The Corpse Was Blind - Chapter 6

Ray Irish Mystery Case File #4

Ray watched the morning crew of the newspaper’s printing staff hurrying with their breakfast while he added more sugar to his bitter coffee. As he took another sip, Ray caught the fat waitress picking her nose as she stood near the register. She wiped her finger on her pale blue dress as a diner came up to pay his tab. With a frown, Ray looked away, happy he didn’t order the food.

He arrived at Sam’s Cafe not long after sunrise, leaving Cat’s apartment before she woke. Ray got her pledge not to go after Omar alone. He reminded her about the various gangs within Oyster City who might run a scam with Omar Riza as the face of the operations. It took some cajoling to calm her down, but when the shamus promised to look into Riza’s background and his associates, she agreed. Then the woman went back to bed.

As the light cut through her thin nightgown, Ray longingly looked at her silhouette when she stood in the doorway of her room. She paused, fully aware of his stare, and glanced back at him. Cat appeared vulnerable. For a moment, he almost called out to her. However, he let the moment pass and she closed the door.   

Lost in his thoughts, Irish didn’t hear the silence fill the café when a man entered. As Ray scanned the headlines in the morning paper, he didn’t see the man approaching his table.

“Alright shamus, where is she?”

Ray looked up to see Calimeris standing there with a foul expression covering the man’s face. He found his interest suddenly piqued as he guessed who the cop meant.

“Have a seat, detective. The coffee’s not great, but you’ll like the food.”

“Quit stalling. Where’s Mrs. Leigh?”

“I can honestly tell you I have no idea. I haven’t seen her since I left her house yesterday,” he replied.

“So, you want a cell?” The cop pulled back his gray trench coat to reveal the pair of handcuffs hanging from his belt.

“Do you want to waste your time with paperwork? I’ve got witnesses to my whereabouts, so rousting me isn’t going to get you anything, either.”

The two men stared at each other for a moment.

“Have a seat and you can fill me in. As a special bonus, I’ll let you know something that happened.” Ray leaned back and scratched his chin. “Maybe I can give you an idea of who might want her. I ran into some of your cohorts last night.”

Calimeris glanced around, then slid into the booth across from Irish.

“Alright, spill it. What the hell are you talking about?”

“A couple of FBI types stopped me last night and told me to back off. They specifically don’t want me talking to Mrs. Leigh. One of them made it clear that I’m not their favorite person by roughing me up as well.” He leaned forward.

“As a competent detective with the Oyster City police, did you know about this interest in your murder case from the Feds?”

The surprise on the man’s face told Ray what he suspected.

“Well, we’d know about it before most, but it’s the first I’ve heard about anyone interested in my case. The FBI is notorious for stepping all over the local cops,” Calimeris stated bitterly. “Did you get names?”

After the shamus told him the names along with a brief description of the encounter, the cop shook his head.

“I’ve never heard of them. The chief would be on my ass with questions if he knew about them coming into town. Are you sure they’re Feds?”

“Well, I saw a badge and two men dressed in black.”

Calimeris waved over the waitress and ordered a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, it sounds like the type. Normally, they come in, yell a lot at the local cops, and run things like they’re kingpins.” He leaned back in the chair. “I don’t get why they’re being quiet here. Also, why this murder?”

Ray shrugged.

“Well, you’ve got the obvious.”

“What do you mean?” the cop growled at him.

“Frist, Mr. and Mrs. Leigh aren’t quite as they appear. Look at their setup. The house is a little too perfect. And she doesn’t strike me as a housewife type. Did you get any background on the dead man?” he asked, growing intrigued the more he thought about the connections.

“Are you involving yourself in my investigation?” The cop’s eyes narrowed, and Ray grinned.

“Alright, I’ll give you my thoughts and you can do what you want with them. First, you’ve got a woman who looks like a damn model playing housewife. You got a look at the inside of their house, and you claim the husband is just a working guy. Didn’t you think the place looked too expensive for Mr. and Mrs. Joe Average?”

The detective continued to stare, but he nodded agreement.

“Listen, I could have kept quiet about my visitors. How about I just watch from afar and let you know what I hear?” Ray offered.

The detective grunted at the idea as he took a sip of coffee. His expression turned bitter.

“You weren’t lying about the coffee. Alright, hotshot, tell me your interest. Is it the cute widow? Are you thinking that she might have a big fat insurance policy you can retire on?”

“Well, a cop might dream like that, but I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.” Ray stated as he considered the idea. “Still, I’m intrigued. Why does she want people to believe the façade? Mrs. Leigh tried the terribly vulnerable lady act when I met her. But she’s not that good of an actress. It was too over the top. So, I guess I’m curious.”

Irish shook his head.

“Still, something dangerous is coming her way, and it’s bigger than you or I suspect. I’ll stake my cheap watch on that idea now that we have those thugs with badges in the game. What do you think?”

The policeman sighed as he tipped back his brown hat.

“Remember, curiosity killed the cat, shamus.”

The man tapped his fat fingers on the table as he thought about the new information.

“However, I can’t discount what you’re saying. You might be onto something. Those Hoover types aren’t coming around here unless it’s about commies or gangsters. At least, that’s what I read in the papers. I can tell you that Trevor Leigh wasn’t a commie. All-American officer stationed here at the base at the end of the war. But I’ve got an idea why they’re here.”

“This dead man has a past?”

 The detective nodded.

“Mr. Leigh liked money, as you pointed out. He also liked to hang around with some rotten apples. The type of gangsters that the FBI is making headlines about since the war ended.”

Irish leaned back, somewhat surprised.

“Well, I guess that explains the façade I saw.”

“Yep, maybe it fits, but it’s just speculation. All I have is an old police file. The desk sergeant remembered the dead man’s last name and told me about a case he handled during the war. I looked it up the name in the police files. Sure enough, a group of soldiers under Major Trevor Leigh’s command got busted for selling army supplies to a gang out of Baltimore. The men accused Leigh of involvement, but we had no proof and he was on the base during the time. Anyway, the military police came from the base and took them into custody. Last notes in the file states the military promised they would take care of it.”

Irish watched the cop pull his cigarettes out of his pocket.

“You know those things will kill you?” He asked.

“Says you!” Calimeris grunted, then coughed as he lit up.

“Anyway, are you saying the soldiers didn’t get jail time?” the shamus asked.

“Someone turned it into a military matter, so we had no jurisdiction. I have no way of knowing what happened. Well, I could ask the folks at the Pentagon, I suppose.”

The cop leaned forward, tapping his knuckle.

“The eyes! It’s about retaliation! It seems pretty obvious the ones to cut out the dead man’s eyes went after him and got their revenge. Might be the guys under his command from the base.”

Calimeris shook his head.

“Still, why pester his wife? They got their pound of flesh. My guess is they wanted her to know about it. But I don’t know the motive behind it.”

Ray grinned.

“Maybe you should ask Decker and Harvey. Either they think Mrs. Leigh has information, or they’re using her for bait.”

“You’re always a smart ass, aren’t you? But you forget one thing. It could be both,” the cop reminded him.

“But first I have to find Mrs. Leigh. Are you on the level about not knowing where she’s located?” The cop slid out of the booth and stood.

“I swear on my mother’s grave,” Irish told him.

“I guess that’ll do. By the way, since you’re the rich shamus, I’ll let you buy my coffee today. Don’t forget to keep me informed if you find the widow.”

Calimeris headed to the front door.