The Mystery of the Rogues' Reunion - Marc Brandel [39]
Luther Lomax was a slow and cautious driver. It was easy for Gordon Harker to keep him in sight while making sure the elderly director would not notice he was being tailed.
The road wound farther and farther up into the hills. The houses were far apart now, huge estates behind stone walls. They were homes that had been built by movie people in the great days of the motion picture industry. Not so long ago special buses had driven along these roads on ‘guided tours of the stars’ homes.’ Buses filled with admiring tourists, peering in through the gates while the driver called out the famous names of the people who lived in the secluded houses behind the high walls.
Jupe knew that most of these houses were now owned by bankers and oil men and Arab sheiks. The movie people had moved down into what was known as ‘the flatlands’ of Beverly Hills.
Gordon Harker slowed. The yellow car had turned in through a pair of open gates. The limousine pulled up next to the kerb and stopped.
“Well? What do you want to do now?” the chauffeur asked. “Should we go in after him?”
“No. Better not, thanks.” The First Investigator opened the rear door and stepped out onto the street. “He’s probably got guards and housemen and gardeners. If he sees us coming, he’ll be ready for us. If you don’t mind waiting here, Mr. Harker, we’ll try to scout around a bit. We might be able to get some idea where he’s keeping Peggy prisoner.”
“Okay.” Gordon Harker picked up his magazine. “Good luck. And if you need any help, yell.”
Jupiter thanked him. Keeping close to the wall, the Three Investigators crept forward to the gates.
They were still open. No guard had closed them behind Lomax. There was no guard. There was no one else in sight either. Milton Glass’s yellow car was parked in front of the great arched doorway of the house.
It looked curiously out of place there. It was the only thing Jupe could see that did not remind him of a movie about an abandoned southern mansion. One of those old movies like Gone With the Wind.
It was still a mansion. The whole front of the house was one great columned porch. A veranda ran along below the upstairs windows. Two wings stretched back from the ends of the building.
But the plaster of the tall columns was chipped and crumbling. Many of the windows were patched or boarded up. The steps that led up to the porch were little more than rubble — broken stones with weeds and bushes pushing their way up between them.
To the right of the gates was a line of trees stretching towards the house. Jupe motioned to his two friends and ran to the nearest tree. The grass was so high beneath the trees that the Three Investigators could crouch down in it, safely hidden, as they moved slowly forward.
“Gosh,” Pete said. “You mean someone still lives here?”
Jupe nodded sombrely. He was trying to imagine the whole place as it must have been, with well-trimmed lawns and brightly-coloured beach chairs, with freshly-painted white columns and sparkling windows.
How long ago, he wondered. Maybe not more than eight or nine years. With the flash floods and mud slides of southern California, the hot dry sun, and the tropical vegetation, neglected buildings and gardens fell into ruin and decay very fast. At the time Luther Lomax was directing the Wee Rogues comedies, this had probably still been an elegant estate like the others in this area of the canyons.
One thing was certain, Jupe decided. It had been a long time since there had been guards or housemen or staff of any kind around here. Lomax was almost surely alone in that house with Peggy.
“Come on,” the First Investigator said. “There’s no need to scout around anymore. Let’s just walk up to the front door and have it out with Lomax.”
The other two Investigators agreed. There didn’t seem to be much to fear from the elderly director.
There was no bell. Jupe lifted the tarnished brass knocker and banged it down against the tarnished brass plate below it. The door opened at once. Luther Lomax