Eyes Wide Open

Houvnanian barely reacted. He only lifted his gaze ever so slightly to meet Sherwood’s, just enough to show him a slight smile. “Well, I guess even Rome burned in the end, didn’t it, so there’s hope for us all. So how did the bastard die?”

“He was strangled. But the police found something very unusual on his body.” Sherwood put out the next photo, from the autopsy, of the knife marks on Zorn’s tongue. “I’m wondering if you can make out what that is, Mr. Houvnanian.”

“What what is, detective?” the amused convict asked.

“Those marks. Underneath the victim’s tongue. An odd place for a wound, wouldn’t you agree, sir? Especially for someone who was strangled.”

Houvnanian leaned forward and squinted at the photo. “Excuse me, gents, but my eyes just aren’t what they were. Glaucoma. The medical plan’s one of the real let-downs in here… But as to your question

… they kind of look like knife marks to me, detective. Right? I have a familiarity with knife marks, you may remember,” he said, looking up and grinning.

“They do.” Sherwood kept his composure, but I was having a hard time keeping mine.

“And what would you think those knife marks resemble, Mr. Houvnanian, if you had to say?” Sherwood looked at him. “I mean, Russ ?”

The convicted killer hunched over the photo again. He looked up and shrugged.

“To me, it sort of resembles a human eye,” Sherwood said. “What do you think? One that’s wide open.”

I wasn’t sure who was playing with whom here. Houvnanian continued to stare at the photo a while. Then suddenly he nodded, his eyes widening. “You know, I think you’re right, detective. It does kind of look like an eye. If you see it in a certain way. And even the blindest man will see the truth”-he grinned-“when it’s the one truth. The real truth! Do you know that saying, Dr. Erlich? You know, I once knew someone named Erlich back in the day. As a man of science, what’s your view? To me, it’s why we’re all here. To see the truth. When it’s exposed to us. When it’s time.”

I balled my hands and gritted my teeth, and said back, “Yes, I guess I believe that too.”

“So then, Russ, what do you make of this?” Sherwood said.

He took out a plastic bag containing the plastic hologram found on Evan’s body. “This was what we found on Dr. Erlich’s nephew’s body. At the bottom of the rock.” Sherwood jiggled it in front of the killer.

One way showing the eye closed; the other way, wide open.

“I’d say, the eyes have it!” Houvnanian stared back at him, cackling with amusement at his own joke.

“I’d say it was all just some sort of weird coincidence myself”-Sherwood shrugged-“ if I actually believed in coincidences. And if we hadn’t come upon this…”

He brought out the Las Vegas medical examiner’s photo of the dollar bill that had been crumpled up inside Thomas Greenway’s stomach at the time he was drowned. “No doubt you do remember Thomas Greenway, Mr. Houvnanian? Russ? He had something to do with you being here as well, no?”

Houvnanian lifted his hands, chains jangling. “The wind and the rain, detective, that’s what I keep asking. If it can cleave a mountain into pieces, it can surely rend the heart of an evil man. Except, God wasn’t in the wind, I’m reminded. Was he, doctor? I’m still trying to figure out where.”

I was sure he knew who I was.

I could feel it, the sweat beading up on my back from his mesmerizing stare. I could see he was enjoying my discomfort.

I stared at him, my blood starting to simmer inside. “I think the eyes refer to what you told the judge at your sentencing. How it was like the owner of the home who is called away. How no one will know when it’s time for him to come back. Or in what manner. How only the father knows, right, Mr. Houvnanian? You. How you told them all to watch. The people who had done you harm.” I kept my eyes drilling into him. “That’s what Evan’s death was about, wasn’t it? A way for you to say, watch!”

“I said a lot of crazy things back then…” Houvnanian stretched his face into a smile. He raised his manacled hands. “Yet here I remain.”

“Yes, here you remain,” Sherwood said. “But not Susan Pollack. You remember her, don’t you, Russ? She was one of three followers who served a thirty-five-year sentence for aiding you in the murders of Paul and Cici Riorden, their friends, and George and Sally Forniciari, right?”

“I never admitted to any murders, detective.” The orange-clad convict shrugged with a coy smile. “Only opening the gates for judgment against those who didn’t see as clearly.”

“You’re aware that Ms. Pollack was released from prison recently? This past May.”

“I don’t pay much attention to your system of time, detective. Doesn’t much matter in here.” He shrugged. “Anyway, she renounced me. I’m sure you know that. Like I was some blotch of ink she could just wash off. She did what she had to do.”

“You mind telling us the last time the two of you were in touch?”