The Mystery of the Kidnapped Whale - Marc Brandel [27]
JUPE DID WHAT HE WAS TOLD.
He walked down the path away from the bandstand. It wasn’t the path he had come along, and he wished he could draw another ? on a tree as he passed. But he couldn’t even get the chalk out of his pocket. The man was still gripping Jupe’s right arm, forcing it up between his shoulder blades as he marched Jupe ahead of him.
They reached a street at the edge of the park. Still holding Jupe by the wrist, the man opened the trunk of the battered limousine standing there.
“Get in,” he said.
Jupe glanced quickly up and down the street. There was no one in sight. No one he could call to for help.
With a quick wriggle he managed to get his arm free. But it was still impossible to break away altogether. The man’s huge, soft chest was pressed tight against his back, forcing him forward. Another second and Jupe would lose his balance. He would be tipped headfirst into the open trunk of the car.
“Ahhh,” Jupe moaned softly. He let his legs go limp. He slipped weakly to the ground as though he had suddenly fainted. He lay there, face down on the street. As he had sagged to his knees he had slipped the chalk out of his pocket. He had it in his right hand now.
For as long as it took Jupe to reach under the car and draw a ? on the road surface there, the big man seemed to be deciding what to do next. He evidently hadn’t expected the First Investigator to faint on him.
Then Jupe felt a hand grabbing at his hair, taking a firm hold of it. He was pulled to his feet. He was forced forward over the open trunk of the car again. This time he did lose his balance. He toppled into the trunk.
The door of the trunk was slammed shut on him.
He heard the engine turn over and catch. He felt the car move slowly forward.
It was pitch-dark in the narrow space, dark and smelly with the stench of gasoline and motor oil. Jupe groped around. It was obvious from the smell that the old limousine was an oil guzzler. It probably used up a quart of oil every ten miles. People with cars like that usually carried a spare quart.
His reaching fingers soon found what he was looking for. Working by touch, he pulled out his prized Swiss Army knife and punched a hole in the can.
The metal floor of the trunk was so old that it was rusted almost through in places. Working with the saw blade of the knife, Jupe soon cut a thin slit through the metal.
Drop by drop he poured the oil out of the can through the slit he had made. It wasn’t as good as being able to draw more ?’s. But at least he was leaving a trail behind him.
The car was traveling very slowly. Luckily for Jupe it didn’t travel far. He had only half emptied the oil can when he felt the old limousine lurch to a stop.
The trunk was opened. The big man reached in and grabbed Jupe by his hair again.
“Get out,” he said.
Jupe had to obey him. He scrambled out as fast as he could. He hated having his hair pulled.
As he staggered to his feet, he saw that the car was parked in the driveway of a dilapidated wooden house. The man still had him by the hair. He was half pushing, half pulling him toward the house. The porch creaked and groaned as Jupe crossed it. The man took a key from his pocket and opened the front door.
“Get in.” A final tug at his hair and Jupe found himself stumbling forward into a dark room. The door closed behind him. The lights went on.
Jupe could see at once why the huge man standing over him had seemed to have no face when he looked at him by the bandstand. He was wearing a nylon stocking pulled down over it. It made a blur of his eyes and nose and mouth.
If Jupe had ever seen this man before, he wouldn’t know it. He wouldn’t recognize him if he ever saw him again.
The man looked even bigger and burlier in the light. It might be fat, not muscle, under the Windbreaker he was wearing, but he had the chest and arms of a giant.
Jupe glanced quickly around the room. A few wooden chairs, a rickety table with a phone on it, tattered curtains over the windows. No newspapers or magazines. No pictures on the walls. Jupe figured that the man hadn’t been living