Эрл Гарднер - The Amazing Adventures of Lester Leith

She dropped her skirts and with them her manner of easy banter. “Listen,” she said, “I simply have to get a job. This isn’t the sort of work I’ve been doing. I’m not certain that it’s the kind I’d like to do, but if you’re willing to take a chance on me, I’m willing to take a chance on you.”

Leith opened his wallet and took out one hundred dollars. “Two weeks’ salary,” he explained. “And here’s an extra hundred.”

“An extra hundred,” she echoed.

He nodded. “I want you to get some new clothes for your act. Brevity is the soul of wit, and I think you understand what is required.”

He reached once more into his wallet and took out three hundred-dollar bills. “Here is some expense money. Get a wardrobe.”

“Now, wait a minute,” she said. “I’m not going to pinch myself because I don’t want to wake up, but let’s not go overboard.”

Leith said, “It’s quite all right. You’re going to take a trip on a boat. You’ll need a couple of dinner gowns, a sports outfit, and accessories.”

She said again, “Now, wait a minute. What do you want in return for all this?” And her eyes stared at Lester Leith with disconcerting frankness.

“Loyalty,” Leith said. “A willingness to follow instructions.”

She said, “Listen, I’m no tin angel, but—”

Leith smiled, put his wallet away, and said, “I think we understand each other, Miss Sanders. If you’ll get out and do your shopping, I’ll telephone instructions later.”

The undercover man sat across the table from Sergeant Ackley and said, “Well, Sergeant, it’s all off.”

“What is?” Ackley asked.

“The whole thing,” Beaver said. “It’s just a runaround. He’s either gone nuts, or else he’s become suspicious and is taking us for a ride.”

“Nonsense,” Sergeant Ackley said, “not with a priceless string of matched pearls with a historical value which makes it a collector’s item.”

“All right, then,” Beaver said, “suppose you figure it out.”

Sergeant Ackley said, “That’s what I’m here for, Beaver. You do the leg work. I furnish the brain that directs your energies. You’re the contractor. I’m the architect.”

“All right, then,” the undercover man said, “figure this out. He hires Charles Sansone’s Chinese secretary. He hires a girl with the prettiest figure you’ve ever seen. He gets a thousand dollars’ worth of parlor magic stuff, and announces he’s taking the whole kit and kaboodle to Honolulu.”

“To Honolulu?” Sergeant Ackley exclaimed. Then a look of smug satisfaction came over Ackley’s countenance. “The trouble with you, Beaver, is that you haven’t a deductive mind. You’re observant and conscientious, but you’re dealing with a man who has a chain-lightning brain, and you can’t think fast enough to put two and two together.”

“Meaning,” Beaver said, “that you have a highly trained mind.”

“Naturally,” Sergeant Ackley said modestly, “or I wouldn’t be here.”

“All right,” Beaver said, “ you tell me then. What’s the answer?”

Sergeant Ackley picked up the morning paper, opened it to an inside page, and said, “Get a load of this. ‘The international competition of skeet shooters is scheduled to take place in Honolulu two weeks from today. Silman Shore, a noted trap-shooter who has already broken several records, expects to compete. Shore’s photo is shown above.’ ”

Beaver’s face showed amazed comprehension. “By gosh,” he said, “it may make sense at that!”

“Of course it makes sense,” Sergeant Ackley said. “Now, tell me exactly what’s been going on.”

Beaver said, “He wanted to know all about how the crime was committed. I told him. Most of it he could get from the newspapers anyway, and he’s a shark at deducing things from what he reads in the papers.”

“Exactly what did you tell him?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“I told him about Shogiro passing the necklace around for examination. Sansone pretended it was a social party. As a matter of fact, every one of the men there knows something about gems — or about Chinese history. Grier had seen the necklace when he was in the Forbidden City five years ago, and remembered it.”

“Go on.”

“Well, he was interested in finding out how the theft took place. I told him all we knew, that the necklace was shown around, that Grier was the last to look at it. He passed it to Sansone who had already looked at it. Sansone passed it back to Shogiro. Then, after a while, Sansone announced that he was intending to buy the neck lace and asked Shore if he had noticed the workmanship of the catch. Shore said he’d paid more attention to the pearls than to the catch, and Shogiro obligingly took the ivory jewel case out of his pocket and handed it to Shore. Shore opened it, picked up the necklace, turned toward the light, and then said, ‘By George, this thing is counterfeit!’ And then, of course, all hell broke loose.

“Well, Leith asked me to look up all the people who were there. I found out that Grier knows a lot about China. I found out that Charles Sansone is a well-known amateur magician. I found out that Thoms, the big game hunter, is going to Alaska—”

“Is he?” Sergeant Ackley asked.

“He is,” Beaver said.

“Well,” Sergeant Ackley said, “as I see the situation, we have three suspects. Grier could very well have substituted necklaces when he handed the necklace to Sansone. Grier had already seen the necklace, knew exactly what it looked like, and could have had an imitation prepared.

“Sansone could have done it. He’d seen the necklace a couple of days before and he could have had an imitation ready. He’s pretty good at sleight of hand. We can’t leave Silman Shore out — he was the one to discover that it was an imitation.”

“And don’t overlook the fact that this Shogiro may be pulling a fast one,” Beaver said.

“I don’t think so,” Sergeant Ackley observed. “He had nothing to gain.”

“Well,” Beaver said, “Leith was very much interested in finding out where Shogiro was going.”

“And you found out?”

“Yes. Shogiro’s canceling the trip he planned to Europe and is returning to Japan.”

Sergeant Ackley’s brows furrowed. “By way of Honolulu?” he asked.

“What do you think?” the undercover man replied.

The giant liner Monterey sent the long blast of a booming whistle echoing over the Los Angeles harbor. On the pier below, thousands of hysterical, waving people shouted farewells to the passengers who lined the decks. Streamers of colored paper, stretching from ship to shore, fluttered in the vagrant night breeze. The air was filled with shouts and laughter.

Then a dark strip of water appeared between the pier and the white sides of the big ship. A surge of white water churned up from the stern. The big liner, graceful as a yacht, throbbed into motion, and the sleek white sides began to glide along the pier.

Lester Leith said to Ora Sanders, “Well, here we are, on our way — the start of adventure.”

She looked up at him with bright eyes. “To think that I would ever have an experience like this,” she breathed. “Oh, it’s wonderful, simply wonderful!”

Leith moved over to rest his elbows on the teakwood rail. He glanced at Mah Foy standing motionless, the breeze swirling her skirts into gentle motion, her face utterly without expression.

Leith caught sight of the huge figure of Beaver towering above the other passengers. He motioned to him, and the valet joined him.

“You’ve looked over the passenger list, Scuttle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who’s aboard of those at the dinner party when the necklace disappeared?”