Dustin wanted it delivered by Friday for his wife to wear to a concert.”
Shayne nodded. “And this is Friday.”
“So they want you to recover it for them,” said Lucy happily. “That’s nice. You always feel better when you’re working. And there should be a big reward. Goodness! A hundred and eighty thousand dollars!”
“It isn’t quite as simple as that. Painter thinks I stole it.”
“Painter?”
“Peter Painter,” Shayne told her. “On the Beach. You’ve heard me speak of the little bastard often enough.”
“Oh, yes. But how on earth could he get such a crazy idea, Michael?”
“It isn’t difficult-not for Painter,” Shayne said morosely. “In this case it wasn’t difficult at all,” he added explosively. He held up his left hand with the five fingers extended and turned down one big-knuckled finger as he made each point:
“Here’s what he’s got: You wanted the bracelet for yourself. You said so right out loud and I admitted out loud I couldn’t afford it. We were there and heard Voorland’s sales talk and the price. We heard Dustin say his wife wanted it to wear tonight. Added to that, I’m an unscrupulous son-of-a-bitch who has been getting in Petey Painter’s hair for the past seven years, and it’s his theory that if you throw enough mud some of it is bound to stick.”
“But everyone knows you here in Miami.” Lucy looked at him, her brown eyes aghast.
“That’s the hell of it.”
“But-I don’t understand.”
“Stick around, darling, and you will.” Shayne grinned suddenly, got up and pinched her cheek. “Wait until you read this story the way Painter hands it out to the papers. You’ll discover you’re a kept woman, and that we’ve discovered some sort of lecherous orgy that requires star rubies dissolved in the blood of an unborn mulatto baby with which we drink a toast at the stroke of midnight under a full moon when Jupiter is in the ascendency.”
Lucy’s full red mouth quivered, uncertain whether to laugh or cry. “Michael! You’re just-teasing.” She moved closer to him. “They won’t dare say things like that.”
“They’ll hint them.” He put his arms around her. “Wait until I offer our cozy little home-cooked dinner in my apartment as an alibi. Painter can do a lot with that.”
“But it wasn’t anything. I just-cooked dinner for you.”
“That’s what you think,” he countered cheerfully. He was suddenly grave, holding her away from him with his hands on her shoulders. “You can still stay clear of it, Lucy. Pack your stuff and move to another hotel. Then buy a ticket and get out of town.”
“You know I won’t do anything of the kind.” Her eyes were moist and shining. “I’m not afraid.”
He shook his red head somberly. “It won’t be nice. You really don’t know what you’re walking into in Miami.” His voice became harsh. “I’ve deliberately built up a reputation over the years that lays me wide open for a charge like this. I can take it, but I wonder if you can.”
“Of course I can,” she said stoutly.
Shayne chuckled and his hands tightened on her shoulders, then he opened them slowly, placed his palms on her cheeks and pulled her to him and kissed her lips. He said, “You’re swell, Lucy.” He turned to stride across the room to get his hat from a rack.
Lucy stood where she was and watched him.
“You’d better go back to your own room. God knows when I’ll get back,” he said when he reached the door.
“I’ll be here waiting for you,” she said, “when you do come.”
He nodded and went out, closing the door gently.
Chapter Six
Celia Dustin opened the door of the hotel suite for Michael Shayne. Beyond her he saw Peter Painter and Walter Voorland conferring together. Mark Dustin reclined on a couch, his right cheek and hand heavily bandaged.
Celia’s eyes widened when she saw the tall, redheaded detective. “You’re Mr. Shayne,” she said.
“That’s right, Mrs. Dustin. I heard about the robbery. Is your husband badly injured?”
“Mark’s so impetuous. He didn’t have a chance against all three of them-and they had guns.” She stood aside to let him enter.
Voorland looked up, worried and disturbed, and gave Shayne a friendly nod of greeting. Painter strutted forward like a fighting cock and stopped in front of Shayne with his small feet planted widely apart, his hands clasped behind his back. “All right, Shayne,” he snapped. “What do you know about this?”
“Damned little,” Shayne confessed. He looked over the detective chief’s head at the jeweler.
Voorland wasn’t chewing gum and he looked grave as he met the question in Shayne’s gray eyes. “It’s bad, Mike. First time Mrs. Dustin wore her new bracelet, and it’s gone-like that.” He snapped his fleshy fingers resoundingly.
“A perfectly planned and beautifully executed job,” Painter put in aggressively. “By someone who knew exactly what he wanted and where it was going to be at a certain time.”
Shayne disregarded him and continued to look over his head at Voorland. “I’m surprised that you were able to deliver the bracelet today,” he said. “Not much time for a check to have cleared through a Denver Bank.”
Voorland nodded in response to the unspoken question in the detective’s voice. “My bank rushed it through by airmail. The full purchase price was paid before the bracelet left my store.”
Shayne shrugged and moved around Painter to ask Dustin, “Mind telling me how it happened?”
“See here,” Painter exploded, following Shayne across the carpeted floor. “You’re here to answer questions, not to ask them. I’d like to know-”
“You’d always like to know lots of things,” Shayne said over his shoulder. “Looks like they really cracked you up, Dustin.”
The westerner nodded. “I went crazy mad and stuck my neck out a mile. Your boys down here play for keeps.”
“Now look here, Shayne.” Painter moved around in front of him again. “That bracelet was delivered to Mr. Dustin late this evening. No one else knew the value of it or that his wife planned to wear it tonight except you and that girl-”
Shayne put the palm of his hand in Painter’s face and pushed. Painter rocked back on his heels and swung up a furious hand to knock Shayne’s palm aside. “By God, I’ll-”
“You’ll keep your damned yap shut,” Shayne told him with cold anger, “if you expect any help from me.”
“But you certainly can’t deny-”
“I’m not going to waste time denying anything,” Shayne broke in harshly. “How did it happen, Dustin?”
Painter stepped back, bristling with fury, while Mark Dustin gave the detective a brief account of the robbery. “I didn’t see the license number nor any of their faces,” he ended helplessly.
“There were three of them, you say.”
“I’m not even certain whether a fourth man stayed in the car behind the wheel or not. But they knew exactly what they wanted. They told Celia to stick her arm out the very first thing.”
“But they did take your money, too,” Shayne pointed out. “That looks as though they were just out for anything they could pick up.”
Dustin picked up a highball in his left hand. “You cops are the ones to figure things out. You know the way your mobs work down here better than I.”
“I’ve been trying to tell Painter,” said Voorland, “how unique this particular bracelet is. The sort of jewel mobs who operate in a resort city like Miami necessarily employ finger men who are experts in their line. One glance at those star rubies would have been enough to send them after the bracelet in a hurry.”
