The Corpse Was Blind - Chapter 10

Ray Irish Mystery Case File #4

A coffin shows up for a man who’s alive and Ray finds Mary a place to hide from her husband’s killers.

~~~

Omar stared at the woman for a moment, then waved her inside the apartment.

“Let’s talk in private,”

Cat followed him at a distance, carefully stepping into the room but remaining close to the door.

“You lied to me. I thought you were legit.” Her tone held her bitterness.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to hurt you,” Omar sighed as he closed the door.

The man went to the corner of the room, where several rows of shelves made up his bar. He poured a shot of vodka into a glass, followed by tonic water as she waited.

“Do you want one?” Omar glanced back.

Cat shook her head.

“What should I call you?”

He paused, then took a drink.

“The name’s Francis Pike,” he said while turning back to her. “Like I said, I didn’t want to hurt you. I have a job to do. You know as well as I do that love and scams don’t mix.”

“What are you talking about?” Her eyes narrowed at his less than subtle hint.

He grunted after finishing his drink, then gave a sidelong glance at the coffin in the middle of the room.

“Please, I tell you I smell such a grifter from a mile away. It’s the spirits who give me my voice.” He grunted a chuckle after giving his best fake Middle Eastern accent he used as Omar.

“You believed that slop about my background and wealth as a prince from Turkey. So, you snuggled up and let me play in your garden. Now, you’re trying to pinch me for your silence.”

He looked her over, then returned to his native Louisiana accent.

“Cat, I’ve been running cons from Louisiana to Maryland. I’d had thoughts of recruiting you to join me. With your body and my brains, we could make a killing. It took me two seconds to see through your scam. You bat your pretty eyes, rub your tits on a guy’s arm, then jump in bed when the guy spends real dough on your gifts. Tell me how that is any different from my racket?”

The woman’s expression went icy, and he smiled.

“Don’t play me like a sap. Yeah, you can make a stink, but, then again, you get exposed since you invited some of these fools to my sessions.”

Francis glanced down at the coffin, then went back to the bar. He began mixing another drink.

“Be a good whore and go find another john? I’ve got bigger problems when worrying about you flapping your lips.”

Catherine stared at him for a moment. Rage and frustration filled her face. Unable to think of something to say, she flung open the door and left the apartment. Francis looked at the open door and chuckled before downing another glass.

Downstairs, a furious woman left the building, ignoring the doorman who tried to tell her goodbye. However, he overheard her mumbling.

“That bastard should die!”

~~~

Irish sat inside the parlor of Mrs. Purvey, trying to keep a young cat from clawing at his pant leg. Mrs. Purvey sat in a rocker, looking like a youthful version of “Whistler’s Mother” with her black dress and pulled back hair. She had her eyes locked on Mary, asking her questions laced with inference.

“I’m afraid that Mr. Irish is not the best judge of character. And your clothes, while expensive, also appear disheveled. I’m curious about your relationships.”

To Ray’s surprise, Mary showed no emotion to the woman sitting across from her.

“You’ve got a suspicious mind,” Mary replied calmly. “And you have a devious aura around you. Someone murdered my husband and I have certain people coming after me. Mr. Irish is trying to hide me.”

Mrs. Purvey’s eyes widened at the news, and she pushed her glasses back before turning to Irish.

“You shouldn’t assume too much from appearances,” Ray reminded her.

He hesitated as his own hypocrisy before continuing.

“No one knows about my drive here, so you should be safe. We just need a place for her to stay until she leaves next week.”

Mrs. Purvey blinked several times as she thought over the idea, then she looked over at Mary one last time.

“The apartment upstairs should do for you. You can use the stairs in the backyard.”

She turned back to Ray.

“I’ll need a month’s rent in cash, Mr. Irish. And you better not be staying up there with her.”

“You’re all heart, Mrs. Purvey,” Ray sighed as he leaned back and pulled out his money clip.

A few moments later, the shamus and his client took the squeaky stairs to the third-floor attic. The interior was small with a single twin bed and vivid bright yellow wallpaper.

As Mary looked over the place, Ray watched her.

“Alright, step one is complete,” he said. “Now, next up is diverting the Fed guys, and, hopefully, the other bad guys from trying to find you here in Oyster City. It’ll be easier to work if they think you’ve hightailed it out of here.”

She sat on the edge of the bed.

“How? They—well, unless you’re a magician, nobody is going to believe I left.”

The hesitation in her voice told Ray the woman held back another vital piece of the puzzle.

“Well, I have an idea about accomplishing that. In the meantime, you need to work out how we’re going to get your box. I’m guessing it’ll be a bad thing to have your rivals showing up.”

He stood and walked over to a home-built cabinet that had a single book on a shelf. The shamus picked up a well-used paperback with the title, Butterfield 8. He deliberately remained quiet.

“You know I’ll be with you when you get your box,” he stated, while skimming the pages. “I can’t trust you yet.”

He heard a soft sigh. After a moment, she finally spoke.

“It will not be that easy,” Mary admitted.

The news made Irish look at her.

“Why?”

Her face flushed, and she refused to look at him.

“Trevor never told me exactly where it’s located,” she finally stated.

Ray chuckled to himself.

“I see. Are you saying you want to find something that no one has a clue where it’s hidden?”

“No, I have clues,” the woman said with a bitter expression. “I’m not helpless.”

Irish nodded at her statement.

“Well, I guess it’s no honor among thieves’ type of situation.”

The woman glared at him, then she shook her head.

“I suppose I deserve that.” Mary lay back on the bed. “It seemed so simple at first.”

“What do you mean?” He looked over her body again.

“Nothing, I’m tired and I’m not making sense,” she told him too quickly.

Frowning at the standoff, he walked by the bed and flipped the paperback on the cover.

“Well, get some rest,” he said. “You’ve got no phone here, so I expect that Mrs. Purvey will charge us a nickel to use hers. I’ll be back in the morning after I set things in motion.”

When Irish drove away, he felt a pair of eyes on him from the top floor of the house. He hoped the woman might relax her suspicions enough for him to get a better idea of what her adversaries were after. A box with something inside that led to the murder of her husband left him with too many possibilities.

Despite her denials, Ray believed whatever was in the box probably involved something illegal. He debated whether to involve Calimeris in his next steps. Something told him that the police might go along with his plan, but they’d want Mary to become the bait to bring out the killers, as she offered earlier. Still, the shamus wanted to avoid that idea. His experience cooperating with the corrupt Oyster City police department before nearly got he and his friends killed.  

When he opened the locked door to his office, Irish stopped at the sight of two men inside. Decker sat at Ray’s desk, reading the papers from his drawer. Harvey stood by an open file cabinet, rummaging through the few files inside.

“I hope you have a warrant,” Ray growled at the men.

“You left your door open. We have probable cause,” Decker smirked as he stood.

“Where have you been?”

“With a client,” Ray snorted, growing tired of these FBI hoodlums. “Next answer is I haven’t seen her.”

“Harvey, it seems our tough guy got some courage back.”

The other agent slammed the file drawer shut and stepped toward Irish. The shamus didn’t like his odds, especially with two thugs who’d happily use the law to cover whatever they did. As the atmosphere grew tense and the men came toward Irish, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. The noise of someone coming up the steps outside Ray’s office made the two agents halt, their eyes focused on the door. Half a minute later, a shadow appeared in front of the opaque glass covering the top half of the office door.

Ray took advantage of the event and quickly opened the door. Cat pushed her way inside, still fuming at Omar’s treatment of her.