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

“True, but it doesn’t mean anything. Any one of a dozen different guys, or gals for that matter, could have left those sheets there. Anyway, that doesn’t get you back the diamonds and that’s what you’re interested in.

“Colletti will be a hard nut to crack. He’s been around a long time and has powerful connections. I mean in the right places. I’m afraid you’ll have to dig deeper, Shayne.”

“I will, if I have to dig straight down into hell.”

“I see the local constabulary is with Patterson and Wilson. Let’s go out there. They may need some help.”

Two detectives from Homicide and the coroner were talking to Sergeant Patterson.

Elfmont introduced himself. “I’m in charge of the case, officer.”

“I’m Lieutenant Stanley Brooks. And this is Detective James Wynrod.” He glanced at Shayne.

Shayne grinned. “I’m Mike Shayne.”

Lieutenant Brooks scowled. “Mike Shayne, eh? You’re a little out of your territory, aren’t you?”

“So you know me,” Shayne replied.

“Word gets around. You haven’t answered my question.”

“We were in pursuit of Allegretto. He had abducted the woman named Ann Waterman. She was taken to the hospital, along with Mrs. Elfmont. He was going to kill both. Now, you wouldn’t have wanted us to stop our pursuit in a case like that merely because we crossed jurisdictional lines?”

“You have phones in your cars. You could have phoned and we’d have been glad to offer assistance.”

“Lieutenant,” Shayne said, “we had no idea or intention to usurp your authority. The pursuit was just too hot.”

“Maybe so. Now we have a murder on our hands, in addition to two abductions. This is a very quiet, reserved area, and all the people living here are important in one way or another. All hell is going to break loose tomorrow. That yacht belongs to Mr. Dominick Colletti, a very important man in the community. I don’t know what he will say about all this.”

“Lieutenant,” Shayne said, “I hate to tell you this, but only as a matter of enlightenment. Mr. Colletti is not only an important man in this community but in about forty-nine states as well. He happens to be one of the top men in the mafia, a suspect in several murders and a million-dollar diamond heist.”

“I can’t believe that. Mr. Colletti is highly respected, has a large importing and exporting business, is a member of the church and contributes to many charities.”

“So did Al Capone and Lucky Luciano and Lepke Buchalter, the man who ran Murder Incorporated.”

“Well,” Lieutenant Brooks hedged, “your suspicions may be valid but it’s hard to believe. Anyway, since this is our bailiwick, I think you’d better leave the matter in our hands. We’ll talk with Mr. Colletti and report our findings’ to Lieutenant Elfmont at the Miami Beach Police Department.”

“I’m sorry, Brooks, but I can’t buy that. I’ve been engaged by the Monarch Insurance Company to locate diamonds that were stolen from a salesman in the Americana Hotel in Miami Beach, one who, incidentally, was murdered. Murder One, Lieutenant. You have no idea how much heat will be generated if you make any attempt to interfere in this investigation.

“Mr. Colletti is also wanted by the FBI for crimes involving Interstate shipment of stolen goods. Furthermore, his importing and exporting business deals primarily with shipments of heroin. Get the point, Lieutenant?”

Lieutenant Brooks’ face turned crimson. Shayne knew why. His discomfiture could mean only one thing — payoffs.

Lieutenant Brooks said, “Well, at any rate, I must ask you all to follow me to the station and make out a report. This is, after all, involving a capital offense.”

“A police officer, Sergeant David Patterson here, shot and killed Allegretti in the line of duty,” Shayne replied. “Allegretti was in the act of trying to kill Mrs. Elfmont and Miss Ann Waterman after he threw them into the ocean in the midst of a school of sharks.”

“Routine, Shayne,” Brooks said. “I must insist on the report.”

“We’ll follow you,” Elfmont said. “I understand the necessity.”

In the police station, they were taken into the office of Inspector Martin Kreuger, a florid-faced, heavy-set man. The four visitors were invited to take seats.

“Which one of you is Lieutenant Elfmont?”

“I am,” Elfmont said. He then introduced the others.

Inspector Kreuger stared at Shayne with steely eyes. “I understand, Mr. Shayne, that you are a private investigator.”

Shayne nodded.

“And you are investigating a million-dollar diamond heist?”

“I’m looking into it.”

“On whose authority?” Inspector Kreuger frowned.

“The Monarch Insurance Company.”

“They have no official standing here, Mr. Shayne.”

“I understand that. I am also under instructions of Chief Painter of the Miami Beach Police Department to add to that department’s information and investigation.”

“The Miami Beach Police Department has no jurisdiction here, either.”

“I am assisting Sergeant Patterson and Detective Wilson of the Fort Lauderdale Police Department. They were assigned by Chief Painter.”