Tuesday, July 12, 2005

I have to congratulate my niece for putting up with me today. Without her, I wouldn’t be on this webloggy thing, and she deserves an award for putting up with a 61-year-old man all day, annoying her with questions she probably thinks are basic knowledge. She has a ton of patience. Thanks, dear.

She tells me rarely does anyone even look at these things. I mean, sure, there’s a chance, but who’s gonna look at an old man’s blog in L.A. who’s searching for a Receda Cube?

I probably shouldn’t be so humble. I’ve been told it makes me look conceited. I tell you, though, if my old partners found out I was mixed up in this whole Perplex City thing, they would laugh.


Perplex City… boy… what a can of worms this is gonna be.

I laughed when I first heard about it. I’m still wrapping my head around it. But, I’m a retired private investigator, and I’ve never seen or heard anything like this before. In fact, who knows where this all may lead?


If this is my online journal (not a diary), I shouldn’t have to introduce myself, but at the same time, things are going to get hairy. Not only am I doing this to organize my thoughts about this really, really strange case, but also to protect me. I’m not a kid anymore – it’s just me and Roxie living along the beach here in Santa Monica. I’ve got a cane, for Christ’s sakes! If something… well, if something were to happen to me, there’d be evidence. Roxie would need someone to look after her. They can destroy a lot of things, but it’s a funny thing, this internet – once this is out there, it’s out there. This will be out there - it's kind of like I'm standing in the light so that I can't be quietly taken off the stage. I hate to be so paranoid, but while I’m risking showing my hand to the rest of the players, it’s an insurance policy, where the stakes are higher than I think we all realize. Oh, that’s right… there are cards, aren’t there… so weird.

But enough about that. My name’s Shamus D. Leahy. All my friends call me Jimmy. A little background about me: I was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. My father was a cop, just like my uncle and my grandfather – it was natural for me to join the force. After being a beat cop for 15 years on the streets of Chicago, though, I got the itch to do the fun stuff. Detective. But, as you probably can guess, at the time, I’d be waiting another 10 years (minimum) for a spot to open up. I didn’t wanna wait. So, I left the department and went to work in the private sector, opening my own firm. I dealt with little things. Divorces, tax fraud, insurance fraud – that kind of thing. I really got a kick out of cold cases – the stuff the precincts toss to the side after 20 or 30 years with no leads. I solved a few of those in my day as a P.I., and those felt good.

But, a couple years ago, I had had enough. I stopped working altogether, and wanted to be by the ocean. My dog Roxie and I moved out to Los Angeles – specifically Santa Monica. Then, this came along, not more than a week ago.

I’m not going to get into things right now. I’ll have plenty of time for speculation and theories as the weeks go by. And don’t get me started on where Perplex City is! Can of worms, I tell ya!! At any rate, the thing is, in my research thus far, this case is simple. Find the cube.

I want to be clear – I don’t work for the Mindcandy people, and I sure as hell ain’t a Perplexian. Perplexon? Perplexan? Whatever they’re called, I ain’t one of them. I’m a guy, like everyone else looking at the bounty with drool on their faces, trying to solve this crime. Which it is – a crime.


2 crimes, in fact, and it looks like more foul play may be at hand, which again is why I want my thoughts to be made public… well, as public as a webloggy is to all 3 of you who happen upon this little corner of the internet.


We have a theft, and more importantly, we have a murder. A stolen “Receda Cube”. One dead security guard, “Fran Mendling.” I imagine it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. What makes it even more interesting is that this is another good ol’ fashioned “cold case.” Hell, a year is almost not even enough to call “cold.” I cracked crimes that had mold on their folders and suspects lying 6 feet under, so a year removed is still a little lukewarm. But it’s just long enough that the perps probably feel safe. Like they got away. That’s the window of opportunity.


Look at me – I’m already rambling. I should go to bed – I need to let Roxie out anyway.

One last thing before I turn off my computer for the evening. This “Receda Cube” – the key to solving everything, the answer – is somewhere on God’s green earth. Up ‘til now, it looks like the search has been in England, primarily. Well, let’s just say that there’s a real good chance that it’s here. In my backyard. Right under my nose, here in Los Angeles. It’s one of the many reasons I’m now joining the search. I probably wouldn’t bother taking this case if there wasn’t at least a chance I could get my hands on it. Sure, it may end up being in Copenhagen or Tokyo (I really don’t wanna get a passport), but if that’s the case, I’m going to have trouble getting there. But, that’s for another time as well. All I know is that I’ve received a credible tip that L.A. is a good starting point. Hell, for all I know, I may be being played for a fool – the tip may be a piece of garbage.


But I’ll never know if I don’t look.


Hand me the can opener, Roxie. Good girl.

Goodnight E.

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