Tom Wallace - Gnosis

“No, I’m not convinced, and won’t be until or unless I find evidence that will convince me. But I do think there is reason for doubt.”

“Who was the lead detective on the case?”

“Charlie Bolton.”

“You’re pissing in the wind, my friend. Charlie never screwed up.”

“No. But I talked to him about it, and he admits he was never one-hundred percent certain Eli was guilty.” Dantzler got the bartender’s attention and ordered two more pints of Guinness. “Dan Matthews worked the case with Charlie. It was his first homicide investigation. Dan had no doubt about Eli’s guilt.”

“After you, Dan’s the best homicide detective I’ve ever run across. If he was convinced, and if Charlie didn’t prove the man’s innocence, I’d say you really are pissing in the wind.”

“I don’t know. My gut says otherwise.”

“A cop’s instincts can sometimes be more persuasive than the evidence. We’ve both known that to be the case. And no one has better instincts than you. If you feel it, give it a whirl.”

Dantzler finished off his Guinness, stood, and put two twenty dollar bills on the table. “By the way, Sean. I’ve never asked you what it’s like making your living defending assholes you used to put away.”

Montgomery chuckled. “It’s easy, Jack. I just hold my nose when they hand me the money.”

“Just make sure the stink doesn’t rub off on you.”

Dantzler left McCarthy’s and walked back to the station. He stopped briefly at the front desk, engaged in a few minutes of small talk with Bruce Rawlinson, and then headed for the stairs. When he reached the second floor, he saw Eric standing outside of Captain Bird’s office.

“Hey, Eric,” Dantzler said. “You serious about wanting me to take a look at your novel?”

“Sure. If you have the time.”

“For you, Eric, I’ll make time.”

“Okay, what’s the catch?”

“No catch.”

“Oh, yeah, there’s a catch,” Eric insisted.

“I’d prefer to call it a Hannibal Lecter-type exchange.”

“What?”

“I give you advice, you give me information. You know, quid pro quo . Like with Hannibal and Clarice.”

“What information? Specifically?”

“I want you to check the Herald’s obit page for a specific two-week period. Make it the two weeks prior to last Saturday. Really dig into the background of those who died. I want to know everything you can come up with.”

“What’s this about?”

Dantzler spent the next fifteen minutes bringing Eric up to speed on the Eli Whitehouse case. Eric listened intently as Dantzler gave a quick overview of the murders, his being summoned to meet the Reverend, discussing the matter with Charlie, the threatening phone call, and his intention to re-open the investigation.

Eric shook his head, a look of deep skepticism on his face. “I don’t know, Jack. Sounds to me like you’re fishing for minnows in the ocean.”

“No. The phone call changed everything. It convinced me the Reverend is telling the truth. When a stranger orders me to shut down an investigation I haven’t even begun, it can only mean one thing-something is going on.”

“Any parameters on the obits thing?” Eric said.

Dantzler thought for a second, then said, “Start with males, Lexington or Fayette County residents. If we need to branch out, we’ll do that later on.”

“What do you want me to look for? Besides a criminal background, of course?”

“Anything you find that might smell. Check finances, family members, business dealings. Pallbearers, if you have the time. Did the family request donations rather than flowers? If so, where did they want the money to go? It’s gonna require you to dig through a huge pile of manure in order to find the diamond.”

“If there even is a diamond.”

“It’s in there somewhere. We’ve just got to uncover it.”

“Okay. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.” Eric laughed. “ Quid pro quo , huh? It’s more like quid pro I got suckered .”

“Could be I made a fool’s deal, Eric. Depends on how good your book is.”

“It’s a helluva lot better than the obits page. I can promise you that.”

Eli lay in his bed in the prison infirmary, eyes closed tight, as though by so doing he could miraculously shut out the pain along with the light. Lying there, with a half-dozen needles jabbed into veins in his arms and the back of both hands, extremities now black and blue from the relentless torture, he felt like a pin cushion. No human should experience such indignity.

He wanted to curse God, to rail against a Maker who would allow such misery, such affliction, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t dare, never, regardless of the circumstances, however grim and horrible they might be. Eli knew better, knew that despite the intense and bitter feelings he now felt, nothing could erase his awe for the Almighty. Awe… and fear. To love God is required; to fear him is the true beginning of wisdom.

The pages of history are replete with cautionary tales about men and women who voiced angry displeasure at God and the consequences they suffered. Eli often told his parishioners-and his own children-the story of Kierkegaard’s father, Michael, who, while still a young boy, cursed God. That single moment of anger, only a split-second in the space of a full lifetime, placed such a heavy burden on young Michael that he never cast it away. He remained throughout his life a sad, broken, and remorseful man.

Never, Eli warned, admonish the Almighty, no matter how bad or tragic or dire the circumstances that fire your anger. His ways are not our ways, and no matter how hard we try, we can never comprehend them. His plan for each of us is his alone. We are merely his instruments, his humble servants.

And yet… at this moment, it took all of Eli’s will and strength to contain the angry feelings that roiled inside him. The pain he felt now was unbearable. His lungs burned like they were in flames. It felt like a mad wolverine was in his chest, chewing relentlessly at his insides, consuming his very being inch by inch. The cancer was, Eli knew, eating him alive.

The morphine available to him could ease the pain, but Eli wasn’t ready to go that route. Yes, the pain was unbearable, yet at this point he preferred suffering to being doped up and out of it. Once you choose to bury the pain behind a cloud of drugs, you also choose to abandon life as you know it. That option wasn’t acceptable… yet. Eli did not want to be dead while still alive.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why God had placed such a heavy burden on him. He had always been God’s faithful servant, a true believer. Yes, he had sinned, fallen victim to temptation, to lust, but he was cleansed through God’s love and mercy. He had tried to obey the Commandments, to live a pious life, to be a loving husband and devoted father. A protective father. He had taken the blame for sins he didn’t commit. Spent three decades in prison for a sentence that wasn’t rightfully his to serve.

Eli wondered if perhaps this was the sin that caused God’s wrath. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the blame. Maybe he should have pointed fingers at the real perpetrator. Maybe, by allowing a murderer to go free, he was, in God’s eyes, as guilty as the killer.

Maybe-

But he had taken the only path available to him at the time. He had but a single option then and he had taken it. Any loving father would have made the same decision. Eli simply did not believe God would elect to punish him for following his conscience in a matter involving the safety of his wife and children. God could not be that cruel and uncaring.