“Charles Goodfellow!” exclaimed Pete.
“It seems likely,” said Jupiter. “And if Madeline Bainbridge is able to get Jefferson Long to the house, we should be able to settle everything at once. I think it will be very interesting to see Long and Gray and Goodfellow all together. Who wants to come along?”
“Are you kidding?” cried Pete. “I wouldn’t miss it!”
“I hope I’m invited,” said Beefy.
“Certainly,” said Jupiter. “I think we should bring your uncle, too. He’s had a bad time, and he might appreciate seeing the situation straightened out.”
“Great,” said Beefy. “How do we find Uncle Will?”
“Where does he buy his cigars?” said Jupiter.
“Huh?” said Beefy.
“Yesterday morning, just before he left here, he was out of cigars,” Jupe pointed out. “From what I’ve seen of Mr William Tremayne, I’d guess that he smokes something expensive and unusual. Am I right?”
Beefy nodded. “He smokes special Dutch cigars. You can’t get them everywhere.”
“He took his car when he left here, didn’t he?”
Again Beefy nodded.
“Well, if he’s driving, the cigars may not help us. But I have a feeling he isn’t driving anymore than he has to. He was very frightened, and he may think the police are looking for him already. But wherever he is, he’s smoking. Smokers always smoke more when they’re nervous. Where does your uncle buy his cigars?”
“In a little shop on Burton Way,” said Beefy. “They order the brand especially for Uncle Will.”
“I’m betting they’ve seen him in the last twenty-four hours,” declared Jupiter.
In a very few minutes, Beefy and The Three Investigators were in Beefy’s car, headed towards Burton Way.
“You’d better talk to the shopkeeper,” advised Jupe. “He’ll think it’s odd if any of us start asking questions. Tell him you and your uncle had a quarrel and your uncle walked out. Ask him if he’s seen your uncle.”
“That sounds like some dumb soap opera,” said Beefy.
“Don’t worry. The man will believe you,” Jupe predicted. “It sounds more likely than the truth, which is that your uncle is hiding from the police.”
Beefy laughed, and he pulled in to the kerb in front of a small shop called The Humidor. “You coming in with me?” he asked the boys.
“You go, Jupe,” said Bob. “It would look weird if all three of us went in.”
Jupe and Beefy got out of the car and went into the shop, where a white-haired man in a chamois waistcoat was dusting a counter.
“Mr Tremayne, good afternoon,” said the man. “Don’t tell me your uncle is out of cigars already.”
“No. Uh . . . not exactly.” Beefy’s face was redder than usual. “He bought some cigars yesterday, did he?”
“Why, yes,” said the man at the counter.
“Good,” said Beefy. “We . . . uh . . . we had a quarrel yesterday, you see, and he walked out and hasn’t come back. I’d like to find him and . . . uh . . . apologize. Did he . . . er . . . mention where he might be going when he was here?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Jupiter murmured something in Beefy’s ear.
“Did he have his car with him?” asked Beefy.
“Why, I don’t believe he did,” said the man. “He seemed to be walking. He turned towards the right when he went out, if that’s any help to you.”
“That’s fine,” said Beefy. “Thanks very much.”
He fled from the shop, tripping over the doorstep as he went.
“How you guys manage to do this sort of thing all the time, I can’t imagine,” he declared when they were back in the car. “My mind went blank about four times.”
Jupiter was grinning. “The shopkeeper said your uncle was on foot, so there’s a chance he’s staying somewhere in the neighbourhood. Drive down that way, slowly.”
Beefy started the car. They rolled along for a short distance, with Jupe scanning the fronts of the various buildings along the way. Suddenly Bob leaned forward and pointed towards a small motel on the left side of the street.
“Aha!” said Jupiter. “Exactly the sort of place Mr Tremayne would want–ultra-respectable, and the sign in front advertises locked garages. He could get his car out of sight.”
“The only garage that’s closed right now is the one next to room twenty-three,” said Pete.
Beefy pulled into the parking place next to the room, and an instant later he and The Three Investigators were knocking on the door of number 23.
“Uncle Will!” called Beefy. “Open the door.”
