Stone appeared again on the screen. “There is a possible witness to the unusual robbery,” he said. “Film technician John Hughes was working overtime at the laboratory. He was apparently beaten by the thieves in the course of the crime. He managed to make his way to the street, where he collapsed. Hughes regained consciousness briefly at Santa Monica Hospital this morning, and he is believed to have given a statement to detectives.”
There were footsteps on the front porch and the doorbell chimed urgently. Jupe went to the door and admitted Pete and Bob.
“You watching the news?” said Pete. “I saw the early show. Whoever bopped that guy on the head yesterday also swiped a whole bunch of movies from that lab in Santa Monica!”
“And they were Madeline Bainbridge’s movies,” said Bob. “How’s that for a coincidence?”
“Much too coincidental,” declared Jupiter.
The boys followed Jupe to the kitchen. On the television, Fred Stone was reporting a late development in the Bainbridge case. “This morning, a telephone call was made to Charles Davie, president of Video Enterprises,” he said. “Mr Davie was told that the Bainbridge films would be returned to Video Enterprises upon payment of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to the persons who are holding these films. Mr Davie made no statement as to whether or not Video Enterprises would ransom the pictures, which are considered irreplaceable.”
“What a gimmick!” exclaimed Pete. “Swiping old movies and holding them for ransom!”
Fred Stone went on with his newscast. “Following the robbery at the Santa Monica film laboratory last evening, Station KLMC was able to arrange an interview between Jefferson Long, veteran crime reporter for the station, and Marvin Gray, who has been Madeline Bainbridge’s business manager for many years. We now bring you a broadcast of that taped interview.”
Fred Stone turned to look at the television monitor to his left. A second later, Jupiter and his friends saw a sun-bronzed man with wavy white hair on the screen. He sat on a straight wooden chair in front of a fireplace and held a microphone. A clock on the mantel behind him showed the time as half-past nine.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said the man. “This is Jefferson Long, your KLMC crime reporter, at the Bainbridge estate near Malibu.
“Tonight Marvin Gray, Madeline Bainbridge’s long-time friend and confidant, has consented to talk with us about the films which were taken earlier this evening in the robbery of the Film Craft Laboratory. Perhaps Mr Gray will also tell us something about Miss Bainbridge and her work, which many still remember.”
The camera pulled back away from Jefferson Long, and the watchers saw Marvin Gray. He appeared grubby and insignificant next to the impressive Jefferson Long. He was smiling in a superior manner, however, as if Long amused him.
“I’m sure you remember Miss Bainbridge very well, Mr Long,” he said. “If I recall correctly, you were an actor once yourself. You had the role of Cotton Mather in Miss Bainbridge’s last picture, The Salem Story. It was your first picture, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yes,” said Long, “but–”
“Also your last,” said Marvin Gray.
“How unkind of him to put it that way,” said Aunt Mathilda. “You’d think he didn’t like Mr Long.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t,” said Jupiter.
Jefferson Long looked flustered, and he hurried into his interview. “I’m sure that Miss Bainbridge was very upset when she learned that her films had been stolen,” he said. “We had hoped to see her in person.”
“Miss Bainbridge doesn’t see reporters, ever,” said Marvin Gray, “and she’s resting this evening. Her doctor prescribed a sedative. As you say, she is upset.”
“Of course,” said Jefferson Long smoothly. “Mr Gray, none of Miss Bainbridge’s films have been seen by the public since she retired. What influenced her to sell them to television at this time?”
Marvin Gray smiled. “Thirty years ago, studio executives didn’t realize that feature motion pictures would become valuable television attractions,” he said. “Madeline Bainbridge did. She had a lot of faith in the future of television–although she doesn’t care for the medium.”
“She doesn’t watch television?” asked Long.
“No, she doesn’t. But thirty years ago, she knew how important it would be, and she purchased all the rights to the pictures she had made. She decided three weeks ago that the time was right. She signed an agreement with Video Enterprises, releasing the films to them. Video Enterprises took possession of the negatives this morning and had them moved to Film Craft Laboratory for inspection and repair.”
