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“I don’t know why you’re so worried,” he finally said. “According to your system of justice, you’re innocent until you’re proven guilty.”

“I don’t feel so innocent,” said Mr. Bonestell. “I did let the robbers in, you know.”

“They can’t send you to jail for that,” said Shelby. “But if you’re going to get into such a stew, why not hire these boys? I don’t know how they can prove you didn’t do it, but maybe they can.”

“We’ll sure try,” promised Pete.

“You do seem eager to help,” said Mr. Bonestell. “I can’t tell you how nice it is.

So few people today have been that nice. I think … if you really may be able to help … well, I’ll be your client. It’s high time I had someone on my side!”

Chapter 5

Mr. Bonestell’s Story

“IT’S BEEN A NIGHTMARE!” said Mr.

Bonestell. He fingered the design in the

plastic tablecloth, and looked anxiously

from Jupiter to Bob and from Bob to

Pete. “They asked me not to come to

work again until the robbery is cleared

up. They didn’t say I’m a robber, but I

could tell. How could they think a thing

like that? Do I look like a man who’d

help rob a bank? Does this look like a

place where crooks hang out?”

The boys looked at Mr. Bonestell,

and then at his orderly kitchen. Jupe

wanted to smile. He could not imagine

Mr. Bonestell plotting a crime, and he could not believe thieves had ever conspired in this place. The house was so neat that it managed to have no character at all.

“Oh, gosh!” said Shelby. “My groceries!”

He disappeared into the service porch, and the boys heard the back door slam as he went outside.

“Why not begin at the beginning, Mr. Bonestell?” said Jupiter. “If you’ll tell us everything you remember about the robbery, perhaps you’ll recall some detail that you may have overlooked earlier.”

Bonestell did not look hopeful. “Sebastian said it’s harder to prove that a man is innocent — if he has no alibi, that is — than to prove that he’s guilty.”

“Well, are you sure you have no alibi?” said Jupe. “Stop and think about it. If you were one of the robbers, some of your time in the last few days would have been taken up with planning the robbery. And you would have to know the other robbers. Can you give an account of your activities for, well, for the last two weeks?”

Mr. Bonestell shook his head sadly.

“What about your friend Shelby? I take it he lives here. Can he tell much about what you’ve been doing for the past few days?”

Again Mr. Bonestell shook his head. “Shelby rooms here, but he isn’t home much.

He’s a field representative for Systems TX-4. That’s a computer company. He travels around advising companies that are putting in computer systems. He was gone all last week and over the weekend. A firm in Fresno is buying the TX billing system and he was working with them. He got home just a while ago. Even when he’s home, he doesn’t pay much attention. When I was with TX-4, he seemed much friendlier than he does now.”

“You worked for Systems TX-4?” said Jupe.

“That’s right, after they took over Jones-Templeton Office Machines.” For the first time, a hint of pride showed in Mr. Bonestell’s face. “I was with Jones-Templeton for over thirty years,” he said. “I started there right after World War Two. I was in the mail room at first, and then I went into purchasing and worked my way up. At one time we had twelve people in the department, and I was second in command. That was while the kids were growing up. It was a good place to be, and my kids had a good life. Stable, you know. Not all that moving around that some men get into.”

Mr. Bonestell got up and went to the living room. He returned after a moment with a framed photograph. It was a picture of himself — a younger self with dark, thick hair. He was posed with a round-faced, fair-haired woman and two children.

“My wife, Eleanor,” said Mr. Bonestell, indicating the woman. “We were married the year after the war ended. She died four years ago of congestive heart failure. She was very young