There was no answer.
“Mr Tremayne, we know you didn’t set the fire at Amigos Press,” said Jupe. “We’re going to trap the real criminals and prove that they did it. If you want to come along and help us set our trap, you’ll be welcome.”
There was silence for a minute more. Then the door to room 23 swung open. “Very well,” said William Tremayne. “You can come in if you want to, and we’ll talk about it.”
20
The Surprise Party
AT DUSK THAT evening, Beefy drove up from the Coast Highway to the Bainbridge ranch. The Three Investigators were with him, and so was his uncle. For once, William Tremayne did not seem bored. His eyes were eager, and from time to time he touched his pocket, where he carried a revolver.
There was a Mercedes parked near the porch of the Bainbridge house. Behind it was a light-coloured Ford. “The Ford must belong to Harold Thomas,” said Jupe. “The Mercedes is Gray’s. Let’s make sure that neither of them leave here before we’re ready for them to leave.”
Pete smiled and tried the doors of the two cars. Neither vehicle was locked. “Very good,” said Pete. He took a pair of pliers out of his pocket and went to work. In seconds he had disconnected the ignition wires, disabling both cars.
“I’ll stay here and keep out of sight until Long arrives,” he told the others. “Good luck.”
Jupiter, Bob, and the Tremaynes started up the front steps. There was an outburst of barking. It sounded muffled and far away.
“Sounds like somebody locked Bruno in the cellar,” said Bob.
“Thank goodness,” exclaimed Jupe. “I don’t want to meet him face to face. Not when he takes his orders from Marvin Gray.”
Jupe then strode boldly across the porch and rang the doorbell.
After a moment, there were footsteps in the hall. “Who’s there?” called Marvin Gray.
“I have something for Mr Gray,” said Jupe loudly.
The front door opened and Marvin Gray looked out.
“Mr Horace Tremayne would like to talk to you,” said Jupiter. “So would Mr William Tremayne.”
Jupiter stood aside, and Beefy stepped forward and planted his foot squarely on the doorsill. “Sorry to be dropping in so late,” he said, “but somehow this seemed like the right moment.”
Gray drew back. “Mr Tremayne! What is it? I’d invite you in but . . . but the ladies have retired and I don’t want to disturb them.”
Beefy shoved the door wide and stepped across the threshold. His uncle and the boys were close behind him.
“You’ve met Jupiter Jones before,” said Beefy. “Jupiter is a very curious young man. Some people might even say he’s nosey. We’re here tonight to help him satisfy his curiosity–and mine!”
Gray retreated as Beefy and Jupiter advanced. He backed into the living-room, where Harold Thomas was looking around wildly, as if trying to find a place to hide the package he held.
“That’s the manuscript, isn’t it?” said Jupiter. “You stole it from Beefy Tremayne’s apartment the same night you burned down the Amigos Adobe.”
Thomas dropped the package, which broke open and spilled loose pages across the floor. He spun around and started towards the windows.
“Stay right where you are, Thomas!” shouted Uncle Will.
Thomas looked over his shoulder and saw that William Tremayne had a gun. He stopped where he was.
Beefy picked up the manuscript from the floor. He flipped through it, stopping a few times to read a paragraph or two. Then he grinned. “This is it,” he said.
Jupe went back out into the hall. “Miss Bainbridge?” he called.
“She’s asleep,” said Marvin Gray. “She’s asleep and you’d better not wake her up. I don’t know anything about that bunch of papers, or the guy who brought them here, and–”
Gray stopped talking, for Madeline Bainbridge was coming down the stairs. Her white-gold hair was done up in a knot at the nape of her neck, and on her handsome face there was a smile that was both sad and triumphant.
“Marvin,” she said, with a scolding note in her voice. “You hadn’t planned to see me awake, but here I am.”
Her eyes went to Harold Thomas, who stood gaping. “So, Charles. It is you. I wish I could say that it’s pleasant to see you again, but it is not.”
She seated herself in the living-room. Clara Adams scampered down the stairs, her faded eyes twinkling with enjoyment. She perched on a window-sill behind Madeline Bainbridge.