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The Mystery of the Scar-faced Beggar - M. V. Carey [29]

By Root 330 0
id

i Jupe

p .

e

. “We ha

h ve a

le

l ad,

, bu

b t

u it

i may n

ot

o p

a

p n ou

o t.”

“And if

i

f it

i do

d e

o s?

s ” sa

s id

i S

he

h lb

l y

b .

“Who

h

o know

o s?

s Perha

h ps

p

s we’ll

l

l sh

s a

h re it

i wit

i h

h the

h po

p l

o i

l c

i e.”

“The

h rig

i ht

h thi

h n

i g to

o do,

o

, of

f cou

o rse,” sa

s id

i Shelb

l y

b .

. He drank hi

h s

i

s coff

f e

f e dow

o n the

h n,

,

and got

o up

p to

o rin

i se

s hi

h s

i cup

p ou

o t at the

h si

s n

i k.

. He went ou

o t and Jupe

p he

h ard a car start in

the

h driv

i ew

e ay

a .

. The

h n She

h lb

l y

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o e p

a

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s the

h kit

i c

t he

h n win

i d

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m d

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d l

e

l s

p

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p r

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t

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a

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a .

r

Mr.

. Bon

o est

s e

t ll

l

l sa

s t br

b oo

o d

o in

i g.

“Whe

h n the

h

e p

o

p l

o i

l c

i e were he

h re earli

l e

i r

e ,

, the

h y were

r n

e ’t

t a

c

a c

c u

c s

u i

s n

i g

n ,

g

, w

e

w r

e e

r

e t

h

t e

h y

e ?

y ” asked Jupe.

Mr.

. Bon

o est

s ell

l

l sh

s o

h o

o k

o hi

h s

s he

h ad.

. “Not

o reall

l y

l .

. But

u

t th

t e

h y

e

y ma

m d

a e

d

e me

m

e te

t l

e l

l

l wh

w a

h t

a

t ha

h p

a p

p e

p n

e e

n d

e

d

thr

h ee tim

i es.

s

. Th

T r

h ee ti

t m

i e

m s,

, rig

i ht

h fr

f om

o the

h be

b gin

i n

n i

n n

i g!”

He looked up at Jupe. “Do you suppose they were waiting for me to make a mistake? I … I don’t think I made any mistakes.”

“If you told your story just as it happened, how could you make mistakes?” asked Jupe reasonably. “Mr. Bonestell, are you sure you’re not getting upset about nothing?

It was unfortunate that you were alone at the bank when the thieves came, but that’s only an unhappy accident. I’m sure the police understand that. They know that the robbery would have taken place no matter who was there. At least the robbers weren’t violent.”

“No, they weren’t,” said Mr. Bonestell. “Actually, they were quiet and polite. At least the one who did all the talking was polite.”

Jupe pricked up his ears. “One of them did all the talking?”

“Yes. The one who was gotten up to look like Rolf, the regular cleaning man.”

“Don’t you really mean that he did most of the talking?” asked Jupe. “He gave the orders, and the others didn’t say anything important. Isn’t that it?”

Mr. Bonestell shook his head. “No. He did all the talking. The others didn’t say anything at all.”

“You spent an entire night with three people, and two of them didn’t talk at all?”

“That’s right.”

“Not one word?”

“Not one word,” said Mr. Bonestell. “Now that I think of it, it does seem strange, but at the time it didn’t strike me as odd. What was there to talk about? It was just a matter of waiting until morning, when the rest of the bank staff came in.”

“Hm!” said Jupe. “Could one of the robbers have been a woman? Is that possible?”

“A woman?” Mr. Bonestell looked startled. “I suppose it’s possible. They were all about the same size — about five foot seven or so. They all had on baggy overalls and loose shirts. And gloves. They wore gloves. And they had so much stuff on their faces, you couldn’t tell what they really looked like. One of the silent ones had those sunglasses that reflect everything, so you can never see the person’s eyes behind them.

That one also had a beard that I think was fake. The other one had a red wig and a big moustache, and big, bushy fake eyebrows that hung over his eyes.”

“What about the man who did the talking?” said Jupe. “Did he have an accent?

Was he young? Old? What could you tell about him?”

“His voice didn’t sound like an older man’s voice. I think he was young. In his twenties or thirties. With no accent.”

Jupe said, “Hm!” again, and sat thinking for some time. Then he said, “Mr.

Bonestell, do you know the Denicola Sport Fishing Company? They run a charter fishing boat out of the dock up the coast past Malibu.”

“Yes, I know the Denicolas,” said Mr. Bonestell. “I

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