“Star rubies? Only an idiot would even consider cutting one up,” Randolph confirmed. “How are you in on this, Mike?”
“Offering a reward?” Shayne countered with a slow grin.
“I haven’t had time to think about that phase,” Randolph said slowly, “but I presume-”
“Wait a minute, Randolph.” Painter spoke up swiftly and emphatically. “You know the law about stolen property. There’ll be no deals with thieves while I’m chief of detectives on the Beach.”
Earl Randolph smiled blandly and asked, “Are you intimating that Mike Shayne is a thief? It’s perfectly legal to offer a reward for the return of stolen property, and you know it.”
“But it isn’t legal to offer immunity along with it.”
“Who said anything about offering immunity? If Shayne can recover the stuff, I won’t ask him how he did it,”
“It’s a positive encouragement to lawlessness,” Painter declared angrily. “You know as well as I do how such deals are arranged, and I’m determined to stamp out the practice on the Beach.”
“Just how are such deals arranged?” Shayne asked coldly.
“All the organized mobs have someone set up as a go-between-someone with the protective coloration of legality-like a private eye. Through this go-between, a deal is arranged with the insurance company for the return of stolen articles at a price, and no questions asked. I’ve no doubt that you and Randolph have arranged many such affairs in the past.” The detective chief whirled and took a sharp turn about the room, came back and stopped before them, adding angrily, “I’m sick of such flaunting of legal authorities here on the Beach and I warn you both I won’t countenance it.”
Shayne exchanged an amused glance with Randolph and said, “Painter has just got through accusing me of arranging the hold-up tonight.”
“You seem very sure you can put your hands on the bracelet as soon as a suitable reward is offered,” snapped Painter.
Shayne laughed indulgently. “That’s because I keep the right sort of company. Some day, Painter, you’re going to shed your diapers and learn that you can’t solve cases by sitting on your pratt and drawing a salary from the taxpayers.” He turned his back on the infuriated man and said to Randolph, “I’ll see you tomorrow and talk this over.”
“I promise you, Shayne,” said Painter, “that if those jewels are returned through your efforts I’ll slap you in jail as an accessory both before and after the fact and keep you there till you rot.”
“I don’t understand what all the argument is about,” said Mark Dustin, his forehead knitted. “If an insurance company wants to offer a reward, why isn’t it legal for anyone to collect it who can return the bracelet?”
“Simply because it constitutes collusion with criminals, and that’s a felony,” Painter shouted. “I tell you I suspect Shayne knows where your bracelet is cached this very minute, and he’ll keep possession of it until a large enough reward is offered. You don’t realize it, Mr. Dustin, but this sort of thing has become a regular racket here in Miami and on the Beach. Men like Shayne take advantage of insurance companies faced with a large loss and eager to settle for less than the face value of the policy.”
“If it’s illegal for you to collect a reward from the insurance company,” said Dustin to Shayne, “perhaps the chief won’t object if I hire you to recover my property. Would that be collusion, too?”
“Better ask Painter,” Shayne said with a shrug. “He’s the lad with all the answers.”
“It’s practically the same situation,” Painter snapped. “It amounts to putting a premium on successful thievery. There are duly constituted authorities to enforce the law.”
“It sounds to me,” Dustin told Shayne, “as though it’s practically illegal for you to earn a fee. How does a private dick earn a living in Miami?”
“I get along,” Shayne answered.
The telephone rang and Celia Dustin answered it. She hung up and told her husband. “The ambulance is here to take you to the hospital, dear.”
Dustin finished his highball and winced with pain as he came slowly to his feet. “I wish you’d call me tomorrow, Shayne. I’d like to keep in touch with things.” His back was turned to Painter, and his left eyelid dropped in a wink as he made the suggestion.
Shayne said, “Glad to, Dustin. Good luck with that hand.”
Celia touched her husband’s left coatsleeve lightly as they went to the door. The others followed them into the corridor.
Peter Painter edged up to Shayne and said, “I want you to understand that I’m not at all sure you didn’t engineer the hold-up tonight. I intend to check every movement you’ve made and every person you’ve contacted since you witnessed the purchase of that ruby bracelet last Monday. If it turns up in your hands, I’m going to know how it got there.”
Again Shayne ignored him, and said to Voorland, “I’ll drop in your store in the morning, Walter, and get all the dope you can give me on the bracelet. I’ve an idea there’s going to be some money in this, somehow, for me.”
Chapter Seven
Michael Shayne drove away from the Sunlux Hotel slowly, his forehead furrowed with thought. A couple of years had elapsed since he had operated professionally in the Miami area, and a great many changes had taken place. Changes, particularly, in the organization and identity of the mobs ruling the resort city’s underworld. Two years ago, he reflected morosely, it would have been a cinch to contact the present holders of the ruby bracelet. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that it had been a professional job, the sort of thing Ray Huggins might have planned and executed in previous days. A word dropped in any one of half a dozen saloons would soon have reached Huggins, and negotiations for the return of the stolen gems would have begun promptly.
But Ray Huggins had slipped from power eighteen months ago and there had probably been two or three uneasy successors since then, men who might not even know Mike Shayne except by reputation, and who certainly had no way of knowing he was back in business at the old stand.
Shayne’s belly muscles tightened as these vagrant thoughts drifted through his mind. Was he actually back in business in Miami? He hadn’t publicly announced any such intention, for he hadn’t made up his mind yet. But he knew, as he drove meditatively along beneath Miami’s golden moonglow that the decision had been made for him tonight-by Peter Painter.
He knew without going into involved thought processes, that he had accepted the challenge of the Miami Beach detective chief. It was Painter’s own fault for dragging him into the case. He had no intention of being told what he could or could not do. The threat of arrest on charges of complicity if he dared arrange a deal for the return of the bracelet would be laughable had it come from anyone except Painter. It was the sort of statement any cop might toss off in front of an aggrieved citizen, but from anyone else it would have been accompanied by a sly wink to take away any sting from the official warning. Everybody in the know fully understood how such matters were arranged. It was, in a sense, a kind of tribute levied by the underworld, and one played along with it whether he liked it or not.
Shayne didn’t like it himself, but he had picked up some nice fees that way in the past, and the insurance companies were glad to pay a moderate reward instead of sustain a huge loss. A case such as this, involving a fortune in gems which could not be fenced to advantage, was perfect for a fix. The important thing was to get oneself into it as a go-between who could be trusted by both parties. The thing now was to figure out a way to contact the jewel thieves in a hurry before someone else got to them with a proposition.
He turned off on one of the side streets before reaching Fifth and drove slowly, sitting erect behind the wheel and watching each side of the quiet street calculatingly.