Brett Halliday - Murder and the Married Virgin

“Correct,” Mr. Teton answered.

“I’ll be right in to see you,” Shayne said briskly. “What’s the address?”

“We’re in the same building with you. Ten-four-teen.”

Shayne said, “Good enough,” and hung up.

In the reception hall he was greeted by a bright smile from Lucy Hamilton. “So fifty dollars is your usual retainer?” she mocked.

“I may owe the lieutenant a retainer before it’s over,” Shayne said gravely.

He picked up his damp trench coat and folded it over his arm, then lowered one hip to the low railing and scowled at her.

“Why does a young girl commit suicide on the eve of her marriage to a man with whom she’s very much in love?” he demanded.

Lucy leaned back and her brown eyes widened. “Why-let me think-” A frown of contemplation creased her smooth brow. “Well, if she’s gone and-”

“Nope.” Shayne shook his red head decisively. “I’m talking about a girl who’s a virgin in mind, soul and body.”

Lucy’s frown deepened.

“How old is this paragon?”

“She was twenty. Norwegian. Maybe that explains it.”

“Maybe,” said Lucy doubtfully. “I don’t know much about Norwegian girls. How do you know-?”

“Her fiance just told me so,” Shayne interposed thoughtfully, “and somehow I trust the man’s intuition in the matter. If you’d heard him-that is, I believed him when he said his Katrin wasn’t the kind to two-time him.” He paused, rubbed his angular jawbone with his palm, then resumed, “But here’s something else, Lucy. Suppose she’d had an affair before she met her lieutenant? Does a thing like that leave a scar on a girl’s mind any more? I thought the idea of pre-nuptial chastity went out with hoopskirts.”

“Perhaps the Norwegians have preserved that quaint old custom,” Lucy offered solemnly.

“I’ll have to look into that angle,” Shayne said. “If Katrin Moe had a secret past she might have been ashamed to marry a man she truly loved-” and after a moment’s thought added-“but that would ruin another perfectly good theory.”

He mashed his soggy hat down over his bristling red hair and went out to the elevator.

“It seems to me,” fretted Mr. Teton as he signed the memorandum agreement retaining Shayne in the Lomax necklace case, “that ten per cent is an exorbitant fee, but Mr. Marguilies in New York-”

“Knows which side his company’s bread is buttered on,” Shayne finished for him dryly. He blotted Mr. Teton’s signature and folded the paper carefully and slid it into his inside coat pocket.

They were seated in a long, pleasant office ten stories above Melpomene Street just off St. Charles. Mr. Teton was a fussy little man with pale, far-sighted eyes. He wore his nose-glasses on a black ribbon appended to the lapel of a gray tweed suit, and continually placed them astride his nose to scan the documents, and took them off to argue with Shayne.

“Paying me twelve and a half grand to save a hundred and twenty-five isn’t a bad deal,” Shayne stated flatly. He leaned back in the comfortable chair and lit a cigarette. “Now that the mundane details are settled, give me the dope.”

“Of course.” Mr. Teton hooked his glasses on his lapel and clasped his hands on the desk. “The necklace was stolen night before last.”

“Wait a minute,” Shayne interrupted. “First, what about the necklace itself.”

Mr. Teton sighed and put his glasses on again to study the data spread out before him. “It was purchased about five years ago from Levric and Corbin, jewel manufacturers here in the city. It was made up on special order by Lomax for a gift to his wife. The necklace was an unusually fine one, built around the twenty-five carat Ghorshki emerald as a centerpiece. Our appraisal upon insuring it was a hundred and fifty-five thousand-twenty per cent over the face of the policy.”

Shayne whistled shrilly. “A hundred and fifty grand for a necklace isn’t peanuts. Lomax must have had plenty of stuff to toss around.”

“He was retired at that time, and converted bonds into what he considered a good investment. And quite correctly, too. In the present gem market the necklace would easily bring two hundred thousand.”

Shayne nodded absently, said, “But not if it has to be fenced while it’s hot. Broken up into individual stones it wouldn’t bring more than a tenth of that.”

“Quite true,” said Mr. Teton, hooking his glasses on his lapel. “Particularly since the Ghorshki stone is too well known to permit it to be sold in one piece.”

“So the thief will be pretty anxious to get rid of it,” Shayne mused. “How will the company feel about buying it back if worst comes to worst?”

Mr. Teton looked distressed. “I thought you were being retained as a detective-not as a go-between.”

Shayne tapped the folded paper in his pocket. “My ten per cent is contingent on recovery without loss to you. If you have to pay out more than twelve and a half grand for it, I lose. How’s Lomax fixed financially?” he asked abruptly.

“Quite well, I believe. His credit rating is good. His firm is active in instruments production-making gadgets for submarines.”

“But what about cash? Any chance that he’s caught short right at this time? For plant expansion, perhaps?”

“I’m having that investigated. There should be a complete report on his financial status as of this date in my hands by tonight.”

“Good enough. Now sketch in the actual theft.”

“The necklace was kept with other valuables in a small safe of approved design and the combination known only to Mr. and Mrs. Lomax. The house was burglarized night before last, but no one missed the necklace until this morning. And, there seems to be a plausible reason. Two reasons, in fact, that the discovery was not made at once. First, the necklace was supposed to be in the safe in Mr. Lomax’s bedroom and he was in the room reading in bed when he heard the burglar in Mrs. Lomax’s dressing-room. He got up and chased the thief through the hall and down the stairs. He knew, of course, that the safe hadn’t been touched. Secondly, Mrs. Lomax didn’t remember until this morning that she hadn’t returned the necklace to the safe after wearing it.”

Shayne asked, “Where was Mrs. Lomax at the time of the burglary?”

“She was out of the city and didn’t return until yesterday afternoon. Evidently it did not occur to her that no one had checked up, and we have to remember that Mr. Lomax was in the room with the safe which he supposed held the necklace.”

Shayne nodded and asked, “How about other members of the family? Any children?”

“A boy and a girl,” Teton answered. “The boy, Eddie, is about twenty-one and Clarice is about nineteen.”

After a moment of thoughtful contemplation Shayne asked, “Do you see any tie-up with the suicide out there last night?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Mr. Teton. “The girl was Mrs. Lomax’s personal maid and had access to the jewel case when it was left outside the safe. I presume the police are working on the suicide angle.”

Shayne ground out his cigarette on a metal ash tray and said, “All right. I’ll get the rest from the cops. Let me know if anyone contacts you.”

He swung into his trench coat when he reached the outer lobby of the International Building. Raindrops made a gay patter on the striped awning as he pushed through the door to the sidewalk. He turned the collar of his coat up around his neck and pulled his hat brim lower over his face as he made his way to his car.

Chief of Police McCracken leaned back in his chair and smiled when Shayne barged into his private office at headquarters.

“I hear you’ve settled yourself in a luxurious suite of offices with a beautiful secretary to mix drinks for you,” he boomed good-naturedly.