Blood on the Stars (3 page)

“That may all be true,” Dustin interrupted him with a careless gesture, “but it doesn’t
look
like much. Nobody except an expert will glance at it twice. I want Celia to have something that will make people sit up and take notice.”

Voorland
sighed and got unwillingly to his feet. “I am a poor salesman,” he said apologetically. “No businessman should traffic in articles that are close to his heart. I have what you want. I hesitate to show it to you for fear you will buy it.” He smiled shamefacedly, like a small boy who had hidden a friend’s toy and was forced to admit his guilt by producing it. “I will be but a moment.” He turned away, munching his gum.

“Poor man,” said Celia. “The way he feels about rubies is the way—”

“The way what?” asked Mark, the impish curls standing up and his mouth quirked at the corners.

“Well—the way a dog-lover is about running a pet shop,” she said. “They want to keep every damned puppy that comes in.”

“He acts like a nut,” said Mark disgustedly. “How can he make any money in this business if he doesn’t want to show his stock to a
customer.
”

Celia wanted rubies now, above all other gems. They were her stones. They were like her love for Mark. She said, quietly, “I think he’s pathetic.”

“He’s probably honest,” Mark admitted. “The way he’s hipped on rubies I don’t think he’d gyp a man on the price. That’s one good thing about dealing with a man who tries to mix an artistic temperament with the profit motive,” he added, lowering his voice as Mr.
Voorland
once more approached them.

The proprietor carried a square, hand-tooled leather gem casket between his two hands, holding it carefully as though it were a tray of over-full cocktail glasses. He set it down on the table and stood for a moment looking down at the closed case while he absently popped another stick of gum into his mouth.

He then seated himself and leaned forward to press a small golden knob on the front of the leather case. The top sprang up at the touch, and a round linked bracelet of beautifully filigreed platinum was revealed against a background of blue velvet.

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.”

WHAT THE VINTNER SELLS

“I’M VERY 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.”

Shayne took a backward step and grinned at Lucy Hamilton and patted her arm. “I don’t believe you really like that bracelet, angel. It wouldn’t suit you at all.
Too blatant.”

“Would it be terribly expensive?” she asked in a small voice.

“When
Voorland
calls something a collector’s item, he isn’t talking about a few thousand bucks. When he’s finished here we’ll have him show us some nice synthetic zircons or something like that.”

The other three were not listening to Shayne and Lucy. Dustin thrust his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks and teetered back and forth with his narrowed gaze on Celia’s face. “Like it, honey?”

“I love it,” she breathed ecstatically. “But I’d rather you didn’t pay too much for something I’m going to wear. I think—don’t they have synthetic rubies that are just as pretty as the real ones?” she asked the dealer timidly.

Voorland
nodded and carefully replaced the bracelet in its bed of blue velvet. He didn’t seem disappointed at the prospect of losing a sale, but instead appeared almost relieved at the turn the discussion was taking.

“Manufactured rubies are now called synthetic or scientific gems,” he told her. “The process is quite well established, and they are being manufactured in large quantities. I have a particularly fine stock on hand and will be glad to—”

“Wait a minute,” said Dustin sharply. “How do the synthetic ones differ from the real?”

“Hardly at all,”
Voorland
assured him. “Indeed, the artificial product is actually purer chemically than the natural stone. Specific gravity is practically the same, and the indices of refraction and bi-
refringence
show striking agreement.”

“Then how does anyone know whether a ruby is real or artificial?” demanded Dustin.

“Most people don’t,”
Voorland
told him smilingly. “Although careful examination by an expert will generally reveal minute differences. The method of manufacture, for instance, causes the synthetic stones to split parallel to the long axis which throws the vertical crystallographic axis in the plane of splitting. Hence, it is difficult to orient them so as to give the best color. Also, every synthetic stone shows traces of
dichroism
when examined through the table. Natural stones are properly oriented, and thus not
dichroic
.”

“But that’s all stuff for experts,” Dustin protested. “The average person won’t go around examining my wife’s rubies with a magnifying glass.”

“True enough,” agreed
Voorland
. “And that is one of the reasons why this bracelet I have just showed you is absolutely unique.” He pressed the top of the leather case down gently to hide the jewels from view.

“Why?” asked Shayne, who had been listening with interest. “Because the synthetic stones don’t show up with cracks like those you’re so proud of?”

Mr.
Voorland
popped another stick of gum in his mouth and smiled tolerantly at the detective. “I know you mean that to be funny, Mike, but the truth is
,
you’ve hit the nail on the head. Asterism is an accident or phenomenon which occurs only in natural stones and then very rarely. Authorities even disagree on what causes those rays of converging light. Some believe the effect due to inclusions, or to a lattice-like structure within the mineral. Others hold that there are minute tubular cavities within the stone. No one actually knows.”

