“All right, Beefy, it isn’t here,” said Jupiter at last. “Now let’s begin at the beginning. When did you last have the manuscript?”
Bob sat down near Beefy, took a small pad from his pocket, and prepared to take notes.
“Last night,” said Beefy, “about nine-fifteen or nine-thirty. I’d taken the manuscript out of my briefcase and started to go through it. But after the fire, and seeing that man bleeding the way he was, I was too shook up to read. I felt as if I had to do something physical. So I put the manuscript down on the coffee table, and I changed into trunks and went down to the pool for a swim.”
“Were you here?” Jupiter asked William Tremayne.
The older man shook his head. “I played bridge with friends last night. I didn’t get home until nearly two.”
“And when you got back from the pool, the manuscript was gone?” Jupe said to Beefy.
“Yes, it was. I noticed it the minute I came in.”
“Could the apartment door have been left unlocked while you were in the pool?” Jupe asked. “Do you ever go down and leave the catch off?”
“Never,” said Beefy. “And I’m sure it was locked last night, because I forgot my keys when I went down to the pool. The manager had to come up and let me in with his pass-key.”
Jupiter went to the apartment door, opened it, and looked closely at the door-jamb and the lock. “There’s no sign of forced entry. And the lobby door is always locked, isn’t it? And this apartment is twelve storeys above the street. Someone must have a set of keys.”
Beefy shook his head. “There isn’t a spare set, unless you count the master key that the manager has. And that’s ridiculous. We’ve had the same manager for years. He wouldn’t take a toothpick!”
Bob looked up from his notebook. “Your set and your uncle’s set are the only ones?” he asked.
“Well, there was a set in my desk at work,” said Beefy. “I kept them there in case I lost mine. But they would have been destroyed in the fire.”
“Hm!” said Jupe. “So it would seem.” He closed the apartment door and went to stand at the open window and look down at the pool, many storeys below. “Someone came into this building, which is not easy to enter,” he said. “Someone then got into this apartment, found the manuscript on the coffee table, picked it up, and took it away. How was that done?”
Pete came and stood beside Jupe. He didn’t look down towards the pool. Instead he looked up towards the sky. “They flew in over the roof and came through the open window,” he said, “in a very small helicopter. It’s the only answer.”
“How about a broomstick?” said Uncle Will sarcastically. “That would do nicely if someone wanted to come in through the window, and it narrows our field of suspects. The manuscript was taken by a witch.”
Beefy started as if he had been struck. “A witch?” he exclaimed. “That’s . . . that’s weird!”
“Why?” said his uncle. “Do you like the helicopter theory better?”
“It’s just that it’s strange that you mentioned a witch. I read some of the manuscript before I went down to the pool, and it had bits of really crazy gossip about Hollywood people. Bainbridge described a dinner party given by Alexander de Champley, the director. She said he was a magician and a black witch, and he wore the pentacle of Simon Magus!”
Beefy took a pen out of his pocket and began to sketch on the back of an envelope. “There was a drawing of the pentacle in the manuscript,” he said. “A five-pointed star in a circle. Bainbridge said it was gold with a circle of rubies on the outside. Now, I’ve heard of Simon Magus. He was a wizard back in the days of ancient Rome, and people believed that he could fly.”
“Marvellous!” said Uncle Will. “This old friend of Madeline Bainbridge put on the pentacle of Simon Magus and flew in here and took the manuscript so that we wouldn’t find out that he’s an evil wizard.”
“If anyone flew in, it wasn’t Alexander de Champley,” said Jupe. “He died more than ten years ago. But were there other scandalous stories in the memoirs?”
Beefy shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I only read that one anecdote. It’s certainly possible that Madeline Bainbridge knew the secrets of lots of prominent people.”
“Then that could be it,” said Jupiter. “That could be the reason the manuscript was taken. Some person she knows wants to prevent the publication of her story!”
“But how could that person know the manuscript was here?” asked Beefy.
