The Secret of the Haunted Mirror - M. V. Carey [34]
“A bread van!” cried Pete. “Beautiful! Who’d ever suspect a bread man of being a detective!”
“We’ll be in a van belonging to the Van Alstyn Bakery Company,” Jupiter said into the telephone. “We’ll pick up Bob and watch for the kidnapper going into the warehouse. If he has an accomplice we might see him too. That glass is too heavy for one man. He must have an accomplice!”
Jeff took the telephone. “Grandma, I’m going with Jupe and Pete.” He hung up before she could protest.
“Let’s go!” said Pete. “It’s almost six!”
“Ocean Avenue?” said Henry Anderson, the bread man. “You said San Pedro.
That where we’re going?”
“That’s it,” Pete told him. “And we’ve got to get there before seven. Think we can make it?”
Anderson grinned, “We may mash a couple of cream-cakes on the way, but we’ll make it,” he promised.
The Investigators, Jeff, and Anderson hurried out to the van. Pete and Jeff got into the back, sat on the floor and, braced themselves against the trays of baked goods.
Jupiter sat on the floor in front, next to the single seat provided for the driver. Henry Anderson slammed the door shut, revved his engine as if he were at the starting line in a Grand Prix race, and they were off. It took Anderson only ten minutes to get to the Hollywood Freeway, where he immediately pushed his van up to the legal speed limit.
“Can’t we go any faster?” cried Pete from the rear. “It’s five-past six!”
“If I go over the speed limit or change lanes too much the Highway Patrol will pull us over,” Anderson yelled back. “Take it easy. We’ll make it!”
It was only six twenty-five when the van turned off on to the Harbour Freeway towards the warehouse in San Pedro. Almost immediately, Anderson had to slow down.
“What is it?” demanded Pete
“Traffic, that’s all,” said Anderson. “It’s okay. It’s moving. Lucky it’s Saturday or we could be jammed in here solid.”
Pete sweated and fumed in the back. Henry Anderson kept assuring him that all would be well, but Jupe noticed that Anderson was beginning to be a bit worried.
Then Traffic thinned out and the van picked up speed again. It raced along the fast lane, next to the centre divider of the freeway. As they neared the coast, the late sunlight faded.
“We’ll hit fog,” said Anderson. “The harbour’s going to be fogged in.”
“We’ll manage,” Jupe assured him. “We’ve worked in fog before.”
“We’re almost there.” Anderson eased his van over and went down the ramp on to Ocean Avenue.
At the first intersection on Ocean Avenue, Anderson stopped the van. “Want me to blow my horn?”
“No. Bob started from Hollywood, so he had a good lead on us. He’s here somewhere. Let him find us.”
“It’s ten minutes to seven!” yelled Pete.
“Which means we have ten whole minutes,” Jupe replied.
A slim figure darted out of a doorway across the street. “That your friend?” asked Anderson, pointing.
Jupe stood up. “It’s Bob.” He waved. Bob waved back, then raced across the street and climbed into the truck.
“Sorry I lost Santora,” he said, and he smiled back at Jeff Parkinson. “You scared the pants off everybody.”
“Especially me,” said Jeff. “I have never been so scared in my entire life!”
“We can talk about it later,” said Jupiter Jones sharply. “Drive on down Ocean Avenue,” he told Anderson. “Drive slowly, as if you were waiting for someone to come out and buy bread from you.”
Anderson did as he was told. “Actually, we do have a van that covers the San Pedro area,” he told the boys. “The driver works an early shift. He sells a lot of stuff to the men who work on the docks and in the transport places around here. What are we looking for?”
“An abandoned warehouse which used to be run by a firm called the Peckham Storage Company. There will be a sign at the front with the name of the firm on it.
When we get to it, can you pretend that the van is stalled and you can’t get it started again?”
“Easy,” said Anderson.
They cruised along a boulevard that was almost entirely deserted. The