The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance (7 page)

“The banging is louder now,” said
Jupiter.

“This way!” commanded Winston. The tall man
in the tuxedo navigated the enormous cellar like an expert, down
row after row of wine bottles until he finally arrived at a door.
With one swift motion he undid a large bolt lock and threw open the
heavy door with a screeching of hinges.

On the other side of the door was Pete
Crenshaw – holding a lead pipe like a baseball bat. His eyes were
closed and he came out swinging, nearly bringing the pipe down on
Winston’s head! “You’re not going to get me, ghost!” he was
shouting.

Jupiter lunged for Pete’s wrists and grabbed
them before he could bring the pipe down on Winston’s skull.
“Pete!” he cried. “Pete, it’s us!”

The strong Second Investigator blinked
several times before relaxing his grip on the bar. “Boy, am I glad
to see you!” he said weakly.

Jupe took the pipe from Pete’s hands and
threw it back into the room. “What happened?” he asked. “How did
you get locked in?”

“Get me into some nice warm sunlight and
I’ll tell you all about it.” Pete said.

They led their tired friend back to the
cellar steps, but Jupiter paused at the bottom with a thoughtful
expression on his face.

“What’s wrong, First?” Bob asked.

“This is no time for deductions,” Pete
moaned. “I’ve got to eat something before I keel over from
starvation!”

“Okay,” Jupe agreed. “I guess you’re
right.”

The party headed upstairs and reconvened in
the library. Winston bustled to the kitchen and returned with a
silver platter brimming with thick ham and cheese sandwiches and
orange soda.

“You’ll have to bring another tray for
everyone else!” Pete joked as he tore into a sandwich. “I haven’t
eaten since breakfast!”

“While Pete’s fending off starvation,” said
Jupiter, taking a large bite of his own sandwich, “Ben and I will
tell you what we learned from the jukebox record. Afterwards, Pete
can tell us how he ended up locked in the cellar.”

“That reminds me, madam,” said Winston. “I
meant to tell you that the door to the projection room has been
tampered with. I have repaired the lock, but you might take an
inventory of the memorabilia.” He cleared his throat and looked
somewhat embarrassed. “I know it is not my place to say, but I feel
I should inform you that I observed Mr. Fitchhorn lurking about
upstairs,” he added as an afterthought.

“Thank you, Winston,” said Patricia. “I
think the Fitchhorns have overstayed their welcome,” she declared.
“It’s high time they were on their way. And they certainly are not
getting a penny of my father’s money!”

“We’ll get what’s rightfully ours,” boomed a
voice from the doorway.

Clocks And More Clocks

“
THE FITCHHORNS!”
CRIED Pete. “We can’t tell the clue from the record
now!”

The round man took a menacing step into the
library, followed closely by his sparrow wife. “You have another
clue?” he asked Jupiter. “What is it, boy? Speak up!”

“Don’t do it, Jupe!” Bob said hotly. “They
broke into the projection room and stole the record – and now they
can’t figure out the clue!”

“We did no such thing, young man!” Stella
Fitchhorn screeched in a nasally voice. “The nerve of young people
these days!” As if to emphasize her point, she produced a
handkerchief and honked her beak-like nose mightily.

Timothy Fitchhorn glared at his wife. “I
told you to let me do the talking,” he growled. “Now then. You
might as well come out with it, boy. If we all worked together we
could probably crack old Hitch’s riddle tonight!”

“I am highly dubious of this man’s honesty,
madam,” declared Winston. “I suspect he intends to take the
treasure for himself once it is found.”

“Listen, you glorified waiter,” Mr.
Fitchhorn threatened, “you’re paid to be a servant, not a
consultant. You’d mind your own business if you knew what was good
for you!”

“That’s enough!” Patricia shouted. Bob saw
she was shaking and looked close to tears. “Jupiter, tell us what
you’ve learned and we’ll all look together. That way no one can
claim ownership of whatever it is my father has hidden.”

Suddenly another voice spoke from the
doorway. “I heard shouting,” said Jebediah. “Are ye having a party
and not inviting old Jebediah?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Jupiter Jones.
“Now that we’re all together we can discuss Mr. Hichcocke’s final
clue.”

