The Deadly Game

by Norman Daniels

  I'd had plenty of time, for they didn't come out for another fifteen minutes. Fielding was trying to tie his black tie without a mirror and doing a lousy job of it. Luella picked up her dress and, with one of those deft motions only a woman knows, stepped into it, gave one quick pull and the dress was back in place.

  She kissed him once more and then started putting on lipstick. "You're very nice, Jim. Very, very nice."

  Fielding wanted to take a couple of minutes for some more necking, which showed he didn't know women as well as he thought he did. Luelia's fresh lipstick was on.

  Fielding grabbed the doorknob and tried to open the door. He gave a laugh. "I forgot. I locked us in."

  I gave them five minutes before I slipped out of the place myself and went downstairs. When the picture was over and the lights went up, I was sitting far back in the room, legs crossed, smoking a cigar and apparently having a hell of a fine time all by myself. I wished Fielding would call it a night because I wanted to get back to Mona—and fast.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Although I'm in the retail jewelry business, I don't run a store. I have a very expensive, very fashionable-looking office fitted out with period furniture, a thick rug, a small bar and two elaborate show cases set on especially made tables. My clients expect something in the way of surroundings when they pay me three times what an article is worth.

  Behind this office is my workshop, not large but equipped with the finest tools I could buy and a bed-divan where I often spend the night when I am exceptionally busy or—when Mona is with me.

  Mona had taken off her evening gown and was wearing a plastic apron over her slip as she perched on the high stool at the workbench. She certainly had wonderful legs, and they were prominently on display right now. All she did was look up, smile once and then she was back at work. I peeled off my coat, rolled up my sleeves and found she had the smelting furnace going good. The gold portions of Luelia's jewelry lay in a heap, stripped of the gems. I put the stuff into a crucible, lifted it into the electric furnace with a pair of tongs, closed the door and checked the time.

  Mona was sorting the diamonds according to size and studying each one for any secret marks. She found a few and put these to one side. I pulled over another high stool, screwed a jeweler's loupe in my right eye and began double checking the gems.

  They were of fine quality, fiery and alive. There wasn't a dud in the lot of them and the emeralds were of equal quality. I swept the handful of diamonds into the palm of my left hand, carried them out to the main office and unlocked the big vault. I opened the door and pulled out a tray lined with black velvet and containing a couple of hundred fine diamonds. I let those that had belonged to Luella trickle through my fingers. Nobody on earth could tell her stones from mine now, and I could even furnish bills of sale to account for the ones I'd just added.

  Mona touched my shoulder. I knew what she wanted. I closed the tray and pulled another one out containing emeralds. She was set to drop Luelia's green gems in with the others, but I stopped her by grabbing her wrist, squeezing it just a little until her fingers opened and revealed the stones she was holding. I picked out a dozen of them—all of excellent quality.

  "Okay, hon," I said. "Put the others down."

  She dumped them into the tray. I closed and locked the safe and then handed her the dozen I'd saved out. "I'll turn these into a bracelet for you."

  Her fingers closed around the jewels. "Mike, do you mean that? Why these are worth . . ."

  "Damned little compared to what I owe you. Come on. Mona."

  I took her wrist and led her back into the workroom. On the way she dropped the emeralds on the bench. I sat down on the divan, pulled her onto my lap and kissed her. Then I relaxed.

  Mona didn't. Her breasts rose and fell fast, and her eyes were smoky black now.

  I said, "Baby, what kind of a guy am I? Just how do you think of me?"

  "A swell guy, Mike. A swell guy and the best damn jewel thief in history."

  I nodded. "A few other people are saying the same thing."

  "Well," she said, "you rate the praise, don't you?"

  "Not people in the profession. People like Captain Kane. When a cop like Kane begins talking too much, he's either gone soft or he's ready to put the skids under you, and Kane is not soft-headed."

  Mona put a finger under my chin and gazed at me. "Poor Mike," she said. "You're stewing again. Listen, darling, you're more than just a good crook. You're an expert, and beyond that you happen to own a legitimate business which gives you a good living without the other."

