The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance (8 page)

“Amazing,” said Winston.

“Yeah,” Timothy Fitchhorn replied flatly,
“amazing imagination. I’m going to bed!”

His wife nodded sleepily, “I’m heading
upstairs as well. You boys better come along, too.”

“No one believes me,” muttered Pete.

“I believe that something strange is going
on in this house,” said Patricia wearily. “And I just might sleep
with the lights on tonight.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor in your room, Aunt
Patty, if you’d feel more safe,” Ben offered.

“I’d feel a lot safer,” she confessed.

Jupiter tried to be logical about Pete’s
ghost. “In a situation like that, your mind can play tricks on
you,” he lectured. “Perhaps you only saw what your mind wanted to
see.”

“Or perhaps you can’t admit that there might
really be a ghost in this house!” Pete grinned at his overweight
friend.

“Ghost or no ghost, someone is going to have
to keep a watch at all times tonight,” Jupiter said, stifling a
yawn with the back of his hand. “We can take turns, switching off
every three hours.”

“I’ll go first,” volunteered Bob. “Now there
are two things I want to see in England – the Tower of London and
Pete’s ghost!”

The Single Footprint

EARLY THE NEXT morning, Pete and Bob were
roughly shaken awake by Jupiter.

“Whassis...?” Pete mumbled sleepily, “I
wanna sleep in, mom...”

“Pete!” It was Jupiter whispering in his
ear. “Pete, Bob, wake up!”

Bob stretched his arms. “What time is it?”
he yawned, reaching for his glasses and looking out the window.
“It’s not even light yet, Jupe.”

“Two important things have happened,”
Jupiter Jones whispered dramatically.

“What are they?” asked Pete. “You’ve
discovered you have insomnia?”

“One is that I believe I’ve solved the
riddle from the jukebox record,” said Jupiter, ignoring Pete’s
sarcasm.

“And what’s the other?” asked Bob.

“Someone is prowling around downstairs! Get
your shoes on and follow me. Maybe we can capture a ghost before
breakfast.”

“Couldn’t we have waited for the sun to come
up before going on a ghost hunt?” muttered Pete to himself.

The boys crept silently down the hallway and
tiptoed down the old oak stairs. When they reached the first
landing, Jupiter got down on his belly and looked around the corner
of the top railing. From his vantage point he could see a shadowy
figure lurking about the main floor’s great hall.

“Whoever it is down there is looking for
something,” breathed Jupiter.

“Can you tell who it is?” asked Bob.

“Negative – it could be anyone. We’ll have
to go in for a closer look.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” said
Pete.

“Should we wake Ben?” Bob asked.

Jupiter shook his head. “We’ll let him sleep
in, he’s going to have a long day.” Without bothering to explain,
Jupiter stood up and grasped the railing. The Three Investigators
eased down the giant curved staircase, being careful not to make a
sound.

When they had reached the last step, Pete
accidently put his foot on a loose board, which gave a screech like
a rusty nail being pulled from a wood plank. Pete scrunched up his
face and held his breath.

“Too late!” hissed Jupiter. “They heard it.
Come on!”

The three boys went charging into the great
hallway, but stopped short when they saw it was silent and empty.
They waited for a sound that might give away the intruder’s
location.

Presently, they heard a faint creak that
Pete recognized. “That’s the door to the cellar,” he whispered. “In
the pantry.”

“Are you sure?” Bob urged.

“Believe me, Records, I was hoping I would
never hear that sound again!”

“To the kitchen!” Jupiter commanded.

With Pete leading the way, they raced to the
kitchen where they saw the cellar door in the pantry standing
slightly ajar.

“We’ve got them trapped in the cellar,”
chirped Jupiter with glee. “Bob, get the flashlight and candles
from the cupboard.”

Bob raced to the cupboard below the kitchen
sink and grabbed the large flashlight and two candles. He quickly
lit the candles and handed one to Pete. Sticking close together,
they descended the cellar stairs.

“Let’s stay close,” Jupiter intoned.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,”
Pete mumbled through clenched teeth.

As quietly as mice, the three boys examined
row after row of dusty shelves. When they had reached the last row,
Jupiter silently pointed to the large door of the room Pete had
been trapped in earlier, and nodded his head.

“In there,” he mouthed silently.

