The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance

by Mark Zahn

  The Three Investigators in

  The Mystery of the

  Hichcocke

  Inheritance

  By Mark Zahn

  Based on characters created by Robert Arthur

  Copyright 2013 Mark Zahn

  Published by Mark Zahn at Smashwords

  This eBook originally appeared at:

  www.threeinvestigatorsbooks.com

  Thanks and appreciation to Seth T. Smolinske for giving this story a home, to Amy Goodwin for the Smashwords translation, and to Elizabeth Arthur and Steven Bauer for their diligence and encouragement in keeping this series alive.

  Text © 2014 by Mark Zahn • 3rd Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. For copyright reasons, please be aware that the spelling of ‘Alphred Hichocke’ was intentional, and that his character in this book should also be interpreted as fictitious.

  The Three Investigators, and all original books 1-10 iconography, are trademarks owned and copyrighted by Elizabeth Arthur and Robert Andrew Arthur, 2014, and are used in this text with their express permission.

  The following e-book is for entertainment purposes only.

  Table of Contents

  Introduction by Reginald Clarke

  Goodbye To A Friend

  A Challenge From The Grave

  Skip The H2O

  London Calling

  Where’s The Crate?

  Trapped!

  Hidden Treasures

  S.O.S.

  Clocks and More Clocks

  The Opened Letter

  The Single Footprint

  Jupiter Has A Plan

  Front Page News

  Race To The Embassy

  The Ghost Strikes Again

  Bob Makes An Accusation

  Nobody Move

  The Ghost of Molly Thibidoux

  Mr.Clarke Asks Some Questions

  About The Author

  Look For These Exciting Works From Mark Zahn

  Introduction by Reginald Clarke

  GREETINGS, FANS OF The Three Investigators! Today you are in for a rare treat – for what you hold in your hands is a “lost case” of our adroit young detectives! As you know, many the world over were saddened by the death of the great motion picture director and mentor of The Three Investigators, Alphred Hichcocke. The boys felt like they had lost a close friend at his passing, and indeed they had. So, when the opportunity arose to solve a mystery involving his last will and testament, they jumped at it!

  If you are not at all familiar with Jupiter, Pete and Bob, then let this serve as an introduction for you. If, however, you have already made their acquaintance, feel free to skip ahead to chapter one and commence with the main feature.

  As I had learned from my old friend Hitch, any introduction of The Three Investigators must begin with the slightly overweight Jupiter Jones. Known as Jupe to his friends, the First Investigator is logical of mind, courageous of heart, and positively stubborn when it comes to solving a riddle. The Second Investigator is Pete Crenshaw, whose muscular build and athletic aptitude prove essential to the firm’s success time and again. And no successful sleuthing agency could stay solvent without a thorough and organized Records and Research department. That’s where Bob Andrews comes in. Bob is quick on his feet and quick with the facts. His meticulous notation allows all of us to enjoy the adventures of the young detective team.

  The boys reside in the coastal town of Rocky Beach, California, which itself is nestled between the rolling hills of Santa Monica and the glittering lights of Hollywood. Their headquarters consists of a damaged thirty-foot mobile home trailer, which they have buried deep within the bowels of the mighty junk kingdom known as The Jones Salvage Yard – owned and operated by Jupe’s aunt and uncle: Titus and Mathilda Jones.

  Their motto is “We Investigate Anything,” and this case most certainly proves it to be true. And now, enough with the introductions. In the words of my old friend Alphred Hichcocke: Lights! Camera! Action!

  *

  REGINALD CLARK

  Goodbye To A Friend

  “I STILL CAN’T believe it,” said Pete Crenshaw. The tall boy sat on an orange crate in Jupiter Jones’s workshop, located in a corner of The Jones Salvage Yard. “I didn’t think I could ever feel this sad.”

  Bob Andrews sighed and kicked at a pebble. “It’s hard to believe Mr. Hichcocke is gone,” he said. “I know we just came back from his funeral, but it still hasn’t really sunk in yet.”

  Jupiter was seated atop an old printing press that he had rebuilt from spare parts a long time ago. “That’s a common feeling for people who have lost a loved one, Records,” he said, loosening his necktie. “We’ll just have to get along as best we can, although I’m not sure what this means for the future of The Three Investigators.”

  Pete rubbed his chin and stared off into space. Earlier that morning he, Jupe, and Bob had left Rocky Beach with Jupiter’s Uncle Titus and Aunt Mathilda to drive to Hollywood so they could attend a memorial service for their old friend, Alphred Hichcocke, the famous motion picture director. They had known Mr. Hichcocke since their very first case, The Secret of Terror Castle, and the great director had introduced every case of theirs right up to their last one. Now their mentor was gone and the boys felt despondent.

  “Jupe,” said Pete, “what’ll we do without Mr. Hichcocke to introduce our cases?”

  “I don’t know, Second,” the stocky boy replied. “Right now I’m not sure I could solve a mystery if I tried.”

  The other boys nodded in agreement. It had been hard to think clearly ever since they had heard the news. None of them had ever known anyone close to them that had died. Although Jupiter was an orphan who was adopted by his aunt and uncle, he was much too young when his parents died to remember them very clearly.

