The Mystery of the Flaming Footprints - M. V. Carey [32]
“We’ll make do,” said Jupiter. “It’ll be all right.”
Aunt Mathilda finally subsided and Jupiter gave the telephone to Bob, who simply received permission from his mother to spend the night with Jupiter.
The boys went back to The Potter’s house, rapped the agreed-upon raps, and were admitted by Pete.
As Aunt Mathilda had pointed out, there were not enough beds to go around – not even with Tom Dobson sleeping on the floor in his mother’s room. Pete did not see this as an obstacle. One of them, he decided, should be on watch at all times. Two would sleep. They could take turns. Bob and Jupiter both felt that sentinel duty might be an excellent idea, and Jupe volunteered for the first watch – which was to be for three hours. Bob disappeared into The Potter’s bedroom, to stretch out on The Potter’s narrow, immaculate bunk bed. Pete vanished into the room which had been prepared for Tom.
Jupe stationed himself in the hall at the head of the stairs. He sat down on the floor, leaned back against the wall, and stared speculatively at the charred marks on the steps — the marks of bare feet. He sniffed at his own fingers. The chemical smell which he had noticed when he first touched the footprints was gone. Doubtless some extremely volatile mixture had been used to create the flames. Jupe wondered idly what it had been, then decided that the substance itself wasn’t important. What was important was that someone had come into a locked and double-locked house to create the eerie and terrifying effect. How had it been done? And by whom?
Of one thing Jupiter Jones was sure. No ghost was playing a devilish prank. Jupiter Jones refused to believe in ghosts.
Chapter 12
The Secret Library
JUPITER awakened in Tom Dobson’s bed and heard a determined clanking and slamming and clattering from the kitchen below. He groaned slightly, turned over, and looked at his watch. It was after seven.
“You awake?” Bob Andrews was looking in through the doorway.
“I am now.” Jupiter got up slowly.
“Mrs Dobson’s furious,” reported Bob. “She’s down cooking breakfast.”
“That’s good. I could use breakfast. What’s she furious about? Last night she only wanted to go home.”
“Not this morning. This morning she’s ready to take the town of Rocky Beach apart. Wonderful what a good night’s sleep will do for a person. Come on down.
You’ll enjoy it. Reminds me of your Aunt Mathilda in one of her more active moods.”
Jupiter chuckled, went into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face, put on his shoes — which were all he had bothered to remove the night before — and followed Bob down to the kitchen. Pete and Tom were already sitting there watching as Eloise Dobson dealt with bacon and eggs. She was relieving herself of numerous opinions about The Potter, the house, the naming footprints, and the ingratitude of a father who disappeared when his only daughter had taken the trouble to drive almost all the way across the country to see him.
“And don’t think I’m going to let him get away with it,” said Mrs Dobson. “I’m not. I’m going down to the police station this morning and file a missing persons report on him, and then they’ll have to look for him.”
“Will that do any good, Mrs Dobson?” Jupiter questioned. “If The Potter is missing because he wishes to be missing, it’s difficult to see —”
“I don’t wish him to be missing,” interrupted Mrs Dobson. She set a platter of fried eggs and bacon on the table. “I am his daughter and he is my father and he’d better get used to it. And that police chief of yours had darn well better do something about those footprints, too. That has to be a crime.”
“Arson, I imagine,” said Bob.
“Call it whatever you like. It’s got to stop. Now you boys eat. I’m going to town.”
“You didn’t have any breakfast,” protested Tom.
“Who needs it?” snapped his mother. “Eat. Go ahead. And stay put, for Pete’s sake. I’ll be right back.”
She snatched up her bag, which had been laid on top of the refrigerator, rummaged for car keys, then strode down the hall and out the door. A second later, the boys heard the engine of the blue convertible.