Pete and Bob gulped and nodded back. With
Jupiter in the lead, they approached the iron rung door. Pete
grabbed a bottle of vintage wine off the nearest shelf and handed
it to Bob. Then he grabbed one for himself. He felt better having
some kind of weapon in his hands, just in case there really was
some kind of bloodsucking, ghoulish creature on the other side of
the door.

“On three,” Jupiter mouthed. With his
fingers he slowly ticked off the numbers. When he reached three,
the hefty First Investigator gripped the heavy iron ring and pulled
with all his might.

With a cry, the three boys rushed down the
three stone steps and into the dank room.

It was empty.

Jupiter flashed his light around the small
room in disbelief. Dusty shelves, crammed with junk and boxes of
various sizes, lined the walls all the way around the room. It
appeared as if the intruder had simply vanished.

“He must be in here!” Jupiter said
stubbornly. “Look for a hidden door.”

Pete shook his head. “If there was a secret
door in here, Jupe, I would have found it!”

“It was dark and you were under considerable
stress,” said Jupiter. “It would have been difficult for anyone to
make a precise, methodical search.”

“There’s always a lever or a catch to these
doors,” said Bob. “Look for something on the shelves that seems out
of place.”

The boys began to carefully pull things off
the dusty shelves. They had no luck until Bob came to a small shelf
in the corner that seemed different somehow. All the other shelves
nearly touched the low ceiling and were about five feet in length.
But this particular shelf was only about two feet long. Bob tried
to lift a small jar off the top shelf and yelped.

Jupiter Jones was by his friend’s side in a
flash. “What is it, Records?”

“This is it!” cried Bob. “Look!” The small
boy tried to pull an ancient desk fan from the shelf, but it
wouldn’t budge. “Everything on this shelf is either glued or nailed
down!”

“Look for the catch” urged Jupiter.

It didn’t take long for Bob to find it. By
rotating a small can of bolts and washers, a mechanism inside the
wall released a catch, and the entire shelf swung open on hinges
like a door. Cold, musty air blew past the boys as Jupe shined his
light into the creepy space. A narrow passageway lined in
crumbling, moss covered stone, led to a flight of steep steps made
of cobblestone.

“This wall is part of the foundation,”
nodded Jupiter. “Those steps must lead outside. And look at these
cobwebs, they’ve been swept aside. The ‘ghost’ obviously used this
as an exit. Bob, stay in the room until I’ve got the door leading
outside open – we don’t want to get trapped in another
passageway.”

Bob looked nervously behind him. He hadn’t
considered that the ghost might still be in the room somewhere.

“Don’t worry, Records, the cobwebs were
disturbed, so he probably went through this door,” Jupiter pointed
out.

The stocky boy went up the stairs until he
reached a small door in the ceiling. Putting his shoulder against
it, he heaved until the heavy trap door creaked open. Another
whoosh of cold air blew past Pete and Bob.

“This door does lead outside,” reported
Jupiter. “Come on up, fellows.”

Pete and Bob hurried up the stairs and
looked around them. A cool fog rolled in from the moors, and the
sun was just beginning to rise, signaling the start of a new day.
Bob examined the three foot by three foot trap door and noticed
that it had been sodded over, so that it blended in perfectly with
the grass of the yard.

“You wouldn’t know a trap door was here even
if you were standing on top of it,” he said in genuine
admiration.

“We’re behind the house,” whispered Pete. He
looked up at the foreboding stone structure. It seemed to tower
over them – looming ominously, like it wanted to swallow them
up.

“Look at this,” said Jupiter, pointing to
the turf at the foot of the secret doorway. Pete and Bob looked
closely at the ground. In the dew covered grass was the
unmistakable imprint of a large man’s shoe!

“But there’s only one!” said Pete. “Where’s
all the rest?”

Jupiter stepped out of the trap door and
placed his foot directly on top of the shoe print. It was much
bigger than his own. He balanced himself for a moment and then
leaped sideways onto a stone path a few feet away.

“Our ‘ghost’ paused on one foot long enough
to shut the trap door,” Jupiter explained. “Then leaped over to the
stone path so as not to leave any more footprints than necessary.
The act of an experienced criminal.”

Pete and Bob came up from the secret door,
closing it behind them. They stood on the ancient stone path,
shivering in the misty morning air.

