The Mystery of the Invisible Dog - M. V. Carey [6]
Headquarters for the Three Investigators was a battered old mobile home trailer which stood at one side of the yard. It was hidden from view by heaps of old lumber and scrap iron.
Pete followed Bob into the tunnel, pulling the grating into place behind him, and crawled for forty feet. The pipe ended directly under a trap door in the floor of Headquarters.
“What took you so long?” asked Jupiter Jones when Bob pushed open the trap door.
The chubby youth was in the tiny laboratory which the boys had fitted out.
Bob didn’t answer, but Pete groaned as he climbed into the trailer. “I thought it would be nice if I brushed my teeth and put on some clothes before I came over,” he said.
“What’s so important that we have to get up at dawn, and what have you got in that jar?”
Jupiter tilted the ceramic jar in his hand so that the others could see some fine white crystals.
“Magic powder,” said Jupe.
Pete slumped into a chair and leaned sleepily against a file cabinet. “I hate it when you act mysterious,” he said. “I especially hate it early in the morning.”
Jupe took a flask of water from a shelf above the laboratory counter and poured a few drops over the white crystals, then stirred with a small plastic spoon. “These crystals are a metallic compound,” he said. “I read about them in an old book on criminology. They will dissolve in water.”
Bob sighed. “Are you going to give us a lecture on chemistry?”
“Perhaps.” Jupe opened a drawer and took out a tube of thick, white ointment. He squeezed a good amount of this into the solution in the jar and then mixed everything slowly and thoroughly.
“I’ve been holding this ointment for emergencies,” he said proudly. “It will absorb water — not everything will.”
He peered happily at the creamy paste in the jar. “That should do it,” he announced as he screwed on a lid. “We now have a magic ointment.”
“So what?” demanded Pete.
“Suppose we put a coating of this ointment on something … say, perhaps, the drawer handles of Mr. Prentice’s desk. The ointment will stay clean and white. But suppose someone then comes along and touches the drawer handles. Within half an hour, that person’s fingers will have black spots on them — spots that cannot be washed away!”
“Aha!” said Bob. “You want us to take the case!”
“Mr. Prentice called me late last night,” said Jupe. “He said he couldn’t get to sleep.
Several times last evening he was sure that there was a shadowy presence in his apartment. He was upset and afraid.”
“Good grief, Jupe, the man’s a kook!” said Pete. “What can we do for him?”
“Yes, he could be imagining things,” acknowledged Jupe. “I gather that he spends a great deal of time alone, and lonely people sometimes do imagine things. That’s why I hesitated to take the case. But we may be doing him a great injustice if we don’t investigate. He’s right when he says that he can’t take his problem to the police. He couldn’t even take it to a regular firm of private investigators. If he’s only imagining things, there may be nothing we can do for him. But if a real person is at the bottom of this, we may be able to identify him. I am sure it would be a great relief to Mr. Prentice.”
Jupiter looked at his companions. “Shall I call and tell him we’ll come?”
Bob smiled. “You knew the answer to that before you called us,” he said.
“Good,” said Jupe. “The first bus from Rocky Beach to Los Angeles leaves at seven. I left a note for Aunt Mathilda saying that we won’t be here this morning.”
Pete handed him the Headquarters telephone. “Then call Mr. Prentice and let’s go,”
he said. “I don’t want to be around when your aunt finds that note. You heard her talking yesterday. She has lots of plans for you — and none of them include smearing magic ointment around somebody’s apartment!”
Chapter 4
The Demon Dog
It was almost eight when the Three Investigators got off the Wilshire bus and walked up Paseo Place.