CHAPTER 10 : A Bad Slip
“JUPITER!” Mathilda Jones’s voice rang out in the
California sunshine.“Stack those iron rods against the
fence. Peter! Help Jupiter carry the rods. And you,
Bob, are you getting a tally of everything?”
It was a busy day at The Jones Salvage Yard.
Sitting on an overturned bath-tub, busy tallying
everything, Bob Andrews wondered if they ever would
be able to get into Headquarters for a meeting. It was
two days since Jupiter and Pete had interviewed The
Whisperer, and they hadn’t been able to have a
meeting yet. Mrs. Jones had just been running them
ragged. And when she wasn’t keeping them busy, he
had his own work at the library and Pete had chores
to do at home.
Mr. Jones had been off on a buying spree, so there
was an endless supply of new material coming into the
yard. At this rate a week might go by before they
could have any peace in which to sit down and puzzle
over the mystifying questions with which they were
confronted.
A break came about noon when Mrs. Jones looked
up and saw the salvage yard’s main truck turning in
through the gates again. Jupiter’s uncle, Titus Jones, a
small man with a large nose and a huge black
moustache, was sitting like a king on top of the load
in a magnificent old carved wooden chair. When Mr.
Jones was on a buying trip, he bought anything that
took his fancy. Mrs. Jones gave a little shriek as the
truck stopped.“Heavens above!” she cried.“Titus
Andronicus Jones, what have you bought this time to
take us one step closer to the poor-house?”
Mr. Jones waved down to them with his pipe. His
other hand was holding on to a big fan-shaped bunch
of metal tubes. It was a small pipe organ, about eight
feet high.
“I’ve bought a pipe organ. Mathilda,” Mr. Jones
called out. He had a very deep voice.“I’m going to
learn to play it. Come on, Hans ... Konrad, we have
to get this valuable musical relic safely deposited on
the ground.”
Mr. Jones got down. Hans followed him, and
Konrad slid the pipes of the organ on to the iron
loading elevator at the back of the truck. Once it was
in place, Hans worked the control and the whole thing
eased to the ground.
“A pipe organ!” Mathilda Jones was so
flabbergasted she forgot to order the boys to keep
working.“Now in the name of goodness and mercy
and sweetness and light, what are you going to do
with a pipe organ?”
Mr. Jones took a puff on his pipe.“Learn to play it,
my dear,” he said.“After all, I played a calliope in a
circus once..”
With Mr. Jones bossing, Hans and Konrad got the
rest of the parts of the pipe organ off the truck. The
two brothers were Bavarians―each about six feet
four inches tall and very blond. They could lift almost
anything.
Mr. Jones decided to set the pipe organ up by the
fence nearest to his house. Hans and Konrad hauled
and heaved and carried, and eventually all the pieces
of the pipe organ were grouped together, waiting to be
assembled.
“That’s a real pipe organ, the kind operated by air
blown into the pipes,” Mr. Jones proudly told the
boys.“I found this choice item in a small theatre
being torn down over towards Los Angeles.”
“Heavens to Betsy above.” Mrs. Jones sighed.“I’m
certainly glad we’re far from the nearest neighbours.”
“Now you take a really big pipe organ,” Mr. Jones
said,“one built for a large auditorium. It is possible to
install pipes in such a pipe organ so large, of such a
length and diameter, if you follow me, that they will
emit sounds too deep to be heard by the human ear.”
“If you can’t hear them, can you call them sounds,
Uncle Titus?” Jupiter asked.
“Someone can hear them―perhaps elephants. They
have very large ears,” Mr. Jones said with a chuckle.
“What good would a pipe organ be, giving out
sounds you couldn’t hear?” Pete asked.“I mean,
hardly any elephants go to listen to pipe organs play.”
“I don’t know, my boy, I don’t know,” Titus Jones
said.“I imagine science could find some use for them
if science really tried.”
“After all,” Bob put in,“for dogs they have
whistles we can’t hear. They blow such a high note.”
“Exactly, my boy,” Mr. Jones said.“Possibly a
circus could make whistles for elephants which would
be just the opposite of the dog whistles. Low notes
instead of high notes.”
“Subsonic,” Jupiter put in.“Sounds, or rather
vibrations too low to hear would be subsonic, or
below sound. Sounds too high for a human to hear are
ultrasonic.”
They were all so interested in the pipe organ that
no one noticed the blue sports car which came
whizzing in the gate and skidded to a stop behind
them. The driver―a tall, thin youth with a long nose
—gave the horn a loud blare. All three boys jumped
slightly as they turned. This was greeted by loud
laughter from the driver and the two companions
beside him.
