The Mystery of the Invisible Dog - M. V. Carey [29]
The sedan, listing to one side atop the broken hydrant, was brilliantly lit by the headlamps of the breakdown truck.
“No bullet holes,” said the plain-clothes man.
Jupe spotted something on the ground—some bit of reddish paper, sodden now with water. He bent and picked it up, peering closely at it.
“A cloud of black smoke,” he said.
“What?” asked the plain-clothes man.
“Just after the shot, or the explosion, a cloud of smoke came out from under the hood of the car.”
The plain-clothes man went to the front of the car and opened the bonnet.
A uniformed officer shone a torch on the motor.
There were bits of paper and what appeared to be singed cotton wadding strewn over the engine block. The radiator hoses were scorched and the fan belt had snapped.
“Not a shot,” decided the plain-clothes man. “An explosive device. There was some kind of a bomb under the bonnet!”
He banged the bonnet down. “Take it away!” he shouted to the driver of the breakdown truck. “Take it to the police garage!”
He turned to the boys. Murphy had joined them again, and Sonny Elmquist was hunched near the stairway to the building. Alex Hassell had come out, looking as if his slacks had been put on over his pyjamas.
“Somebody was out to get her!” said Hassell.
“She have any enemies?” asked the policeman.
“A whole building full of them,” said Murphy sourly, “though I can’t imagine anybody planting a bomb in her car.”
The stockbroker yawned. “My name’s Murphy,” he told the plain-clothes man. “Just for the record. John Murphy. I live in 1E and I didn’t see anything. I only heard the explosion and the car smashing up. I ran out with these kids and helped get the old bat out of her car. Now, since we haven’t had much sleep, I’m going to declare a day off and go back to bed. If you want to ask me any questions, feel free, but don’t do it before noon. I plan to sleep till then.”
The stockbroker plodded away up the stairs.
The policeman looked after him. “Things have been really weird on this block the last couple of days,” he remarked.
“You said it!” agreed Pete. He squinted towards the east, where a pink glow was beginning to light the sky. “If there’s anything to the law of averages, we ought to have a quiet morning. What else can happen?”
Chapter 13
Fire!
AFTER THE NIGHT’S excitement, Mr. Prentice and the exhausted Investigators fell sound asleep. Late in the morning Prentice served an excellent breakfast to the boys.
Jupe turned on the TV monitor but only glanced at it occasionally. The apartment building was very quiet.
“I have to go to the bank,” announced Prentice. “By tomorrow I must have ten thousand in cash in small bills. I would be most pleased if one of you young men would accompany me.”
“Certainly, Mr. Prentice,” said Jupe. “However, I think you should inform the police of what you are doing.”
“No,” said Prentice. “The Carpathian Hound is too precious to risk losing. If the thief feels he is in danger, he might simply destroy it. We must follow his instructions to the letter.”
Jupiter went to the window. There was a taxi on the street below. The driver came down the steps from the building carrying a suitcase. Mrs. Bortz followed him.
“Mrs. Bortz is leaving,” announced Jupiter
as the cab drove away.
“She has a sister in Santa Monica,” said
Prentice. “She goes to her when she’s ill or in
trouble.”
“I guess she is in trouble,” said Pete.
“Having a bomb planted in your car is—”
He was interrupted by the sound of
smashing glass which could be heard even
through the closed door to the balcony.
“Fire!” shouted someone. “Help! Fire!”
Instantly the group in Prentice’s apartment
was out the door.
On the courtyard level there were flames
blazing on the curtains in John Murphy’s
windows. Sonny Elmquist, in bare feet and
with his hair standing on end, was smashing
through the windows with an iron pool chair.
“My stars!” cried Mr. Prentice. He dashed
back inside to call the fire brigade.
Pete was down the stairs and snatching up
a second chair before Jupe and Bob even made
it to the courtyard. Alex Hassell