St. Patrick's Day Murder by Lee Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

go our separate ways. I followed till we turned into Ray’s street. After we parked, we met at Ray’s driveway and walked to his apartment together.
    Ray took my coat, but Jack kept his on. Ray was dressed in a a tweed jacket, white shirt, and tie. “They’ve got my two .38s and they took my ID so I can’t run out and buy another one, and they put me on modified assignment,” he said in answer to Jack’s question. “They’ll find some papers for me to shove around or have me sign in at the borough office for appearances.”
    “At least you’ll draw a paycheck.” Jack outlined our three avenues of investigation, and Ray listened and nodded.
    “I don’t know what to make of Scotty’s military service and the birth certificate,” Ray said. “I talked to a lot of guys last week and they were as surprised as I was. It doesn’t make sense.”
    “How did he plan to pay you back?”
    “He just said he’d have the money.”
    “He give you any paper on the loan?”
    “I didn’t ask, he didn’t offer.”
    “Jean know about it?”
    He wavered before answering. “Yeah, she probably knows.”
    The phone rang, and he went to answer it. “Yeah,” he said. Then he listened, his face changing. He glanced over at us. Then he said, “Hey, hold on a minute.” But the caller had apparently hung up. He looked at the phone before replacing it. “This is crazy. Some guy, I don’t know who, said the troops were on their way over with a warrant. No name, no nothing.”
    “You have something to hide?” Jack asked.
    “No, I don’t have anything to hide,” Ray said irritably, but he looked worried. “And I think you should get your butt outa here before they come. You, too,” he said to me.
    “I’ll see you later,” Jack said.
    I watched him go. When the door closed, I said, “Maybe we can talk, Ray.”
    “There’s nothing to talk about. You know as much about this as I do.” His whole face was screwed up with tension.
    “Is it a mistake that they’ve charged you or is it a set-up?”
    “I didn’t think about much else last night. I don’t know. I don’t know why anyone on God’s earth would want Scotty dead, and I don’t know why anyone would want to frame me for his murder.”
    I didn’t like the way he was looking nervously around. Something was bothering him, and it wasn’t my presence. There were voices outside and I looked toward the door.
    “Sounds like they’re here,” I said. When I turned back, Ray was closing the closet door.
    The doorbell rang and he went over and opened the door.
    Three men walked into the apartment. The oldest of them introduced himself as Captain Browning and handed Ray a search warrant.
    “What are you looking for?” he asked.
    “The weapon used in the murder of Scott McVeigh.”
    “I don’t have it. Go ahead and look.”
    The captain turned to me. “Who are you, miss?”
    “Christine Bennett.”
    “Your address?”
    I gave him my address in Oakwood, and he wrote it in a notebook.
    “Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
    “Don’t answer that, Chris,” Ray said. “It’s none of their business.”
    “I’m a friend of the family,” I said.
    They got to work. I was sure they wouldn’t find a gun, but the warrant gave them the right to look almost anywhere a gun might be, so they could well turn up something else quite legally. I kept my bag on my shoulder. I was glad I had hung up my coat. Heat was hissing out of the radiators and the temperature must have been near eighty.
    The men worked quickly, looking in all the obvious places a gun might be hidden. Ray didn’t look at them, but I did. I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have someone on hand who wasn’t the accused and wasn’t part of the search party.
    The man going methodically through the dresser drawers opened one and tapped his fingernail on something metallic. Then he pulled out a gray metal box, put it on top of the dresser, and opened it.
    “Want to tell me what some of