  "Then why in hell don't I stick to it instead of taking all these crazy risks?"

  "Because you like excitement. You like exciting things—exciting women . . ."

  I pulled off the clammy plastic apron she was still wearing. "I like your kind of exciting woman. But how much longer can I hope to get away with this racket? This double life? I've got a feeling they're closing in."

  "Nonsense. They may suspect, but there is no proof. Let them close in."

  "They'll grab you too, sweetie."

  "I'm not worried about that, but if you are, Mike, why don't you quit?"

  I laughed, but it had a hollow ring to it "The first time I swiped anything, I told myself it would be just one job to get me started. Then I saw some snob of a woman with a fortune around her neck and there was one more job. It keeps on that way. I can't stop."

  She snuggled further down on my lap. "Then why try, Mike? So long as things go right, take what you want. If you get too much stashed away, little Mona won't turn down some of it."

  "You'll get your share, beautiful, don't worry."

  "I'm not." Her enormous black eyes were shining into mine. "I didn't mean that crack. You've paid me off better than I deserve for the small part I play in this business. You ought to be proud, Mike. Proud of your work. You never hurt anyone except in their pocketbooks, and most of those fat bitches can afford it. You've never made a mistake, you have the right setup here. You're accepted socially and most of your friends are influential people."

  "I know, baby. But—"

  "You've got to forget about Captain Kane."

  "Make me, Mona. Make me forget."

  She moved her face toward mine, and then I saw her nostrils flare out. She slipped off my lap. "The damn furnace,” she exclaimed.

  It was stinking up the whole workshop. I hurried over to it, shut the thing off and took out the crucible with tongs. I poured the molten gold into toy-sized ingot molds. In my vault I had a hundred ingots just like these—all imprinted with the name of a legal gold supply house just as these new ones would be marked.

  Mona filled the sink with water. I carried the molds over and dunked them until they were cool enough to handle. We slipped them out of the molds then, hid the molds and carried the ingots out to the main office and the vault. I put them with the others. If anybody cared to check, I had more papers to prove I'd bought these fresh ingots legally.

  I turned out the lights and went back to the workshop. I left the furnace door open so it would cool, for if Captain Kane had somehow learned of the latest job and came calling, he'd wonder why I was running a furnace at this hour of the morning. So I put out all the lights except one in the workshop. If he came now, he could knock until his knuckles got blue.

  I went over to the divan where Mona was waiting for me. She was stretched out on it, but she made room for me and I sat down so I could bend over and kiss her easily.

  "Do you think Kane really has something on you?"

  "He can't have. I never left anything for him to find."

  "But in all these big jobs you're the common denominator. You're the one person who knows all the victims. You also knew they had those pieces of jewelry. Sometimes you even sold the stuff and then swiped it back. That’s why Kane wonders about you. There's nothing else, Mike. No tangible thing, I mean."

  I got an arm under her shoulders. She smiled languidly and reached up for me. "Your big trouble is lack
of confidence, darling."

  "Yeah," I said glumly. "Everything sounds nice except that one word 'thief.' I've never been able to take any pride in that."

  "Then why did you get into this business, Mike?"

  "I don't know—exactly. I suppose I like gems. They fascinate me—like women. Each is different Each has its own individual coloring and shape. It can be a glittering thing full of fire or it can be cold and forbidding. Oh, that’s nonsense. I like gems because they bring me money. Lots of money."

  "And why, darling? You tear those beautiful creations to bits, melt the gold, sell the gems individually and make sixty to seventy percent of the actual worth. That's what makes you so successful—and rich."

  I nodded. "Yeah—I've got a roll. And if I'm thrown into prison, I'll still be rich when I get out. But when am I going to realize that I have enough? That's what I ask myself. I used to say all I needed was to put my business in sound shape. That was easy, but I wanted a little more. Now I can't stop. I like the devil's ways, but I don't want to pay up."

  She tugged with both hands and I bent over her. "Mike," she said, "you wanted me to make you forget. Kiss me."

