Blood on the Stars Page 3

  “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 kn
ow 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.”

  “That’s good enough for me. You’ve made a sale if you can fix up a policy on that basis.”

  Mr. Voorland chuckled and smacked over his gum. “Is Earl Randolph in town, Mike?”

  “I saw him a couple of days ago.”

  “Mr. Randolph is one of the shrewdest appraisers in the business,” Voorland told Dustin. “I showed him this bracelet two months ago when I was holding it at two hundred thousand, and he asked for a chance to write a policy on it when I sold it. I’ll get hold of him at once and I’m sure we’ll have no difficulty.”

  “In that case, I presume you’d like to have a little cash on the line.” Mark Dustin’s voice was strained, as though he realized for the first time what he was letting himself in for. He reached in a side pocket of his slacks, adding, “Naturally, I don’t carry that kind of cash around with me.”

  “Naturally not, Mr. Dustin.” Voorland’s voice was soothing and understanding.

  “But the bangtails have been coming in for me,” Dustin explained as he withdrew a thick clip of bills. “Suppose I give you ten thousand down to bind the sale, and a check for the balance.”

  “Perfectly all right, Mr. Dustin.”

  “It will have to be a check on my bank in Denver. I’m just here for a short time.”

  “I quite understand,” Voorland purred. “Of course you won’t expect to take possession until your check has cleared through my local bank.”

  “Of course not. Wait a minute.” Dustin turned to his wife. “When is that shindig in Miami? That fancy concert at the White Temple.”

  “Next Friday, Mark. But it doesn’t matter—”

  “The hell it doesn’t. The Crowthers will be there, and the Buckleys. And old lady Bastrop with all her diamonds. Do you think I can have it for my wife to wear Friday night?” he asked Voorland.

  “This is Monday.” Voorland pursed his lips and looked doubtful. “I’m sure I can have the insurance coverage arranged by that time, but the check on Denver will scarcely have time to get back.”

  “Nonsense,” said Dustin. “Give your bank instructions to send it through special. By airmail. And have the Denver bank wire when it clears. Shouldn’t take more than two days.” His manner evidenced the westerner’s contempt for the conservative pace of easterners, and it brought an indulgent smile to Voorland’s lips.

  He nodded and said, “Very well. If you’ll step back to the office, Mr. Dustin, we’ll take care of it right away. Wander around and see what you’d like,” he added over his shoulder to Shayne as the three of them went toward his private office. “This will take only a few minutes.”

  “Who is he?” Lucy exclaimed when they were out of hearing. “He looks like a cowboy—or something. I could live in luxury the rest of my life on the money he’s throwing away on that trinket.”

  Shayne grinned and tweaked her ear. “You thought it was pretty in the beginning.”

  “I still do, but a hundred and eighty thousand dollars! It’s criminal to spend money that way. Think how many loaves of bread that would buy for starving children all over the world.”

  “Let’s not think about it.” Shayne led her toward the long row of showcases. “Start looking around, but don’t stop if you come to any star rubies.”

  Chapter Four

  A WELL-PLANNED CRIME

  MARK DUSTIN’S SPORTS ROADSTER was one of an unending parade of cars rolling across the Venetian Causeway toward Miami Beach. The last race of the day had been run at Tropical Park, and Dustin was content to relax while the procession crawled at a snail’s pace. He had hit a freak daily double at 420 to 1 with a ten-spot, and his four grand winnings made a comfortable wad in his pocket.

  Celia was supremely happy beside her husband, pressing close against his shoulder and dreamily contemplating the shifting mass of fleecy clouds above the palm-fringed shore eastward. She was always happy when Mark won at the races. It gave her a deep-rooted sense of security to know that Mark was one of those people who are almost invariably lucky. She no longer worried when he gambled, and that part of her past when she was poverty-stricken had gradually become an unreality. Mark had snatched her away from it after a whirlwind courtship lasting exactly five days.

  Tonight they would attend the society concert in Miami and she would wear the ruby bracelet. She, little Celia Hicks, would wear a piece of jewelry worth almost two hundred thousand dollars. She would make herself so beautiful for the occasion that Mark would never forget it, never be sorry he had paid so much for the bracelet.

  A shiver of delight pulsed through her. She asked excitedly, “Will it come, Mark? Do you think it will be at the hotel when we get there?” A queer sense of dread suddenly mingled with her happiness.

  Mark grinned tolerantly and chided, “Say star ruby bracelet when you mention your anniversary gift, Mrs. Dustin. The idea—calling it it.”

  They laughed together and she said, “Didn’t Mr. Voorland tell you this morning?”

  “He promised to deliver the bracelet by evening.” Mark’s voice was quietly emphatic. “His bank had a wire from Denver yesterday saying the check had cleared.”

  “But didn’t he say he would rather have the actual money back here in his account first?”

  “Naturally. In a transaction like this where I’m completely unknown to him he wants to take all the precautions possible. He hopes the money will be credited to his account before his bank closes this afternoon, but even if it isn’t, he said over the phone that the telegraphic assurance would be enough. Don’t worry, darling, you’ll knock everybody’s eyes out with that bracelet tonight.”

  “You should never have bought it, Mark,” she said earnestly. “I’ll be frightened to death every moment I have it on—just thinking about how much it cost.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” he told her cheerfully. “Just remember it’s insured.”

  “Some people keep expensive things like that locked up in a safe and never wear them,” she told him.

  “I know. They have cheap replicas made and wear those instead. Of all the damn fool ideas I ever heard of,” said Mark explosively, “that’s the damnedest.”

  They reached the end of the causeway and some of the cars ahead of them turned off to the right or left onto winding, palm-lined drives threading through the length of the peninsula. With the congestion eased, Mark Dustin sat up straight and darted expertly past laggard cars, gauging his speed and distances superbly to gain a couple of minutes in the short distance to the hotel.

  In the hotel lobby Celia stood back and waited breathlessly while Mark went to the desk to inquire about the delivery of the package from the jeweler. Her heart sank when she saw the clerk shake his head emphatically, and saw the taut anger come into Mark’s face.

  He strode back toward her and she made herself smile as she hurried to meet him. “Don’t you mind, darling. It really doesn’t matter whether I have it tonight or not.”

  “The hell it doesn’t,” he said furiously. “That Dutchman promised to have it here, and by God he’s going to.” He hurried her to the elevator and up to their suite, strode to the telephone, and brusquely asked for a number.

  When a voice replied at the other end, Dustin asked for Mr. Voorland. In a moment he said curtly, “Voorland? Dustin. Where the devil is that bracelet you promised to deliver this afternoon?”