Blood on the Stars ms-15

by Brett Halliday

“Not the Kendrick pendant,” he protested. “I was out of town when it was insured.”

  “You and Stanley Ellsworth could have been in cahoots to defraud your companies-”

  “How, Shayne? How in the name of God do you figure that?” Sweat was streaming from Randolph’s face.

  “I don’t know,” Shayne admitted readily. “That’s the only angle I can’t get straight in my mind. Unless you over-appraised the rubies,” he went on meditatively, “in order to help Voorland hook a sucker-and then split the profit with him.”

  Randolph’s ruddy face was flushed an angry red. “That’s the first time in my career I’ve been accused of anything like that.” He kept his voice calm with visible effort. “Suppose I did arrange a deal like that with Voorland-what in hell would be gained by having the rubies stolen later?”

  “That’s the point I don’t get. Unless you were conscience stricken and preferred to have your company lose instead of the individual purchaser.”

  Randolph tipped the liquor glass up and emptied it. He threw it across the room and said violently, “I never knew you to go haywire like this before, Shayne. Do you honestly believe any of this stuff you’re saying?”

  “I’m afraid I honestly believe you murdered Mrs. Mark Dustin.”

  Randolph’s pudgy body became flaccid. His mouth dropped open and his eyes became glassy. “What gives you that idea?” he asked in a strangled voice. He put both hands on the day-bed and pushed himself erect.

  Shayne took the automatic from his pocket and rested it on his crossed knee. “Don’t get up,” he said dispassionately. “I can take the murder of Mrs. Dustin in my stride, but I’d love to shoot the guts out of the man who tried to kill my secretary last night.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  SHAYNE MEANS BUSINESS

  Amazement and disbelief shone in Randolph’s eyes as he looked at the gun in Shayne’s hand. He sank back on the day-bed, muttering, “You don’t mean me, Shayne. You can’t mean me. I haven’t tried to kill anybody.”

  “I think you have. First my secretary, and Mrs. Dustin later. You didn’t quite succeed with Miss Hamilton, and that’s your tough luck. She can identify the man who came into my apartment and took Mrs. Dustin’s message over the telephone-the man who left her lying on my bed to die.”

  “This is all utterly impossible, Shayne. I can’t believe you’re serious. Why would I do any of those things? How can you possibly suspect me?”

  “I don’t know why,” Shayne admitted. “Your motive is the only thing I lack. But Lucy described her attacker, Randolph. She saw him clearly, and her description fits you like a glove. And she heard you talking over the phone, and can recognize your voice. Why did you pretend you’d been here in your apartment all evening when I came up here?”

  “I had,” panted Randolph. “I swear-”

  “Swearing won’t do you any good,” Shayne told him angrily. “Tim Rourke will testify you didn’t answer your phone all evening. Your one mistake,” he went on viciously, “was in not polishing Lucy off while you had the chance.”

  “I-don’t know-what to say, Mike,” he stammered.

  “A full confession would do very well.”

  Earl Randolph shook his head dispiritedly and moaned. He said, “We’ve been friends a long time. How can you possibly-”

  “Talking is no good. Get on some clothes and we’ll go over to my apartment. You’ll know the jig’s up when Lucy identifies you.”

  Randolph compressed his lips and his eyes roamed around the room as though searching for some means of escape. “I’m not going on any such absurd mission. You have no right-”

  The trenches in Shayne’s gaunt cheeks deepened. He got up and moved toward the insurance man, saying implacably, “You’re going to my apartment if I have to carry you on a stretcher. Make up your mind. Fast.” He stood in front of the seated man with the automatic swinging loosely in his hand.

  Randolph wet his lips again and said despairingly, “I can’t get over the idea that this is one of your jokes.”

  “I don’t joke with a murderer. Get your clothes on.”

  Randolph’s murky and slightly distended eyes showed fright. He got up slowly, went hesitantly toward the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder at Shayne, who followed him to the doorway.

