Gnosis

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.”