Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 29, No. 4, September 1971

The Missing Tapestry by Dan Ross

A priceless tapestry had been stolen, and one of three had to be the guilty party. Recovery and conviction seemed hopeless. “Hopeless?” Mei Wong smiled. “One little word will solve our case...”

A small tender chugged up alongside the gleaming white yacht anchored far out in the harbor of Bombay and a stout figure in an immaculate linen suit and broad panama hat carefully made his way from the swaying small craft to the platform and stairway that led up to the yacht.

The tender had already begun its journey back to the Bombay wharves as a slightly out-of-breath Mei Wong appeared on the deck of the yacht. A smile of recognition crossed the round, placid face of the elderly art dealer as he was met by a tall, broad-shouldered man with a white goatee.

“Thank you for coming so soon, Mr. Wong.” Martin Manuelis, the millionaire owner of the yacht, grapsed Mei Wong’s hand with a bear-like grip. “I didn’t know who else to turn to. I’m in the devil of a fix!”

The art dealer nodded. “Your phone message certainly had the air of urgency. You were close to being incoherent.”

Manuelis made a gesture of despair. “No wonder. The tapestry is missing. The priceless eighteenth century dragon boat festival tapestry I purchased from you. And it must have been stolen by one of my guests.”

Mei Wong could understand the millionaire’s concern. The tapestry had been one of the most valuable items his studio had ever handled.

“I assume you suspect someone?” he said.

Manuelis groaned. “It is most embarassing. But I have no alternative.”

“Who do you think is the guilty party?”

“Any of the people here could have taken it.”

“Where did you keep the tapestry?” Mei Wong asked.

“Temporarily I stored it in the closet of my own cabin. I intended to put it in a safe place ashore in a few days. I shouldn’t have waited. I was called away from the ship yesterday. The thief must have secured a duplicate of the key to the closet and taken it. I hadn’t discussed the tapestry or anything concerning it with any of them. So I don’t understand how anyone knew.”

“Yet one of them must certainly have learned it was here,” Mei Wong commented. “Realizing the value of the item, the party succumbed to temptation and stole it.”

“That seems pretty clear,” Manuelis agreed with a sigh.

“We must find this white-washed crow,” Mei Wong said. “With a little shrewd observation we should soon note signs of his darkness showing.”

Manuelis led the rotund art dealer to his lavish cabin and stood by while he made a thorough inspection of the closet. Then the art dealer turned to him.

“Now I’d like to meet your guests,” he said.

Shortly afterward they came to the cabin. There were three of them. Charles Belden, fat and redhaired, an American stock broker; Dolly Lane, the lovely Broadway star, brunette and tall; and sour-faced Clarence Dent, an elderly millionaire art collector.

Mei Wong, who sat behind the millionaire’s desk, greeted the three with an easy smile. “It is kind of you to come here at my request. I shall certainly not delay you longer than necessary.”

Dolly Lane sat in an easy chair opposite him and helped herself to a cigarette. “Whats all the mystery? Manuelis wouldn’t tell us a thing.”

Charles Belden stepped forward, red-faced and blustering. “I want to know what this means. Summoning us here like school children.”

From the back of the cabin old Clarence Dent said dryly, “If you’ll give Mei Wong a chance to speak I’m sure he’ll be glad to explain.”

Mei Wong bowed. “So kind of you, Mr. Dent. And quite correct.”

Manuelis, who stood by Mei Wong, cleared his throat and addressed his guests with an unhappy expression.

“I must tell you that I greatly dislike the situation with which we are faced. But there is a thief on the yacht!”

Charles Belden sputtered. “Are you suggesting—”

“I am suggesting nothing,” Manuelis went on. “But I have had a valuable tapestry stolen from my cabin. One I recently purchased from Mei Wong.”

The art dealer looked at the three with keen eyes. “We hope that one of you might be able to help us.”

Dolly Lane chuckled. “Well, it’s true I have had two unsuccessful plays in the past year. And actually I’m rather hard up. But if I decided to turn thief I’d go after something a little easier to cash in on than a tapestry.”

Manuelis blushed and moved across to the actress. “I assure you, Miss Lane, there is nothing personal in this.”

“Don’t try to be delicate, Martin.” She looked at him with teasing eyes. “This is not a delicate matter. You think one of us is a crook.”

“I should have known better than to accept your invitation on this cruise,” Belden, the stock broker, said bitterly. “And with your permission I’ll leave the ship at once.”

Dent, the sour collector, gave a thin cackle of laughter. “He may not give permission unless his tapestry turns up.”

Belden turned on the old man. “You keep out of this! And anyway, you’re the only one who’d be interested in an item like that.”

Mei Wong stood up and interrupted what appeared to be a growing argument between the two men.

“I am sorry we have upset you,” he said. “But one has to start an investigation somewhere. The tapestry will find a ready market in the underworld of unscrupulous dealers. There are many who would be willing to pay a price for a rich and rare design of this type.”

Belden, the stock broker, touched a match to a huge cigar he’d stuck in his mouth. “Doesn’t concern me. Those eighteenth century tapestries may be worth plenty. But I’m still more interested in good, solid bonds!”

Dent frowned. “I don’t agree. I’d rather have that tapestry than any amount of bonds. Although I didn’t steal it. Put that tapestry or any other piece of its type beside a stack of bonds to equal its value. You’d find it much better to look at than the little stack of paper.”

Belden gave a nasty grin. “But it’s the little stack of paper that pays the bills.”

“And puts the money into shows,” Dolly Lane joined in. “I’m on Mr. Belden’s side. I like the bonds.”

Manuelis looked at Mei Wong with dismay. “This is all so pointless. We are getting nowhere.”

“On the contrary,” Mei Wong shook his head. “I think we have arrived at the answer to our problem.” He moved toward the three and eyed them each in turn. Then he added slowly, “I know now who the thief is.”

Dolly Lane sat back with a gasp. “You do? I hope you don’t think I’m the one.”

The art dealer smiled blandly and turned to Manuelis. “You said when I first came here, Mr. Manuelis, that no one aboard knew about the tapestry. That you had not mentioned it or described it to anyone.”

“That is so,” Manuelis nodded.

“And yet, just now, one of these good people did accurately give a partial description of the tapestry.” Mei Wong faced Belden. “You remember, Mr. Belden?”

The stock broker registered astonishment and removed the cigar from his mouth. “What’s this?”

“Only a few moments ago,” Mei Wong went on calmly, “you accurately told us that the tapestry was an eighteenth century piece. A thing you could only know by seeing it and realizing its value. I don’t think you are as ignorant of oriental art as you would have us believe, Mr. Belden. And I suggest that your host search your quarters on board very carefully.”

With a strangled cry of anger Belden made a break for the cabin door, only to be met by one of the ship’s officers armed with a revolver. The big man stopped short and turned to the group in the cabin, with his guilt clearly showing in his coarse face.

“A small precaution I suggested,” Mei Wong smiled. “To catch a slippery frog requires more than one hand.”