Brett Halliday - Blood on the Stars

A tall, grave-faced man came across the carpeted floor toward them. He wore a dull gray suit, a wing-collar and black bow-tie, and a few strands of black hair were carefully combed across his bald scalp. He stopped before them, inclining his head deferentially, yet managing to convey a proper impression of hauteur, and murmured, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Oh, yes,” Celia breathed, her blue eyes sparkling.

The floorwalker inclined his head again and said, “If you’d care to be comfortable at one of these tables-He led the way down the length of the room, past half a dozen couples browsing at the showcases, to a cozily curved love seat in front of a small table holding a crystal ash tray, cigarette humidor, and a large silver table lighter. He stood aside until they seated themselves, then suggested, “If you’d care to give me an idea of what you have in mind, I will be happy to assign a clerk for further consultation.”

Mark Dustin turned to look at his wife’s eager face. “What do we have in mind, Ceil?”

Her face was radiantly flushed and her eyes were big with anticipation and interest as she surveyed the long rows of showcases discreetly lighted with individual fluorescent lights to best show off the gleaming jewels displayed inside. She laid her shining head on his shoulder and whispered, “Could we go look, Mark darling? Do we have to just sit here like dummies?”

“That’s the protocol of a dump like this,” he whispered cheerfully. “We’ll run ’em ragged bringing us things until we see something we like.” To the waiting floorwalker he explained, “This is a very particular occasion. I don’t know what my wife has in mind, but I’ve an idea she’s the type to wear rubies.”

“Rubies? Yes sir. Very good sir.”

The floorwalker went to the rear to confer with a trio of lesser employees who were waiting patiently for the jewel-gazers at the showcases to express their desires.

Celia seized the opportunity to squeeze park’s arm and whisper, “Everything in the showcases looks so beautiful, but this place frightens me. Won’t everything be horribly expensive?”

“Probably.” His manner was that of graceful nonchalance and he laid his palms open in a gesture. “But we can be sure of getting what we pay for in Voorland’s place.”

A clerk came up to their table. He was young and tall and skinny. He wore thick glasses and had a prominent Adam’s apple. It bobbed up and down as he said, “Mr. Thurston suggests you are interested in rubies.”

“It was just a thought,” said Mark. “We might end up with an emerald necklace. Trot something out for us to look at.”

“Of course. For the lady, I presume. A pendant, perhaps? Or a pin for evening wear?”

Mark scowled at him. “Do I look like a guy who would want a pendant or a pin for a wife like mine?” He turned to Celia and asked, “What do you think, dear? I had thought of a glamorous bracelet.”

“Oh, Mark, I’d love seeing everything before I make up my mind. I’m terribly confused. Everything is so beautiful-”

The clerk cleared his throat and his Adam’s apple raced up and down. “May I ask what price range you are interested in, sir? The ruby is an extremely expensive gem, particularly in the larger sizes.”

“So I’ve heard.” For the first time in her life Celia discerned a tone of sarcasm in his voice. “The sky is the limit if you’ve anything that appeals to my wife.” His arm closed around her and drew her close to him.

“Yes, indeed. I quite understand,” said the clerk nervously. He turned and went into an anteroom.

“I’ve always heard that rubies were awfully expensive, Mark darling,” Celia said, snuggling against him. “You know I don’t care whether it’s expensive or not. You’ve made me so happy just remembering our second anniversary-”

“Did you think for a moment I’d forget it, Ceil?” His arm tightened almost hurtingly around her slender waist as he drew her to him. She looked up to see his face taut with emotion that matched the husky passion in his voice. “After two thousand years maybe I’d forget, but after only two?” He laughed deep in his throat and released her, then leaned forward to uncover the humidor, took out a cigarette and lit it.

The clerk came back bearing two trays lined with white satin and displaying various pendants and brooches glittering with brilliant red stones varying in color from light crimson to the rich color of blood, and reflecting flashes of fire from their facets as he maneuvered them beneath the overhead lights.

Celia clutched Mark’s arm, a wave of passion and love flowing through her. “They’re beautiful,” she breathed. Her eyes sought Mark’s, but he was looking at the jewels, a deep frown wrinkling his forehead.

There was only one bracelet included among the assortment on both trays. It was heavy and solid, of white gold set with triple rows of rubies of less than a carat each.

Mark puffed on his cigarette for a moment, then turned his gray eyes to his wife to watch with amused tolerance while she took up each piece to examine it, holding the pendants to her smooth throat, turning the brooches this way and that to catch the red flame from the facets, putting each one back with a sigh of regret. At last she picked up the bracelet which she slipped onto her wrist and held it up for Mark to see.

“They’re all so beautiful,” she said reverently. “This bracelet-can we afford it, Mark?”

His eyes were half-closed to exclude the smoke that rose from rapid inhalations of his cigarette. He shrugged and said carelessly, “Nice, but hardly what I had in mind. Those stones are nothing but dinky little chips,” he went on, turning to the clerk. “Haven’t you a decent bracelet to show us?”

The young man’s Adam’s apple stood still in his astonishment. “The-the stones in that bracelet are each three-three-quarter carat, sir,” he gulped. “Perfectly matched and beautifully cut. I assure you it’s a collector’s item.”

“How much?” Mark Dustin leaned forward to crush the butt of his cigarette in the crystal ash tray.

“Twenty-five thousand, sir.” The clerk’s voice was steady now, muted and reverent, as though he and God had got together to set this price on so rare an accumulation of stones adorning the bracelet.

“That’s about what it looks like,” said Mark, with elaborate tolerance. He waved a smooth sun-tanned hand toward the two trays. “You’re wasting our time with junk like this. If you’ve nothing better than this to show us, we may as well go elsewhere.” He started to get up, but the flustered clerk forestalled him with rapid jerks of his Adam’s apple and an outstretched hand.

“I understand perfectly, sir,” he stammered. “Perhaps you’d like to see Mr. Voorland himself. Rubies are a personal hobby with him and I’m sure that if he hasn’t exactly what you want in stock, he’ll be happy to have it made up for you.”

Mark said, “I came in to buy something, not to order it for future delivery.” He took another cigarette from the humidor and lit it. “Tell your boss that,” he added, and took a deep draft of smoke into his lungs.

Celia sighed and her wistful eyes followed the clerk to the rear as he carried the trays away. “I thought the bracelet was perfect, Mark. Did he say twenty-five thousand dollars?”

Mark chuckled, showing strong white teeth. “Maybe he meant Mexican pesos,” he teased. “That stuff was junk, baby,” he went on tolerantly. “Why do you suppose I haven’t bought you any jewelry these past two years? I’ve been waiting until I could afford the best. When people look at you I don’t want them to feel sorry for me and whisper, ‘Dustin must have hit a streak of bad luck. Look at that cheap little bracelet his wife is wearing.’ You let me worry about the price,” he went on confidently as a tall, solid man approached them from the rear.