“Easily!” Jupe began to pace back and forth. His eyebrows were drawn down in excited concentration. “Beefy, last night you called Marvin Gray after the fire and told him the manuscript was safe. Of course he told Madeline Bainbridge. Then Madeline Bainbridge called a friend–or perhaps Gray did–and that friend told a friend. Anyone could know.”
“It wouldn’t have been Bainbridge who told,” said Beefy. “Marvin Gray says she doesn’t use the telephone. But it’s true that Gray might have passed the word on, without realizing what would happen. And Bainbridge’s secretary still lives with her. Her name’s Clara Adams. She might have done it.”
“Of course,” said Jupe. “Beefy, couldn’t you arrange an interview with Miss Bainbridge? Then you could ask her whom she wrote about.”
“She won’t see me,” said Beefy. “She doesn’t see anyone at all. Marvin Gray took care of the negotiations on the contract.”
“Then talk to Gray,” urged Jupiter. “He must have read the manuscript.”
Beefy groaned. “But I don’t want to talk to Gray,” he said. “He’ll ask about the advance, and I don’t want to give it to him until I’ve read the manuscript. And there was only one copy. If he finds out I don’t have it, he’ll have a stroke!”
“Then don’t tell him,” advised Jupe. “Tell him there might be some legal problems if you publish the manuscript, and that your lawyer has to look it over before the advance is paid. Ask him if Miss Bainbridge has proof of the stories in the manuscript. Ask him if she’s still in touch with any of the people she knew, or if Clara Adams is in contact with anyone.”
“I can’t do it,” said Beefy. “I’d blow it for sure. Gray would guess right away that something was up.”
“Take Jupe with you,” suggested Pete. “He’s an expert at getting information from people, and they don’t even know they’ve told him anything.”
Beefy looked at Jupe. “Can you do that?” he asked.
“Usually I can,” said Jupe.
“Very well.” Beefy took an address book out of his pocket and headed for the telephone.
“You’re not calling Marvin Gray?” said his uncle.
“I certainly am calling him,” said Beefy, “and Jupe and I are going to see him this afternoon!”
5
The Haunted Grove
“WORTHINGTON TELLS ME you boys operate as a team,” said Beefy Tremayne. He and Jupiter were in his car, speeding north on the Coast Highway. “He says Bob is a good researcher, and Pete’s the athlete of the group, and that you’re a whiz at taking a few clues and figuring out what they mean. He also says that you’re a mine of miscellaneous information.”
“I enjoy reading,” said Jupiter, “and fortunately I remember most of what I read.”
“Lucky for you,” said Beefy. “You couldn’t have a handier talent.”
The car slowed and turned off the highway on to a side road just outside the coastal community of Malibu. Beefy was silent as he drove up into the hills above the sea. After five minutes he braked again and left the curving mountain road for a narrow gravel road. He went on for a quarter of a mile, then pulled to a stop in front of a rustic gate. A sign over the gate indicated that they had reached the Half-moon Ranch.
“I don’t know what I expected,” said Beefy, “but it wasn’t anything like this.”
“It does look very ordinary,” said Jupe. “You’d expect that a movie star who is also a recluse would live in a palatial mansion or at least have a ten-foot wall around her estate. There isn’t even a lock on that gate.”
Jupe got out of the car and held the gate open while Beefy drove through. Then Jupe got in and they headed up the driveway through a grove of lemon trees.
“It’s strange that Gray didn’t mention the sale of Bainbridge’s films to you when he brought the manuscript in yesterday,” said Jupiter.
“Very strange,” Beefy agreed. “It will make a big difference in sales for the book.”
“Was it Gray who chose you to be Bainbridge’s publisher?” Jupe asked.
“I’m not sure,” said Beefy. “He called me about six weeks ago and said that Bainbridge wanted to publish her memoirs. It’s common knowledge that he handles all of her affairs, and he seemed to know what he was doing. I didn’t ask him why he chose Amigos Press. I wonder if he’s really as sharp as he appears to be. He should have let me know about the sale of the films.”