The Corpse Was Blind - Chapter 3

Ray Irish Mystery Case File #4

After a few more questions, which he asked of Mrs. Leigh, Calimeris finally sent Irish and his client back to her house. Ray focused his conversation with the police sergeant driving the car. He recognized he’d get little in the way of information from the man, but talking with Mary while the police listened in wasn’t the brightest idea.

By the time they reached Mrs. Leigh’s home, Ray found out the names of Sergeant O’Leary’s five kids and the upcoming plans for his boy’s birthday party. Still, the policeman reminded Irish to keep his nose out of the investigation as Ray got out of the car.

“I’ll bet Calimeris told you to say that.” The shamus winked at the cop before shutting the door.

He followed Mrs. Leigh back to the porch. They watched as the police car drove away.

“Mrs. Leigh, someone’s going to figure out that little stunt you pulled back at the morgue. Calimeris isn’t the smartest guy in the world, but you’re playing with fire if you think he won’t haul you in for integration. You’re suspect number one when the police don’t have another.”

Irish crossed his arms as he leaned against the iron railing that made up the porch façade.

“It was the only thing I could think of to stop them from asking too many questions. I don’t have a story for why they’re targeting me.”

She continued to look at the spot where the police car had disappeared.

“Meaning you’re planning on making one up. You’re between a rock and a hard place.”

He shook his head and stood. Irish looked at her for a moment, then shrugged.

“It’s ok by me if you want to give the cops a simple path to stretch your pretty neck. Around this city, the DA likes closed cases, so they’ve pinned it on the easiest suspect, especially when they’re caught in a lie or playing with evidence. I guess going through a trial and death row will be slower than when your friends come back for you. My advice is to get a gun for your yourself and a good lawyer for when the cops figure out they want to see you.”

The shamus walked down the steps.

“How much do you want?”

He stopped and glared at her.

“I gave you my rate over the phone. My price hasn’t changed.”

The woman stared at him with a look of disbelief.

“Then you want something else.”

Her words made Irish turn away after he gave her a glare.

“Only the truth, lady. I’ve seen enough to know you’re digging a grave and I’m not stepping in it for you. I can’t protect you if you’re dealing in secrets.”

He waved his hand as he made his way to the Nash. Irish didn’t bother to look back at the house as he drove away. He came there about a missing husband, not a murder where the wife might know who’s involved.

Instead, the shamus heard that stupid whisper in his head, reminding him she was alone. Mrs. Leigh told him over the phone that they had arrived about a year before and had no friends. When he asked about local relations who might know of her husband’s whereabouts. She told him they lived in New York.

Still, the woman knew far more than she wished to tell. She was trying to protect herself in some way he didn’t understand. Or, more likely, protecting something with a value which got people murdered. Either way, Ray wasn’t the type to step on landmines as a hobby.

Sometimes, you let them figure it out for themselves!

When Irish arrived at his office, the phone was ringing. However, the voice on the other end of the line wasn’t who he expected.

“Ray Irish, you need to come see me today!”

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t get the name,” the shamus replied coolly.

“Damn it, don’t play games with me. Get your ass down to my office now. Don’t make me send a squad car for you.” The man’s voice went up a couple of octaves.

“Alright, Riddle. I guess I can make time for the assistant DA. I’ll be…”

The click of the receiver in his ear made Irish scowl at the handset as he set it back on the cradle.

“My, you’re an even meaner son of a bitch today.”

He walked around the desk and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil. The shamus wrote a brief note to his sometimes partner and placed his half-finished flask of whiskey next to the paper. After he stepped away, he came back and picked up the flask. He looked at the banner scrolling the latest news on the building across the street, then tossed back a belt of the Irish whiskey.

I’ll need a couple of more shots for my meeting with Riddle!

The man sat the flask down on the desk and headed out the door.

Irish waited outside of Michael K. Riddle’s office for nearly an hour. His brief conversation with the man’s secretary got him an icy stare, leaving Ray to believe she had the same opinion of him as her boss.

When he finally stepped inside, he found Riddle sitting in a large leather chair behind his desk. The DA had a mousy-looking man in a black suit. His balding head, bulbous eyes, and hook nose reminded Ray of a reluctant vulture waiting for his meal to decide to die. The man sat at a small table on the other side of the room with a stenotype machine at the ready. Ray pushed back his fedora.

“Riddle, it’ll be a quick conversation if you have him involved in our chat,” he smirked as he nodded to the stenographer.

“Why? Do you have something against telling the truth?” Riddle shot back.

The shamus remained standing, looking at the man behind his machine.

“Who pays the paycheck makes the rules about how honest a transcription becomes. He leaves or I can bring my lawyer before I say another word.” Irish’s tone gave no quarter.

After a tense moment, the DA shrugged.

“Eddie, leave the room,” he told the small man who watched the exchange before quickly picking up his machine.

“Leave your equipment!” Ray ordered. “You can leave.”

The DA nodded when Eddie looked over. Then the stenographer scurried away. Ray watched until the man closed the door, then pulled off his hat and sat in the man’s seat in front of the machine.

“You’re taking a big risk acting like you own this town,” Riddle stated. “Obstruction is just one charge I’m thinking about putting on you right now. Those eyeballs weren’t a joke, even if you thought so.”

Irish hid his surprise at the speed of the discovery well.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I was at the morgue and didn’t get close to the table. But the guy’s eyes were certainly missing. Pretty gruesome.” Ray pressed a key on the stenotype. “Calimeris will confirm that with you.”

“So you put Mrs. Leigh up to it?”

Irish shook his head.

“I’m not that stupid, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he pressed another key, and the paper went up a line. “Still, you’re fishing for something. Otherwise, you’d be all over my office with half the police force.”

He looked up, noticing the assistant DA had left his chair, and went to the window overlooking the street. The man stood nearly as tall as Ray, but he had a rail thin build along with a handsome look the women liked. Riddle’s expressive dark eyes always appeared ready to disbelieve whatever anyone told him.

“Come on, Riddle. I’m no good with this dance. I have a client who called me to her house about a missing husband. Your boys showed up right when I got there. Together we go see a body that shows the signs of torture. That’s really all I know about this. What’s really going on?”

“Why’d Mrs. Leigh contact you?” The man didn’t look back.

“You’ll have to ask her. I never heard of her or her husband before reading about some of it in the paper.” Irish leaned back in his chair.

“This is an active murder investigation. I can’t have a screwball like you sticking your nose into it. I want your word that you’ll stay away from Mrs. Leigh.”

The shamus’ expression went dark at the news. He felt the heavy hand of City Hall steering the order his way. But it made no sense. Still, Riddle might not like him, but he was somewhat honest in a town that held no such values. In Ray’s mind, it was a well-deserved reputation for Oyster City.

“I’ll give it to you, but I want something in return.”

Riddle turned back from the window with a sour expression.

“You don’t hold the trump card.”

“And you’d be wrong looking at it that way. I’m doing you a favor. Keep a close eye on Mrs. Leigh, like night and day watch. Those eyes got to her.”

“You’re saying she’s involved?”

“Let’s just say I think she’s the type who’ll stubbornly try to fight, even if she’s standing inside the Alamo with one bullet left.”