The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance (9 page)

“Well I don’t know about Pete,” offered
Patricia, “but I slept like a bear for the first time in days!”

“Well, Ben,” Jupiter said sadly, “it hardly
matters now. I guess we came all the way over here for nothing. We
can’t crack the last code from the jukebox. I guess we’ll just have
to do some sightseeing and take some pictures. It’s too bad Bob is
feeling ill and won’t be able to join us.”

This time Bob received a kick under the
table. He cleared his throat and tried to look sickly. “Uh, yeah. I
must have caught a chill,” he coughed. “I guess I’ll have to stay
behind.”

Patricia looked concerned. “You’d better
rest up, Bob. Tomorrow is your last full day here, and you don’t
want to be sick on the plane ride back to the states – that would
be just dreadful.”

Across the table, Timothy Fitchhorn choked
on his eggs and quickly stood up, spilling his cup of coffee all
over the morning newspaper.

“Oh drat!” he fumed. “I’ve made an awful
mess here. Winston, be of some use for once and help me clean this
up!”

“Of course, sir,” the butler said
patiently.

Pete and Bob watched the fat man and the
butler with amusement, but when Bob turned to look at Jupiter, he
saw him staring intently. Jupe turned to him and quickly darted his
eyes, nodding toward the newspaper. Bob understood immediately and
silently nodded back.

“I think I’ll go rest in bed,” the smallest
of the boys said, rising from his chair and patting Pete on the
shoulder. “That was very nice of you, Pete, volunteering to keep me
company.”

“Sure,” Pete replied, somewhat baffled,
“it’s the least I can do, old buddy.”

The two Investigators excused themselves
from the table and headed upstairs.

Meanwhile, Jupiter had prepared his flash
camera. He quickly snapped a picture of Winston and Timothy
Fitchhorn, who were too engrossed in cleaning up the mess to
notice. Next he turned to Patricia and snapped a picture of her.
She held her hand up before he face and laughed.

“Jupiter Jones! I don’t even have my make-up
on yet!”

“That’s okay,” he smiled, advancing the
film, “I just need to use up the rest of this role so I can have a
fresh one when Ben and I go sightseeing.” He turned and snapped a
picture of Ben, who made a silly face into the camera.

“Beautiful!” cried Jupiter. He advanced the
film and snapped one of Cousin Jebediah and Stella Fitchhorn. Mrs.
Fitchhorn turned ashen faced and Jebediah glowered at him.

“I don’t take kindly to me picture being
taken, laddie!” he grumbled.

“Sorry, sir,” said Jupiter, jumping up from
his seat. “Well, Ben, we better hit the road if we’re going to see
everything on my itinerary. I think we’ll start with Big Ben, then
move on to the Tower of London. I’d also like to see the home of
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle if time permits.” He continued prattling on
down the hall as if he were tremendously excited about the
sightseeing expedition.

“Remember boys,” called Patricia, “I want
you wearing seatbelts!”

“We will Aunt Patty,” Ben said as he pulled
on his jacket. He didn’t have time to say more as Jupiter was
already out the front door and jumping into the gleaming silver
automobile.

“Gee, what’s the hurry?” he asked. “We have
plenty of time to see everything.”

“We’re not going sightseeing,” explained
Jupiter. “That was just a ploy to get out of the house.” He held up
the camera and snapped another picture of Ben. “This is the real
reason. We’ve got to get this role of film developed – and
fast!”

Front Page News

WHEN THE BOYS had shut the
bedroom door, Bob turned quickly to Pete. “We’ve got to get a copy
of that newspaper!” he cried. Pete looked at his friend like he had
lost his marbles.

“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “It’s only
a newspaper. Your dad is a star reporter for one of the biggest in
California. He could probably get you a copy of any newspaper in
the world.”

“Not for a souvenir,” Bob explained
patiently. “Timothy Fitchhorn saw something on the front page that
upset him. That’s why he spilled his coffee all over it. So he
could destroy it before we saw what it was!”

“Yikes!” cried Pete. “You
got all that from a spilled cup of coffee? You’re turning into
another Jupiter Jones – and
that
the world does not need!”

“Jupe saw it first,” conceded Bob, “but
there is definitely something in that paper, and we have to find
out what it is!”

