.”

  “If I do, if I tell you everything, no one in my family will ever speak to me again.” Tears dripped from Tommy’s eyes. “And they would have every right to hate me. For the pain and suffering I caused them.”

  “I don’t think so. In fact, I’d say you’ve got it all wrong.”

  “How could they forgive me when I can’t forgive myself?”

  “The truth, Tommy. How was Richards able to orchestrate all of this?”

  Tommy took a drink from the cup and put it down. “I had been shooting some hoops at the YMCA gym. I was in the locker room getting dressed when I heard these two guys talking. We were the only three people in there at the time. I could see them in a mirror, but they couldn’t see me. Anyway, one of the men, not Richards, started telling Richards that if he didn’t cooperate and testify, he could get into a lot of trouble. The man said to Richards, ‘How many men have you killed? Thirty? Forty? Well, we’re willing to look the other way if you’ll testify against the Gambino family. This offer comes from high up.’ Richards laughed and said something like, ‘You can take your offer back to where it came from and tell your boss I said no deal. Never.’ It was obvious Richards wasn’t at all afraid of the other man.”

  “Did you by any chance get the second man’s name?”

  “No.”

  “Ever see him again?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, what happened next?”

  “The other man takes off, leaving only me and Richards in the locker room. I’m more than a little nervous after hearing all the stuff about him killing forty people, so I want to get out of there pronto. But as I started for the door, I accidently dropped my basketball. I grabbed the ball and made a beeline for the door when I hear Richards saying, ‘Come here, kid. Now!’ I froze like a statue. I wanted to run but couldn’t move at all. It’s pretty scary seeing a man who has killed forty people coming toward you.”

  “What did Richards do?”

  “Nothing. He asked me what I heard. Naturally, I told him I didn’t hear anything. Then he asked me what my name was and where I lived. I told him. After I gave him the information, he patted me on the shoulder and told me to get lost.”

  “Do you think he believed you when you told him you didn’t hear anything?” Dantzler asked.

  “At the time I wasn’t sure. Nor did I care. I only wanted out of the locker room. But given what subsequently happened, he obviously didn’t believe me. Or maybe he simply wasn’t willing to take a chance either way.”
<
br />   “What did happen next?”

  “A couple of days later, I’m walking home after baseball practice and this car pulls up next to me. It’s Richards. He orders me into the car, says we need to talk about a few things. I get in, thinking we’ll talk right there in front of the baseball field, where I felt fairly safe. But he takes off. Now I’m scared shitless, thinking maybe I’m gonna be victim forty-one. We drive down to the University of Kentucky campus, to the football stadium, where he parks in a vacant lot. Then he tells me he’s been doing a lot of research, and that he knows everything about me and my family. I listen, don’t say a word, still unsure if I’m going to live or die. Next, he wanted to know if my father owned any weapons. I told him Eli had a Winchester rifle and a twenty-two pistol. He asked if Eli had used the twenty-two recently. I told him I thought he had. He then told me to get the twenty-two, and to make sure to not touch the handle when I picked it up. He said I had until the next day to get the gun and give it to him. He also said if I didn’t get the gun, or if I told anyone about this meeting, bodies would fall. After that, he took me back to the practice field.”

  “So you got the gun out of the safe,” Dantzler said. “Did you meet Richards the next day?”

  “Yes. Behind Turfland Mall.”

  “What did Richards tell you?”

  “He told me that no matter what happened in the next few days I had better keep my mouth shut. He said only two people in the world know about any of this, and if I uttered a single word implicating him he would methodically murder every member of my family, beginning with little Rachel. He added that they would suffer in such a horrible way that they would plead with him to finish them off. I had no choice but to believe him and to do what he said.”

  Tommy’s eyes glazed over with tears. He hung his head, saying nothing for more than a minute. When he finally lifted his head tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “Three days later, two boys were dead and my father had been arrested for murder. And I could only watch, couldn’t speak up, even though I knew the truth. I was afraid, a coward. All these years… how could my family not hate me for what I allowed to happen?”

  “You were a terrified kid trapped in an impossible situation.” Dantzler said, putting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “And believe me, Tommy. Johnny Richards would have done exactly what he said he would do had you pointed a finger at him. He was a ruthless killer.”

  “Still… I should’ve handled it differently.”

  “I don’t know what more you could have done.”

  “Something… anything.”

  “Do you think Eli knew it was you who took the pistol?”

  “No.”

  “Well, he had to know something,” Dantzler said. “There had to be a reason why he took the fall for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “Colt Rogers met with my father the day after he was arrested. He’s the one who passed along the threats Richards made against my family. Eli had to silently swallow the medicine or risk the chance everyone in his family would suffer and die.”

  Dantzler stood. “Thank you for telling me this, Tommy. I know it was painful, and I know this situation has caused you more agony than I can imagine, but you’ve helped me solve the puzzle.”

  “Am I in any kind of trouble?”

  “Why would you be in trouble? You didn’t break any laws. The way I see it, you’re the hero in all this.”

  “Heroes aren’t cowards.”

  “You’re no coward, Tommy,” Dantzler said, opening the door. “You had a decision to make and you chose the only path you could. And it was the right path.”

  “I hope God’s judgment is as generous as yours.”

  “You need to see Eli. He misses you more than anyone. The two of you have a lot of ground to make up and not much time to do it. Make the move. Go see him.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can ever look him in the eye again.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Dantzler arrived home at nine-fifteen, quickly undressed, and fell down on the bed. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. He awoke at eight-thirty the next morning. Almost twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. Unheard of for him.

