checked the bets against him. When he was completely faded, Shayne rolled the dice against the backboard and crapped out with a pair and an ace,
Shayne grimaced at Lana and got two more hundreds from his wallet. He rattled the dice gently while the other players covered his money, then bounced them out again. He got a five for his point, and passed the dice on.
By the time the dice returned to him, his bank had increased to three hundred and twenty dollars. He waited impassively until it was all faded, then rolled a six with a pair of deuces-a natural.
As he watched the chips come in he heard a smooth and softly modulated voice say to Lana “Good evening, Miss Moore. Is everything all right?”
The voice was so distinctive that Shayne instantly recognized it as the one that had offered to sell him the emerald necklace over the telephone. He turned his head enough to see the speaker as Lana replied, “Everything is fine, Mr. Trueman.”
The proprietor of the Laurel Club was a tall, spare man with sharp features and elongated eyes that drooped slightly at the outer corners. Shayne judged him to be in his early forties, and he looked more like a successful lawyer than a gambler. He nodded pleasantly to Lana and passed on to another table.
With six hundred and forty dollars in front of him, Shayne got only a little more than four hundred of it faded. He watched Dan Trueman’s spare frame going out of the room through a side door as he rolled the dice. They stopped on a straight 4-5-6.
He waited until his winnings were gathered in, then calmly handed the dice to the player on his left, announcing, “The bank passes.” He paid no attention to the low murmurs of protest around the table, turned his back and waited while the houseman cashed in his chips for bills. There was slightly more than eleven hundred dollars in the roll he received.
He grinned down into Lana’s flushed face and said, “This isn’t going to make you very popular with your boss.”
She laughed with more animation than she had shown all evening. “I won’t worry about that. You’re wonderful, Red. First man I ever saw quit a winner.”
Shayne glanced around the room and muttered, “Wait for me in the cocktail lounge-and order a couple of drinks. We’ve got some celebrating to do.”
She squeezed his arm and said, “I’ll like that.”
“Which way-?”
“Right through that side door. Men to the left,” she anticipated him with an amused smile, and they separated.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Shayne opened the door into a narrow hallway, closed it, and opened another door straight in front of it. The room was small with a bar at one end and a few square tables lighted by low-hanging bulbs. Most of the stools were filled by men who slouched against the bar drinking straight whisky. Two of the tables were occupied by sober-faced men squinting at poker hands through thick smoke.
A door to the right had Private painted white on the dark upper panel. A big man with a pockmarked face leaned against the door sill. Bulky muscles swelled a jersey sweater and he was built solid all the way to the floor. As Shayne came close, he asked in a surly tone, “Lost somethin’?”
Shayne said, “I want to see the boss. Is this his office?”
The big man nodded. “He’s busy. You’ll hafta wait.”
Shayne said, “I haven’t got time,” impatiently, and made a forward move to shoulder the man out of his way.
The man’s eyes glittered. He shoved Shayne back with his left hand and brought his other hand out of his pocket gripping a pair of brass knucks.
Shayne shifted quickly to the left and landed a blow on the bottom of the man’s chin. The man staggered backward, his eyes bewildered, and swung a ponderous right with the knucks.
Shayne stepped aside and hit him on the side of the jaw. His weight helped carry the man to the floor. Shayne turned the knob and swung the Private sign inward.
Four men looked at him as he closed the door. Two were seated at a desk and the other two were leaning forward with their hands on the desk as though they had been listening intently.
Dan Trueman sat facing the door. He took a cigar from his mouth and looked at the intruder with mild surprise. The man who sat across from him had to turn in his chair to see Shayne. He was a big man who had no eyebrows or lashes, and his mouth was very small. He looked smart and cruel. The other two men were young and slender and looked like cokies.
Trueman said, “I guess you’ve made a mistake. This is a private office.” He enunciated his words carefully as one speaks to a dimwit or a drunkard.
Shayne said, “If you’re the boss here I’d like to speak to you a minute.”
“If you’ve got a beef,” said Trueman, “it’ll have to wait. How did you talk Tige into letting you in?”
“I persuaded him.” Shayne blew on his bruised knuckles. “This’ll only take a minute, Trueman.”
Dan Trueman said, “He must be tough, boys. Take him out and keep him out till I’m through with Nolan.”
The two gunmen straightened up and turned toward him. Shayne didn’t look at them. He was watching Trueman as he said, “I’m Shayne.”
Trueman’s eyes narrowed. Then he smiled faintly. “Mike Shayne?”
“That’s right.”
Trueman said, “Skip it, boys. Go out and see about Tige. Tell him to throw those knucks away or learn to use them.” He waited until the two young men had gone out. He blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling and gazed at it, saying softly, “I’ve heard of you, Shayne. What’s on your mind?”
Shayne glanced at the big man sitting in front of Trueman. The proprietor of the Laurel Club said, “Don’t mind Jim Nolan. He’s my attorney and knows more about my business than I do.” He smiled disarmingly.
Shayne said, “I’ve got emeralds on my mind.”
“Is it a disease?” asked Trueman.
“You phoned me this afternoon offering to sell a necklace.”
Trueman shook his head. “Come again. I’m no jeweler.”
“These emeralds are hot. So damned hot they’re going to burn somebody.”
“Nor a fence,” Trueman told him quietly.
Shayne rubbed his jaw, then his mouth spread in a grin but his eyes were cold. “I don’t make mistakes. Maybe you’re handling it for another party.”
“If I were, what would you want me to tell him?”
“Just this. He’d better get out from under because I’m after that necklace. There’ll be no buy from the insurance company.”
“No?” Trueman crossed his legs and sat up straight in his chair, his elongated eyes considering-Shayne. “If you’re talking about the Lomax thing-I was reading about it in the papers.”
“Let’s say I am talking about the Lomax emeralds.”
“I hear it was insured for a hundred and twenty-five thousand,” Trueman purred. “A company hates to put out that kind of money if it can be bought back for, say, forty. No-if I knew the party who had it I’d advise him to hang on for a time.”
Shayne’s laugh was sour. “And you’d be right nine times out of ten. But wrong this once. My company’s got a legal out if it comes to that.”
“So?” Trueman seemed only mildly interested.
“We don’t want to take it. We’d rather recover the stuff and I expect to. But I want you to get this straight- there’ll be no buy.”
Trueman looked inquiringly across the desk at his lawyer.
