Brett Halliday: Blood on the Stars

Six large pigeon’s-blood rubies were evenly spaced around the bracelet. They were truly impressive stones, and from the center of each ruby there radiated those six curious rays of light which mark the true asteria, the so-called star ruby, which occurs only rarely in rubies and in its sister gem, the sapphire, and in no other really precious stone.

Mr. Voorland settled back with both hands on his knees, narrowly studying Mark Dustin’s face from beneath half-lowered lids. The westerner showed neither surprise nor approval as he looked at the bracelet. His face was as devoid of expression as that of the professional gambler who picks up a pat royal flush.

Celia was not so phlegmatic. She squealed with delight and reached a hand out toward the bracelet, halted it as though frightened by her own audacity, then picked it up gently, impelled by some power beyond her strength to resist.

A tall man wearing loose gray tweeds and a dark snap-brim felt hat pushed far back on his forehead entered the store as Celia fondled the bracelet. He was broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, and had a lined face with bristling red eyebrows above keen gray ayes. His hands were big-knuckled and rough, and he carried his weight with deceptively graceful ease.

A young, brown-haired girl had her hand in the crook of his arm and stood close beside him as he stopped inside the doorway to slowly survey the interior. She wore a yellow skirt and a white blouse with a ruffled neck and pleats down the front. The crown of her shining brown head scarcely came above her companion’s shoulder. She looked gay and happy, as though it were springtime and she was in love for the first time. Her brown eyes danced with eagerness and she let her cheek gently touch the rough tweed of the man’s coat.

The floorwalker started toward the couple, but the man saw Voorland at the rear of the store and moved forward, shaking his head at the floorwalker. They came up to the seated trio without being noticed, and stopped beside the table to look down at the scene with interest.

Celia was slowly turning the bracelet around and around in her hands, her eyes riveted upon it. Her husband was watching her face, a set smile on his lips.

Mr. Voorland was observing Dustin with appraising thoughtfulness while his big jaws worked methodically on the wad of gum between his teeth.

He was the first to look up. His expression changed immediately when he saw the couple standing there. He got to his feet and held out his hand, saying heartily, “Mike Shayne! And this is-” He looked inquiringly at Shayne’s companion.

“Miss Hamilton, my secretary from New Orleans,” Shayne told him. “She has an allergy to pearls, particularly the simulated variety, and we brought along a string to trade in on something she does like.”

“I’mvery glad to meet you, Miss Hamilton.” Mr. Voorland made his formal bow with as great a show of pleasure as if the transaction involved a string of real pearls. “Your taste in secretaries is far better than in pearls. This little lady looks like the authentic article.”

Lucy colored slightly at the compliment, and Shayne warned her, “Mr. Voorland’s an old smoothie, Lucy. He tells that to all the girls when he wants to sell them something. You asked me to drop in at noon,” he reminded the jeweler with a glance at the seated couple. “But if you’re busy, we can come back.”

“Not at all,” Voorland said quickly. “As a matter of fact, I’d like to have you see this bracelet, Mike. You know something about gems, don’t you?”

“Superficially. Through insurance investigations and that sort of thing.” He looked down with interest at the bracelet in Celia Dustin’s hands.

Mr. Voorland said, “I’d like to introduce Miss Hamilton and Mr. Shayne. Mr. and Mrs. Dustin.”

Shayne removed his hat. Dustin arose and offered his hand to the red-headed detective, saying heartily, “Would it be the Michael Shayne we’ve read so much about in the papers?”

Shayne grinned and admitted it. “The papers are always giving me a build-up, hoping I’ll fall flat on my face. Thus far, I’ve managed to disappoint them.”

Lucy’s eyes were wide and round as she gazed at the bracelet. She gripped Shayne’s arm tightly and whispered loud enough for the others to hear, “That’s what I’d like, Mike. Do you think-”

“Wait a minute,” said Shayne. “We don’t want to come in here busting up a sale. Mrs. Dustin was here first.”

Celia looked up at them and her eyes were starred with happiness and excitement. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said quietly. “Would you like to see it, Miss Hamilton?” She held the bracelet up and Lucy took it eagerly.

“It doesn’t look like so much to me,” Shayne deprecated. “What are the stones, Voorland? Garnets?”

Voorland smiled. “Rubies, Mike.”

“Rubies?” scoffed Shayne. “They don’t look like rubies to me. What are you trying to put over on Mr. Dustin?”

Voorland was unperturbed. “It’s absolutely the finest thing that’s ever been in this store-or any other store.”

“There’s no shine to them,” Shayne protested. “A real ruby has the same brilliance as a diamond with color added. And the damned things are cracked,” he added, leaning forward to scowl at the star-shaped lines of radiation from the center of each stone.

“A faceted ruby gets its brilliance, like a diamond, from the way it is cut. These gems are cut en cabochon to produce asterism which you are pleased to call cracks.” Voorland took the bracelet from Lucy and pointed out his meaning to the detective.

“You see, the top is rounded and smooth. This was the first method of cutting all gems and was in vogue until the art of faceting was discovered in the fourteenth century. It is practically obsolescent now except when we are dealing with a pronounced case of asterism.”

Though he ostensibly spoke to Shayne, the jeweler’s explanation was directed more to Mark and Celia Dustin. “These are known in the trade as true ‘phenomenal stones,’” Voorland went on authoritatively. “A really fine star ruby is the rarest of finds. Almost always, color and other perfect qualities are sacrificed for asterism. Both star sapphires and rubies are usually characterized by cloudiness. Such was the case with even the famous Star of India. In each one of these stones you have the collector’s dream. A perfect pigeon’s-blood star ruby. Six of them, Mike. Ranging from eight and a quarter to six carats. Any one of them is a collector’s item in itself. Side by side like this in a bracelet-Catherine of Russia never had a piece to approach it.”

Mark Dustin was still standing beside him, frowning at the bracelet and listening intently. “Those light streaks look like cracks to me, too,” he admitted dubiously. “I wouldn’t want people to think I couldn’t afford-”

“No one who knows anything about jewels will question your financial status,” Voorland interrupted. “A perfect star ruby is known throughout the civilized world as the rarest of gems. I’ve been forty years gathering these six stones,” he went on quietly. “For forty years I’ve followed the trail of whispered rumors, the illusive will-o-the-wisp of tantalizing hope. Through the gem markets of the world and into the depths of Ceylon and Burma. Forever seeking the unattainable. I’ve had larger star rubies than these and sold them as single pieces because they couldn’t even be cut to match the two center stones I first obtained almost forty years ago. This one I did cut from nine and a half carats.” He touched one of the smaller stones in the bracelet. “To obtain the perfect symmetry of asterism I demanded.”