Back at his desk, Dantzler phoned the state capital in Frankfort, identified himself to the operator, and asked to speak with Kirk Foster. He was immediately put through to Kirk’s office.
“If you are calling to set up another tennis match you’re wasting your time,” Kirk said, laughing. “I learned my lesson the first time around. I’m no glutton for punishment.”
“Relax,” Dantzler said. “I’m not looking for a rematch.”
“Then what can I do for you, Detective Dantzler?” Kirk asked.
“I need to ask a few questions regarding Eli’s finances.”
“What makes you think I know about Eli’s finances?”
“When I met with Eli, he told me you are in charge of his business affairs.”
Kirk was silent.
“Eli also made it clear that none of his children are aware of this,” Dantzler continued. “That doesn’t have to change. There is no reason for them to know we talked.”
“What is it you want to know, exactly?”
“How will Eli’s estate be divided after he’s gone?”
“Evenly. Each sibling gets one-third of everything. Straight down the line.”
“What do you estimate his net worth to be?”
“Including everything-land, physical properties, stocks-it’s close to ten million.”
“I assume you are executor of the estate.”
“Yes, I am.” Kirk said. “But all decisions regarding the sale of land and/or properties, or the disbursement of money, will be made by the three children. It is Eli’s wish, and this is clearly stated in his will, that all decisions are to be based on a majority rules basis. In the unlikely event a clear decision cannot be reached, I have the authority to cast the deciding vote.”
“How big a stock portfolio are we talking about?”
“Not big at all. But extremely successful, despite taking some severe hits and suffering substantial setbacks during the past couple of years.”
“How does a man behind bars for twenty-nine years invest in the stock market?”
“He doesn’t-his son-in-law does. But always with Eli’s blessings.”
“At any time has Eli directed you to give money to any of his children?”
“Never. He couldn’t do that and keep them in the dark about me being executor of his estate.”
“Did he ever direct you to give money to Colt Rogers?”
Kirk snorted. “Are you kidding? Eli detested Rogers. Thought he was a low-life criminal. He would never have given Colt Rogers a penny.”
“What about Johnny Richards?”
“What about him?”
“Did Eli give him money?”
“Eli gave no money to anyone, Detective Dantzler. That won’t happen until after his death. Why are you inquiring about Eli’s finances?”
“Some new developments have come to light and I’m trying to get a handle on them.”
“In the world of politics, that’s known as a non-response response.”
“Unfortunately, at the present time, it’s the only response I can give. But I can tell you a serious suspect has emerged, one we are very interested in. For obvious reasons, I can’t give you a name. The investigation is in the early stages, and it could easily blow up in our faces, so I would also ask you to keep this information to yourself.”
“You have my word,” Kirk said. “And I appreciate the work you’ve done on this case, Detective. Nothing would make Rachel happier than seeing her father walk out of prison a free man. An innocent man.”
“Nothing would make me happier than putting away a four-time murderer,” Dantzler answered.
All eyes were on Laurie when she came into the War Room. Dressed in a black slacks, white blouse, black blazer, and black shoes, her hair flowing down to her shoulders, she looked more like a movie star entering an A-list party than a Homicide detective coming into a drab squad room. A wry smile played on her lips.
“I have good news and bad news,” she announced. “The good news is, Macy’s is having a forty-percent off sale on shoes beginning tomorrow morning. I plan on being first in line. The bad news is, Johnny Richards didn’t exist prior to nineteen-eighty.”
“Come again?” Milt said.
“I have checked every possible data base-federal, state, local, military, Interpol-and our Johnny Richards was not on anyone’s radar until he arrived in Lexington in October, nineteen-eighty. Prior to that, he’s a phantom. Trust me, gentlemen, I have waded through each and every data base in meticulous fashion, and he does not show up on any of them.”
“Are you sure?” Eric said. “There must be a million guys named Johnny Richards. Maybe you overlooked something.”
Laurie shook her head. “I checked and double-checked and checked again, and I came up empty. Our Johnny Richards ain’t who he says he is.”
“Well, who the hell is he, then?” Eric said, leaning back in his chair.
“What did you find out about Johnny Richards, post nineteen-eighty?” Dantzler asked.
“Nothing illegal or interesting. He bought the tavern in ’eighty and has operated it successfully ever since. There is a small apartment above the bar, which is also his. The tavern brings in about two-hundred grand a year. Richards also owns a house on Summershade, and a Lexus. His wife, Maggie, died recently, as we all know. They had no children. Maggie worked at the VA Hospital until she retired. She also did some fill-in work for Colt Rogers. Other than that, there really isn’t anything worth noting. The man is clean. Not even a speeding ticket.”
“No one who changes his identity is clean,” Milt said. “You only do it because you’re dirty.”
Dantzler said, “There are two primary reasons why a man changes his identity. Either he’s running away from something he’s done, or he’s hiding from someone. Johnny Richards, or whoever he is, didn’t strike me as a man who would run away from anything. If I’m right, it means he is hiding from someone.”
“Hiding?” Eric asked. “From who?”
“Don’t know,” Dantzler answered. “But all the checkmarks are there… new identity, new location, no background data, no past history. And that’s not all. I’ll make you a wager Richards has undergone just enough plastic surgery to change the way he looked prior to nineteen-eighty.”
“Come to think of it, he did have the look of a guy who might’ve had some work done,” Milt said. “Particularly around the eyes.”
“All these changes lead me in one direction.”
“You’re thinking Witness Protection, aren’t you?” Milt said.
Dantzler nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Goddammit, that means dealing with the Feds,” Milt offered. “That’s never any fun.”
“The Witness Protection Program comes under the Justice Department banner, with the U.S. Marshals Service doing the actual legwork. It’s the Marshals who move the individual around, secure proper documentation, find living quarters… that sort of thing. But I’ll start at the top, contact someone inside Justice, and see what I can find out.”
“Shouldn’t we put surveillance on Richards?” Eric said.
Dantzler thought about this for a moment before answering. “Let’s hold off on surveillance until we find out more about the guy. If he is in the Program, it could make things a lot more complicated. I want to make sure we know what we’re doing and who we’re dealing with before we make any moves.”
“Damn,” Milt said, shaking his head. “I was hoping this would be easy.”
“It’s only a bump in the road, Milt,” Dantzler said. “If Richards is the shooter, and I’m dead certain he is, we’ll bring him in. But I have a feeling we can toss easy out the window.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Seeking outside assistance on a case was almost always a last-ditch option for Dantzler. Given his druthers, he would never seek help from the Feds. It was his firm belief that he and his fellow Homicide detectives were superior in every way to the so-called “experts,” although he did acknowledge that the federal agencies, with their generous budgets and multitude of gadgets, were technologically superior. While some viewed Dantzler’s disdain for seeking outside help as arrogance, he countered the accusation with the argument that more hands only make a bigger mess.