“Then it’s really KLMC’s loss if the films aren’t recovered,” said Long.
“Yes, but it’s a loss to the world, too. Miss Bainbridge is a great artist. She played memorable roles–Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, Catherine the Great of Russia, Helen of Troy. The portrayals will be lost forever if the films aren’t recovered.”
“Certainly that would be a calamity,” said Long, “and all due to a crime that is unique in a city that has seen many bizarre crimes. I am sure we all wish for the prompt apprehension of the two men who broke into the laboratory, and for the speedy recovery of the stolen films.”
The camera moved in close to Jefferson Long, who looked at his audience with great sincerity. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Jefferson Long, coming to you on videotape from the estate where Madeline Bainbridge has lived for many years as a recluse, the beauty which helped make her a star hidden from all but a few close friends. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you.”
The screen went blank. Then Fred Stone was on camera again. “And now for other news . . .” he began.
Jupiter turned off the television. “It sounds like a publicity stunt, but it can’t be that,” he said. “That film technician was seriously hurt. And Marvin Gray overlooked a great opportunity to mention the Bainbridge memoirs. He would have mentioned them if he were looking for publicity.”
Just then there was a crash on the verandah.
“Oh, blast!” exclaimed an exasperated voice.
Jupiter went to the door. Beefy Tremayne was standing on the porch.
“I knocked over a flowerpot,” said Beefy. “Sorry.”
He stepped into the living-room. “Jupe, I need help,” he said. Jupe saw that there were circles under his eyes. “I need The Three Investigators. Worthington says you’re good, and maybe you’ll help me out. Uncle Will won’t pay to hire a regular detective.”
Pete and Bob had come in from the kitchen. They looked at Beefy with curiosity.
“What’s the matter?” Jupiter asked.
“The Bainbridge memoirs,” said Beefy. “The manuscript has disappeared. Somebody stole it!”
4
A Case of Witchcraft?
“OKAY, I admit that I’m clumsy,” said Beefy Tremayne. “I drop things and knock things over. However, I do pay attention to business, and I’m good at my business. I do not lose manuscripts!”
“Nonsense!” said William Tremayne.
Beefy had driven The Three Investigators from Rocky Beach to the high-rise building in West Los Angeles where he shared an apartment with his uncle. It was a modern security building; the garage doors were opened by a sonic device and the door from the lobby to the inner court was monitored by closed-circuit television. The boys had found William Tremayne lounging on a sofa in the living-room of the apartment. He was smoking a long, slender cigar and staring at the ceiling in a disinterested way.
“I refuse to waste time and effort fussing about that manuscript,” he announced. “You’ve misplaced it in your usual blithering fashion, and it will show up. We don’t need any aspiring juveniles to snoop around with magnifying glasses and fingerprint powder.”
“We left our fingerprint powder at home today, Mr Tremayne,” said Jupe stiffly.
“I’m delighted to hear it,” declared Tremayne. He continued to gaze at the ceiling. “Beefy, while you were out, the insurance adjuster was here. He asked a lot of idiot questions, and I didn’t care for his tone. Just because I look after your financial interests, and just because the money from the insurance company will come to me for disbursement, there’s no need for anyone to take the attitude that I had anything to gain from that fire.”
“Uncle Will, they have to ask questions,” said Beefy.
“You mean they have to make it look as if they’re earning their money,” snapped William Tremayne. “I only hope there’s no delay in settling our claim. It’s going to cost a fortune to relocate the offices and start operations again.”
“I can start operating right now if I can just get my hands on that manuscript!” said Beefy.
“Then look for it!” said his uncle.
“I have looked. It isn’t here!”
“Beefy, do you mind if we look?” asked Jupiter. “If you say it isn’t here, I’m sure it isn’t, but it won’t hurt for us to double-check.”
“Okay. Go ahead,” said Beefy. He sat down and glared at his uncle while the boys searched the apartment. They looked behind every piece of furniture and into every cupboard and bookcase. There was no sign of a manuscript that could be the memoirs of an ageing movie star.