“Aye, more of that nonsense,” Cousin Jeb
sneered. “You can keep my share of the fortune for all I care. ‘Tis
probably fool’s gold knowing Mr. Hichcocke’s humor.”

“You all heard what he said!” howled Mrs.
Fitchhorn, “he gave up his share!”

“Quiet you!” snapped Timothy Fitchhorn.
“Okay, boy, what’s the last clue from the record?”

“Jupe, are you sure about this?” asked
Pete.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,
Aunt Patty,” Ben said under his breath.

Jupiter stood in front of the menacing
stained glass window, hands on his hips. “This is a big house,” he
said finally. “But not big enough that one’s actions can go
undetected for very long. Rather than have everyone sneaking around
the estate, we might as well all work together.”

Timothy Fitchhorn rubbed his hands together
in excitement. “A wise decision, sonny,” he crooned. “Now what did
the record say?”

Jupiter drew himself up to his full height –
he couldn’t help being a showman, it was in his blood. “The second
verse of the song ‘Hidden Treasures’ by Denny Lynds and the Gail
Force Winds says:

*

“Time has stood still without you,

I’m like Adam without an Eve,

I’ll go on searching the universe,

Until I’ve buried what I grieve.”

*

Timothy Fitchhorns eyes gleamed with
excitement. “I’ll bet the reference to time standing still means a
clock that no longer works!” he exclaimed, mopping his sweaty
forehead with a handkerchief. “There must be one somewhere in this
house!”

Ben jumped up. “Aunt Patty, do you know of
any clocks that don’t work?”

“There must be dozens of clocks in this
house,” she said in exasperation, “there might be several that
don’t work anymore…”

“We’ll have to check them one by one,”
Jupiter declared. “And we’ll have to check them together. It’s the
only way.”

“A fine idea, boy,” Mr. Fitchhorn agreed,
plastering his hair into place with the palm of his beefy hand.
“Let’s start by checking the grandfather clock in here!”

The treasure hunters crowded around the
large clock in the library while Winston and Pete carefully
examined it.

“It looks on time to me,” said Pete. “I
guess this is the wrong clock.”

“To the next room!” Mr. Fitchhorn exclaimed
with gusto.

One by one, the search party checked each
and every clock in the house. It was quite late by the time they
arrived in the billiard room on the second floor, the only room
they hadn’t checked. They were all frustrated at their lack of
success.

“There are two clocks in this room,” said
Bob. “One on the wall and another grandfather clock.”

The large grandfather clocked began to
chime, indicating it was now midnight, as Bob and Ben took the
smaller clock off the wall. When the grandfather had finished its
last stroke, Jupiter sat up as if something had bit him. He faced
the old timepiece.

“Hey,” said Pete, “what’s got into you?”

Jupiter quickly strode over to the clock and
began examining it with his fingers. “Give me a hand with this,
Pete,” he said.

The group had noticed the stocky boy’s
excitement and crowded around the big clock.

“Have you found something, Jupiter?” Ben
asked eagerly.

“Remember, we’re entitled!” Stella Fitchhorn
reminded everyone.

“Not another word!” her husband warned.

“Unless there is a new hour called ‘thirteen
o’clock,’” said Jupiter over his shoulder, “I think our treasure is
behind this grandfather clock!”

“Wow!” said Bob. “I didn’t even notice that
it had chimed thirteen times!”

Jupiter had now opened the glass door that
allowed one to pull the brass weights that kept the clock running.
His probing fingers finally fell upon a button far in the back.

“Jackpot!” he cried. His pudgy finger pushed
the button and there was an audible ‘snick’ of a lock opening. The
entire clock moved a few inches forward. “It’s on hinges!” Jupiter
said in amazement. “What a piece of work. The entire clock is hung
on a steel frame imbedded in the wall!”

The stout First Investigator swung the
clock-door open, revealing a small room no bigger than a closet.
The brick-lined space was bare except for a pedestal against the
far wall on which sat a white marble bust of Alphred Hichcocke,
similar to the one the boys had in their headquarters.

Underneath the bust was an envelope sealed
with wax with:

*

“???”

written on it in flourishing
pen-strokes.