  The detective kept his cold gaze on him every moment as he dressed hastily and silently. His gray suit was rumpled, but with a clean shirt and colorful tie, Randolph was fairly presentable when they went out into the living-room. Shayne took his hat from the hatrack and put it on, picked up Randolph’s Panama and handed it to him when they were outside the door. “You’d better wear this. I wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

  Randolph accepted the Panama apathetically and put it on. He appeared dazed and speechless. They went down in the self-service elevator and out into the bright sunlight to Shayne’s car. The detective had put the gun in his coat pocket, and neither of them said anything as they got in the car and drove away.

  During the short drive to his hotel, Shayne was aware that Randolph kept glancing aside at him, furtively and speculatively, as though trying to nerve himself for further argument, but was evidently repulsed by the grim set of Shayne’s jaw. Not a word passed between them when Shayne parked beside the hotel and they got out, went through the lobby together, and straight to the elevator without stopping.

  The night clerk was no longer on duty, and the elevator boy, too, was different from the one who had been on duty the previous night. He had seen Randolph visiting the detective on previous occasions, and now he looked at the two men curiously as they got into the elevator. He appeared to sense that something was wrong, and discreetly refrained from making any casual remarks, as was his custom, as he took them to the third floor.

  They went down the hall together and Shayne knocked on the door. Miss Naylor’s crisp voice called, “Who is it?”

  “Mike Shayne. It’s all right, Miss Naylor.”

  She opened the door and smiled at him, competently holding Blackie’s heavy. 45 by her side. “Dr. Price phoned that he would be down in a few minutes. Miss Hamilton hasn’t stirred since you left.”

  Shayne nodded and motioned Randolph inside. He told the nurse quietly, “This is the man who left her to die last night. Don’t let him get close enough to that cannon to grab it.”

  Miss Naylor flashed Randolph a keen and scrutinizing look. “Of all things! He doesn’t look like that kind.”

  Shayne said, “Murderers seldom do.”

  “Stop it, Shayne. For God’s sake, stop it!” Randolph’s self-control suddenly broke and his voice was thinly shrill. “I can’t stand any more of this. I tell you-”

  “Shut up and sit down over there.” Shayne pointed to the couch. He asked Miss Naylor, “Do you think it would harm Lucy to waken her long enough to make an identification?”

  “Probably not. But I’d have to have Dr. Price’s permission. He should be here any moment.”

  Randolph slumped down on the couch and buried his face in his hands for a brief time, then raised his head to cast a wretched glance around the room.

  There was a knock on the door and Shayne opened it to admit Dr. Price. He came in briskly, nodded to Shayne, and said, “Miss Naylor tells me our patient is reacting splendidly.” He looked from the gun in the nurse’s hand to Randolph, and raised his brows inquiringly.

  Shayne said, “I’m pretty sure this is the man who attacked Miss Hamilton. If you think it’s safe to arouse her, we’ll try to get a definite identification.”

  “I see. Of course. I’ll have a look at the patient and let you know at once.” The doctor and Miss Naylor went into the bedroom and closed the door.

  Randolph sat with his head lolling against the back of the couch. He looked straight across the room, avoiding Shayne’s eyes. “I simply can’t believe this is happening to me,” he said in a flat, dead voice. “I do believe you’re serious about this.”

  “I was never more serious in my life,” Shayne assure
d him.

  “I’ve read about things like this happening to other men,” Randolph said. “Being caught up in a net of circumstances. Innocent men, like myself. Going along and minding their own business. Suddenly accused of murder.”

  “Innocent men can generally prove their innocence.”

  “But sometimes they can’t,” Randolph exclaimed, throwing out his hands wildly. “Suppose this girl does think she recognizes me. Suppose I do resemble the man you say attacked her. I can’t prove it wasn’t I. You know how faulty such identifications can be. If she only caught one glimpse of the man-”

  “How do you know she caught only a glimpse of him?”

  “Why-you said so,” faltered Randolph. “Over at my place.”

  Shayne shook his red head grimly. “I didn’t say anything of the kind. The only way you could possibly have known that is by having been here last night.”

