The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance

by Mark Zahn

  “No time to explain,” the cherub-faced Investigator panted, “we have to find a delegate to the United States who can help us!”

  The boys looked around the great marble hall of the embassy. Finally Ben let out a cry. “There! Over in the far corner!” Jupiter followed Ben’s gaze to a sign that said ‘International Affairs.’ The two boys hurried over to the office and went in.

  Once inside the office of International Affairs, they were greeted by a serious looking man in a sharp suit and tie sitting behind a desk. His name-tag read Agent R. Arthur - U.S.A./U.N. He looked at the boys as if they were a couple of pranksters.

  “Can I help you boys?” he asked suspiciously.

  Jupiter drew himself up to his full height and jutted out his chin. In a clear and concise voice that made him appear older than he really was, he addressed Agent R. Arthur. Ben looked on in wonder at Jupiter’s performance.

  “I certainly hope you can be of assistance,” Jupe stated firmly. “I need to get in contact with a delegate from the country of Varania. It is a matter of upmost urgency!”

  The well-dressed man raised his eyebrows. “Varania? I’ve never heard of it. Are you sure you don’t mean Bavaria?”

  “Quite sure,” Jupiter said stiffly.

  Agent R. Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, kid. If you say so.” He thumbed through a thick index and scanned the pages. After a tense moment, he finally grunted. “I’ll be darned,” he said, “there really is a Varania. Must be a small country!”

  The agent picked up one of three telephones at his desk and spoke briefly into it. After a long pause he finally hung up. “All right, kid. A delegate from Varania will be down in the lobby in about ten minutes. But this better not be some kind of game!”

  “I assure you it is not a game,” said Jupiter solemnly. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

  The boys left the office of International Affairs and sat on a bench to wait. When ten minutes had passed, they were approached by a dark-skinned man in an impeccable brown suit. On his lapel he wore a pin of the Varanian flag and an emblem of a silver spider.

  He bowed to the boys as a greeting and then said in a thick Varanian accent, “My name is Duke Antony. You are the boys who wish to meet with a delegate from Varania?”

  Jupiter and Ben bowed in return, and then Jupe cleared his throat. “I seek the aid of Prince Djaro of Varania on a matter of the upmost importance!”

  Jupiter was referring to the crown Prince of Varania, whom The Three Investigators had befriended in the Mystery of the Silver Spider many months before. That was a case in which they had helped recover the royal emblem of the country that had been stolen – the necklace of a silver spider – and aided Prince Djaro in thwarting a sinister plot to overthrow the throne.

  Duke Antony smiled warmly, but shook his head. “I’m afraid I cannot simply call up the Prince and say two boys would like to play James Bond,” he said patiently. “No, no, no. That would not do. And now I bid you good day.” The delegate of Varania turned to leave, but Jupiter wasn’t finished.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he said importantly, “but if you would be kind enough to tell the Prince that it is Jupiter Jones calling – one of the three American boys who helped find the Silver Spider, and who rung the honored bell of Prince Paul several months ago – I am positive that he would want to speak with me.”

  The dark-skinned man hesitated, and then turned around, looking uncertain.

  “You are the American boys who aided Prince Djaro in saving the kingdom?” he asked skeptically.

  “I’m one of them,” replied Jupiter. “How else would I know that the bell was rung to summon aid for the Prince? The whole matter was not made public as a matter of national policy.”

  Duke Antony narrowed his eyes at Jupiter and bit his lip. It was obvious he did not want to displease the Prince. Finally he nodded his head. “Follow me,” he said briskly. “I will put you through a direct line to the palace.”

  Ben grinned at Jupe. The chubby boy could sure sound important when he wanted to!

  They followed the delegate of Varania up a long flight of stairs and into a small, cramped office located at the far end of the embassy. There was not enough space in the tiny room for three people, so Ben waited in the hall while Duke Antony placed the call for Jupiter.