  This made me think of Fielding and Luella. I suddenly fastened my lips against hers and held them there. Her grip became tighter, her lips parted under mine and her breasts pressed harder against my chest. She was so easily mine whenever I wanted her and yet for me genuine passion just wasn't there. I knew it.

  I was an idiot, prowling the darkness that was my future, in search of someone to excel Mona. And where would I find such a woman? She'd have to possess this wonderful body, surpass the exciting beauty of this oval face with its olive skin and black eyes. She'd have to match Mona's vitality and responsiveness and go even further. Such a woman didn't exist. Yet I kept craving her.

  Mona was saying something and I had to ask her what she had said.

  "Damn you, Mike. You go off into some kind of a crazy dreamland and you pick the God-damnedest times to do it. I swear sometime I'll just leave you flat. You deserve it."

  "I'm sorry, Mona. I was thinking back to make sure I hadn't muffed anything."

  Any ordinary girl would have pouted about playing second fiddle to business but not Mona. She smiled. "Well, that's different, darling. For a second there, I thought you had some other girl on your mind."

  "I know no other girls. I haven't since I met you."

  She murmured something warm and happy. She curled closer against me. Only the swinging lamp over the workbench was on, and it hardly reached us over against the wall where the divan was. There was only enough light to make her skin shine like a jewel. That's what Mona was—a gem. A perfect, flawless gem. She was something like the legend of the pearl. It comes from the sea a cold, lifeless thing, but placed next to a woman's skin it becomes alive. Mona was exactly like that. She'd been cold and distant at first. But now she was the pearl against the warmth of skin. I thought, somewhat crazily, that if I laid a string of virgin pearls against her skin right now, they'd probably burn up.

  She wasn't talking any more and neither was I. We were both warm and content—together. Some day I'd marry this girl. I told myself that two or three times a week. But I knew it was a lie. For I was waiting for something. Someone would come along one day and Mona would mean nothing. I think she sensed it too but, like me, she was willing to gamble with the future and wanted to get all there was out of the present.

  I finally got up and turned off the work light.

  CHAPTER THREE

  At ten the next morning a buzzer under my desk hissed twice. That meant Mona, in the reception office, was signaling trouble. I opened the lacquered cigarette box on my desk, tapped a butt, fit it and leaned back. Usually Mona announced visitors and clients, but Captain Jack Kane didn't believe in being announced. He flung the door wide open, as he always did—like he figured there might be someone hiding behind it He was a big, burly man. Not quite as tall as me, but heavier and a lot more rugged. His hair was mouse-colored; he had a very usual face; he had ten fingers and probably ten toes. He was manifestly normal in all departments that I could see except his eyes—and there was the difference. I'd never seen such colorless eyes in my life. Being a jeweler, they naturally put me in mind of some hard gemlike substance, the name of which evaded me. So I settled for glass—or ice—which described both their color and coldness. And whatever lights glinted there were reflected brilliance. Those eyes had no inner life of their own. Looking him square in the face now, I could see that the fire of anger had struck light to it. But it was not the kind of anger one expects to find on the face of an honest cop, outraged on behalf of the citizenry to be protected. His face was alive with personal hatred, and the glitter in those ice eyes was the glitter of—could it be greed? I put my feet on the desk, something I never did except when Kane blustered in here on some kind of wild hunch, his strong-arm tactics flexed like a carnival Samson's muscles. Over his shoulder I could see Mona nodding at me almost imperceptibly. This meant someone was with him and, according to Mona's code, a lot more trouble. "What's new, friend?" I inquired in a lazy casual voice.

  This made him as furious as I thought it would, and to prove it he slammed the door. Then he strode across the office and leaned over my desk. "Not long ago," he said, "somebody entered the apartment of Luella Cooper. I don't suppose you ever heard of her."

  "Heard of her?" I echoed placidly, ignoring his threatening manner. "Of course. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Cooper is a valued customer of mine. And she is also a very popular hostess, so I'm not surprised that 'somebody,' as you say, 'entered' her apartment."

