Gnosis by Tom Wallace Page B

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.