The Mystery of the Scar-faced Beggar - M. V. Carey [51]
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. The
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some sort going on at the pier. Were Eileen Denicola and her mother-in-law victims of that conspiracy? Were they innocent bystanders who had been spirited away somewhere? Or were they part of the plot?
Suddenly Jupe was frightened. Was Mr. Bonestell safe? Eileen and old Mrs.
Denicola had vanished. Would Mr. Bonestell be next?
Jupe was the first one out of the door when the bus stopped in Santa Monica. He had money in his pocket and there were cabs at the kerb. He took one to Dolphin Court.
It was four-forty when the taxi set Jupe down in front of Mr. Bonestell’s house.
Jupe rang the doorbell. He felt real relief when Mr. Bonestell came to answer the ring.
“I didn’t even send for you!” exclaimed Mr. Bonestell. He looked hopeful, yet apprehensive. “I was wishing you’d call. Do you have any news?”
“I think so,” said Jupe. He followed Mr. Bonestell to the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“Mr. Bonestell,” he said, “who have you talked with since I left here yesterday?”
Mr. Bonestell looked startled. “Talked with? Why nobody. I haven’t been out of the house.”
“Then someone called,” said Jupe, “or someone came to see you.”
“No,” said Mr. Bonestell. “Nobody called. I … I don’t have lots of really close friends. Why do you ask?”
“Because it’s important. Think, Mr. Bonestell. Yesterday afternoon we talked about the Denicolas, and about a blind beggar. Now you must have mentioned this conversation to someone, or how did a person named Alejandro know about it?”
Mr. Bonestell looked upset. “I didn’t talk to anyone,” he insisted. “There wasn’t anyone here — nobody but Shelby, and I didn’t say anything to him. I didn’t!
Nothing at all! Shelby isn’t — well, he isn’t easy to talk with. He acts as if what I have to say isn’t very interesting, and I guess maybe it isn’t. Anyway, when he came in last night he went right upstairs and locked himself in his room.”
“And you didn’t talk to him then? Or this morning?”
“No. No more than to say hello. I’m sure of it!”
Jupe sighed. He pulled at his lower lip and gazed blankly at the sugar bowl. Then into his mind came the picture of Shelby Tuckerman — Shelby with his wrap-around sunglasses and his turtleneck shirt. “According to your system of justice,” Shelby had said, “you’re innocent until you’re proven guilty.”
“Odd that I didn’t notice that,” said Jupe out loud.
“What?” said Mr. Bonestell.
“Shelby doesn’t care for your neighbours, does he?”
“I suppose not,” said Mr. Bonestell. “He thinks they’re common.”
“Is he so uncommon?” said Jupe.
Mr. Bonestell shrugged, and Jupe continued to stare at the sugar bowl. “When did Shelby start taking sugar in his coffee?” Jupe suddenly said. “He didn’t always do it, did he? The first night we were here he made a cup of coffee for himself, and he drank it black.”
“Why … why yes, I suppose he did,” said Mr. Bonestell. “He only started to use the sugar a day or two ago. He said it gave him a quick lift to have a spoonful of sugar.”
Eyes gleaming, Jupe reached for the sugar bowl. He poked a finger deep into it and quickly lifted out a small, flat plastic box with perforations in one side.
Mr. Bonestell looked at the thing. “What is it?” he asked.
“A listening device, Mr. Bonestell,” said Jupe. “A bug. You didn’t have to talk to Shelby. Once that sugar bowl was put on the table, he was able to eavesdrop on everything that was said here.”
Jupe went to the kitchen telephone. “Shelby works at Systems TX-4,” he said.
“Do you know their number offhand?”
Mr. Bonestell told him the number, “and Jupe dialled. It was just 4:59 when his call went through. He asked to speak to Shelby Tuckerman, and was told that no one by that name worked at Systems TX-4.
“Mr. Tuckerman used to work there,” said Jupe. “When did he leave?”
“I can’t give you that information,” said the operator. “If you call back Monday morning, perhaps