  "Very cute, very cute," he told me. "I suppose you know she lost her diamond and emerald necklace—if 'lost' is the word."

  "Not surprised," I said. "I knew she would." And I gave Kane a straightforward innocent look, right into his pretty ice eyes.

  This brought a great boom of derision from him, like a chemical explosion. "You're not surprised? I'll say you weren't! You've been scheming to grab that necklace ever since you knew it existed!"

  "I like lovely things, Kane," I said. "Why don't you frisk me?"

  I thought he was going to kick me instead, but he evidently thought better of it, and after a moment's visible calculation he drew up a chair with one of his paws, and looked even more like a trained bear when he sat down on it. "Maybe we can have a little talk," he began. "Like—where were you night before last?"

  This brought him a big broad smile as a special present from me. I couldn't help it. He was as adept at the detective business as a tourist making conversation with the aid of phrase book is in a foreign language. "Aren't you wasting our time, Captain?" I asked. "Are you sure it's night before last you want to know about? Or isn't that just the wind-up gimmick you're trying to use to confuse me and make me louse up my alibi for the night you're really interested in? Okay," I hurried on before he could stop me, "if you're really so keen on my exciting daily adventures I'll spill al just like you were Dear Diary. Night before last I worked in my shop back of the office until very late. Nobody saw me. I signed the lobby book when I left, but not when I arrived because I just stayed right on here without going anywhere. I don't think anyone saw me leave. You know how deserted these office buildings are at two-thirty in the morning."

  "Then you have no alibi?" He acted as if it were important

  "Not for the night before last."

  "You went home at two-thirty, you say?"

  "That's right."

  "And went to bed?"

  "I was dead tired. Had to make up a very special brooch for Mrs. Oliver Lane's fiftieth wedding anniversary. Lots of fancy designing and gem setting. Wore me down."

  "What time did you get back to the office yesterday?"

  "About noon. Mona takes care of the place very well when I'm not here."

  "Mona could take care of anything well," Kane said and there was a nasty, suggestive twist to the way he said it.

  I gave him a genial grin instead of a right to t
he jaw. "I presume you want to know about my activities right up until now. Well, yesterday afternoon I stayed in the office. I can prove that for several clients were here. I went home at six, had dinner in the dining room of my hotel, dressed and went to a party thrown by Jim Fielding. There must have been thirty people there, so I can prove that too."

  "When did you leave?"

  "Approximately one in the morning. I went home, had some sleep and came down here this morning. That brings us up to the present moment."

  Kane stood up importantly. Here came the interrogation. "You never left Fielding's party at all?"

  "No. It was an interesting party. He showed some movies which—well, they wouldn't interest a policeman who sees all sides of life. No, they wouldn't interest you—much."

  "I heard they were pornographic films."

  "That all depends on how your mind works. I just thought they were dirty."

  "But you sat through them?"

  "Why not? I was a guest, and I knew beforehand what Fielding's idea of entertainment is. Sure I stayed."

  Finally Kane sat down again. I was sick of having him tower over me, and I was damned if I'd be courteous to him. He shoved his hat to the back of his head tough-copper fashion and glared at me.

  "Sloan, you're slick. Let me assure you I know that. I've been a cop for a lot of years. I've worked on plenty of jewel robbery cases. I know the local Gold Coast better than a politician knows his own ward. I've seen crooks come and go. I've seen them all—from George Field, who we think swiped about a million dollars worth of furs and gems, to Julia Abortofsky, the hotel maid who lifted a fortune."

  "What are you driving at, Kane?"

  "Just this, smart boy. People think jewel thieves are slim, gentlemanly guys with wispy mustaches, manicured fingernails, nice manners and a gift of gab. People are all wrong. Jewel thieves are plain, lousy, goddamn crooks just like the lug who saps some sucker with a tire iron and rolls him. They're in the same class with a jack-roller who specializes in drunks. Every one of them—and this includes you—are dumb punks with no fancy trimmings."