The Mystery of the Magic Circle - M. V. Carey [38]
“Great,” said Beefy. “How do we find Uncle Will?”
“Where does he buy his cigars?” said Jupiter.
“Huh?” said Beefy.
“Yesterday morning, just before he left here, he was out of cigars,” Jupe pointed out. “From what I’ve seen of Mr. William Tremayne, I’d guess that he smokes something expensive and unusual. Am I right?”
Beefy nodded. “He smokes special Dutch cigars. You can’t get them everywhere.”
“He took his car when he left here, didn’t he?”
Again Beefy nodded.
“Well, if he’s driving, the cigars may not help us. But I have a feeling he isn’t driving anymore than he has to. He was very frightened, and he may think the police are looking for him already. But wherever he is, he’s smoking. Smokers always smoke more when they’re nervous. Where does your uncle buy his cigars?”
“In a little shop on Burton Way,” said Beefy. “They order the brand especially for Uncle Will.”
“I’m betting they’ve seen him in the last twenty-four hours,” declared Jupiter.
In a very few minutes, Beefy and The Three Investigators were in Beefy’s car, headed towards Burton Way.
“You’d better talk to the shopkeeper,” advised Jupe. “He’ll think it’s odd if any of us start asking questions. Tell him you and your uncle had a quarrel and your uncle walked out. Ask him if he’s seen your uncle.”
“That sounds like some dumb soap opera,” said Beefy.
“Don’t worry. The man will believe you,” Jupe predicted. “It sounds more likely than the truth, which is that your uncle is hiding from the police.”
Beefy laughed, and he pulled in to the kerb in front of a small shop called The Humidor. “You coming in with me?” he asked the boys.
“You go, Jupe,” said Bob. “It would look weird if all three of us went in.”
Jupe and Beefy got out of the car and went into the shop, where a white-haired man in a chamois waistcoat was dusting a counter.
“Mr. Tremayne, good afternoon,” said the man. “Don’t tell me your uncle is out of cigars already.”
“No. Uh … not exactly.” Beefy’s face was redder than usual. “He bought some cigars yesterday, did he?”
“Why, yes,” said the man at the counter.
“Good,” said Beefy. “We … uh … we had a quarrel yesterday, you see, and he walked out and hasn’t come back. I’d like to find him and … uh … apologize. Did he … er … mention where he might be going when he was here?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Jupiter murmured something in Beefy’s ear.
“Did he have his car with him?” asked Beefy.
“Why, I don’t believe he did,” said the man. “He seemed to be walking. He turned towards the right when he went out, if that’s any help to you.”
“That’s fine,” said Beefy. “Thanks very much.”
He fled from the shop, tripping over the doorstep as he went.
“How you guys manage to do this sort of thing all the time, I can’t imagine,” he declared when they were back in the car. “My mind went blank about four times.”
Jupiter was grinning. “The shopkeeper said your uncle was on foot, so there’s a chance he’s staying somewhere in the neighbourhood. Drive down that way, slowly.”
Beefy started the car. They rolled along for a short distance, with Jupe scanning the fronts of the various buildings along the way. Suddenly Bob leaned forward and pointed towards a small motel on the left side of the street.
“Aha!” said Jupiter. “Exactly the sort of place Mr. Tremayne would want — ultra-respectable, and the sign in front advertises locked garages. He could get his car out of sight.”
“The only garage that’s closed right now is the one next to room twenty-three,”
said Pete.
Beefy pulled into the parking place next to the room, and an instant later he and The Three Investigators were knocking on the door of number 23.
“Uncle Will!” called Beefy. “Open the door.”
There was no answer.
“Mr. Tremayne, we know you didn’t set the fire at Amigos Press,” said Jupe.
“We’re going to trap the real criminals and prove that they did it. If you want to come along and help us set our trap, you’ll be welcome.”
There was silence for a minute more. Then the door to room 23 swung open.
“Very