Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 41, No. 4, October 1977

“Interstate transportation of stolen goods,” Shayne said.

“No federal judge will buy that without sufficient proof.”

“Tommy, Allegretti was dumb enough to give Ann Waterman those stones, which I now have. But Colletti is too smart to try to fence them locally, so sure as hell they were mailed out or sent by messenger to another state, possibly to Chicago. While I think of it, get a record of his out-of-town phone calls.”

“Shayne,” Elfmont said, “my concern was to get Becky back safely. The diamond deal is your baby. You’re going to collect a cool hundred grand.”

“Tommy an innocent man was murdered in that robbery, and that’s homicide. Right up your alley and your problem.”

Shayne heard Elfmont chuckle. “So, why not talk of the homicide instead of the diamonds?”

“You’re nit-picking, Tommy. One goes with the other. Don’t play games with me. We’ve got to move fast.”

“Okay, Shayne. What else?”

“I think we should have Patterson and Wilson along.”

“I agree. They’re on the team. I’ll get in touch with them. Where do we meet?”

“In your office, tomorrow morning at eight? Okay?”

“That’s fine.”

Both men hung up.

The next morning Shayne met with Elfmont, Patterson, Wilson and a fourth man, a federal Marshal, who was introduced as George Walsh. He was tall and heavy-set with coarse features, small, close-set eyes and puffy cheeks. He extended a ham-like hand to Shayne.

“I know about you, Shayne,” Walsh said. “What’s your role in this caper?”

“Monarch Insurance,” Shayne replied.

“I see.” Walsh nodded. “Well, Shayne, the picture has changed a little.” He extracted a folded piece of paper from an inside pocket of his coat. “This is a federal search warrant, and I go with it. Diamonds, shipped out of the state in violation of the federal statue involving stolen goods in interstate commerce. Any diamonds which may turn up will be turned over to me as evidence which I shall turn over to the federal district attorney.”

“There is also the little matter of a capital offense, murder one, committed during the commission of a felony.”

“That’s our province,” Elfmont declared. “It takes precedence over the robbery, if some of the diamonds should turn up.”

“Lieutenant,” Walsh said, “I’m not going to argue with you over the fine points of the law as to precedence,” the Marshal replied. “However, if you don’t get in my way, I sure as hell won’t get in yours. That goes for you, too, Shayne.”

Shayne said, “We may run into trouble with the local police. They seem to be concerned about Colletti’s welfare.”

“I’ve already been briefed on that by these three officers, Shayne. I know all about it, and about that pig, Inspector Kreuger. As a matter of fact, the government has received many complaints about violations of civil rights and some police brutality. We’d like a crack at this guy, especially if we can prove corruption and a possible tie-in with Colletti. Okay, let’s go.”

The group arrived at Colletti’s mansion, drove into the grounds, found Allegretti’s car. Shayne went to it and immediately looked under the dashboard. His hand came in contact with hard steel. He yanked out a .22-caliber pistol that had been held in place by clips. He then reached under the dashboard again, and brought out another .22-caliber pistol. He handed the two guns to Elfmont.

“Could be, Tommy. The same type pistols that have been used in the killings across the country. Ballistics should tell us if one or both were used, maybe on Johnny Roselli.”

Elfmont put the guns in separate evidence bags and handed them to Sergeant Patterson.

Shayne got back into the car and continued his search under the dashboard. Cleverly, concealed behind the steering post was a chamois bag. Shayne brought it out, undid the strings and opened it wide. Inside were several packets. Shayne knew, without looking that each one held diamonds.

At that moment, two uniformed police officers approached them. The taller of the two said, “You guys were told to see and talk with Inspector Kreuger before you came out here. Okay, let’s go. The inspector isn’t going to like this.”

Marshal Walsh waved the federal warrant. “He said, I’m federal Marshal Walsh, and this is a federal warrant signed by a federal judge. You go back and tell Kreuger that if he so much as shakes a little finger to impede our investigation, I’ll have his big ass in a jail cell faster than he can move. And that goes the pair of you, too,” the Marshal told them.

The two cops glared at Walsh, then at the others, then walked away without a word.

Walsh grinned at the group. “By God!” he said. “Nobody monkeys with the federal government, and I am the federal government.”

“Let’s go over and talk to Mr. Colletti,” Shayne said. “I’m very anxious to tangle with him.”

“Okay,” said Marshall Walsh. “That’s your part of the show, so you move to the front. Is that okay with you, Lieutenant?”

“Perfectly,” Elfmont agreed. “We’ll be back-up. Let’s go. I want to meet this crumb myself. I’ve heard a lot about him.”

A tall, lean young man, sharply dressed, answered Shayne’s ring.