  Nothing revives a worn-down body faster than a good night’s sleep and a full breakfast. Following a lengthy shower, he dressed, grabbed the newspaper, and headed downtown to Coyle’s Restaurant for a late breakfast. After making a couple of phone calls, he checked the time-eleven forty-five-and left the restaurant. He had one stop to make before his one o-clock meeting with the Whitehouse clan at Rachel’s farm.

  The family had questions, and it would be up to him to provide the answers. After all, he was the only one who knew all the details.

  Ninety minutes later, opening the door to Rachel’s house, Dantzler was met by a host of people, many of whom he had never seen before. Eli sat in a huge leather chair, looking every bit like an ancient prophet being attended to by his many followers. He also looked much healthier than he did during his previous meetings with Dantzler. His hair and beard had been trimmed, his skin had some real color to it, and his eyes sparkled. To his left, a nurse inspected tubes and various other connections, making sure he was getting his medication. On the opposite side, Rachel adjusted a pillow behind his head. Kirk stood next to her, holding a small plate that contained what remained of a piece of chocolate cake. Also in the room were six younger people-three boys, three girls-ranging in age from mid-teens to mid-twenties. Dantzler didn’t recognize any of them. Eli’s grandkids, he presumed.

  Isaac sat on a couch ten feet away from Eli, staring straight ahead, his face showing no emotion. Dantzler could only wonder what thoughts were going through Isaac’s head at this moment. Was Isaac happy, sad, jealous, envious-Dantzler couldn’t begin to know. Probably all of that and more.

  When Dantzler pushed the door open wider and Tommy Whitehouse stepped into the room, everything came to a halt. No movement, no talking, just a roomful of stunned people standing like statues. Dantzler wasn’t sure if anyone in the room was even breathing. It was, he felt, like a movie freeze-frame moment. Amid the silence, all eyes went from Tommy to Eli. Back and forth they went, from son to father, no one quite certain what to say or do. No one sure what would happen next.

  Then Eli spread his arms like some majestic prehistoric bird, and in a voice clear and strong, he shattered the silence with a single word:

  “Thomas.”

  Hearing his name, Tommy ran to his father, knelt in front of him, wrapped his arms around his father’s emaciated body, and buried his head into the old man’s chest. Eli folded his arms around the son he had not seen in twenty-nine years, leaned forward, and kissed Tommy on the cheek.

  Tommy, weeping uncontrollably, kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done. Can you ever forgive me?”

  Eli lifted his son’s head, looked him in the eye, and said, “You have no reason to ask for forgiveness. You did nothing wrong, nothing that requires forgiveness, from me or anyone else.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry for failing you. It was me… I took the gun from the safe.”

  “I know,” Eli said. “But you only did it because you had no other choice. It was the same with me. I had to stay silent, remain in prison, because the alternative meant death to our loved ones. Neither of us could allow such a terrible thing to happen.”

  Rachel, confused by what she was hearing, knelt next to Tommy, putting her arm on his shoulder. Kirk moved next to Rachel and held her hand. Isaac, his facial expression unchanged, remained seated on the couch.

  “Hold you head high, Thomas,” Eli ordered. “You are my son, in whom I am well pleased.”

  *****

  A few minutes later, the nurse ordered Eli to get some rest. He agreed, telling his children he was tired and needed to lie down for a while. The nurse, with Rachel’s help, lifted Eli into his wheelchair. After another check on the tubes and connections, with the nurse following close
on their heels, Tommy rolled his father into a side bedroom.

  While Tommy remained at his father’s side, Dantzler, Rachel, Kirk, and Isaac sat at a long oak table in the dining room. Judging by the food remaining on the table, this was where the homecoming celebration had been held. There were finger sandwiches, a vegetable tray, several different kinds of fruit, and the remains of a cake with “Welcome Home, Eli” on it.

  Rachel requested the sit-down, saying she wanted to know exactly what had happened twenty-nine years ago. “Did Tommy really take the gun from the safe?” she asked Dantzler.

  “Yes.”

  “But… why?”

  Dantzler paused for a few seconds, assessing how he should lay out the full story to the Whitehouse family. The best way, the only way, was to start from the beginning and give the details in narrative form. Otherwise, he would be bombarded with a multitude of questions. That would only serve to bounce the story from place to place, making it all the more confusing.

  “Let me go back to the beginning and take you through the entire story,” he said.

  And that’s what he did, starting with a detailed biographical sketch of Johnny Richards. Who he was and how he made his living as a Mob hit man. He told them how it all began when Tommy inadvertently overheard the conversation between Johnny Richards and the other man in the YMCA locker room. How Richards then confronted Tommy, ordering him to get the gun out of the safe. How Richards promised Tommy that if he talked, everyone in the family would be tortured and killed. How Richards sent Colt Rogers to Eli with the same promise of death if Eli fought the charges. How Richards killed Rogers and Devon Fraley, and attempted to set up Rocky Stone as the murderer. How Eli’s clues, difficult as they were to figure out, eventually led the authorities to Richards.

  Dantzler ended his tale by informing them that Richards was dead.

  “So, Eli was right,” Rachel pointed out. “Tommy had no other choice.”

  “If Tommy or Eli had spoken up, none of you would be sitting at this table right now,” Dantzler said. “You would all be dead. Johnny Richards would have done exactly what he said he would do.”