Blood on the Stars (19 page)

“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.”

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.”

“I don’t see how you can believe a thing like that of me,” Randolph said, genuinely hurt. “Every word I’ve told you is the truth.”

“Maybe.
I’m not sure there’s a word of truth in any of it,” growled Shayne. “You’ve had plenty of time to fix up a plausible story. If you are telling the truth and didn’t have any reason for feeling guilty about Lucy, why did you deny it so vehemently until she identified you?”

Randolph shuddered and said in a low voice, “Because of Mrs. Dustin. I didn’t know how much of the telephone conversation this girl had overheard. If she knew it was I who went over to meet Mrs. Dustin outside the hotel—” He lost control of his voice for a moment.

Dr. Price returned to the sick room and came back with his bag. “I’ve arranged for a relief for Miss Naylor at noon. Miss Hamilton is going to be all right with rest and the proper attention.”

Shayne thanked him, and he went out. Randolph nervously resumed his story:

“You see, I did keep that appointment with Mrs. Dustin. But it was too late, Mike. Someone else had kept the appointment before me. She was dead.
Lying on the sand at the edge of the water right beside the bathing-pier.”

“So you left
her
like that, too.
Without giving an alarm.”

“She was dead. I took time to make sure of that. An alarm wouldn’t do her any good. Look at my position again,” pleaded Randolph. Sweat popped out on his face anew and ran in little rivulets down his chin. “She’d been killed very recently. The blood was still fresh. I supposed the doctor was with Miss Hamilton already. I didn’t know but what she had revived and told her story. The police might already be on their way to the
Sunlux
to intercept me. And there I was with a corpse at my feet. Would anyone have believed my story?”

“Probably not.
No more than I believe it now.”

“There you are. My one thought was to get away from there fast. Put yourself in my place, Mike. It might have been
you
who kept that appointment with Mrs. Dustin if you’d been here to answer your phone. As I said, I wasn’t sure how much the girl here had heard. I wasn’t sure she got a good enough look to identify me. Don’t you see how I was caught in a net of circumstantial evidence? I couldn’t help Mrs. Dustin any by letting myself be arrested. I hurried home and dug out those papers from my files and spread them around to give the impression that I’d been working on them all evening in case anyone dropped in—as you did.”

Shayne nodded. “Leaving the windows closed so the room would fill up fast with smoke.” He got up and poured himself a drink of cognac. “Now that you’ve got that off your chest, suppose you tell me the truth,” he added casually.

“Don’t you believe me?” Randolph asked in alarm.

“It’s too pat. Everything fits too damned well.”

“I can’t help that. It’s what happened.” Randolph’s tone was flat and final.

“Maybe,” said Shayne unemotionally, “and maybe not. It leaves too many things unanswered.
If you didn’t kill her, who in the name of God did?”

“One of the jewel thieves,” suggested Randolph. “They knew she’d called you and was going down to meet you. They got there first to keep her from telling whatever it was she knew.”

Shayne shook his head. “The big trouble with your story is that you have no witness to verify what you claim Mrs. Dustin said over the telephone. So far as we know, she may have said, ‘Mr. Shayne, I’ve found proof that the insurance man was behind that hold-up. I’m afraid to tell my husband because of what he might do in his present condition, but I’ll slip down and give you what proof I have while he’s asleep.’ Something like that would explain your desperate haste to get over there to silence her.”

“Do you seriously suspect me of complicity in those thefts, Shayne?”

“I don’t know. There’s some common denominator tying them all up in one bundle. Can you think of any good reason why I shouldn’t suspect you?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Randolph confessed wearily. “I’ve thought about it until I’m going crazy. You can understand now why I was afraid to stay over there with Mrs. Dustin’s corpse and tell my story.”

“If you’d killed her, your reason for keeping your mouth shut is even more apparent.”

“That’s true,” said Randolph hopelessly. Shayne got up and began to pace the floor. Randolph rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes against the grim features of the tall figure pacing the floor.

After a long silence, Randolph asked, “What are you going to do, Mike? If you turn me over to the police, I’m sunk. They’ll tie Mrs. Dustin’s murder around my neck in a knot I’ll never get untied.”

“And if I don’t turn you in,” said Shayne harshly, “I’ll be handing you a chance to make a clean getaway.”

“Let me make a deal with you,” begged Randolph.

“I don’t make deals with a murderer—or anyone who may be a murderer.”

“Let me say what I was going to. You’ve indicated that you think you know where to put your hands on the bracelet. That’s damned important to me—and to my company. Do you want to throw away a fat fee?”

“No one ever accused me of not wanting money,” Shayne retorted.

“Here’s your chance to grab some, then. Give me an opportunity to contact my company and get authorization to offer the customary twenty percent. That’ll amount to thirty-six thousand. Pay what you have to for return of the bracelet. I don’t care how much. The rest of the thirty-six grand goes into your pocket. Is that fair enough?”