“So he’s a phoney,” said Pete. “But how come he gets all those awards from police departments and sheriffs’ offices?”
Chief Reynolds shrugged. “He does keep the public informed about things like fraud and burglary and forged money and such things. Law enforcement people want the public to trust them, and Long does encourage people to trust the police–and to call the police if they think there’s anything strange going on in their neighbourhoods. So the man does help us a lot that way.”
“But he isn’t the hotshot crime-fighter he pretends to be,” summarized Jupiter. He nodded with satisfaction. “I had a feeling he was acting a role.”
“He does it twenty-four hours a day,” said the chief.
The boys thanked the chief, then left the police station and started hiking up the highway.
“Another dead end!” complained Jupiter. “We punctured Long’s balloon, but now I’m sure that he had nothing to do with the theft of Madeline Bainbridge’s manuscript.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Bob.
“Because, from everything we’ve heard, I think Long really values his good relations with the police. He’s built a successful career on that, and I don’t think he’d jeopardize his career by stealing a manuscript that would merely embarrass him.”
“Then why did he lie to you about the coven?” demanded Pete.
“It’s not surprising. Why should a man in his position tell a strange kid about some silly stuff in his past? And that’s all it was–silly stuff, not crimes. Anyway, even if Long knew about the manuscript and wanted to steal it, he didn’t have any opportunity. The timing’s all wrong.”
Glumly, the Investigators separated and headed for their homes. Jupiter was moody and absent-minded during dinner with Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Titus. After the dishes were done, he went to his room to lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He felt utterly discouraged. It seemed that there was no way to connect any of Madeline Bainbridge’s old companions to the theft of the manuscript. But if none of the actress’s friends had stolen her memoirs, who had?
Jupe recalled the night of the fire. Again he seemed to hear the roar as the flames licked at the timbers of the old Amigos Adobe. After they had been hauled out of the basement, he and Bob and Pete had stood across the street watching the fire. Mr Grear had been with them, and then Beefy and his uncle had come hurrying up. Mr Thomas had been there, too, and so had Mrs Paulson. They, and only they, had known that the manuscript was in Beefy’s apartment. Yet it seemed most unlikely that any of them would have taken it.
After a while, Jupe drifted off to sleep. When he woke, the sun was coming in the window. Still feeling frustrated and lethargic, Jupe got up, showered, and dressed. Then he telephoned Bob and Pete and arranged to meet them after breakfast at the bus stop on the Coast Highway.
It was almost nine when Jupe walked from The Jones Salvage Yard down to the highway. Bob and Pete were already there, waiting for him.
“You have any brainstorms overnight?” asked Pete.
“No,” said Jupe. “I can’t think of anything to do but go back to Beefy’s and keep plodding along, checking on people.”
“We’re just about out of people we can check,” Bob pointed out.
“We’re out of people who had an obvious motive,” said Jupiter. “We are not out of people who had an opportunity. In fact, we haven’t even started on them!”
“The employees at Amigos Press?” asked Pete.
Jupiter nodded.
“I can’t quite see any of them swiping that manuscript,” said Pete, “but we’ve tried everybody else.”
The three boys rode into West Los Angeles and arrived at the door to Beefy’s apartment just as a slender man wearing gaberdine slacks and a seersucker blazer was leaving. He smiled at the boys as he passed them in the hall.
Beefy’s usually ruddy face was pale when he let them in. Behind Beefy, William Tremayne paced up and down and shouted.
“It’s a conspiracy!” he cried. “They hate me! They’ve always hated me! Bunch of idiots!”
“Take it easy, Uncle Will,” pleaded Beefy.
“What do you mean, take it easy? You haven’t been accused of arson!”
“Arson?” cried Jupe. “The fire was arson?”
” ‘Fraid so,” said Beefy. “The man who just left here was from the arson squad. He wanted a list of all the employees at Amigos Press, and he wanted to know who visited the office the day the fire broke out.”
“He also wanted to know to whom the insurance money would be paid,” said Will Tremayne. “I know what he was really saying when he asked that question. He was saying that he thought I set the fire! Well, of course the insurance money will come to me. I handle all of the publishing house’s financial affairs. But even if the income from my stocks is down . . .”
“Uncle Will, are you in trouble?” asked Beefy.
“Just a bit short of ready cash,” said Will Tremayne. “Nothing important. Nothing that won’t right itself in time. Now don’t you start! It was bad enough talking to the arson investigator. I wasn’t anywhere near Amigos Press when the fire started I was here at home with you.”
“Whoever started the fire didn’t have to be there,” said Beefy. “You heard the man. It was an incendiary device vising magnesium and a battery-operated clock. It could have been put into the cupboard under the stairs anytime after six in the morning.”
“You think I did it!” shouted Will Tremayne.
“I didn’t say that,” declared Beefy. “I only think an alibi isn’t any good in this case. The arsonist was probably miles away when the fire began.”
“Grear!” said Will Tremayne. “He did it! He’s always hated me. Dull little mole of a man! He hates anybody who has any style. Or Thomas! What do we know about Thomas? He’s only been with the firm for three months!”
“Uncle Will, you hired him!”
“Well, he had such good references. But that doesn’t really mean anything!”
Will Tremayne went to the coffee table and snatched the lid off the box that usually contained his cigars. “Oh, blast!” he cried. “Empty!”
He glared at Beefy. “It was Grear or Mrs Paulson,” he said. “They hate me! They’ve never forgiven me for taking your father’s place! Or it was Thomas. We don’t know about Thomas. Now here’s what we do. You hired these three boys to find that silly manuscript by that has-been actress. We’ll just have them go and watch Grear’s apartment, and Mrs Paulson’s house, and Thomas’s place, too. They’ll see what happens after the detective from arson visits them. I’m betting that after they’re questioned, the one who did it will give himself away. He’ll pack up and run. You’ll see!”
Beefy looked helplessly at The Three Investigators.
“Why not?” said Jupiter. “Stranger crimes have been committed for stranger motives. If you’ll give us the addresses, we’ll go and stake out the three houses. It can’t hurt.”
“Okay.” Beefy went into the small study off the living-room. He was back in a minute with three addresses written on three pieces of paper.
“Now,” said Jupiter, “suppose I watch Mrs Paulson’s. Bob, you can see what Mr Grear does when he’s not working. And Pete can keep an eye on Mr Thomas.”
The boys went to the door, with Beefy following them. He came out into the hall, his face grave and concerned.
“You’re just doing this to humour Uncle Will, aren’t you?” he said.
“Not quite,” said Jupiter. “We’ve checked on all the members of Madeline Bainbridge’s magic circle–all that we could find, that is. As far as we can tell, none had any opportunity to take the manuscript, and none of them even knew it was here. Now we had better check the people who did know–and who did have the means. Any one of the three could have taken your keys from your desk and had a duplicate set made. All three were at the fire and heard where the manuscript was. Perhaps the visit of the man from the arson squad will stir something up. Not that I think the theft of the manuscript is necessarily connected to the fire. But we can’t be sure.
“There is one thing you can do for us while we’re gone,” Jupe added.
“What’s that?” asked Beefy.
“Your uncle says he was playing bridge with friends at the time the manuscript was taken. You could talk with his hosts and make sure this is true.”
Beefy looked startled. “You suspect Uncle Will?”
“I don’t know,” said Jupiter. “I’d just like to have his alibi confirmed.”
Beefy nodded.
“We’ll meet back here after the man from the arson squad has seen our three friends,” said Jupiter. The Investigators went off, leaving Beefy standing in the hall, frowning to himself.