  Inside the office, Jupe noticed official looking folders piled high on top of outdated filing cabinets. Maps covered the walls, and a large flag with a spider on it hung above the door. Amid the clutter on the Duke’s desk were two telephones. One black, the other red. The delegate picked up the red phone and pushed the single button on the front of it. After a short pause, Duke Antony spoke into the phone, and then handed it over to Jupiter.

  While Ben waited for Jupiter to make his call, he amused himself by trying to identify all the different flags of the countries that were represented at the American Embassy – each hanging from the railing of the second floor balcony.

  After nearly thirty minutes, Jupiter stepped out of the office. He had a big smile on his face. Duke Antony stepped out after him, holding Jupe’s manila envelope with the pictures inside. He locked the office door and then turned to Jupe.

  “I will process these photos immediately,” he said respectfully. “And might I add my most sincere apologies for rudeness to an honorary member of the Order of the Silver Spider.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Jupiter replied. “How long until we find something out about those photographs?”

  Duke Antony thought for a moment. “I would estimate the process to take approximately two, possibly three hours. Is that acceptable?”

  “Quite acceptable,” said Jupiter.

  “Then you will be pleased to follow me,” the Duke said, leading them back downstairs. When they reached an office door with the word INTERPOL stenciled on it, the Duke instructed them to wait outside.

  “Two or three hours,” he promised, and entered into the room. Jupiter and Ben sat on a bench and prepared themselves for the long wait.

  “What’s going on?” Ben demanded. “What’s ‘Interpol’? And how in blue blazes do you know the crown Prince of Varania?”

  Jupiter explained to Ben how The Three Investigators had met Prince Djaro in California and all the exciting events that had followed. “When I called the Prince just now, I asked him if he could have Duke Antony process the photos through the American Embassy’s Interpol office.”

  “But what’s Interpol?” asked Ben.

  Jupiter took a deep breath. “Interpol stands for ‘International Criminal Police Organization.’ It was originally founded in Austria in 1923, but later moved to France. Most every country participates – it’s like an international cooperation between police forces. I took those pictures of the Fitchhorns and Jebediah on purpose – so I could run them through the Interpol database and see if they are wanted felons.”

  “Amazing!” said Ben in wonder.

  “Now all we have to do is wait,” sighed Jupiter. “And hope the treasure is still there when we get back!”

  The Ghost Strikes Again!

  PETE DROPPED THE log he was about to toss into the fireplace when a horrifying scream shattered the silence of the old stone house.

  “That sounded like Julia!” cried Patricia.

  “Come on,” said Pete, dashing out the door. He raced through the long hallways and burst into the kitchen, his heart beating fast. The Second Investigator looked around the room, expecting to see another ghostly apparition. What he found instead was Julia Abernathy in a dead faint on the kitchen floor.

  “Jumping catfish!” he cried, rushing to the maid’s side.

  Patricia hurried into the kitchen and put her hand up to her mouth in shock. “Is she okay?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I think so,” said Pete. “I think she’s fainted.” Pete elevated the maid’s legs on a nearby stepping stool and gently massaged her wrists. The plump maid moaned and her eyes fluttered.

  Bob entered the room and gaped in s
urprise at the sight of the maid sprawled on the floor. “What happened?” he cried in wide-eyed astonishment. “I heard a scream.”

  Patricia shook her head. “I don’t know, something must have given her a fright – she’s fainted! Just...out cold!” Bob could see Patricia was trying to keep from trembling. She was obviously quite upset by this recent turn of events.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. O’Connell?” he said soothingly. “I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

  “Thank you, Bob,” she said gratefully, sitting down at the kitchen table.

  Now Timothy and Stella Fitchhorn barreled into the kitchen, followed closely by Jebediah O’Connell, who was dripping wet.

  “We heard a scream,” Mr. Fitchhorn barked. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

  “Why, Julia’s taken a spill!” exclaimed Jebediah, his eyes going wide. The man with the thick mustache limped to her side. “Are ye okay, m’lady? Are ye hurt?”

  Pete was just helping her sit up. The maid blinked a couple of times, as if she were dazed.

  “My goodness,” Julia Abernathy said, “what in heaven’s name am I doing on the floor?”

