Tom Wallace - Gnosis

“What are you gonna do?” Milt asked.

“Meet with Eli Whitehouse again. Convince him that if he wants this thing solved, he needs to give me more than he already has.”

Eric shrugged his shoulders. “What am I supposed to do, Jack? Work on my jump shot?”

“What you were doing before Colt Rogers bought it-keep looking through the obituaries. If Eli refuses to give me more information, then it’s up to you to find the answer.”

“If Eli refuses to help,” Milt said, “you need to say to hell with you, Reverend, have a nice eternity.”

Dantzler nodded and slowly walked away.

It was almost eleven and Dantzler was concerned. He had spent much of Saturday afternoon and evening trying to get in touch with Charlie Bolton, without any luck. Repeated phone calls had gone unanswered, both on the cell phone and the landline. It was not like the old detective to be incommunicado for such a lengthy period of time. Charlie, a life-long bachelor, always let someone know when he left town.

Dantzler reasoned that Charlie must have taken off for the lake and had either left his cell phone behind or had it turned off. If Charlie was at the lake, that was the most likely scenario. Then he remembered that Charlie had told him he wouldn’t be going to the lake until Tuesday or Wednesday. This left yet another possibility, one he tried hard to dismiss. Charlie, nearing eighty, could be lying stone cold dead in his house.

Thoughts of Charlie dead shot Dantzler’s concern up to the worried level. After one more unsuccessful attempt to reach Charlie by phone, he decided to hop in the car and drive over to Palomar Estates.

Worry became panic when he saw Charlie’s red pickup truck parked next to his Ford Explorer. Both vehicles in the garage meant Charlie was in the house. Charlie at home, not answering the phone-that had to translate into something bad. Dantzler’s panic now registered as fear.

Dantzler jogged toward the house, and was almost on the porch when the light went on and the front door opened. Charlie met Dantzler, looked at his watch, and shook his head.

“Kinda late for a social call, isn’t it?” Charlie said, opening the door wide enough to allow entrance. “Must be something mighty important for you to come here at this time of night.”

“I was worried,” Dantzler said. “Been calling you all day. How come you didn’t answer the phone?”

“Didn’t have it with me. And I just got home a few minutes ago.”

“Where have you been?” Dantzler asked, flopping down on the sofa. “Or would I be better advised to not ask?”

“I’ve been consoling a certain Miss Danforth.”

“Emily Danforth? Pete’s wife?”

“Pete’s widow.”

“What does she need consoling for? Pete’s been dead for ten years.”

“What can I say, Jack? She loved the man.” Charlie grinned. “We all know grieving can be a long and painful process. People handle it in different ways. Some seek solitude, while others, like Emily, seek companionship. Therefore, I feel compelled to do all I can-as often as I can-to help her get through the pain and suffering that accompanies the death of a loved one.”

“And just how long have you been performing this Christian deed?”

“For many years now.”

“Does it include years prior to Pete’s death?”

“I think it prudent on my part to plead the Fifth on that one.”

Dantzler shook his head. “You old dog. How come I never knew about this?”

“Because not everything belongs in the public domain.”

“Forget about something coming out of left field; this is coming from another continent.” He laughed. “You know, Laurie will be blown away if she ever gets wind of this. She sees you as a celibate saint.”

“She’s been aware of it for nine or ten years. She found out back in the days when I was training her. I swore her to secrecy then, and Dunn, being an honorable lady, has faithfully fulfilled the vow she made to me. Although I’m aware that you are less honorable, I fully expect you to keep this tidbit of salacious information quiet. I ask not so much for the sake of my reputation, but rather for Miss Danforth’s. Can I count on your silence concerning this matter?”

“Would I be so heartless as to darken Emily Danforth’s name? Rest easy, Charlie, your secret is safe with me.” Dantzler pointed at the TV. “You hear about Colt Rogers?”

“Yeah. Heard he took one right in the face. That had to hurt.”

“What do think?”

“One less lawyer in the world. I’d say things are looking up.”

“No, Charlie. What do think ?”

“I try not to think about matters that don’t concern me.”

“Answer me, Charlie.”

“What do you want me to say, Jack? That his murder is somehow connected to the Eli Whitehouse case? Okay, if that’s what you want me say, I’ll say it. There is a connection. Now, are you happy?”

“But do you believe it?”

“What is this, voodoo detective work? Come on, Jack. I’m old school. And I taught you better than to assume without first having all the facts in hand. You want me to believe there’s a connection? Then show me the evidence that makes me believe it. Otherwise, I’m an agnostic.”

Dantzler laughed. “You’re a tough old coot, that’s what you are.”

“And don’t you ever forget it.” Charlie sat in the recliner across from Dantzler. “If you’ve been calling all day, it can only mean you have certain issues you want to discuss. What is so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“There are a couple of things about Eli’s investigation that trouble me. Discrepancies I need straightened out.”

“My investigations didn’t have discrepancies .”

“Good. Then let’s clear up the two areas that bother me, starting with Greg Spurlock’s assertion that the two victims had been moved, that they were not killed where they were found. That was not mentioned in the murder book. Why wasn’t it?”

“Spurlock said the bodies had been moved?”

“Relocated was how he phrased it.”

“Jack, in all the years we’ve known each other, I have never once been pissed off at you. But I have to be perfectly frank. Right now, I’m pretty damn close. You’re challenging my professionalism, my experience-and Dan’s-based on the word of a kid who stumbled upon a crime scene. That not only pisses me off, it hurts.”

“I’m not looking to piss you off or hurt you. You know that. But I have questions, and you are the guy who can give me answers.”

“Well, here’s my answer. Those two bodies were not moved an inch, I don’t care if God himself tells you they were. If they had been moved, I would have noted it in the murder book. What that kid saw, or thought he saw, or imagined, or dreamed up, I can’t say. It was a barn, after all. Barn floors get swept, raked, have all sorts of people, animals, and vehicles constantly moving across them. He very well could have seen dust, dirt, hay, or horse manure that gave the impression the bodies had been moved. But they were not. Those two boys were bound at the wrists and ankles, they were made to kneel, and they were shot in the back of the head. They died where they fell. End of story.”

“Okay, Charlie, that’s good enough for me. I just needed to hear you say it.”

“What’s your second ‘discrepancy’?”

“Angie Iler, Greg Spurlock’s date that night, said she never spoke to a detective, only to a uniformed officer. Don’t you think either you or Dan should have questioned her?”

“Not necessarily. When we questioned the Spurlock kid, he told us Angie wasn’t in the barn more than two or three seconds. Dan and I felt she wouldn’t be able to provide us with anything more pertinent or relevant than he could, so we concentrated on getting his account of what happened. But I’m positive the Iler girl was questioned.”