Cold Glory by B. Kent Anderson

Author:B. Kent Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

CHAPTER

32

The noon Mass at Cathedral of the Assumption, across Fifth Street, had just let out, and Dallas Four Gold stopped to take a few photographs of the gorgeous 1852 church with its tall white spire. He nodded to a few of the parishioners as they exited the cathedral, and he took a few more pictures with his small digital camera.

Then he turned and walked back to the corner, facing the dirt- and grease-streaked window of the Association of Minor League Enthusiasts. He had watched Journey and the woman go in, had seen them talking to the heavyset man with the mustache and ponytail. He was growing impatient and tired.

Hands on his camera, pretending to look at the image of a photo he’d just taken, Gold glanced again at the building across the way. The man behind the desk had just brought out several cardboard boxes and placed them in front of Journey and the woman. His pulse quickened, and he reported to Bronze, who talked with Chicago base, who had jurisdiction over the Louisville area.

Gold fiddled with his camera a little more and walked back toward the cathedral. He had to stay alert now.

* * *

“Oh, he was obsessed with it,” Lovell said as he pulled the lid off a cardboard box labeled WILLIAMS 1958–1963. “And to be fair to the old man, it was sort of a famous unsolved mystery around here way back when. My dad was really into Louisville history, and he thought he was going to solve it and write a bestseller and make a lot of money and go on the Today Show. You know, that kind of crap. He got lots of stuff the first few years, mainly old newspaper clippings, but there were even some police reports from the early twentieth century when it was still technically an open case. It kind of fell off after that, but he’d get two or three new things a year. Then finally, not too long before he died, the bank released a bunch of papers. Turns out they’d been in the vault for a long time and no one ever did anything with them. The bank’s new CEO wanted all that crap out of there. Can’t say that I blame him. So it all came back here.”

“What do you mean, back here?” Tolman said.

“This place,” Lovell said. “It was the old man’s real estate office. He left it to me. I live upstairs. Don’t ever have to leave if I don’t want to.”

Journey laid his hand over a bulging envelope. “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead. I’ve got stuff to do. But you promised to sign cards before you leave.”

“I will.”

He unfolded a yellowed newspaper clipping dated October 1, 1914. HALF CENTURY MYSTERY, the headline read, with the subhead, SCION OF LOUISVILLE FAMILY WAS MISSING DURING CIVIL WAR.

It was a short piece marking fifty years since prominent banker Samuel Benjamin Williams disappeared from his Louisville home, never to be heard from again. There were tantalizing tidbits: Williams was

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