“What is that?” asked the actress, pointing to the sheaf of papers which Beefy held.
Beefy smiled and handed the manuscript to the woman. “I’m Horace Tremayne, Miss Bainbridge,” he said, “and this is the manuscript that Marvin Gray delivered to my office the day your films were stolen from the laboratory in Santa Monica.”
Madeline Bainbridge looked quickly at the first page. “An exact copy of the manuscript that is upstairs in my room,” she said. “How tiresome of you, Marvin, to copy my manuscript and sell it. Didn’t you know you couldn’t possibly get away with it? Sooner or later I’d have found out.”
There was a step on the front porch, and the doorbell buzzed.
“That will be Jefferson Long,” said Madeline Bainbridge. “Would you let him in, Clara?”
Clara Adams darted out of the living-room. She returned in a few moments with Jefferson Long walking behind her. Long’s face was stoney as he looked at the group in the room. He bowed to Madeline Bainbridge.
“I didn’t know you were having a party this evening,” he said.
“The first one in years,” said Madeline Bainbridge. “Do sit down while our young friend here–his name is Jupiter Jones, and I think you’ve met–tells us why Marvin Gray copied my manuscript and sold it to Mr Tremayne. He then arranged to have it stolen. At least, I imagine that’s what happened.”
“That’s precisely what happened,” said Jupiter. “Here’s the story. A certain amount of it is speculation, but I think we’ll be able to verify it.
“Some time ago, Marvin Gray happened to run into Charles Goodfellow, alias Harold Thomas, in an Indonesian restaurant called the Java Isles. At this meeting, Gray learned that Goodfellow was employed by a book publishing firm. Gray has a nimble brain, and it occurred to him that he could copy the memoirs which Miss Bainbridge was writing, sell the manuscript to Goodfellow’s employers, then either bribe or blackmail Goodfellow into stealing the manuscript to prevent its publication. He wanted to prevent publication because Miss Bainbridge was almost ready to find a publisher herself, and it would never do to have two publishers preparing to bring out the memoirs of the same actress.
“Gray thought he could pocket the advance that is usually paid to an author upon delivery of a manuscript. Once the counterfeit manuscript was destroyed, he could stall Beefy Tremayne for a while, and then perhaps sell the true manuscript to Beefy all over again. He was counting on the fact that Beefy would feel terribly guilty about losing the first manuscript.
“Goodfellow agreed to go along with Gray. He didn’t want Gray to expose him to his employers as a person who once tried to steal a necklace from Madeline Bainbridge. First Goodfellow set Amigos Press on fire, hoping to destroy the manuscript. When he learned that he had failed, he went to Beefy’s apartment and stole the manuscript. I am sure he used keys which he had duplicated from the set in Beefy’s desk. I think we’ll find that duplicating keys is a habit with Goodfellow, and that he had keys to the pharmaceutical firm where he used to work. That’s where he got the magnesium that he used to construct the incendiary device that started the fire. Magnesium is used in Pharmaceuticals. It was foolish of him to plant magnesium in William Tremayne’s jacket pocket when he took the manuscript. He went too far when he did that.”
Madeline Bainbridge looked up. “What about the theft of my films?” she said to Jupiter. “The counterfeit manuscript was nothing compared to that theft. They’ll get a quarter of a million dollars for that one!”
“The thieves collected the ransom for the films late this afternoon, Miss Bainbridge,” said Jupiter. “It was on the news at six o’clock. Video Enterprises left a package containing two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in small bills in a parking lot near the Hollywood Bowl. They were advised by telephone a short time later to recover the films from a van parked in Bronson Canyon.”
Madeline Bainbridge looked surprised. “That’s wonderful, but . . . but Marvin was home this afternoon!
“Marvin Gray wasn’t involved in the theft of the films,” said Jupe. “Charles Goodfellow was–and Jefferson Long was the mastermind.”
“What?” shouted Long. “You brat! How dare you?”
“We have a witness,” said Jupe. “And we can tie both Goodfellow and Long in with the missing films.”
“You’re crazy!” cried Long.
Jupiter didn’t answer. He went out into the hall and opened the front door. “Come on in,” he said.
A moment later he appeared in the living-room doorway. Pete was at his side.
