The D.A. Breaks an Egg

20

Selby spread the antique jewelry out on Sheriff Brandon’s desk, glanced at his watch, and said, “Well, I have a few minutes to spare. I hope she’ll be prompt.”

“That stuff certainly matches the sketches,” Brandon said. “Gosh, Doug, you don’t suppose that by any chance it could be the same stuff, do you?”

“Not the same stuff, Rex, but it could be almost the same. Jewelry of that particular period all followed a certain fixed pattern. This is close enough to it to give us something to work on. We can say that...”

Selby broke off as the door of the sheriff’s office opened and Sylvia Martin entered the room.

“May I interrupt long enough to see if there’s any new lead?” she asked.

Selby nodded, said, “There isn’t anything definite yet, Sylvia, but I have a good human-interest story for you, if you want to go to Santa Barbara.”

“What is it?”

“Moana Lennox’s closest girl friend lives up there. She’s married now, Mrs. Jordon L. Kerry. Moana apparently went up there last night. She’s all worked up about the things that are happening, and about her brother’s broken romance.”

“I don’t see anything broken about it,” Sylvia said.

“It isn’t, but Moana thought it would be. She naturally couldn’t conceive of a Lennox turning against the sacred Lennox family.”

“No, I suppose not... What have you there, Doug? Don’t tell me that’s the jewelry that...”

“We won’t tell you it is, but we won’t tell you what it...” He broke off as the door opened and A. B. Carr, accompanied by Phillip L. Paden, entered the room.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Carr said, in his richly resonant voice, “and pardon me. My dear Miss Martin, I trust that you’re acquainted with the new publisher of your competitive sheet. If not, permit me to present Mr. Phillip L. Paden. Miss Martin, Mr. Paden.”

“I’ve met him,” Sylvia said shortly.

Brandon casually moved away from the desk and jewelry. “What is it you fellows want?”

“I think,” Carr said, “that the jewelry over there is the thing which primarily interests us, Sheriff. Miss Moana Lennox asked me to take a look at some jewelry you had here. You see, among other things, Sheriff, I’m something of a connoisseur of antique jewelry. It’s been a hobby of mine for some time and...”

“The devil it has!”

“Oh, yes. I’ve quite a collection of antique jewelry of my own, and it happens I was talking with Miss Lennox some months ago about antique jewelry generally. She told me she had some very interesting pieces which were heirlooms, and was good enough to show them to me. So I’m thoroughly familiar with them. I believe you thought these might be hers?”

Brandon said, “I don’t think we care to discuss this jewelry with you, Carr.”

“Why not?”

“There are certain confidential aspects of the case.”

Carr walked over to examine the jewelry, said cheerfully, “Well, you won’t need to discuss it, Sheriff, because I can tell you right now that this is not Moana Lennox’s jewelry.”

“It’s not?”

“Definitely not. It’s of the same period and similar design, but it’s not the same jewelry.”

Paden, smiling expansively, lit a cigar. “Do you recognize it at all, Carr? Ever seen it before?”

“Well, now,” Carr said, hesitating, “I wouldn’t want to express an absolute opinion. There’s nothing that’s more difficult than to make a positive identification in matters of this sort, but I think I’ve seen that jewelry before. I think it’s part of a collection belonging — or which did belong to Mr. Stacy Bodega. He had it on exhibit about a year ago and I was very much interested in some of his pieces.”

“Well,” Paden said, “that’s interesting. How about it, Sheriff? Where did you get it?”

Brandon said, “As far as The Blade is concerned, this office has ceased giving out any information whatever. If you want information, go out and get it.”

“Okay,” Paden said, “I will. And when I get it I’ll know what to do with it. Don’t think any two-bit hick sheriff is going to tell me where to get off. You’re holding office, Brandon, until the next election, and that’s the end of it, so there’s no need to push your weight around. A year from now and you won’t have any official weight to push around. Good day, sir.”

Brandon followed him to the door. “The trouble with this community is it’s getting too damn citified. First we get a shyster lawyer, and then we get a crooked publisher.”

Paden said, “Those words are libelous and my attorney...” He turned, saw the look in Sheriff Brandon’s eyes, hesitated a moment, then hurried out into the corridor.

Brandon, following him, said, “That’s what I said. A crooked newspaper publisher, and a shyster lawyer.”

“Come on, Paden,” Carr said suavely. “You can answer him in the columns of your paper. I can afford to ignore it.”

They walked rapidly toward the stairs.

Brandon kicked the door shut, his face white with fury. “Damn them,” he said. “They haven’t guts enough to turn around and make a fair fight of it. They keep sniping away in that dirty newspaper. Hang it, that man Carr! He would have to turn out to be a connoisseur of antique jewelry.”

“Doug,” Sylvia said, “did you get that from Bodega’s collection?”

Selby nodded. “I was trying to lay a trap for Moana. I wanted to get her in here and... well, that’s what happened. How in the world would anyone from the Lennox family ever get teamed up with A. B. Carr?”

Sylvia said, “Oh Doug, I’m afraid you walked right into a trap. Didn’t you ever hear about Stacy Bodega’s son? He was arrested for drunken driving while he was in college. He hit a woman and injured her quite seriously.

“Bodega got old A. B. C., and Carr fixed everything up very hush-hush. Now you can see what must have happened. Stacy Bodega must have been passing the time of day with Carr and undoubtedly mentioned that you’d gone over his collection to try and match the Lennox pieces.”

Selby’s face darkened. “And that’s why Carr brought Paden along with him... Still Carr must have had some connection with the Lennox family — with Moana, anyway. What do you say, Rex?”

Brandon said, “What I want to say can’t be said in front of Sylvia. Damn them!”

Selby turned to a thoroughly miserable Sylvia Martin. “Here’s a tip, Sylvia. Charter an airplane. Fly up to Santa Barbara and talk with Constance Kerry, and I mean talk with her. If there’s anything fishy about this thing, and I think there is, I want you to find out about it. Telephone just as soon as you get a lead.”

He walked to the door with her.

Suddenly she turned, drew his head over and kissed his cheek.

“Remember, Doug, there are thousands of people in this county who believe in you, who trust you — who love you.”

He patted her shoulder.

“And now,” she said, “wipe the lipstick off your cheek. Let’s have at them.”

“Hip and thigh,” he agreed laughingly. “We’ll smite them... Sylvia...?”

“Yes.”

“You said there were thousands who loved me?”

She nodded.

“That’s more than I need, Sylvia. It’s nine hundred and ninety-nine more than I need.”

“You’ll need every one before you’re through with this case,” she told him, and slipped quietly through the door into the corridor.