Pete sat down on the bed. “But how? You’re
supposed to be up here all day, sick in bed, remember?”

Bob shook his head and
grinned. “
I’m
supposed to be up here all day, sick in bed.
You
, on the other hand,
are perfectly healthy!”

The studious Investigator undid the lock on
the window and pushed it open. Pete joined him at the window and
gulped. It was a good twenty-five feet to the ground below.

Pete looked blandly at Bob. “Any more bright
ideas, smart guy?”

Bob examined the ivy covered stones outside
the window and frowned. “I was hoping for some kind of drain pipe
you could use to shimmy down.” He thought for a minute and snapped
his fingers. “The bedsheets!”

Pete rolled his eyes. “I was hoping for
something a little more sturdy.”

“It’ll have to do. Come on, let’s get
started tying them together.”

Twenty minutes later they had fashioned a
long rope out of three bed-sheets. Bob tied one end of the
make-shift rope to the bedpost that was closest to the window, and
then threw the other end over the side.

“Down you go!” he smiled.

“You seem to be enjoying your sickness a
little too much,” Pete muttered. “Where do I go to find a newspaper
once I’m down?”

“Try the nearest neighbors house. Just keep
on the horse path we used the other day – Ben said it continues
through the woods and ends up near the neighbors’ land not too far
away.”

“And what are you going to do while I’m
gone?” Pete asked skeptically.

Bob threw himself on the bed and laced his
fingers behind his blond head. A big smile crossed his face. “Rest
and relaxation is the best cure!”

Pete sighed and threw his legs over the
window sill. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, and began lowering
himself down the sheet rope.

On his way down, Pete passed a window that
looked in on the library. Being careful not to be seen, he paused
long enough to peer in – holding a hand up over his eyes to shield
the glare. On the other side of the ornate stained glass, he could
see someone lurking about in the deep shadows of the book-lined
room.

He was squinting his eyes into the gloom,
trying to catch a better glimpse, when he suddenly felt a jerk on
the rope. He looked up in alarm, but it was too late. Pete had just
enough time to see that one of the knots in the rope was coming
undone before he felt himself plummeting the last ten feet to the
ground. He stifled a cry and braced himself for impact!

The athletic boy landed with a grunt – the
sheet draping over his head as he sat up. Feeling chagrined, Pete
quickly balled up the sheet and hid it in a nearby bush. Then,
being careful not to be seen, he sprinted across the yard toward
the thick woods.

When he reached the cover of the trees, Pete
paused again. This time he observed that Jebediah O’Connell was
once more in the garden, suspiciously prodding about with his cane.
What was he looking for? Pete wondered. At least he knew it wasn’t
Cousin Jeb searching the library.

Pete kept trying to fit the pieces of the
puzzle together in his mind as he raced through the woods. He was
glad that Jupe had a plan in mind, because he could make no sense
of the baffling clues and suspects that surrounded this case.

Several minutes later, an out-of-breath Pete
Crenshaw had spotted the nearest neighbors house. He took a moment
to catch his breath and then strolled up the lane to the front
door. Rapping firmly, the tall boy waited and waited. After several
minutes, Pete grew restless. Was no one home? He rapped again, this
time harder. He was hoping he hadn’t come all this way for nothing
when the door was slowly opened by an elderly woman hobbling on a
cane.

“Can I help you, young man?”

“Good morning, ma’am,” said Pete. “I’m a
guest of your neighbors’ daughter, Mrs. Hichcocke O’Connell. I
was...”

“Ah,” the old woman smiled fondly, “good
people, the Hichcocke’s.” She sighed and looked sad. “What a shame.
We had been neighbors for thirty years. He always claimed that
house was haunted you know. But we never believed any such thing. I
think he was just trying to put a scare into us. Imagine that!
Alphred Hichcocke trying to scare his neighbors!” The old woman
cackled heartily. “Yes indeed, I shall miss them. Why, I remember
this one time...”

Pete cleared his throat. It was obvious the
woman was lonely in her big house and was delighted to have someone
to talk to. He wished he could stay and chat more about Mr.
Hichcocke, but he thought he should really be getting back.

“I’m sorry, ma’am...but I, uh...”

