The Mystery of the Kidnapped Whale - Marc Brandel [7]
Jupe started with Arturo. The operator answered on the third ring. Arturo Carmel’s number had been disconnected.
Benedict Carmel didn’t answer for a long time, then a polite man’s voice informed Jupe in a whisper that Brother Benedict was in retreat in the monastery. Even if he came to the phone, he wouldn’t be able to say anything because the good brother was under a vow of silence for six months.
That seemed to rule Benedict out of any connection with the case.
Diego Carmel, Charter Boat Fishing, didn’t answer at all.
“At least we know where we can find her,” Bob said. “Six days a week anyway. She’s at Ocean World.”
“We know something else too,” Jupe added. “We know her car when we see it. That white pickup truck.” He frowned, half closing his eyes. It made him look like a cross, sleepy cherub.
“Ocean World closes at six,” Jupe said, remembering the tape they had listened to the day before. “So Constance Carmel probably leaves not long after that. I think this is a job for you, Pete. But it’s already too late today. You’ll have to go tomorrow.”
Pete sighed. Whenever things had to be done that needed someone who was fast on his feet, fast enough to get out of a dangerous situation in a hurry, Jupe usually thought it was a job for Pete Crenshaw.
But for once Pete didn’t mind. There was something about this case that particularly attracted him. It wasn’t altogether the hundred dollars either. It was the thought of getting that little whale back where it belonged, in the ocean, free.
At five thirty the next evening Hans, one of the two Bavarian brothers who worked for Titus Jones in the salvage yard, dropped the Three Investigators off in the parking lot at Ocean World.
Jupe and Bob took their bicycles down from the back of the van.
“You sure you be okay now?” Hans asked them, scratching his blond head. “How you going to get back? Three of you with only two bicycles.”
“Pete won’t need his bicycle,” Jupe assured him. “He’s getting a free ride.”
“Okay.” Hans shrugged and climbed back behind the wheel. “If you need me, you call.”
As soon as he had driven away, the Three Investigators set out to look for Constance Carmel’s pickup. It wasn’t hard to find. It was parked in a section marked STAFF and it was the only white truck there. Jupe and Pete walked around to the back of it while Bob watched the gates in case Constance Carmel came out unexpectedly.
The boys were in luck. The open back of the truck wasn’t empty. In it were several long strips of foam rubber, a tangle of ropes, and a large, loosely folded piece of canvas.
Pete climbed in over the tailgate and lay down on the metal floor. Jupe piled some of the foam rubber around him and then covered him with the canvas. It would be dark in a little while, but even in broad sunlight no one would have seen Pete there.
“Bob and I had better leave now,” Jupe told him. “We don’t want Constance Carmel to see us hanging around. We’ll wait for you at Headquarters. Okay?”
“Okay,” Pete answered. “I’ll phone you there as soon as I can.”
He heard Jupiter climb back down to the ground and then the sound of his footsteps growing farther and farther away. After that, for a long time he didn’t hear anything except other cars starting up and driving off.
He was close to falling asleep when there was a sudden clunking sound quite close to him. A small shower of water spattered on the canvas above him and seeped through onto his face. Salt water. Pete waited until the truck was gathering speed outside the parking lot and then peeped out beneath the canvas.
A large plastic container was standing a few inches from his face. Pete could hear the water swilling around in it.
When the truck stopped for a red light a few minutes later, he could hear another sound coming from the plastic container – a rapid fluttering against its sides.
Fish, Pete decided. Live fish. He pulled back under the canvas out of sight.
For several minutes the truck traveled fast along a level road. The Coast Highway,