Richards shifted in his chair and turned back toward the bar. “Hey, Sally, could you bring us a couple of Cokes, please? Thanks.”
“How well do you know Eli Whitehouse?” Dantzler asked.
“I don’t know him at all, really. Why do you ask about him?”
“Because the warden told us you frequently accompanied Colt Rogers when he visited Eli at the prison.”
“The warden has a much different definition of frequently than I do. I only saw Eli Whitehouse maybe five or six times, tops.”
Dantzler waited until Sally placed the two Cokes on the table before continuing. “Why were you at the prison in the first place?”
“Colt owns-owned-a cabin on Kentucky Lake. He used to go down there one or two weekends each month, sometimes to fish, but mostly to spend time with whatever floozy he was hanging out with at the time. I don’t fish, and I was never unfaithful to my wife, but on a few occasions over the years, he would take me along with him. He’d fish, I would drink Jack Daniels. Anytime he went down there, he always stopped at the prison to meet with Eli Whitehouse. Rather than sit in the car, I would go inside with him.”
“What did Colt and Eli usually talk about?”
“Not much, to be honest with you. Truth is, I don’t think Eli cared much for Colt. At least that’s the impression I got.”
“Why do you think Eli disliked Colt?”
“Colt always had a briefcase filled with papers, documents he wanted the old man to sign. And Eli wasn’t about to sign anything. Normally, I didn’t pay any attention to their conversation, but I do recall one time when Eli yelled at Colt, telling him in no uncertain terms he would never-never-sign his name to any piece of paper Colt put in front of him, not even if it came from God himself.”
“How did Colt react?”
“Didn’t faze him in the least. I’m sure he was certain Eli would eventually wear down and sign the papers. Colt was something of an optimist.”
“Where were you when Colt Rogers was murdered?” Dantzler asked.
“Since I don’t know precisely what time he was killed, I couldn’t put my hand on a Bible and give you a definite location. However, it happened on a Friday night-one of our busiest nights-so I do feel confident in saying I was here in the bar.”
“Are you aware of anyone who might have wanted Colt Rogers dead? A pissed-off client, an angry business associate, some thug with a grudge, a jilted ex-lover?”
“I do remember one guy-I don’t know if he was a client or not-who came into Colt’s office intent on doing some serious harm. He was a big, scary-looking dude, you know, one of those hard-ass types with muscles on top of muscles. He stormed in and pinned Colt against the wall, ranting and blubbering like an insane man, saying if things didn’t work out he was going to make Colt pay dearly. Colt was scared shitless, and he had every right to be. I somehow managed to get in between them and talk to the guy. Tried to calm him down, but I didn’t do much good. He left, but he was cussing and threatening Colt all the way out of the office.”
“Any idea what he meant when he said ‘if things didn’t work out’?”
“No. I didn’t ask and Colt never volunteered the information.”
“When did this happen?”
“Oh, not too many years after I got here. I’d say ’eighty-five or ’eighty-six. Sometime around then.”
“Do you recall the guy’s name?”
“Keith, Kurt… something along those lines. Started with a K, I do remember that. Kevin-that’s it. The guy’s name was Kevin.”
“Remember his last name?”
“I’m not sure I ever heard his last name. What I can tell you, though, is Colt worried about the guy for several weeks after the incident. Even started carrying a gun.”
Dantzler stood, took a card from his shirt pocket, and handed it to Richards. “If you happen to think of anything else that might be helpful, call me at one of those numbers. And thanks for talking to us. You’ve given us some interesting information.”
“Just catch the scumbag who killed Colt,” Richards said. “Colt wasn’t a perfect man, and no one knew it better than I did. But he didn’t deserve to be gunned down in cold blood.”
“No one does,” Milt said. He took a five dollar bill from his wallet and laid it on the table. “For the Cokes.”
“On the house, Detective,” Richards said, sliding the bill toward Milt. “I can handle the cost of two Cokes.”
“We always stayed on the up and up with Sneaky Pete,” Milt said. “We didn’t take freebies from him and we aren’t taking them from you.”
“As you wish, Detective.”
When they were back in the car, Milt said, “What’s your take on this Kevin dude who went after Rogers?”
“It’s not much, but at least it’s something.” Dantzler pulled the car out onto Leestown Road and headed toward downtown. “When you were going through Rogers’s files, did you run across any clients named Kevin?”
“None that caught my attention.”
“You’ll need to go through them again. See if you can find this Kevin.”
“Drop me off at Colt’s office and I’ll do it this afternoon.”
“That can wait,” Dantzler said. “I want to get with Barbara Tanner, see if she remembers the guy. If she does, it’ll save us a lot of time.”
“Sounds like a solid plan to me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Even in a pair of cut-off jeans and a ratty University of Kentucky T-shirt, hair pulled back tight in a ponytail, her face streaked with dirt, Barbara Tanner looked much better today than she did the last time Dantzler saw her. Life and hope had returned to her eyes, and judging by the big smile on her face, sorrow and despair had vanished.
She had, Dantzler sensed, weathered the storm surrounding the death of her boss about as well as possible. Good for her.
Barbara invited the two detectives in, asked if they wanted something to drink-they declined-and apologized profusely for the mess in the house and for her sloppy appearance.
“I’m cleaning places that haven’t been touched in years,” she said. “It’s simply dreadful, the dirt and dust and cobwebs I’m finding. I should be horse whipped for neglecting things this long. It’s unforgivable.”
“You look really good,” Dantzler said.
“Oh, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am,” Barbara answered, beaming. “When Mr. Rogers died, I was scared to death about being out of work. At my age, in this terrible economy, I thought it would be really difficult finding full-time employment. But you know what? I had three job offers the day after the funeral. All of them with really good, respectable firms. I couldn’t believe it.”
“That speaks volumes about your reputation within the legal community,” Dantzler said. “Have you made a decision yet as to which offer you’ll take?”
Barbara nodded, said, “I begin work Monday at Adler, James, and Young. Doing basically what I was doing for Mr. Rogers, but with a bigger paycheck and better benefits. I really lucked out, didn’t I?”