“Oh yes,” the woman smiled, the deep
wrinkles on her face turning up. “You youngsters are always on the
go. Always an adventure to be found. I can still remember being
that young you know. Well then, how can I help you?”

Pete explained about the newspaper being
ruined by the coffee spill, and asked if they might be able to
borrow her edition of the London Times – if she was through reading
it, of course.

“Certainly, certainly,” she crowed. “I’ll go
fetch it. I won’t be but a moment.”

Pete waited patiently on the stoop. He began
to wonder how long her ‘moment’ was going to take, for it seemed
she was gone an eternity. He was just beginning to think the
elderly woman wasn’t going to return when he finally heard her
shuffling back to the front door.

“Here you are, young man.”

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” Pete said
politely. “We really appreciate it.”

The elderly woman smiled warmly at Pete, her
eyes twinkling. “Oh my, think nothing of it. Give my regards to
dear Patricia from Miss Ashley, won’t you?”

Pete promised he would and turned to leave.
He was about to say goodbye to the nice lady when an idea struck
him and he turned around.

“Excuse me, Miss Ashley – can I ask you a
question?”

“Be my guest,” she smiled merrily. “What
would you like to know, laddie?”

“I was just wondering...” Pete paused,
deciding on just the right way to ask. “I was wondering if in all
the time you knew the Hichcocke’s, had they ever mentioned a
relative named Jebediah? Possibly a cousin of Patricia’s?”

The old woman thought for a moment and then
shook her head. “Not that I recall,” she said. “Hitch and his wife
Alma talked often of family – family was very important to them,
you see. They were always having relatives stay as guests when they
came here for the summer. I’m sure I would have heard of a cousin
named Jebediah. Such a distinct name.”

Pete thanked her for the information and the
newspaper and turned to leave.

“Be sure to say hello to Patricia, won’t
you?” she called after him.

Pete promised he would and trotted back into
the woods with the newspaper tucked safely under his arm. When he
reached Hichcocke Manor, he observed that Jebediah was still
wandering the grounds, searching suspiciously with his cane. He
made a mental note of it while he retrieved the sheet from the bush
and called quietly up to Bob.

Bob’s head appeared from the bedroom
window.

Pete silently showed him the sheet, and then
indicated with his hands for Bob to tie the knots tighter this
time. He threw the ball of sheets up to Bob’s waiting hands and
waited nervously behind the bush for Bob to toss the sheet-rope
back down. When he did, Pete stuffed the newspaper into the back of
his pants and began climbing. He stopped again at the library
window, but this time all was quiet inside the ominous room. He
climbed the rest of the way and pulled the make-shift rope up after
him.

“Jebediah has been out in the garden looking
for something all morning,” Pete reported. “And the lady who gave
me the paper says she’s never heard of a relative named Jebediah.
Also, I saw someone through the window sneaking around in the
library!”

“Let’s see the paper!” Bob said eagerly.

“Creeps!” Pete cried. “I forgot all about
the front page!” He quickly pulled the newspaper out and spread it
flat on the bed.

Both boy’s eyes went wide
when they saw the picture plastered on the front page. Under a
story headlined
Swindlers At Large
was a blurry picture from a surveillance camera
that showed two people leaving a bank. One was a large, fat man.
The other was a skinny, short woman. The picture was of poor
quality, but the likeness was unmistakable!

“The Fitchhorns!” both boys cried
together.

A small caption ran beneath the grainy
picture. It read:

*

SWINDLERS AT LARGE

Two known con artists were spotted leaving a
bank in Liverpool last week. The couple, under the alias of Thomas
and Shirley Fidgewick, are wanted on several charges of fraud and
money laundering.

Story on Page 6.

*

“Wait until Jupe sees this!” Pete exclaimed.
“We can sure rub it in when he gets back that we solved the mystery
without him!”

A wide smile spread across Bob’s face. “Boy
I can’t wait to see his expression! He’ll be in fits when we tell
him we figured out it’s been the Fitchhorns one step ahead of us
this whole time!”

“Gee,” said Pete, shaking his head
doubtfully, “if they’re behind it all, then who’s playing the
ghost? He’s much too big and she’s too small. Unless...unless there
really is a ghost!”