“Do you mean no one has ever cut one open to find out?” Shayne asked incredulously.

“Cut
open
an
Asteria
? Would you cut your child open to find out what makes its heart beat?”

“If I follow you,” said Dustin slowly, “you claim that anyone who sees this bracelet will know the stones are genuine just because they have that star inside them?”

“Anyone who knows anything at all about precious stones,”
Voorland
assured him. He picked up the closed jewel case carefully. “It is one absolute test. If you’ll pardon me a moment I’ll show you what I have in synthetic stones and—”

“Not so fast,” Dustin said quietly. “A man would think you didn’t want to sell that bracelet.”

Voorland
halted a few steps from him. He hesitated a moment, sighed, and returned to replace the leather case on the table. “I’m afraid that for a moment I allowed myself to hope—” he confessed ruefully.

Shayne laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “I always wondered how you managed to stay in business. Like Omar, you don’t know what on earth to buy one half so precious as the stuff you sell.”

“There’s a great deal of truth in that quatrain,” said Walter
Voorland
sadly. He turned his attention to Dustin, who had reopened the case and was seated beside his wife fitting the linked bracelet over her slim wrist.

It fitted perfectly, and when he closed the safety clasp she lifted her arm and turned it slowly to strike crimson flashes of reflected fire from the red stones.

Mark Dustin nodded and said, “I think it looks right nice, Ceil. Good enough for your second wedding anniversary?”

“Oh, Mark!” She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed happily. Shayne felt Lucy’s fingers tighten on his arm. He looked down at her and was surprised to see two tears rolling down her cheeks as she gazed at the embracing couple.

He got out his handkerchief and wiped her face and asked, “What the devil are you crying about?”

She said, “They’re so darned sweet.
And after being married two whole years.”

Dustin untangled himself from his wife’s arms and told
Voorland
cheerfully, “She seems to like the gadget, so I guess that settles it.
How much?”

“A hundred and eighty thousand dollars,” said Mr.
Voorland
, and munched on his wad of gum contentedly.

Mark Dustin sat very still and wrinkled his sun-bronzed forehead. “I guess I don’t hear very well.”

Mr.
Voorland
appeared to be enjoying himself completely. He repeated, “One hundred and eighty thousand dollars is the price of the bracelet. Plus tax, of course.”

“Now I
know
star rubies wouldn’t look good on you,” Shayne said to Lucy with a broad grin.

Celia Dustin’s face had gone white. She murmured, “That’s ridiculous, Mark. That’s a fortune.” She began nervously picking at the safety catch on the bracelet about her wrist.

He said, “Maybe it isn’t ridiculous, honey. Let’s don’t go off half-cocked.” He asked
Voorland
, “Is that an asking price or a selling price?”

Voorland
seated himself in his favorite attitude, with both hands on his knees. “It is a selling price—as of today. I assure you that if the gem market were not at low ebb the price would be above two hundred thousand.”

“Six stones?” asked Dustin suspiciously.
“The largest one eight carats?”

“Eight and a quarter,”
Voorland
corrected him.

“But diamonds aren’t worth—”

“Diamonds,” said
Voorland
with a smile, “are worth only what the buyer will pay for them. Rubies are appraised exactly the same way. An eight-carat diamond is not at all unusual. An eight-carat star ruby is an act of God. You know something about prices, Mike. Tell Mr. Dustin I’m not out of line.”

“I don’t know.” Shayne scowled. “I’m not
stooging
to help you make a sale. A hundred and eighty grand took my breath away just as it did his. But I don’t know.” His scowl deepened. “I remember something Randolph, the insurance appraiser, once told me about rubies. That a perfect four-carat ruby was worth at least four times as much as a diamond of the same size.”

“And he wasn’t talking about a star ruby either, Mike.
Just a good pigeon’s-blood gem.
You don’t have to make up your mind at once, Mr. Dustin. If you wish to take a little time to think it over—”

Dustin drew in a long breath. “Today is our anniversary. Not tomorrow or next week. I’ll tell you, Shayne’s mention of an insurance appraiser gives me an idea. You realize I’m not questioning your honesty,
Voorland
, but I know nothing about such things and—”

“I understand perfectly, Mr. Dustin. You’d like to request a disinterested appraisal before making up your mind.”

“Yes.
Someone like an insurance appraiser.
That’s a splendid idea. I’ll have to have it insured if I do buy. What portion of the appraised value do those people generally write coverage on?” he asked Shayne.

“Up to eighty percent.
Sometimes more.
Depending on the reputation of the dealer, the current market, things like that.”

Voorland
nodded approvingly. “In general cases, you are quite correct, Mike. But this isn’t a general case. This bracelet is unique and therefore practically priceless. I’m ready to stake my professional reputation that any reputable insurance company will be glad to issue you a policy covering the full purchase price.”