The car emerged from the lemon grove, and a white frame ranch house came into view. It was large and plain, with a verandah that stretched across the front. Marvin Gray stood on the steps, squinting in the sunlight.
“Good afternoon,” said Gray as Beefy clambered out of the car. “I saw your dust as you came through the trees.”
Gray frowned slightly at Jupe. “And who might this be?” he asked.
“My cousin, Jupiter Jones,” said Beefy His face flushed as he embarked on the cover story that he and Jupe had prepared. It was plain that he was not used to telling even small lies. “You saw him yesterday at Amigos Press,” he went on. “He’s learning the business. And he’s taking a course in the history of motion pictures. I didn’t think you’d mind if he came with me to see Madeline Bainbridge’s home.”
“I guess it’s all right,” said Gray. “But I’m surprised that you’re here today, after the fire. I should think you’d have other things to attend to.”
“If I weren’t here, I’d be at home brooding about the fact that my office burned down,” said Beefy.
Gray nodded. He turned and led the way up the steps. Then, instead of going into the house, he sat down in one of the wicker chairs on the porch. He motioned to his guests to take seats near him.
Beefy sat down. “Mr Gray, I’m afraid there’s going to be a delay in issuing the cheque for the advance on Miss Bainbridge’s memoirs,” he said. “I’ve looked through the manuscript and found several anecdotes which might cause legal problems. In one place, for example, there’s the statement that a Hollywood director was a wizard. I know that the director is dead, but his heirs could sue. So I’m asking my attorney to look at the manuscript. In the meantime, Miss Bainbridge might give us the names of people who could back up her statements. And the addresses, of course.”
“We certainly can’t give you any addresses,” said Marvin Gray. “Miss Bainbridge doesn’t keep in touch with any of the old crowd.”
“Well, perhaps you’d know how we could get in touch with some of the people,” said Beefy. He was looking harassed and uncomfortable. “You’ve read through the manuscript, I’m sure, so . . .”
“No,” said Marvin Gray, “I haven’t read it. Miss Bainbridge give it to me only yesterday afternoon. I couldn’t help you anyway. I never was friends with any of those people. I was the chauffeur then, remember?”
“How about her secretary?” said Beefy hopefully.
“Clara Adams?” Gray looked surprised. “She hasn’t left this property in years.”
Beefy looked stumped, so Jupe came to his rescue. He looked around eagerly and asked, “Aren’t we going to see Miss Bainbridge?” His voice was naive and somewhat brash.
“Miss Bainbridge doesn’t see anyone but myself and Clara,” said Marvin Gray. “Even if she was used to having visitors, she wouldn’t want to see anyone today. She’s upset about the theft of her films. She’s upstairs resting, and Clara is with her, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your voice down.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jupe. He looked around curiously. “Miss Bainbridge is really a recluse, huh?” he said. “Doesn’t anyone live here besides you and Clara Adams and Miss Bainbridge? Aren’t there any servants?”
“We live very simply,” said Gray. “Servants aren’t necessary.”
“I saw you on television this morning,” said Jupe. “Is it true that Miss Bainbridge doesn’t watch TV?”
“It’s true,” said Gray. “I watch, and I tell her about any news I think will interest her.”
“It sounds kind of lonely,” said Jupe. “Doesn’t she see anybody at all? Don’t you see anybody? I mean, don’t you get tired of just being here all the time? And Clara Adams–doesn’t she get tired of it?”
“I don’t think so. I enjoy my own company pretty well, and Clara is completely devoted to Miss Bainbridge. I am, too, of course. Extremely devoted.”
Jupiter turned to Beefy. “You see?” he said. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Gray looked at Beefy in a questioning way. “You were worried?” he said. “Why?”
“Well, Beefy said on the way up here he was kind of nervous,” said Jupe. “He figured if anyone knew where Miss Bainbridge’s manuscript was, they might try to swipe it the way they swiped her films, and hold it for ransom. If you told anyone where it is . . .”
“Now who would I tell?” said Gray.
“Sounds like you wouldn’t tell anybody,” said Jupe, “unless maybe somebody called . . .”
“We have an unlisted number,” said Gray. “People don’t call. And we only use the telephone when it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Gosh, the kids at school aren’t going to believe this,” said Jupe. The stocky boy stood up. “May I wash my hands?” he asked.
“Of course.” Gray pointed to the door. “Go straight back through the hall and past the stairs. There’s a lavatory next to the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” said Jupe, and he went into the house.
The hall seemed dim after the sunlight on the porch. The living-room on the left was sparsely furnished with straight-backed wooden chairs. The dining-room on the right had a rude wooden table and backless benches. The wide staircase was uncarpeted. Jupe found the lavatory beyond it. He went in, closed the door, turned on the water, and opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. There was nothing there but a jar which had some dried leaves in it. They smelled like mint. Jupe closed the medicine cabinet, washed his hands, and then dried them on a towel that hung from a hook on the wall. The towel seemed to be home-made.
When Jupe left the lavatory, he looked into the kitchen–and blinked in amazement at the old-fashioned appliances there. The ancient refrigerator had exposed coils on top, and the old gas range did not even have pilot lights. The taps over the sink were worn brass ones. Jupe guessed they had been installed when the house was first built many years before.
A row of glass jars was lined up on a counter near the sink. Jupe crossed to read the labels. He saw tansy and lupine, rose hips, mint leaves, and thyme. One jar puzzled him, for according to the label it contained deadly nightshade.
In a large jar at the very end of the row there were books of matches. Jupe looked at a few of them. They were all from various restaurants. Then he turned towards the window. A movement behind the house had caught his eye.
He found that he was looking out at a large grove of live oaks. The trees were old and gnarled, with twisted trunks that branched out as they stretched above the first floor of the house. The dark green, spiny leaves shut out the sky and made the day seem grey. The oaks had been planted in wide-set rows, and among them two women were walking together. They wore gowns of some dark material, gowns that were caught in tightly at the waist, and which then flowed into wide skirts that brushed the ground. Both women had long hair, which they wore twisted into knots at the back of their heads. A sleek Doberman Pinscher stalked behind them.
As Jupe stood watching, one of the women looked towards the house. Jupe gasped. He had seen pictures of Madeline Bainbridge in books about films, and it was Bainbridge he saw now under the old trees in that grey, dreary wood. Her blonde hair was now closer to white, but her lovely face was still remarkably youthful. After an instant she turned and walked on. Jupe didn’t think she had noticed him.
Jupe took a step towards the window and found himself wishing for a glimpse of the sun. He felt chilled. There was an eerie sadness about the trees, and about the women who walked under the boughs dressed in dark, old-fashioned gowns.
A footstep sounded behind Jupe. “Finished washing your hands?” asked Marvin Gray.
Jupe jumped and almost cried out. Then he pointed towards the window. “Those trees make everything look so dark,” he said.
“They do, don’t they?” Gray agreed. “There’s a rancher who used to live up the road who said the grove was haunted. It looks as if it might be, doesn’t it? It was a cemetery once–a private one that belonged to the family that lived here. There were graves under the trees. They were moved when Miss Bainbridge bought the house, of course, but the woods still seem gloomy to me.
“I came to find you. Your cousin is ready to start back to town.”
Jupe followed Gray back through the house. A few minutes later, he and Beefy were speeding away from Half-moon Ranch.
“Well, that visit was certainly a waste of time,” complained Beefy. “We didn’t get any leads on who could have stolen Bainbridge’s manuscript.”
“But we got plenty of food for thought,” replied Jupiter.