  Hans and Konrad, the two Bavarian brothers who helped out at the salvage yard, appeared at the entrance of the workshop. They twisted their hats in their hands and shuffled their feet. Hans cleared his throat. “Jupe, Pete, Bob. Konrad and I want to say we feel much sorrow for Mr. Hichcocke. “

  “Yah,” said Konrad sincerely, “anything we will do for you if you need it.”

  “Thanks Hans, thanks Konrad,” Jupiter said quietly. “We appreciate it.”

  “Hokay,” said Hans. “Anything you need, you just give holler.” With that the two blond brothers walked sadly away, their heads hung low.

  ***

  Several days later the boys were still feeling very dejected. To help take their minds off the loss of their friend, they had actually volunteered to help Uncle Titus, Hans, and Konrad replace some galvanized sheet metal that ran around the inside perimeter of the salvage yard’s tall fence. The sheet metal served as a roof that protected the yard’s better merchandise from exposure to the sun and rain.

  They were just going back to the front gates to get the last piece of sheet metal when Bob noticed a blinking red light bulb in Jupiter’s workshop. “The phone’s ringing in headquarters!” he said. “Maybe it’s a case!”

  The three boys forgot about the last piece of roofing and scrambled for the battered trailer.

  “Let’s take Door Four since we’re on the far side of headquarters,” said Jupiter.

  Door Four was one of the many secret entrances the boys used to get in and out of the hidden trailer. Emergency One, Tunnel Two, and Easy Three were the others. The boys ran through a complex maze of junk and entered headquarters through a side panel. Jupiter snatched up the phone.
/>
  “Three Investigators,” he said breathlessly, “Jupiter Jones speaking.”

  “Good day, young Jones. My name is Reginald Clark,” said a voice that was very deep and commanding. “I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.”

  Jupiter quickly switched on the loudspeaker he had rigged up for the telephone, which consisted of an old radio and microphone. Now all three boys could hear the conversation at once.

  “Reginald Clark, the movie producer?” he asked in surprise.

  “The same,” confirmed Mr. Clark. “I realize we have never met, but I was a good friend of Alphred Hichcocke – you know we worked on several pictures together. I would like to extend to you my sincere condolences.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Jupiter. “That’s very kind of you.”

  The deep baritone voice of Reginald Clark paused for a moment and then continued. “There is a second reason for my call, that is if The Three Investigators are still in operation.”

  “Yes, we are,” stated Jupiter. “What can we do for you?”

  “The matter is a delicate one,” said Reginald Clark. “It would probably be best if we did not discuss it over the phone. Can you be at my office at World Studios at nine o’clock tomorrow morning?”

  Jupiter looked at Bob and Pete, who both nodded in agreement. “We’ll be there, Mr. Clark. Nine o’clock sharp!”

  “Very good,” boomed the producer. “Goodbye for now.”

  “Goodbye, sir,” said Jupiter. He hung up the phone and looked at Bob and Pete. “I wonder what Mr. Clark wants to see us about?”

  “World Studios,” said Pete, picking up a small marble bust of Alphred Hichcocke that held a place of honor on top of their file cabinet. “Do you suppose it has to do with Mr. Hichcocke?”

  “I guess we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out,” said Bob. “In the meantime, I better get to my job at the library. I’m almost late and Miss Bennett said half the books in the library need to be shelved! I’ll meet you guys at the front gate tomorrow morning.”

  “So long, Bob,” said Jupiter and Pete as their chum disappeared down Tunnel Two.

  “Come on, Pete,” Jupiter sighed. “Let’s get back to work. Uncle Titus is probably in fits wondering where we’ve disappeared to”

  Pete solemnly returned the bust to the file cabinet and clicked off the light as he left.

  A Challenge From The Grave

  EARLY THE NEXT morning, the boys stood waiting outside the large iron gates of The Jones Salvage Yard. Each of them had been careful to scrub up extra clean and to wear their best clothes, just as they did any other time they had visited World Studios to see Alphred Hichcocke.

  “Here comes Worthington,” said Jupiter.

  Worthington was the perfect English chauffeur that accompanied the gleaming, gold-plated Rolls Royce that Jupiter had won in a contest some time before. Through the generosity of a client named August August, the boys had been granted unlimited use of the magnificent car for as long as they’d like. It made a grand impression whenever they visited World Studios to ask Mr. Hichcocke to introduce a case. Worthington turned around in the driver’s seat as the boys climbed in.

  “Good morning, sirs,” he said. “I feared that the transportation I provided to Mr. Hichcocke’s memorial would be my last assignment for you. I’m very pleased to see that that is not the case.”

  “Not a chance, Worthington,” said Pete. “As a matter of fact, we’re going to World Studios to meet with another motion picture producer.”

  “Very good, Master Crenshaw,” smiled Worthington. “To World Studios it is!”

  A short time later, the fantastic black car purred through the gates of the huge studio. Ernie, the guard at the gate, knew the car by sight and waved them through with a friendly smile. Worthington drove the car up to a bungalow that had: R. CLARK painted on a sign in neat letters.