  “You fainted, Julia,” Patricia explained. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

  “I’ve got a bump on the back of my head, but ‘tis nothing serious, madam.” The maid circled the bump with her fingers for a moment. Suddenly, fear washed over her face and she brought herself to her feet.

  “I remember now,” she gasped, pointing to the cellar door with a shaking finger. “There,” she intoned gravely, “I saw the ghost of Molly Thibidoux on the other side of that door... just as plain as day, I did! I was about to go down for a jar of pickles when I opened the door and there at the bottom of the steps she was – just a-glowin’!”

  Bob and Pete looked at each other and then looked at Patricia, who could only sit helplessly.

  “I warned ye of the ghost!” cried Jebediah, brandishing his cane like a wild-man. “I warned ye but ye wouldn’t listen to old Jeb! Called me crazy you did! Now poor Miss Julia has been frightened half out of her wits!”

  The limping groundskeeper suddenly turned to the Fitchhorns and sneered in a menacing voice. “If I find out ye had a hand in this, I’ll club ye over the head with my cane ye no good tyrant!”

  “Jebediah!” Patricia cried in dismay.

  “Shocking!” shrieked Stella. “Absolutely shocking that family would be treated this way!”

  “Now see here, bub...” growled Timothy Fitchhorn, stepping close to Cousin Jeb. “You just watch it, you old scoundrel. I’ve had about all I’m going to take from you for one night!”

  Jebediah O’Connell began rolling up his shirtsleeves, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps we should be settling this like men,” he threatened.

  Bob and Pete looked on in fascination as Timothy Fitchhorn wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “You don’t scare me, you...you blustering Scotsman!”

  “That is quite enough!” Everyone jumped when a stern voice shouted from the kitchen doorway. “There will be no fighting in this house!”

  “Winston!” Julia sobbed, rushing to her fiancé. “The ghost – it ‘twas here! I saw her with me own eyes down the cellar steps! She was wearing an old dress and she held a noose up for me to see and her face was a-glowin’ just like death itself!”

  As the butler embraced the distraught woman, Bob observed that Winston was also quite wet from the rain. Probably due to the butler having to cross over from the servant’s cottage to the house, the small Investigator guessed.

  Lightning and thunder cracked outside, making the lights flicker again. Julia cringed and buried her face in Winston’s shoulder. “There, there,” he said in a soothing voice, putting an arm around his fiancé’s shoulders. Winston spoke to his wife in a hushed voice. “You’ve had a scare, darling. Let me take you to the cottage so you can lie down. I’ll prepare an icepack for that bump on your head.”

  “Oh, thank you, dear,” Julia whimpered. “With your permission, I’ll leave dinner to you, m’lady,” said Julia to Patricia. “I’m afraid I shan’t be much of a cook tonight.”

  Patricia said “Of course,” in a tender voice. “I’ll take care of everything, Julia. You just go and rest for awhile.”

  As Winston helped Julia out of the room, Jebediah O’Connell gave one last glare to Timothy Fitchhorn and stormed out of the kitchen. Fitchhorn looked disdainfully at the boys, then pulled on the lapels of his overly tight sport coat and marched out of the room with his bird-like wife in tow.

  “I don’t know if I can take much more of this,” Patricia moaned, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t think I can live here another month until the house sells!”

  Pete looked at Bob and sighed. “Well, I guess this means we have to search the cellar for the ghost again. Come on.”

  Pete pulled Bob by the arm, but the smaller boy didn’t budge. “Hey,” said Pete, “what’s gotten into you, Records?”

  Bob was silent for a moment, as if he were lost in deep thought. Then he spoke softly. “I think we may be wrong about the Fitchhorns.”

  “What about the Fitchhorns?” asked Patricia. “What are you talking about, Bob?”

  Bob showed her the front page of the newspaper which he had been clutching in his hand the whole time. Patricia gasped when she saw the grainy photo of the Fitchhorns leaving the bank.

