“Give him anything he wants,” Quinlan ordered. “Get that statement typed and have him sign it while it’s hot. Gleason, you and Barnes get out to the Lomax house and pick up the old man. Bring him to my office and don’t tell him anything.” He motioned to Shayne, and they went back to his office.
Quinlan leaned back in his desk chair and smiled whimsically. “Doesn’t it beat hell, Shayne, how things work out sometimes? We think we’ve got a case sewed up with a square knot and blooie! it turns out to be a granny.”
Shayne scowled thoughtfully. He agreed that it did beat hell how things turned out sometimes.
“Don’t look so downhearted,” Quinlan chuckled. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Good God, you said it might have been Lomax from the beginning. Putting the screws on Jordan is what cleared it up, no matter how you look at it.”
Shayne nodded and cleared his throat. “It cleared up one angle that’s been bothering me: how the killer found out that Trueman was dickering with me to buy the necklace.”
“Why was the old man so anxious to get it back? If he grabbed it in the first place to collect insurance, why did he turn it over to Trueman and then kill him to get it back?”
Shayne asked, “Have you still got that bead?”
“Right here.” Inspector Quinlan took the envelope from his desk drawer and dumped the gem on the blotter.
Shayne held it up to the light, asking, “Have you examined it carefully?”
“I don’t know. It’s an emerald. That’s all I know.”
Shayne shook his head as he squinted. “It’s a phony. Synthetic. A damned good job, but still a phony. I’ve worked too many insurance rackets not to recognize the real article.”
Quinlan said, “I’ll be damned-a phony.” He passed his hand across his eyes. “But the Lomax necklace was genuine. Your company insured it for a hundred and twenty-five thousand. They wouldn’t do that without checking up.”
“The Lomax necklace was real, all right.” Shayne rolled the glittering gem back and forth in his palm reflectively.
“What’s this, then? Was Trueman pulling a fast one? Did he have a reproduction made up to sell back to Lomax?”
“Let’s let Lomax tell about it,” Shayne suggested. He got up and walked across the room with his hands thrust deep in his pants pockets, a moody scowl on his rugged face.
“I can’t help wondering about one thing, Shayne. That identification of Neal Jordan. Those two witnesses- how dark was it last night?”
Shayne said, “Pretty dark.”
“Jordan said something about a picture being stolen from his room,” Quinlan went on hesitantly.
Shayne didn’t say anything.
“Was that one of your deals? Did you frame the identification as he charged?”
Shayne said angrily, “When I went out of here a few hours ago you told me you didn’t want to know what I was going to do. All right. Leave it that way. You don’t know.”
“That’s fair enough,” Quinlan agreed unhappily. He picked up his fountain pen and rolled it between his palms, his eyes filled with curiosity.
Shayne smoked a cigarette while they waited for Lomax. When he heard a commotion outside the door he drew a chair aside and sat down.
Mr. Lomax looked worried but determined when two detectives ushered him into the office. “I thought a private citizen had some constitutional rights,” he said irritably to the inspector. “These men dragged me here-”
“A murder suspect,” Quinlan interrupted harshly, “has no rights.”
Lomax looked suddenly deflated. He sank into a chair and nodded helplessly. “I was afraid that was it. After they arrested Neal. He couldn’t take your third degree, I suppose.”
“He sang like a canary when he found he was in it up to his neck,” Quinlan told him.
Lomax’s face was more like a death mask than Shayne had seen it. He said sadly, “I think I knew it wouldn’t work out. Ever since I read this morning’s paper. In a way, I’m glad. It’ll be a relief to tell my story.”
“Anything you say may be used against you,” Quinlan warned. “You can refuse to testify if you wish.”
“No… No. I want to get it off my chest,” said Lomax earnestly.
Quinlan rang for a stenographer and said, “Go ahead,” when the elderly court reporter came in.
“It was shortly after midnight when Mr. Trueman telephoned. He told me the necklace was in his possession and that Mr. Shayne had offered him forty thousand dollars for it in behalf of the insurance company.” He paused to turn his murky blue eyes reproachfully upon Shayne. “You had promised to keep me informed of developments.”
Shayne said, “You fell for a gag. Actually, I’d refused to deal with Trueman.”
Mr. Lomax sighed. “I didn’t know, of course. I was anxious to avoid any loss to the insurance company because I felt the whole affair was due solely to my wife’s negligence. So I told Trueman I’d come down and discuss the matter with him. I had Neal get the car ready, and I explained the elements of the situation to him as I drove down.
“I remember that he thought it extremely foolish for me to take that attitude, but I felt duty-bound to pay for my wife’s negligence.
“The Club had just closed when I arrived-some time after midnight. I found Mr. Trueman in his office and it was not difficult to reach an agreement with him. Though he refused to tell me how he had obtained the necklace and insisted he was acting for a third party, he agreed to turn it over to me for fifty thousand dollars. But he insisted on cash, naturally, and I arranged to withdraw it from the bank this morning and complete the transaction at noon today. Mr. Trueman was in perfect health when I left him, and it wasn’t until I read this morning’s paper that I knew what happened afterward.”
“Can you prove your story?” Quinlan asked.
“Neal will tell you-”
Quinlan chortled mirthlessly.
“Your chauffeur saw you go in and saw you come out. Can anyone testify that Trueman was alive when you left his office?”
Lomax moved his skull-like head dispiritedly. “No. He was alone in his office. I’m afraid no one saw me leave. But surely you gentlemen don’t think I caused that havoc in his office, that I bested him in a deadly struggle. I haven’t the strength nor the will for a thing like that.”
“The damage may not have been as extensive as the papers made it sound,” said Quinlan. “They’re apt to exaggerate a thing like that. At the time we suspected another person who would fit into such a rough and tumble.” He looked at Shayne quickly and cleared his throat, shook his head decidedly. “No. Trueman was killed by a single blow on the head,” Quinlan went on to Lomax, “with some sort of an iron bar. A weakling could have delivered the blow-or even a woman.”
“But why would I do it? I was willing to pay his price.” Mr. Lomax spread out his pasty white hands nervously.
“That’s your story. Fifty grand is a lot of money. Or he may have demanded a hundred. That’s a good enough motive for a jury.”
“I’m a wealthy man,” Lomax told him with quiet dignity.
“Maybe. We’ll check on that. In the meantime, here’s another motive that’s going to sound good to a jury. You made him show you the necklace. As soon as you saw it you realized he was trying to palm off an imitation on you. In your justifiable fury you killed him.”
“Oh,” said Lomax faintly, “you know about the necklace being only an imitation?”
“Certainly. In the struggle the necklace was broken and the stones scattered all over the floor. You left one behind when you gathered them up. As soon as we saw it we recognized it as synthetic.”
Shayne lounged forward and said, “That’s why you were so anxious to get the necklace back, wasn’t it, Lomax? Because if it reached the insurance company your fraud would be discovered.”
“Yes. But I tried to do the honest thing. You know I told you I’d prefer not to collect any insurance-that I’d rather pay it out of my own pocket than have your company lose.”
