The Mystery of the Magic Circle - M. V. Carey [12]
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