The Mystery of Wandering Caveman - M. V. Carey [0]
OF
THE WANDERING CAVEMAN
M. V. Carey
Chapter 1
The Stranger in the Fog
“ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” said a woman’s voice.
Jupiter Jones stood still and listened.
The afternoon was thick with fog. Fog muffled the noise of the traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway. It hung like a curtain between The Jones Salvage Yard and the houses across the street. It seemed to press in on Jupe. He felt cold and lonely, as if he were the only person in all the world.
But someone had spoken, and now there were footsteps. Outside, just beyond the gates of the salvage yard, someone was walking.
Then a man spoke, and two people appeared, moving like shadows in the grey light. The man was bent over, and as he walked his feet made slow, scuffling noises on the pavement. The woman was girlish and thin, with long, fair hair that hung straight about her face.
“Here’s a bench,” she said, and she guided the man to a seat near the office. “You rest a minute. You should have let me drive. It was too much for you.”
“Can I help?” Jupe moved closer to the pair.
The man put a hand to his head and looked around in a dazed fashion.
“We’re looking for … for …” He caught at the young woman’s hand. “You do it,” he said. “Find out where we … where we …”
“Harbourview Lane,” said the young woman to Jupe. “We have to go to Harbourview Lane.”
“It’s down the highway and off Sunset,” said Jupe. “Look, if your friend is ill, I can call a doctor and —”
“No!” cried the man. “Not now. We’re late!” Jupe bent towards the man. He saw a face that was grey and glistening with sweat. “Tired!” said the man. “So tired!” He pressed his hands to his forehead. “Such a headache!” There was surprise and dismay in his voice. “So strange! I never have headaches!”
“Please let me call a doctor!” begged Jupe.
The stranger pulled himself up.
“Be all right in a minute, but now I can’t … can’t …”
He sank back against the side of the office, and his breathing became heavy and harsh. Then his face crumpled and twisted.
“Hurts!” he said.
Jupe took hold of the man’s hand. The flesh was cold and clammy to his touch.
The man gazed at Jupe. His eyes were fixed and did not blink.
Suddenly it was very quiet in the salvage yard. The young woman bent to touch the man. She made a sound like a whimper of pain. There were brisk footsteps on the pavement, and Jupiter’s aunt Mathilda came through the gate. She saw the man on the bench and the girl bending over him. She saw Jupe kneeling in front of him.
“Jupiter, what is it?” said Aunt Mathilda. “Is something wrong? Shall I call the paramedics?”
“Yes,” said Jupe. “You … you call them. But I don’t think it will do any good. I think he’s dead!”
Afterwards Jupe was to remember a confusion of lights and sirens and men hurrying in the fog. The blonde girl wept in Aunt Mathilda’s arms. People clustered at the gate of the salvage yard, and there was a terrible hush when the stretcher was put in the ambulance. Then there were more sirens, and Jupe and Aunt Mathilda were driving to the hospital with the blonde girl between them in the car.
Jupiter felt that he moved through a dream, grey and unreal. But the hospital was grim reality. There was a corridor where people hurried about. There was a waiting room stale with cigarette smoke. Jupe, Aunt Mathilda, and the blonde girl sat and leafed through old magazines.
After a long, long while a doctor came.
“I’m sorry,” said the doctor to the girl. “We couldn’t do anything. It’s … sometimes it’s best that way. You aren’t a relative, are you?”
She shook her head.
“There will be an autopsy,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s usual in cases where someone dies without a doctor. It was probably a cerebral accident — a ruptured blood vessel in the head. The autopsy will confirm it. Do you know how we can get in touch with his family?”
She shook her head again. “No. I’ll have to call the foundation.”
She began to sob, and a nurse came and led her away. Jupiter and Aunt Mathilda waited. After a long while the girl came back. She had made a telephone call from the nursing director’s office. “They