The Mystery of the Magic Circle Page 3

  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 th
ey 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.”

  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.

  “Such as?”

  “Gray lied to us about one thing. Madeline Bainbridge wasn’t upstairs She was outside with another woman—Clara Adams, I suppose. Gray may tell lots of lies. There are matchbooks from restaurants out in the kitchen. He may get around more than he pretends.”

  “But why would he lie?” asked Beefy.

  “To protect Madeline Bainbridge,” said Jupe. “She isn’t any ordinary recluse. She’s a very odd lady. She and Clara Adams were wearing old-fashioned black gowns—they looked like Pilgrim ladies. And there’s a jar in the kitchen that’s filled with deadly nightshade.”

  “You’re kidding!” exclaimed Beefy. “Deadly nightshade is a poison!”

  “I know,” Jupe said. “Madeline Bainbridge may be one of the most fascinating characters I’ve come across. A lady who has changed very little in thirty years. I recognized her immediately. A lady who keeps poison in her kitchen, who goes around dressed like a Pilgrim, and who owns an oak grove that was once a cemetery. According to Gray, it’s supposed to be haunted. At least, that’s what some people say. And from the looks of it, it wouldn’t surprise me if that were true!”