  “Criminals!” she said furiously. “Con-artists trying to get their hands on my father’s money. Well, they won’t get a cent. Not one!” She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Bob put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

  “What do you mean we might be wrong about the Fitchhorns?” Pete asked stubbornly, pointing to the newspaper. “It’s all right there in black and white!”

  But before Bob had a chance to explain, they all heard a slam at the front door. Moments later Jupiter and Ben hustled into the kitchen, sopping wet and with bare feet!

  “What happened!” cried Patricia in a worried voice. “Are you boys okay?”

  “We’re fine, Aunt Patty,” Ben grinned. “In fact, we’re better than fine! Jupiter has discovered who our ghost is!”

  Pete leaped up with a huge grin on his face. “But not before Bob and I discovered it!” he gloated with satisfaction. “Guess what we learned about the Fitchhorns!”

  “Wait a minute – don’t tell me!” said Jupe dramatically. He pulled on his bottom lip as if he were concentrating deeply. “Hold on...it’s…it’s coming to me! Wait...I’ve got it.” he cried. “Timothy and Stella Fitchhorn are a husband and wife con-artist team that have swindled people all over Europe!”

  Pete and Bob looked at each other in astonishment, their mouths hanging open.

  “How did you know?” cried Pete in amazement. Then understanding washed over his face. “You must have found another newspaper!”

  Jupiter grinned at the Second Investigator and patted him on the shoulder. “I assure you I did not find another newspaper, Pete,” he laughed, pulling a slightly damp envelope out from under his shirt. “And it wasn’t mindreading, either.”

  “That’s what we went to London for,” explained Ben. “Jupiter has got the key to the case right inside that envelope!”

  Bob Makes An Accusation

  “THE FITCHHORNS ARE the ghost?” cried Patricia, “or is it someone else?”

  Jupiter shook his head. “I don’t have any concrete evidence yet – but I think I can get it!”

  “How Jupe?” asked Pete.

  Jupiter grabbed an apple from a basket of fruit on the kitchen table and bit into it hungrily. He had a big smile on his face and he explained while he munched. “By having everyone in this house assemble in the library so we can unmask this ‘ghost’ once and for all!” he said dramatically.

  “Records, Second – go around the house and tell everyone to meet in the library in five minutes.”

  “At least let me know what happened to your shoes and socks,” demanded Patricia.

 
; “They were too muddy to wear inside, Aunt Patty,” answered Ben. “When Jupiter and I pulled up the drive, we saw someone by the light of my headlamps creeping around the garden. Of course we jumped out and gave chase – well, Jupiter will fill you in on the rest when we get to the library.”

  “Okay, Jupe,” she said, throwing up her hands. “Lead the way!”

  Within five minutes the entire household except for Julia had congregated in the musty library. Jupiter paced back and forth in front of the windows. He held the large envelope in one pudgy hand and the apple in the other, as the lights flickered in tune to the thunder outside.

  “Winston, be a dear and bring us some candles,” said Patricia. “In case the lights go out.”

  “Very good, madam,” he bowed. The tall butler left the room and soon returned with several candles. He placed them about the library and lit them with a box of matches.

  Patricia smiled, slightly embarrassed. “Thank you, Winston. I guess I don’t want to be left in the dark on a night like this.”

  “Of course, madam,” the butler agreed.

  Timothy Fitchhorn poured brandy into a crystal tumbler and pushed his hair back on his head. “Okay kid, this better be important,” he said impatiently. The fat man put his arm up on the mantle of the fireplace and drank deeply.

  “Yes,” agreed his wife, honking her nose into a lace handkerchief, “we’re missing our favorite television program!”

  “Aye,” said Jebediah, “someone should be with poor Julia. ‘Tis not right leaving her by her lonesome on a night like this.”

  “Actually,” said Jupiter, “she’s in the safest place of all.”

  Winston was lazily spinning the large globe in the corner. He suddenly looked up at Jupiter and glared. “What do you mean, young man?” he snapped. “I believe Jebediah is correct. Perhaps I should fetch my wife this instant”

  Jupiter stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the room. “I simply meant that she is safe in the servant’s cottage because the ‘ghost’ is in this very room as we speak!”