Free A DEAD RED MIRACLE: #5 in the Dead Red Mystery Series by R.P. Dahlke Page B

Pearlie said. "Except for Clyde here, anything worthwhile went up in flames with Ron."
    Today our skeleton wore a ratty old wig, a ball cap and reading glasses taped to its non-existent nose.
    "What's with the book in his hands?"
    "I thought one of us should look busy."
    "We did all the work on most of his cases for the last three years," I said, peeling off my jacket and opening my laptop.
    "Evidently not all of them," Pearlie said.
    "Well, we're busy now, so quit accessorizing the skeleton."
    "We should hire a secretary," Pearlie said.
    "We don't have the money," I growled.
    "We have two jobs on the books. We finish them and we'll have some cash to pay part-time help."
    "Today is Tuesday. How are we supposed to finish our two insurance jobs and find Ron's killer in just one week? And lock the damn door, will you?"
    Pearlie ignored my grumpy behavior and turned the lock on the office door. "Not that this will keep Damian out. Alrighty then. I'll start with online newspaper stories and then check out the Tucson TV station's for video or print, add up all the people we can ID and if they show up at both places, I'll make copies for comparison. You work on Ian's names."
    "Right," I said scooting up to the desk. Though it went against everything I had learned about the men on the list, if Ian had cause to mention them, we'd work on it. I'd dig into property owned or mortgaged, marriages, divorces, bankruptcies, anything that showed vulnerability or a willingness to murder in order to keep a secret.
    "Will Caleb match our unknowns with the national database?" Pearlie asked.
    "Yes, but I’m hoping it's some local low-life we helped put in jail over the last couple of years."
    "Maybe it's one of Ron's. He worked on a lot of criminal cases."
    Five hours later, Pearlie leaned back in her chair and stretched. "Whoever said being a P.I. was glamorous should be shot―twice."
    I moved my shoulders around to ease the cramp in my neck. "Once for thinking it and once for saying it out loud?"
    "Yep."
    Pearlie came up with five matches for both places. "Some are in uniform and a couple could simply be off-duty volunteers, but you'll have Caleb double check for us? Criminal records, outstanding warrants, right?"
    "Yes," I said. I was not looking forward to giving the list to Caleb. I was on a first name basis with two of them and the other one was a close friend of Caleb's.
    I started with what I'd found out about Wishbone's favorite TV car salesman, Wade Hamilton. "I got the police report on it. Five years ago Wade Hamilton hired Ron to investigate the theft of cars from his lot and he paid the bill with our surveillance cars."
    "Those two junkers?" Pearlie snickered. "I'd say Wade got the better end of that deal. So what was the case about?"
    "The police report says Wade had a twenty year old kid, by the name of Joey Green, washing the cars. Ron testified in the trial that the kid used Wade's cars to rob businesses then sold them to chop shops on the border."
    "Where's the kid now?" Pearlie asked.
    "He's out on parole, working at a wrecking yard in Benson. I think one of us should pay him a visit."
    Pearlie propped her head onto her hands and said, "Wade Hamilton. Wade Hamilton."
    I waited until the count of ten before nudging her. "What?"
    She popped out of her chair. "We actually have a file on it. It's in the closed cases."
    Pearlie started noisily shuffled through the file cabinet.
    "Got it," she said, waving the file over her head. "It had a red tag for closed case , so I didn't bother with it."
    "See? We should go through these old cases, maybe dig up more business."
    "When we have time." She opened the file and read. "Wade Hamilton hired Ron Barbour to uncover who was stealing the cars. It looks like Ron did a week's worth of surveillance for this job. He got expenses and those two nifty Fords we use for surveillance. Wait. There's something…" she sifted through paperwork and stapled receipts, then looked up and grinned. "If I