“Surprised?” Jupe said to Jefferson Long. “You should be. Because the last time you saw Pete, he was unconscious, and you were locking him in the trunk of a wrecked car!”
21
Crash!
“YOU’RE MAD!” said Jefferson Long. “I don’t have to stay here and be insulted!”
“We would all appreciate it if you’d stay,” said William Tremayne, and he waved the gun in his hand.
Long sat back and folded his arms. “Very well,” he said, “if you’re going to use strong-arm tactics.”
Beefy grinned. “Okay, Jupe. Go ahead.”
“When I was in his office the other day,” said Jupiter, “Jefferson Long said that he’d researched a television series on drug abuse, and that he’d found that some people employed in legitimate drug firms were involved in the illicit distribution of drugs. My guess is that in the course of his investigation, Long happened to meet Harold Thomas, who was an employee at one of these firms. Like Marvin Gray, Long recognized Thomas. He knew he had once attempted to steal a necklace from Miss Bainbridge, and that he was once known as Charles Goodfellow. Perhaps he checked up on Goodfellow. Perhaps Goodfellow had a record. He might even be a fugitive. In any case, Long could blackmail him–or at least put considerable pressure on him.”
“Is that the way it was, Long?” asked Beefy.
“I have nothing to say,” announced Jefferson Long.
“Thomas, was Long blackmailing you?” the young publisher asked his former accountant.
“I’ll talk to my lawyer,” said Thomas. “No one else.”
“All right,” said Jupe, undismayed. “Now at about this time, something happened which disturbed Long very much. Video Enterprises decided to purchase Madeline Bainbridge’s films, and they told Long that the series on drug abuse would be cancelled because the money originally budgeted for this series would be used for the films.
“No doubt Long was very bitter, especially since he had never liked Madeline Bainbridge. And it must have occurred to him that he could get back at Madeline Bainbridge and could also make a great deal of money if he could steal the films.
“Jefferson Long knew he could find out what day the films would be transferred to the laboratory in Santa Monica. Anyone at Video Enterprises could learn this. It wouldn’t be any secret. But before that day came, while the negotiations for the films were still going on, he had Harold Thomas apply for a job at the business firm closest to the laboratory. Doubtless Thomas would have accepted a much humbler position than accountant to get into Amigos Press.
“By the time the films arrived at the laboratory, Thomas knew the routine at the film lab perfectly. He saw most of the employees leave at five that day. Then he left Amigos Press, joined Long, and they forced their way into the lab. They knocked out the technician who was there, loaded the films into a van, and drove off.
“Thomas was, of course, busier than he had planned to be, since that afternoon Marvin Gray had delivered the counterfeit memoirs from Madeline Bainbridge. Thomas had to plant his incendiary device and later, after helping to steal the films, return to Amigos Press to check on the fire. Then he had to burgle Beefy’s apartment.”
“You haven’t a shred of evidence to back up what you’re saying,” declared Jefferson Long.
“But we do have evidence,” said Jupiter. “I overlooked it for a long time, but when I finally remembered, everything else fell into place.
“You interviewed Marvin Gray the night the films were stolen. You said that the hold-up was perpetrated by a couple of men. It was a statement that sounded perfectly correct. But there was no way you could have known that there were two men. There could have been three or four or ten–or perhaps only one. Even the police didn’t know, because the technician you knocked out to get those films did not regain consciousness until the next day–hours after the interview with Marvin Gray was taped.”
Jefferson Long shrugged. “I assumed that there would be at least two men.”
“You might claim that,” said Jupiter, “but what are you going to say about the fingerprints?”
“Fingerprints?” said Long. “What fingerprints?”
“You saw Pete follow Harold Thomas from his apartment to that car wrecking yard in Santa Monica. No doubt Thomas was going to move the films because the arson squad was getting too close to him and making him nervous. Seeing Pete made you nervous. You tailed Pete, and when you realized that he had seen the van, you decided he had to be put out of the way. You didn’t know who he was or what he was up to, but you couldn’t take a chance. When he tried to call for help, you hit him on the head and stuffed him into the trunk of that old car. And when you slammed down the trunk lid, you left your fingerprints.”