“Where does the path lead?” asked Pete.

“I was back here all day long,” exclaimed
Bob, “I know exactly where it goes! The Abernathys’ cottage!”

“Come on,” said Jupiter grimly, “it’s time
to give the Abernathys a wake-up call!”

Jupiter Has A Plan

THE THREE INVESTIGATORS
followed the stone path that led to the Abernathys’ cottage, but
before they reached the front door, Jupiter stopped
short.

“Hello,” he said. “What have we here?” The
stocky boy bent over and picked up a white piece of cloth.

“It’s a handkerchief!” said Bob.

Jupiter turned the material over in his
hands and examined it closely. “A monogrammed handkerchief,” he
said, holding it up for Pete and Bob’s inspection. In fine
stitching they could clearly read the letters: “S.F.”

“Stella Fitchhorn!” Pete cried.

But Jupiter shook his head. “That footprint
was too big to be hers,” he reminded them. “You’ll recall she’s a
very slight woman, and that footprint was larger than my own.”

“Mr. Fitchhorn?” asked Bob.

Jupiter pulled his bottom lip and was quiet
for a moment. “Possibly,” was all he would say. Without saying
another word, the stocky First Investigator abruptly turned on his
heel and jogged towards the back door of Hichcocke Manor, leaving
Bob and Pete gaping at each other with bewildered expressions.

When they finally found him in their
upstairs bedroom, Jupiter was hastily loading film into his
flash-bulb camera he had packed in his suitcase. “I’ll have to ask
Ben to drive me into London again today,” he announced.

“You have a plan,” guessed Bob.

“I do. But there’s no time to explain. Just
play along. Ben and I will leave after everyone has had breakfast.
Hopefully we will be back before nightfall.”

Bob and Pete were quite used to Jupiter
Jones being secretive when he had an idea or course of action in
mind. It was just the way he operated. Jupe didn’t take kindly to
being wrong about anything, so he often clammed up until he was
sure he was right. It was a trait that could be maddening to anyone
who didn’t know him well.

“And what should Bob and I do all day?”
asked Pete. “I’ll tell you one thing – I’m not going anywhere near
the cellar. As far as I’m concerned it’s London’s hotspot for
Monsters Incorporated!”

“Stay close to Mrs. O’Connell,” Jupiter
instructed. “I believe she’ll be safe, but it’s better not to take
any chances. And keep an eye on Cousin Jebediah, the Fitchhorns,
and the Abernathy’s. As of now, they’re all suspects!”

Jupiter snapped the back of his camera
closed and advanced the roll of film as he trotted down the stairs.
The sunny kitchen was bustling with activity. Patricia, in a robe
and slippers, was pouring coffee for her Cousin Jebediah, while
Julia scooped heaping portions of eggs onto the Fitchhorns' plates.
Winston entered the room with the morning paper under his arm. He
unfolded it on the table in front of Timothy Fitchhorn and then
turned to the boys.

“Good morning, sirs,” he said, flashing a
broad smile. “I couldn’t help but overhear the activity outside my
front door earlier – I trust everything is okay?”

It didn’t take long for Bob and Pete to see
the First Investigator had some kind of scheme devised. Jupiter had
been an actor on a television program when he was just a toddler
called “The Wee Rogues,” in which he played a character with the
unfortunate name of “Baby Fatso.” He was a natural actor then, and
he could still be a very good actor now – when he wanted to. As he
entered the kitchen, he allowed his shoulders to sag and his face
to droop – effectively giving the impression that he was an utter
and complete imbecile.

Jupiter gave the butler a look of absolute
incompetence. “Gee, we’re sorry if we woke you up,” he yawned,
sitting down at the breakfast table. “We thought we heard the ghost
again, but it turned out to be Pete walking in his sleep.”

“Huh?” said Pete. But before he could say
any more, the lanky Second Investigator felt his ankle receive a
sharp kick from Jupiter under the table. “Oh...Oh, yeah, I do that
sometimes,” he said lamely.

“Aye,” said Jebediah, brushing crumbs from
his wiry mustache, “don’t be so sure, laddies. Old Molly is a
clever spirit.” He pointed his cane at Jupiter. “You won’t want to
be a-sneakin’ around the house after dark – I’m warning ye
now!”