The Mystery of the Scar-faced Beggar - M. V. Carey [14]
“Perhaps we will have to prove that someone else is guilty before we can prove that you’re innocent,” said Jupe. “We may have a clue.”
“A clue?” said Mr. Bonestell eagerly. “What is it?”
“At this point we can’t be sure that it is a clue,” said Jupe. “It’s probably best if we don’t discuss it with you. We’ll investigate, and we’ll call you in a day or two.
Meanwhile, if you notice any unusual behaviour or any extreme curiosity among your acquaintances, let us know. You have our number on the back of our card.”
“Yes, of course.”
The boys left the house. When the door had closed behind them, Bob said, “A clue? You mean that wallet? Is that the clue?”
“A very slim clue,” said Jupe, “but it’s all we have. I think we have already concluded that neither Mr. Sebastian nor Mr. Bonestell is a criminal. But if the blind man had any connection with the robbery, Mr. Sebastian may well have come into contact with a crook. His wallet is the link, so it’s worth following up.”
“If you say so,” said Pete. “Just try to keep us out of places where people pull guns on us, okay?”
Chapter 6
The Frightened Dreamer
BOB ANDREWS LEFT ROCKY BEACH before nine the next morning. He rode his bike south along the Coast Highway, bound for Santa Monica. He was to ask in stores near the Thrift and Savings Company if the blind man had returned to the neighbourhood since the robbery. Then he had to return to Rocky Beach to put in some hours at the library, where he had a part-time job shelving books.
Jupiter and Pete watched Bob go. Then they started north, and before nine-thirty they had passed Malibu. They pedalled up a steep rise beyond the town, then sped down the other side towards the pier that was owned by the Denicola Sport Fishing Company.
The boys stopped on the shoulder of the road across from the Denicola pier. They had both seen the place thousands of times as they went up and down the highway, but neither had paid much attention until now. Before this morning, Denicola’s had been simply another wide spot on the road where fishermen gathered. Some campers and vans were parked beside the highway now, and men and women were fishing off the beach to the south of the pier. Even in the chill spring wind, a few hardy people in wetsuits rode surfboards out where the breakers began to crest.
“Good surf today,” said Pete, envy in his voice. Pete was an excellent surfer, and he would have loved to be out on his board.
But Jupe wasn’t interested in
the surf. He was studying the pier
and the fishing boat that was tied
up beside it. The boat was the
Maria-III. She was a sturdy, well-
kept craft about fifteen metres
long, with a wheelhouse for the
pilot and open decks for the
fishermen who chartered her.
A hatch in the deck was open,
and a young man in a blue
windbreaker was peering down at
the engine of the boat.
Tied to the north side of the
pier, opposite the boat, was a raft with a gangway leading down to it. A rowboat was tied to the raft. In the deep water beyond the pier, the boys saw a sleek white motorboat moored to a buoy. The cockpit of the motorboat was covered with a tarpaulin.
“That must be Mr. Sebastian’s speedboat,” said Jupe.
“Um,” said Pete. His eyes were fixed on the surfers.
“Want to stay there and keep an eye on the bikes?”
Again Pete said, “Um.”
Jupe smiled, left his bike, and crossed the road.
A driveway led from the highway straight down to the pier. To the left of it was a small parking lot, empty at the moment. To the right, a spur of the driveway went to a house with faded grey shingles and white wooden trim. A station wagon stood in the carport next to the house. Between the house and the pier there was a tiny office cabin which had large windows on three sides and a door in the side nearest the dock.
Through the office windows Jupe saw that a grey-haired woman in a black dress sat at a desk examining a ledger, while a younger woman with a mass of very curly red hair talked on a telephone.
Jupe went to the office, smiled through the glass