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Newsmen got wind of the deal, and wherever Kuhn & Co. went in their efforts to locate informants and fences who knew the whereabouts of the jewels, the reporters followed. From motel to motel the gem seekers fled. From motel to motel followed the reporters, some of them keeping contact by walkie-talkies. Twice, Kuhn and his police escorts leaped 20 ft. from the window of a motel room to evade their pursuers. Another time, Nadjari and Kuhn tried to get away from the press in a cab, paid the driver an extra $20 to keep his mouth shut; the hackie promptly appeared on a local TV show, blabbing his story.
All the while, Kuhn was trying, through a series of 50 telephone calls, to persuade or cajole some mysterious, disembodied voices to come up with the jewels. Whether those voices belonged to accomplices, fences, intermediaries—or maybe even talking porpoises—only Kuhn knew. Still, nothing seemed to jell. Nadjari once got a tip that sent him racing to a boat yard, where he struggled into swim trunks, mask and fins for a session of skin-diving. He found nothing but sea cockles, mussels and seaweed.
By this time, Nadjari was beginning to get a little disgusted with Kuhn's failure to turn up the gems. Kuhn, moreover, seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much. When the cops had to hire a car, for example, Kuhn insisted on riding in nothing less than a red convertible, and that's what he got.
Gulped Note. Toward the end, Nadjari ceased to rely on Kuhn, had him locked for hours at a time in motel bathrooms or kept him in a room where Kuhn entertained himself watching the Mickey Mouse Club and Romper Room on television.
At last, Kuhn's contacts began telephoning. "Everything's O.K. Things are moving," said one. "Isn't this fun, fellows?" Finally came the key phone call. An intermediary—a sometime jeweler apparently helping the police—picked up Detective Maline and drove him to a luncheonette. They parked and got out of the car. When they returned, they found a key in the car, with a note directing Maline to the Trailways bus station and locker 0911. Then, in the finest traditions of cloak-and-dagger-manship, the driver reportedly stuffed the note into his mouth and swallowed it.
Though it was clear by week's end that most of the still-missing gems might never be recovered, the district attorney's office was still hopefully hunting. As for the accused three, New York D.A. Frank Hogan planned to recommend light sentences if they pleaded guilty. It is conceivable that they will serve less than one year apiece. After that, Kuhn, Clark and Murph the Surf will be able to return to their Miami haunts and regale their friends with stories of their escapades. Perhaps they will even resume the joys of skindiving among all those coral reefs. Who knows? There might be something down there besides cockles, mussels and seaweed.