"murderjoke" - читать интересную книгу автора (Blackmon Robert C)

Fred Ames shook his head slowly and groped his way across the unlighted apartment to the chair
placed facing the windows. He sighed as he eased his chunky body down into the chair and
looked out across the narrow court.

Directly opposite and on the second floor of the building, were the lighted windows of
another apartment. He could see everything in the apartment very clearly. A slightly built
man of about fifty was in plain view of the windows. He was in his shirt sleeves, Iying
across the bed and reading a magazine. His dark-blue coat was hanging over the back of a
nearby chair.

Fred Ames' wide mouth tightened.

The man on the bed in the other apartment was Rick Ball, one of the smoothest jewel
thieves that ever drove an insurance detective out of his right mind.

Rick Ball, the National Indemnity Co. officials believed, had stolen the Shamrock Emerald,
a walnut-sized chunk of vivid-green fire whose exact price few jewelers would care to set.
National Indemnity had a hundred-thousand-dollar policy on the big gem, and it was either
going to have to recover the Shamrock Emerald, or pay out one-hundred-thousand-dollars within
a day or two.

National Indemnity Co. was stalling the payment as long as it could, while Fred Ames and
Bill Marsh, two of its best operatives, shadowed Rick Ball twenty-four hours a day. Company
officials believed Rick Ball would soon make some move that would lead either Fred Ames or
Bill Marsh to the hidden Shamrock.

The whole case was very hush-hush, and the police had not even been notified of the theft.
The newspapers knew nothing at all about it. National Indemnity wanted the whole thing kept
absolutely quiet until the Emerald was recovered.

Fred Ames settled himself more comfortably in the chair before the windows. He could not
smoke, or move around very much, for fear of tipping off Rick Ball. So far, the little one-
eyed jewel thief had made no sign that he knew he was being shadowed, though either Fred Ames
or Bill Marsh practically got in bed with him. One or the other watched him every minute,
each taking alternate eight-hour shifts. But Rick Ball had made no move that could be inter-
preted as a possible lead to the stolen Shamrock Emerald.

Fred Ames yawned and shifted around in his chair and watched Rick Ball, He scowled.

The little jewel thief hardly moved as he sprawled on the bed and read his magazine.
There was nothing about him to show that he was one of the smoothest gem thieves in the bus-
iness. There was nothing about him to show that he knew the hiding place of a hundred-thou-
sand-dollar emerald.

Rick Ball stirred a little, and Fred Ames stiffened in his chair. But the jewel thief
was merely turning another page of his magazine.

Ames settled into a more comfortable position and swore under his breath. About thirty
minutes passed; then someone knocked on the apartment door behind him. The knocks were spaced