Brett Halliday: Blood on the Stars

“That’s right,” said Shayne glibly. “I forgot to tell you one small detail. Randolph gave me a bribe to keep his part in this quiet. Ten thousand bucks.” He took the envelope from his pocket and sailed it over to Randolph. “That squares me. Count the money and start talking.”

Randolph said thickly, “Why did you let me-”

“Because I wanted you to feel perfectly safe and stick around long enough to get the insurance reward for me.”

“You’re responsible for that money,” Randolph roared. “I intend to hold you responsible-”

“I accept the responsibility. If your company has to pay one dime on the Dustin policy I’ll refund every penny. Tell them exactly what Mrs. Dustin said when you answered the telephone in my apartment.”

Randolph gulped, swallowed his Adam’s apple, and said in a choked voice, “She said she had some information-”

Wretchedly he told the story he had told Shayne earlier. When he reached the point where he admitted hurrying to the Beach to keep the appointment, Dustin leaped to his feet with an oath. He had to be held back by Painter while Randolph stumbled on with his story.

“I swear she was dead when I reached there,” he said in an agonized voice. “I don’t know how I can prove it, but it’s God’s truth.” Shakily he raised his right hand. “I defy anybody to prove differently.” He turned his murky eyes toward Shayne and sank back in his chair.

“There you are.” Shayne stood up and said, “Sit down, Dustin. That’s only one man’s story for whatever it’s worth.” He waited until Mark Dustin sank back into his chair and Painter had resumed his stiff position on the edge of his chair.

“If we accept Randolph’s version,” he continued quietly and firmly, “we have to conclude that Celia Dustin somehow learned something of importance in connection with the ruby bracelet that she wished to tell me.”

Shayne paused and once again his gray eyes went over the group. Timothy Rourke had his notepaper on his knee, but his pencil was idle in his right hand, which hung loosely at his side. His eyes were half closed, and there was a look of extreme boredom on his thin face.

Shayne said, “I think all this brings us to you, Voorland.”

Timothy Rourke came alive with a start.

Voorland said, “To me? I do not see what-”

“To you and one more coincidence. This time, the case of the great ruby expert who gave me all the inside dope on the manufacture of synthetic gems without even mentioning the earliest experiments by a German chemist, and a man named Michaud. Remember those two gentlemen now, Voorland?”

Voorland appeared unperturbed. He fished out a stick of gum, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth before answering. After he methodically masticated it for a time he said, “Naturally I know about those experiments. But the Verneuil process-”

“Is the one in general use now,” Shayne said. “I know all about that. Yet, I wondered-”

Shayne suddenly turned away from Voorland and addressed the others. “You see,” he said, “we come back again to the curious fact that during the past several years Voorland has apparently succeeded in cornering the finest star rubies in the world. From the beginning, I toyed with the possibility of those gems being spurious.

“I know,” he went on wearily, as both Voorland and Randolph raised themselves partially from their chairs, “it simply can’t be done. And you, Randolph, appraised the ring purchased by King. Also, you appraised the Dustin bracelet, while another insurance man appraised the Kendrick pendant. Still-I wondered.”

Shayne hesitated for a moment. The lines of his gaunt face were drawn, his brows knitted, but his gray eyes gleamed.

“If they were artificial-if Voorland had actually discovered some secret process of manufacturing star rubies, I could see a profit in it for him. But I couldn’t see how that hooked up with their sudden theft and complete disappearance. Not until I read a few paragraphs in an old encyclopedia and found out about the earliest known process of making artificial rubies. They didn’t call those gems synthetic, but reconstructed gems. That’s because that is what they were. Reconstructed from a number of smaller stones. The reason that original process was discarded was two-fold: It was almost impossible to completely eradicate the faint lines of fissure where the smaller stones were joined, and they were very brittle and likely to burst asunder from interior pressure at any time.

“Then I began to see a possibility,” Shayne went on. He spoke rapidly, as though he wanted to get the thing over and done with, his eyes going over the group keenly. “Suppose Voorland, or someone else, took Michaud’s process of reconstructing rubies and actually utilized the lines of fissure to reproduce a star ruby? Take six small stones of uniform size and cut them in triangular shape. Then, under pressure and terrific heat fuse the six stones into one large one having the asterism that makes them so valuable, and also marks them as natural stones.”

Again Shayne paused to let his remarks sink in. “I began to see how even experts like Walter Voorland and Earl Randolph might be fooled by a job like that. Mental attitude counts for a lot in appraising jewelry. Ever since Verneuil began making synthetic rubies it has been an accepted credo in the trade that a star ruby must be cut from the natural stone.

“So, I began to see how such a manufactured or reconstructed gem might be foisted off as the real thing on some sucker like James T. King by a jeweler with Walter Voorland’s unblemished reputation.

“But think of the chance he takes. Suppose the brittle, reconstructed stone broke into pieces or blew up from internal tension. Then the truth would have to come out. Voorland would be ruined, his reputation shot to hell and gone. It didn’t seem to me that it was worth his taking such a chance, even if he had discovered such a process.”

The silence in the room was thick, the attitude of every man a study. Shayne’s eyes once again studied their faces. The atmosphere itself seemed supercharged.

“And that’s where the sudden losses come in,” he said.

“That’s the theory that explains why the rubies were stolen shortly after their purchase and never recovered. That way, Voorland could be safe from detection. All he had to do was to arrange a fast hold-up before the fraud was discovered, and have his purchaser fully covered by insurance in order that he wouldn’t lose very much, if anything. That explained a lot of things.”

“Do you honestly expect us to believe,” demanded Earl Randolph incredulously, “that all those star rubies were fakes?”

Shayne said, “I’m positive they were. The ring sold to King, the pendant bought by Kendrick, and the bracelet stolen from Dustin last night.”

“This is the most preposterous tissue of lies I ever heard,” said Voorland angrily. “There are such things as libel laws, Shayne. I’m a wealthy man. I’d be insane to attempt any such trickery.”

“I wonder if you are so wealthy,” Shayne said. “I know you don’t own much stock in the store you manage under your own name. You’re nothing more than a hired hand over there, and I’ve got a hunch you’ve eaten your heart out for years watching the huge profits go to the stockholders while you had to be content with a moderate salary.”

“Even if that were true,” the jeweler protested, “I’d be the biggest fool on earth to sell fakes like that and trust to luck to be able to arrange a successful hold-up soon enough to recover the gems before they were discovered.”

“He’s perfectly right, Shayne,” Peter Painter put in pompously. “He’d have no way of being sure a robbery would be successful. A hundred things could happen to circumvent it. The buyer might place the jewel in a safe deposit box immediately. He might leave the country the next day. Any thing at all might come up to interfere with such an absurd plan. He’d be a fool to trust to luck.”