The Mystery of the Rogues' Reunion - Marc Brandel [4]
“He’s got a big comfortable car, Jupe,” she went on. “And he says he doesn’t care how long he has to sit in it. And he’s blocking the driveway. So I guess you’ll just have to see him.”
“Okay,” Jupe agreed reluctantly. “I’ll see him and listen to him, just to get rid of him. But I’m not going to talk to him about the Wee Rogues, that’s for sure.”
It was a big comfortable car, a fancy yellow French Citroen with a front end like a whale’s head. The man who got out from behind the wheel as the Three Investigators walked through the gate looked big and comfortable too.
As an investigator Jupe had acquired the habit of observing people — their faces, their clothes, the shape of their ears, their little peculiarities. The first thing he observed about this man was his teeth. They were large and white, and they shone like a crescent moon in his suntanned face. They shone whenever he smiled, and he seemed to smile all the time.
“Jupiter Jones,” he said with an even bigger smile, “my name’s Milton Glass. I’m head of publicity at the studio.”
Jupe stood between Pete and Bob, his stocky body rigid with hostility. He scowled at Milton Glass without saying a word.
“I’ve got an offer I think might interest you, Jupiter.” The big man’s voice was so friendly that it seemed to be smiling too. “I’m arranging to bring all the Wee Rogues together for an exciting reunion lunch at the studio, and then after the lunch —”
“No, thank you.” Jupe couldn’t keep silent any longer. This was even worse than he’d expected. The idea of interviews and talk shows was bad enough, but the thought of a reunion with those awful kids made him want to throw up. He turned and started back through the gate into the yard.
“Wouldn’t you like to meet all your old friends again?” Milton Glass put his big arm around Jupe’s shoulders. “Bonehead and Bloodhound and Footsie and —”
“No, thank you.” Jupe tried to break free, but the publicity man had him in a bear hug. “I saw enough of those idiots to last me the rest of my life and I never —”
“Attaboy.” Milton Glass’s smile was wider and friendlier than ever. “That’s just what I hoped you’d say.”
“What?” It wasn’t often the First Investigator was thrown off balance, but he couldn’t figure out why the big, grinning man seemed so pleased by his refusal. He waited.
“They all picked on you, didn’t they? Most of them, anyway. They made you the butt of their stupid practical jokes. They insisted on calling you Baby Fatso all the time. I’ll bet you hated them, didn’t you?”
“It’s not my nature to hate people,” Jupe said coldly. “But I certainly disliked them. I disliked them intensely.”
“Beautiful.” The crescent moon of white teeth shone more brightly than ever in Milton Glass’s tanned face. “And now I’m going to give you a chance to get back at them. A chance to show them up as the idiots you always knew they were. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“How?” Jupe’s face was blank, but there was a gleam of interest in his eyes.
“In front of the whole country. On network television,” Milton Glass told him. “The studio’s planning a mini series of two quiz shows. All the Wee Rogues will compete against each other. And my hunch is you’ll turn out the winner, Jupiter. You’ll make all the rest of them look like fools.”
The First Investigator had a quick flash of remembrance. Bonehead. His hard—boiled egg of a skull. His idiot grin. Bonehead twisting his arm. Bonehead putting a dead mouse in his lunch box.
Jupiter’s mind raced as he looked at Milton Glass’s friendly, smiling face.
“And the first prize, Jupiter,” Milton Glass said encouragingly, “the first prize in the quiz contest is twenty thousand dollars.”
Chapter 2
A Surprise at Stage Nine
THE LIMOUSINE HAD TO STOP at the studio gates on Vine Street in Hollywood. The uniformed guard there nodded familiarly to the chauffeur, then moved to the back of the car to check the three boys’ names against a list.
“Jupiter Jones,” Jupe told him firmly. He had made up his mind not to stand for any nonsense about being called Baby