The Mystery of the Kidnapped Whale - Marc Brandel [5]
“So none was?” Bob asked in a disappointed voice.
She shook her head, still pulling at the rubber strap. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t tell you anything about it. I can’t help you, I’m afraid.”
“Well, thanks anyway,” Pete said.
“I’m sorry,” Constance Carmel repeated. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a show to do.”
“If you do hear anything …” Jupe took a card from his pocket and handed it to her.
It was one of their professional Investigators’ cards, which Jupiter had printed himself on the old press in the salvage yard. It said:
THE THREE INVESTIGATORS
“We Investigate Anything”
? ? ?
First Investigator – Jupiter Jones
Second Investigator – Peter Crenshaw
Records and Research – Bob Andrews
Under that was their private phone number at Headquarters.
People usually asked what the three question marks were for. Jupe would then explain that they stood for mysteries unsolved and riddles unanswered.
Constance Carmel didn’t ask anything. She put the card on the desk without even looking at it.
The Three Investigators turned and filed toward the door. Pete was just opening it when she walked toward them.
“You really care about that pilot or gray whale or whatever it was, don’t you?” she asked.
Bob told her they did.
“Then don’t worry,” she reassured them. “I’m sure it’s okay. I mean, I’m sure someone rescued it.”
Outside the gates of Ocean World, the Three Investigators unchained their bicycles and wheeled them between the parked cars toward the road.
Bob and Pete were feeling rather gloomy at the failure of their mission, but Jupiter didn’t look the least bit discouraged. He was smiling in the eager, excited way he had when he thought the Three Investigators were on to an interesting new case.
“Okay, Jupe. Let’s have it,” Pete told him. “What are you grinning about?”
They had reached the exit to the parking lot. Jupe leaned his bicycle against the low stone wall. The other two did the same. It was obvious that the First Investigator wanted to talk.
“Let’s examine the facts,” he said. “Anyone who called Ocean World yesterday would have gotten the same taped message we did.”
“So they couldn’t have reported a stranded whale,” Pete put in.
“Not unless they called Constance Carmel at home,” Jupe explained.
“What makes you think they did that?” Bob asked.
“Because when we told her about it, she didn’t seem in the least surprised. She listened, but the only question she asked was one we’d already answered.”
“You mean she asked when did all this happen?”
“Exactly.” Jupe nodded. “Which leads me to think she wasn’t really asking a question at all. She was making a point. She was telling us she wasn’t here yesterday. She couldn’t have had anything to do with it. And the next moment, when we were leaving, she went out of her way to tell us the whale was okay. She said it very definitely. She said she was sure the gray whale had been rescued.”
“No, she didn’t.” Something that had been at the back of Bob’s mind since the day before had suddenly become clear to him, something he knew was important. “She said the pilot or the gray whale, or whatever it was, was okay.”
“Maybe that was just a trick,” Pete suggested. “She was only trying to sound vague, so we wouldn’t think she knew all about it already.”
“No, it wasn’t a trick.” Bob was so sure of himself he raised his voice a little. “It wasn’t a trick. It was an unintentional giveaway. Because she was right. It wasn’t a gray whale we rescued. Gray whales have paired blowholes, like nostrils. That’s why when they spout, the water comes out like a fountain. But the whale we rescued only had a single blowhole. I noticed that when we were trying to push it back out to sea. And when it spouted, the water shot up in a single jet.”
The other