Jupiter brought the envelope out, his eyes
gleaming with excitement. But when he turned the letter over in his
hands to break the wax seal, a strange expression crossed his
face.

“What is it, First?” asked Bob.

“Come on, Jupe,” Pete urged, “open it!”

Timothy and Stella Fitchhorn were nearly
dancing from foot to foot. “Yes, boy,” the fat man grinned, licking
his lips, “open it!”

“That’s just it,” Jupiter said, holding the
envelope up in front of his face, “it’s already been opened!”

The Opened Letter

“
WHAT THE DEVIL do you
mean it has been opened?” Winston gaped. “It’s sealed in
wax!”

“Explain yourself, tubby,” Timothy
Fitchhorn, demanded. “I’m growing quite impatient with your
Sherlock Holmes routine!”

“How do you know the letter has already been
opened, Jupiter?” Ben asked.

“Look here,” Jupe instructed. The group
crowded around and looked closely at the wax seal. “I’m assuming
this letter is from Mr. Hichcocke, and, if so, he originally sealed
the back of the envelope in dark red wax. Now, when colored wax is
put on paper, it leaves a stain,” he explained. “Whoever opened
this letter re-sealed it with a different, lighter color of white
wax – failing to completely cover up the darker wax from Mr.
Hichcocke’s original seal.”

Stella Fitchhorn produced a white
handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. “And what does all
this prove?” she sniffed haughtily.

“Simply that someone in this house may have
already found the treasure,” replied Jupiter.

The bird-like woman put her hand to her
throat and pursed her lips. “But, but, w-w-we’re entitled...” she
stammered.

Winston stepped up beside Patricia and
cleared his throat. “If I may, madam. I suggest we at least open
the envelope and reveal what is written.”

Patricia hesitated for a moment, eyeing the
Fitchhorns as if they were a dangerous enemy. Finally she sighed
and then nodded at Jupiter. “Go ahead, Jupe,” she said, “let’s see
what my father had to say. I’ve had about all I can handle of these
riddles. Let’s just get it over with!”

Jupiter nodded and put his thumbs on either
side of the wax seal, splitting it in two. He carefully pulled out
a piece of fine parchment from inside the envelope. The paper had
been folded three times. He spread it flat on the green felt of a
billiard table and smoothed it with his hand. The group crowded
close together so that they all might read what it said.

The letter read:

*

???,

*

I shall be much surprised if it is not you
who are reading this – if my assumption is correct, then you should
know that this letter has been sealed with wax. If the wax has been
broken, or the letter is without an envelope, then someone has
beaten you to it! However, all is not lost! For if you are reading
this, then I must say to you...“tsk, tsk, tsk!” Your interpretation
of the clues does not live up to your reputation! You did not truly
believe the mystery would be that simple did you? I certainly hope
not! Study the clue from the record again, and this time - remember
who you are dealing with!

Sincerely,

*

A.J.H.

*

“Unbelievable,” said Pete. “It’s not the
treasure after all!”

“Which is why the thief re-sealed the
envelope,” Jupiter murmured seriously. “Whoever it was that opened
this letter couldn’t deduce the last clue’s meaning – and needed us
to do it!”

The group that was gathered around the
billiard table looked around at each other as if the culprit might
be in their very midst.

“We’ll put off the search until first
light,” decided Jupiter. “Tomorrow morning we’ll tackle the clue
from the jukebox record again and see where it leads us.”

“Very well,” yawned Winston, “with your
permission, madam, I shall retire for the evening.”

“Of course,” said Patricia. “We should all
get to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll take a double helping of that!” Pete
said. “It’s not every day that you get locked in the cellar by a
ghost!”

“What?” everyone cried together.

“Oh, yeah,” Pete said sheepishly, “we got so
wrapped up in the clue from the record that I forgot to tell you my
story.”

“You say you were locked in by the ghost?”
Jupiter asked incredulously.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Pete
moaned, “you’re going to say that it was only my imagination, and
that there are no such things as ghosts, and I must have jumped to
conclusions.” He went on to describe everything he remembered
before he was left alone in the dark cellar. “I know what I saw,
and what I saw had on a dress and was holding a noose and was
glowing!” he concluded.