  “You implied it. Something you said gave me the impression-”

  “I didn’t even imply it. I said that Miss Hamilton had a good look at the man who attacked her,” Shayne said flatly.

  His telephone rang. He went over and took the receiver down, keeping his gaze on Randolph. “Hello. Oh, Tim… that’s fine. Fast work. Read ’em to me.” He listened, and a frown began to crease his forehead. A worried frown of disbelief. He caught his earlobe between thumb and forefinger and tugged at it.

  “Both of them?” he exclaimed after a time. “That should mean something, but I’m not sure just what. Listen, Tim. Get both those men on long distance and tell them it’s vitally important to dig up every bit of information available on both King and Kendrick. As far back as they can dig in a hurry.

  “Sure it’ll cost money,” he continued impatiently. “I’ll take care of the expense if your miserly paper won’t pay out a few bucks for the inside dope on one of the biggest stories of the year.

  “Lucy’s doing fine, but I’ll be tied up here for a while. When you get those men on long distance, ask particularly for any information that connects either King or Kendrick with Walter Voorland or Earl Randolph.”

  Again he listened, then said, “That’s right. Voorland or Randolph. Outside of the known connection here in Miami, of course. And Tim-after you do that, call Worldwide in Denver and get the same dope on Dustin. Find out everything you can about him, his background, and so forth.” He hung up and turned to Randolph, his face bleak and his eyes morose.

  “Both King and Kendrick seem to have disappeared completely.”

  “You don’t think they were-murdered?”

  “They seem to have been very efficiently disposed of,” Shayne grated. “Do you suppose Mark Dustin is in any danger, Randolph?”

  “How would I know? About this background stuff,” Randolph went on. “I’ve got all the dope on King available in my file. You know we checked back on him thoroughly before we paid the claim. And I’m sure Stanley Ellsworth has the same stuff on Kendrick.”

  “No doubt,” Shayne assented dryly. “But Worldwide might dig up something you folks missed.”

  “I don’t understand why you suspect any connection between those two men and Voorland and me.”

  Shayne shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what I hope to dredge up. It becomes clearer and clearer that there’s a pattern to these three sales of star rubies that were stolen immediately afterward-and that never reappeared. It’s still vague as hell, and I haven’t put my finger on the motivation behind it. When I do that, the whole complicated plot will emerge clearly. And I think you can do that for me,” he added.

  “I know nothing,” Randolph disclaimed violently. “Absolutely nothing.”

  The bedroom door opened and Miss Naylor said, “It’s all right to come in now, Mr. Shayne.”

  Shayne stood up. “This is it, Randolph. Put on that Panama and walk in that door in front of me.”

  Earl Randolph’s hands shook as he put the hat on and adjusted the brim. He got up shakily and went slowly toward the bedroom door, hesitated like a swimmer pausing on the brink before diving into an icy stream, then stepped inside.

  Shayne was close behind him. Dr. Price and Miss Naylor stood back near the window and watched the scene with intense interest.

  Lucy looked up at Randolph with wide eyes. Her gaze stayed on his face for a full thirty seconds, then shifted to Shayne.

  “That’s the man, Michael.” Her voice was weary, betraying no emotion whatsoever. “I told you I’d know him anywhere.”

  Shayne asked savagely, “Do you still deny it, Randolph?”

  “No. Let’s go in the other room and I’ll tell you the whole thing.”

  Chapter Twenty

  THE CUSTOMARY TWENTY PERCENT

  Randolph appeared to have completely regained his normal poise and self-assurance. Without an invitation, he walked firmly across to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink of rye, seated himself in a chair, and began in a low, steady voice:

  “I did come up here last night. I got to thinking about the King and Kendrick cases, and wanted to talk them over with you. The door to your apartment was ajar and light showed through the crack. I pushed it open and called your, name, but there was no answer. I looked in the other rooms and saw no one. Then your phone started ringing.”

  He paused to take a sip of whisky. Shayne sat across from him and listened without interruption as he continued:

  “I supposed you’d just stepped down the hall for a moment, and I answered the phone, intending to take a message for you. The woman at the other end of the line said, ‘This is Celia Dustin, Mr. Shayne. I’ve got to see you at once-to tell you something I’m afraid to tell anyone but you.’

