Nellie Watts

CASE: PI-H-SP-4801 Another stiff in the poor district. Another rundown apartment building owned by some slumlord who wouldn't know a conscience if it knocked on his door. Normally, I leave these cases alone. Around here, most killings involve junkies settling scores or some drug deal gone sour. But this one had a wrinkle I couldn't ignore. The victim had a tattoo on his forearm, a military marking I hadn't seen in years. It belonged to a special operations outfit I'd crossed paths with while helping get the Devil's Brigade off the ground. A tight little clique of young men, all carrying the same brand. And now one of them was lying dead in a rat-infested apartment. When I arrived, the building was crawling with cops. Uniforms everywhere, detectives barking orders, and evidence getting trampled like cigarette butts. A regular circus. I was ready to walk away when old lady Watts stopped me. That woman was always in the middle of everything, somehow knowing every secret in the building. She started describing the victim's tattoo in remarkable detail. Every line, every marking, every little feature. There was just one problem. Old lady Watts was blind. Now, I've heard some strange stories in this business, but a blind woman describing a tattoo she couldn't possibly have seen? That's enough to make a dead man's case interesting. I came looking at another street killing. I'm leaving with an old military mystery, a suspicious old woman, and a feeling that somebody in this building knows a whole lot more than they're letting on. Looks like I'm back in business.