“Skinny Norris!” Pete exclaimed, as he watched
the tall youth slide out of the car.
“What does he want here?” Bob demanded.
The Norris family spent only part of each year in
Rocky Beach, but as far as Pete and Bob and Jupiter
were concerned, that part was still too much. Being
very much impressed by his own intelligence and
having the advantage of driving his own car, E.
Skinner Norris tried hard to make himself the leader
of those his own age. Most of the boys and girls in
town ignored him. But he managed to collect a few
cronies, who were attracted by his liberal spending
and the parties he gave. These followers were enough
to bolster his sense of self-importance.
Now, carrying a shoe-box with a lid, he approached
The Three Investigators while his friends watched,
snickering. Just before he reached them, he whipped
from his hip pocket a large magnifying glass and
pretended to study the junk yard through it. Mr. Jones
and his helpers had moved off with the pieces of the
pipe organ by the time he spoke.
“Ah, yes,” he said, in a very poor imitation of an
English accent.“The right spot, I believe.
Characterised by a low grade of junk found only in
Jones’s junk yard.”
This humorous effort was greeted by laughter from
the car. Pete clenched his fists.
“What do you want, Skinny?” he demanded.
E. Skinner Norris acted as if he had not heard. He
turned the magnifying glass so as to seem to study
Jupiter through it, then put it back in his pocket.
“Indeed, you can be none other than Jupiter
MacSherlock, the world-famous detective,” he said,
continuing his effort to sound English.“This is a
fortunate moment for me. I have brought you a case
that has baffled all of Scotland Yard. A despicable
slaying of an innocent victim, which I am sure you
will be able to solve.”
Even as he handed the shoe-box to Jupiter, all three
boys felt sure they knew what was in it. Their sense of
smell gave them advance information. Nevertheless,
Jupiter opened the box and looked in at the contents,
while Skinny Norris waited with a broad smile.
Inside the box was a large white rat from which life
had long since departed.
“Do you think you can solve this horrid crime,
MacSherlock?” E. Skinner Norris asked.“I am
offering a sizeable reward for the capture of the
culprit. Fifty trading stamps.”
His companions in the car seemed to find this
hilarious. Jupiter, however, did not change expression.
He merely nodded in a slow and dignified manner.
“I can understand your desire to see justice done,
Skinny,” he said,“for I see that the victim was one of
your best friends.”
At this the laughter in the car stopped, and a flush
began to spread over the thin boy’s cheeks.
“My preliminary examination,” Jupiter went on,
“suggests that he died of indigestion brought on by
trying to swallow the bragging of someone whose
identity, at the moment, must remain concealed
behind the initials E.S.N.”
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Skinny
Norris demanded angrily. It was his misfortune that
his glibness usually deserted him just when he needed
it most.
“Which reminds me that I have something for
you,” Jupiter said, putting the box on a pile of scrap.
It was only a step or two to the office of the salvage
yard. Jupe swiftly covered the distance and returned
with the torch he and Pete had picked up in Black
Canyon.
“This has the initials E.S.N. on it,” he said.
“Possibly they stand for E. Skinner Norris?”
“Or they could stand for Exceptionally Scared and
Nervous,” Pete suggested, grinning.“Been practising
your running lately, Skinny?”
“Give me that!” Skinny Norris snapped, and
grabbed it from Jupiter. He turned and got back into
his car.
“Investigators!” he jeered at the three boys.“What
a laugh. Every kid in town will be in stitches at the
idea.”
The car wheels spun as he backed away and raced
out of the gate. Jupiter, Pete and Bob watched him
go.
“I knew he picked up that card in the library,” Bob
said.“He knows all about us forming The Three
Investigators.”
“We want everybody to know,” Jupiter said.“This
just makes it more important that we do not fail on
our first case.”
He looked round. His uncle and Hans and Konrad
were over by the wall, working on the pipe organ. His
aunt had gone back to the house to prepare lunch.
“We are unobserved at the moment,” he said.“If
we hurry, we can hold a quick meeting before Aunt
Mathilda announces lunch.”
He led the way towards Tunnel Two.
And then it happened.
Absorbed in his plans, Jupiter stepped on a piece of
pipe that rolled underneath his foot. He fell heavily to
the ground. As he struggled to sit up, Bob and Pete
could see him gritting his teeth.
“I’ve twisted my ankle,” he said. And when he
pulled up his trouser leg to investigate, they could see
that his ankle was already swelling.“I’m afraid,”
Jupiter said reluctantly,“that I shall need medical
attention.”
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