  The boys climbed out and Jupiter rapped on the door before entering. Sitting at the receptionist’s desk was Henrietta Larson, the personal secretary for Mr. Hichcocke before he died. The boys all remembered the trouble they had to go through to get past “Bossy Henrietta” when they first tried to meet Mr. Hichcocke. Now it appeared she would be serving as the secretary for Mr. Clark.

  “Good morning, Henrietta,” said Jupiter. “Is Mr. Clark in? We have an appointment to meet with him at nine o’clock.”

  Henrietta was unpacking some things from a small cardboard box. Jupiter could see she had obviously just moved her personal items from her old desk in Mr. Hichcocke’s bungalow. The thought of it left her clearly distressed, as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  “Yes, of course,” she sniffed. “You can go right in.”

  The boys felt very bad for her. They turned silently and walked to the door.

  “Jupiter, Peter, Robert...” she said.

  The three boys turned to look at her.

  “It’s good to see you again.”

  They smiled at her kindness. “It’s good to see you too, Henrietta,” said Bob. “We’re glad that you’re working for Mr. Clark now.”

  They entered the large office where Reginald Clark, the famous motion picture producer, sat behind a mammoth mahogany desk. He was on the telephone, so the boys sat themselves quietly and waited for him to finish. After a moment he hung up the phone and turned to face them.

  “Good morning, lads. Thank you for meeting with me.”

  “It’s our pleasure, Mr. Clark,” said Jupiter. “What can The Three Investigators do for you?”

  “Mmmm,” the big man rumbled, “it’s not exactly what you can do for me,” he said. “It’s more like what you can do for Alphred Hichcocke.”

  The boys looked at him with quizzical expressions and Mr. Clark chuckled. “It’s not as confusing as you might think – at least not yet!” he said. “It’s actually Mr. Hichcocke’s family that is in need of assistance.”

  “Anything we can do to assist, our services are at their disposal,” said Jupiter. “It’s the least we can do.”

  The producer looked at them gravely through bridged fingers and nodded. “I was hoping you would say that,” he said finally. “It was a sad day when my great friend Alphred Hichcocke died, but it is he who has had the last laugh – from beyond the grave!”

  “Gleeps!” said Pete. “I don’t like the sound of that!”

  Mr. Clark chuckled again. “You must be Pete,” he said. “Although this is the first time we’ve met, I feel like I know you already. Hitch spoke of you often and was constantly relating to me the adventures you brought to his desk. Well, now I have one final adventure from him, if you think you have the courage to accept it!”

  “If it involves Mr. Hichcocke, we’ll accept it,” said Jupiter stoically. “We owe him that much!”

  “Excellent,” said Reginald Clark. “And now here is the mystery. Upon Hitch’s death, he had written up a last will and testament that left his family, namely his only daughter Patricia, very well off. To Hitch, family always came first, and now they will never need for anything again.

  “However, Hitch was also a prankster who liked to have fun. Some of that, I think, came from his relationship he shared with you three boys. He loved a good mystery. And the more mysterious the better, I might add! Well, perhaps it was the practical joker in him that led Hitch to add this tiny little paragraph to the last page of his will.”

  Mr. Clark pushed a stack of paper across his desk and the boys crowded close to examine them. It was photocopies of Alphred Hichcocke’s last will and testament. Mr. Clark went on talking as the boys looked the legal document over.

  “This was provided to me by Hitch’s daughter, Patricia. She can make neither heads nor tails of it, and she asked me if I knew how to get in touch with the three young lads that knew her father and liked solving puzzles. Well, here you are, and here is the will. What do you think?”

  Jupiter scratched his head and looked somewhat perplexed. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said slowly. “I’m not exac
tly sure what we’re supposed to be perusing. It appears to be legal jargon that lawyers use.”

  Reginald Clark smiled and leaned across his desk. The producer pointed a finger to a very short paragraph near the bottom of the will that they hadn’t caught the first time. It read:

  ***

  “Article 33: Skip the H20 and within my estate you’ll find the Crate that leads you to the paddy wagon. Follow the clues and pay your dues and the 2nd of 55 will reward you.”

  ***

  ***

  “Good grief!” exclaimed Bob. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Jupiter’s eyes lit up as he read the cryptic message. “It’s almost as if he left this just for us!” he cried. “Would you mind if we copied this down, Mr. Clark?”

  “I don’t mind at all,” said the producer with a gleam in his eye. “I have a feeling you’ll be referring to it quite often in the near future.”

  Bob quickly pulled a small notebook and pencil from his back pocket and began copying down the strange message.

  Jupiter was almost beside himself with excitement. “We can start right away! We obviously have to go to Mr. Hichcocke’s estate, as the first sentence directs us. Do you know where Mr. Hichcocke’s private home was, Mr. Clark?”

  “I do,” the motion picture producer said. “In fact, I’ve already provided Worthington with the directions, and Hitch’s daughter, Patricia, is expecting you at nine-thirty.”

  “Golly, that’s in fifteen minutes,” said Pete. “We’d better get hustling!” With that the boys thanked the great producer and hurried out of his office.

  Reginald Clark could only smile. He had a feeling The Three Investigators would live up to their reputation.