  “So, there it was. Right in my lap.” Randolph spread out his pudgy hands pleadingly. “What would you have done in my position? I was afraid she’d hang up if I told her it wasn’t you. I supposed at once that it had something to do with the bracelet. A bracelet, mind you, that my company had insured for one hundred and eighty thousand dollars. In the beginning I simply hoped I could keep her talking until you returned. I turned my head aside slightly, in the hope that she wouldn’t recognize that it wasn’t you talking, and asked her what the information was.

  “She spoke in a hurried and frantic voice. Said she couldn’t tell me over the phone and that she’d slip out and meet me at the foot of the hotel bathing-pier in half an hour. I promised her I would, Mike. I didn’t know what else to do. I remember even having the fleeting thought that you’d want me to handle it that way. She sounded frightened and distraught, and I didn’t know what she might do if I gave the truth away then. So I told her I’d come, and hung up the receiver.”

  Randolph stopped to mop sweat from his face and take another sip of rye.

  Shayne said curtly. “Go on.”

  “This is the bad part,” Randolph confessed, glancing at the closed bedroom door. “When I turned away from the phone I saw a girl standing there with a pistol in her hand, threatening me. For God’s sake, Mike, try to see this my way,” he pleaded. “I didn’t know who she was or how she got there. I’m afraid I didn’t stop to think. First, the telephone call with hints of danger, then suddenly I was confronted with a gun-moll in a negligee.

  “I acted instinctively, that’s all. I jumped toward her to grab the gun before the damned thing went off. She jumped back and tripped over the rug, I guess. I swear to God I didn’t touch her, Mike. It was an accident. She struck her head on the radiator and the pistol fell out of her hand on the floor. She was bleeding when I got to her. I laid her on the bed and tried to think what to do. Remember, I still didn’t know who she was, but I presumed she was one of the jewel mob. And I’d promised Mrs. Dustin to be at the Beach in half an hour. I couldn’t afford to stay here and answer all sorts of questions. I tell you Mrs. Dustin sounded beside herself with fear. I felt I had to get to her.”

  “So you calmly walked out of here not knowing whether Lucy was dead or alive.”

  “She was breathing when I left her. I couldn’t tell
how badly she was hurt. Remember, I thought she was lurking here to ambush you. In the, excitement and the pressure of time, I thought it best to get away fast. So that’s what I did.”

  “Leaving a girl to die without medical attention. Doc Price said if he’d been ten minutes later getting to her she probably would have died. It may have been an accident as you say, but going off and leaving her like that without medical attention turns it into attempted murder.”

  “It couldn’t have made more than a few minutes difference,” Randolph stated, “if I’d called at once from your phone. I stopped at the drugstore on the corner and phoned the clerk here in the apartment and asked him to get the house doctor on the phone for me. I didn’t know his name, but-”

  “Wait a minute.” Shayne’s forehead was knitted in a frown. “You claim you called the doctor? What did you tell him?”

  “That there’d been an accident here and he was needed right away. See here, Mike,” demanded Randolph hoarsely, “why are you looking at me like that? As though you don’t believe me.”

  “Do you know the number of my apartment?”

  “Of course. It’s three-oh-six.”

  Shayne got up and opened the bedroom door. “Doctor Price, will you step in here a moment?”

  The doctor came in and Shayne said, “This man claims he called you from a drugstore immediately after Miss Hamilton’s accident.”

  “He lies,” Dr. Price said readily. “The only call I had last night was some practical joker sending me up to six-oh-three.”

  “Six-oh-three?” said Randolph, puzzled for a moment, then he exclaimed, “Six-oh-three! Good Lord. Don’t you see what must have happened? In my hurry and excitement I transposed the numbers. Six-oh-three instead of three-oh-six.”

  “It’s possible,” Shayne agreed, “and it’s also possible that you did it intentionally-just to give yourself an alibi for going off and leaving Lucy to die. You could always claim you got the numbers transposed.”