Ace in the Hole: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (The Reed Ferguson Mystery Series) by Renee Pawlish

Author:Renee Pawlish [Pawlish, Renee]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Creative Cat Press
Published: 2016-12-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

I tailed Bill back to his house. He parked the minivan in the driveway and went inside. I pulled to the curb at the corner, and while I watched the house, I pulled out my phone and googled Bill’s address. I poked around some sites and found names associated with his address, but none were “William” or “Bill.” After a few more minutes of searching, I called Cal.

“What’s up, O Great Detective?” he said. “You need me to find the person behind the Craigslist ad?”

“No, I figured that out,” I said, and explained how Ace and I had found Bill.

“Good work,” he said when I finished.

“Thanks. What I need now is Bill’s last name, and any background information you can get on him. Can you do that with his address, even if he’s a renter?”

“Of course.” His tone indicated I needn’t have asked. “Give me an hour or so.”

“And check the license plate number for the minivan.” I gave it to him.

“Sure thing.”

“Okay. Oh, and since I’m sure you’re online, can you look on their website to see if there’s a Denver headquarters for the Salvation Army?”

“Sure, hold on.” I heard typing in the background. “Huh, there’s the Salvation Army Intermountain Division Headquarters on Thirteenth and Pennsylvania, but I can’t find a number for them. Want me to do my behind-the-scenes magic to find it?”

“That’s okay, I can pop over there if I need to.”

Just then, Bill emerged from his house in jeans and a heavy blue coat. He started walking down the street, away from me.

“I’ve got to go,” I said. “And we’re on for dinner with my parents Christmas Eve.”

“That’s great,” he said.

I ended the call and kept my eye on Bill. He reached Thirteenth and headed east. I started the 4-Runner and eased down the street to the corner, then edged out where I could see down Thirteenth. Bill was walking toward Sheridan. I waited until I saw him turn right on Sheridan, then I drove slowly forward, waited for a break in traffic, and turned right as well. Bill was walking down the sidewalk, and I had a pretty good idea where he was going. I drove to The Hole and waited. A few minutes later, I saw him pause at the corner of Tenth and Sheridan. Then he jaywalked across Tenth and disappeared inside The Hole.

I glanced at my watch. Not quite four o’clock. Bill would probably be in the bar for quite a while, and I figured now was my opportunity to see if he was a legitimate bell-ringer for the Salvation Army, so I left The Hole and headed downtown.

The Salvation Army’s regional headquarters was in a three-story red-brick building with white pillars and rectangular windows. A four-foot wrought-iron fence surrounded the building. I parked on Pennsylvania and walked up the sidewalk to a gate and let myself through, then climbed white steps to the front entrance. I entered into a large foyer where a clerk in a Salvation Army uniform – navy trousers, white shirt, and navy blue peaked hat – was standing behind a short counter.

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