The Corpse Was Blind - Chapter 8

Ray Irish Mystery Case File #4

Only the hum of the engine filled the Nash as Ray drove Mary back to town. In some way, he thought she was testing him. However, Mary showed nothing to indicate that she would back off of her crazy scheme.

C’est la vie!

The French saying was one of the few words from the language which he knew. Mary’s casual response to her work with OSS told him she had nerves of steel. He figured the woman probably had her fair share of close encounters during the war. Whatever she wanted was worth a lot in blood.

Maybe that’s why she’s so pig-headed!

Mary finally spoke when his car reached the city limits.

“Trevor and I have a sea plane scheduled to arrive next week. I’ll pay you to help me until I get on the plane. Then you can tell everyone that I escaped with what they’re looking for.”

“Where are you heading?” He asked, despite already knowing her answer.

Mary glanced over in disbelief, then she shook her head.

“If I drop you off at the station, you’ll still hang around here, won’t you?”

Mary continued staring out the window before replying.

“I have no choice.”

“Damn, stubborn as a mule and willing to let others die for your cause. You’re a piece of work, lady!” Irish growled at her, then went silent.

The wheels in his head spun as he considered his options. After turning down Peach Street, Ray finally sighed.

“I’ll help if you answer this question honestly. The Feds want what you are seeking, don’t they?”

After a moment of silence, the woman looked over.

“Those people who roughed you up are probably looking for it. But I don’t think it’s the government. They wouldn’t know about it. Besides, they’d just pick me up and try to break me using the law and time in a cooler.”

“Yeah, that’s my guess. I’ve already seen how that works,” he agreed. “Why do you think they’re watching you?”

“Some of the men that went to Leavenworth must have talked at some point,” she shrugged. “No one is supposed to know that we were here. We left clues we were still in New York. Maybe they’re working together?”

Irish chuckled bitterly at the thought of the FBI and hoods working together.

“I wouldn’t put it past them. Still, it makes me think Decker and Harley got wind about what the prize is and now they are freelancing. We’ve got plenty of corrupt cops in towns and those two smelled the same to me.”

Ray turned on a back street before arriving at his office.

“I don’t believe it matters,” the woman said, her gaze deep in thought. “Either way, I’m dead unless I get out of here with the box.”

The shamus smiled at the news.

“Well, at least I know more about what you’re looking for.”

Mary’s face lit up in surprise, then she nodded.

“I’ll have to remember that you’re a detective. Why are we going this way? The train station is on the other side of town.”

“I guess you’ve convinced me to hide you and help you get this box.”

Ray’s car stopped at the side of a dive bar on the edge of town. Six Jolly Squires hung on the peeling sign out front. The shamus parked behind a truck to avoid prying eyes noticing his car from the highway.

A quick wave of nostalgia struck the man as he got out of the car, remembering the bishop’s wife. He inadvertently looked over to the side of the building where he found the corpse of Greye’s chauffeur. The murder remained still unsolved according to the police records, but Ray had a strong suspicion he knew the culprit. He shook his head when the woman asked if there was something wrong.

“I’m calling a friend about getting you a place to stay for a few days. You can get a drink while I sort this out. Nobody will know either of us here.”

The shamus wanted to laugh at the expression Mary wore as they stepped into the bar. Nothing had changed since the last time he came. A row of red cloth-covered booths sat along the front windows. A small guy in a milkman’s uniform sat at the bar. He pushed away his empty mug of beer and slid off the bar stool as they entered. A large bar tender with a mustache and balding head nodded to the new customers as Ray led Mary to another booth, partially concealed by a thick, dark curtain.

Mary took a position that allowed her to watch the front door and the man behind the curtain. Ray noticed her casual, yet observant, focus on exits and the people as a radio behind the bar broadcast a baseball game.

Irish went up to the bartender as he slid out from behind the counter.

“Give her anything she wants,” Irish told him as he headed toward the other side of the room, where a phone booth stood.

His call to Cat went unanswered. Ray let out a sigh, then called Mrs. Purvey directly. While he preferred for Cat to be his intermediary, he could not afford to waste time tracking her down.

The woman, who answered with a reedy voice, caused Irish to shake his head. She was his landlord and a complete nutcase whose real name was Gladys Peer. She wrote for the society pages of the newspaper and also had other properties she rented. However, he’d forgotten to call her by the woman’s pen name. He breathed a sigh of relief when she ignored his error. Yet she wasn’t accommodating to his request.

“Unlike Mrs. Purvey’s arrangements with you on behalf of Catherine, I believe in making sure my tenants are moral and capable of timely payments. I’m not sure I can trust the company you keep.”

The shamus thumped the wall with his fist at her snide remark. After all, he was only a week late in paying his rent.

“Yeah, I get it,” he forced himself to keep his temper. “I’ll have your rent money in a couple of days. This lady will help us both that way. She’s recently widowed and needs the help.”

After a moment’s silence, her voice perked up.

“Well, Mrs. Purvey has a spare room available. It’s an upper bedroom in my home that a college student has vacated recently. Please bring this lady by to introduce her, Mr. Irish.”

“Thanks, Gladys,” he stated deliberately, before hanging up the phone.

He could imagine his landlady’s green eye flashing as her bulbous nose grew red from his last dig. Mrs. Purvey and Irish got along like oil and water at times. Still, he found her craziness kind of endearing and she helped him in his relationship with Cat.

When Ray got back to the booth, he found Mary drinking a glass of red wine. He slid into the booth across from her.

“How’s the wine?” He asked.

“Appalling!”

Her answer made him chuckle.

“Well, this ain’t the Ritz. The good news is I’ve got you a place to hide out. Nobody will know where you’re at and you need to keep it that way.”

She nodded, then used her index finger to circle the rim of her wineglass.

“I have no one to call, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m the last one.” She snickered quietly to herself.

“Yes, I’m the last of the good guys.”

Ray cocked his head.

“How many of those have you had?”

“This is the second. I don’t drink much, and I’ve not had anything to eat, so it’s going to my head,” she stated. “Anyway, I decided to toast my late husband for making me finish this alone.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “So, what’s next in your plan?”

Irish leaned back and pushed back his hat.

“Well, first I need to figure out how to get the Feds off my tail. My suspicion is they’ll be coming to see me about you soon.”

“That appears reasonable, but foolish. I’m still wondering why you’re helping me.” Mary rested her head on her hand while continuing to run her finger around the glass.

“What do you suggest?” His eyes narrowed as he wondered if she was playing a drunk or not.

“Obviously, you should use me as bait to bring out the bad guys for the FBI.” A smile came to her lips at the idea.

“Yeah, I thought of that already. The problem is, I’m kinda squeamish about those sorts of things. I guess I watched too many westerns with the guys in the white hats.”

Mary looked at him, her eyes cold.

“Don’t feed me that crap. You’ve seen death. I knew it when I met you. It’s written all over your face, just like the rest of us. That’s why you can’t trust anyone but yourself. I’ve seen people lie to themselves about their goodness, only to stab their friends in the back. Trevor was right about that and so many other things.”

Ray shook his head.

“Lady, I’m going to give you some news. I think your husband was an idiot. You’ve already admitted people he probably betrayed got to him. So, get off the soapbox about friends and trust. Sure, people see and do terrible things. But there’s always a limit to what we’ll do unless you’re sick in the head. That’s because there’s usually some good inside most people. Even in the worst circumstances, I’ve seen that with my own two eyes.”

He slid out of the booth.

“By the way, I don’t need to hear words of wisdom from a corrupt guy that you didn’t love. Now, let’s go get you a place to stay and we can figure out how to find that damn box.”