The Mystery of the Hichcocke Inheritance Page 2

  Skip The H2O

  WITH FIVE MINUTES to spare, Worthington drove the Rolls Royce up the brick-lined driveway of a simple, ranch-style home. Well groomed hedges surrounded the modest house, and leafy palm trees and rose bushes grew in the middle of the dainty circular drive.

  “Gosh, it’s sure not what I expected,” said Pete. “I had imagined Mr. Hichcocke living in something a little more spooky.”

  Jupiter agreed with him. “I’ll admit it isn’t what I had pictured a master of the macabre choosing for a domicile. I guess away from the studio he lived a normal life just like anyone else.”

  The Three Investigators climbed out of the car and were soon ringing the bell of Alphred Hichcocke’s old home. The door was answered immediately by a middle-aged woman who was still quite pretty, and, to the boy’s amazement, held an uncanny resemblance to the great director. She wore a simple flower-print dress and a string of pearls, and her bright blue eyes were made even brighter by her carefully styled red hair.

  “Miss Hichcocke, I presume?” said Jupiter.

  “It’s actually Mrs. O’Connell now,” she smiled warmly. “But you can call me Patricia. And you must be Jupiter, Pete and Bob. Father talked of you often – it is so nice to finally meet you. Won’t you please come in?”

  The boys thanked her and stepped into a dimly lit foyer so full of pictures they could scarcely see the walls. There were pictures of Alphred Hichcocke on the set of movies, pictures of his family, and of himself posing with stars. There was even a picture of Mr. Hichcocke as a young man shaking hands with Stephen Terrill, an actor from the silent era the boys had met when they discovered the secret of Terror Castle! Most of the framed photographs were signed with warm notes of thanks to the great director.

  “Father so loved the movies,” Patricia said fondly. “It was his whole life. He was never more alive than when he was scaring the wits out of people with one of his films.” She looked wistfully at the wall of pictures for a moment and then shook herself. “It’s been very hard on us since he passed. And now with this puzzle that he put in his will – well, no one has been able to think too clearly with all of the funeral arrangements. Frankly, I don’t know what father was trying to say. I do hope you boys can help.”

  “We’ll certainly try our best, ma’am,” Jupiter assured her. “If you don’t mind, we’d like to get started right away.”

  “By all means, boys,” she smiled at them. “Do you have a copy of the will?”

  Jupiter nodded. “Bob has written down the section we’ll be dealing with,” he said. “Let’s see what it says, Records.”

  Bob pulled his notebook out from his back pocket and flipped the pages to the cryptic message. They all read it carefully.

  ***

  “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.”

  ***

  “Jumping grasshoppers!” Pete exclaimed. “It seems crazier every time I read it!”

  “I think we can safely assume that Mr. Hichcocke was of sound mind at the time of his passing,” said Jupiter. “If it was the rambling of an insane man he would have just said it. But to take the trouble to have it drawn up in a will...Well, he obviously had some kind of game in mind.”

  “That would be just like father,” said Patricia. She sat down on the sofa and rubbed her forehead as if she had a headache. “This is exactly the kind of stunt I would have expected from him. He must be laughing in his grave to see the fuss we’re going to.”

  “Skip the H20,” Jupiter said to himself. “H20 is water, but I’m not sure how that fits. However, ‘within my estate you’ll find the crate’ seems clear enough. He means ‘in my house you’ll find a box.’ Although we’ll have to wait and see how a paddy wagon fits into the riddle.”

  “What’s a paddy wagon?” asked Pete.

  A voice with a distinctly British accent spoke up from the back of the room. “It’s an old slang term for an automobile with bars that the police used to carry prisoners in.”

  The boys turned to see a tall, black-haired boy of about seventeen years of age step into the room. Patricia rose from her seat and embraced the young man.

  “Benjamin!” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here. Boys, this is my nephew Benjamin Hichcocke. He’s come all the way over from England to attend his great uncle’s funeral.”

  “How do you do?” he said politely. “You can call me Ben. Now – what’s all this then?

  Jupiter stood up straight and looked his most dignified – as he always did when he wanted to be taken seriously.

  “We’ve been retained by your aunt to unravel a riddle your great uncle left in his will,” he explained.

  “Retained?” said Ben. “I’m not sure I gather your meaning.”

  Jupiter whipped out one of the oversized business cards that he had made on the refurbished printing press back at the salvage yard. The boys never went anywhere without them. It read:

  ***

  THE THREE INVESTIGATORS

  “We Investigate Anything”

  ? ? ?

  First Investigator.......................Jupiter Jones

  Second Investigator...............Peter Crenshaw

  Records & Research..................Bob Andrews

  ***

  Ben Hichcocke studied the card gravely, turning it over in his hands. “Might I inquire what the question marks represent?” he asked.

  Pete and Bob grinned at each other. Everyone always asked what the question marks stood for. It was an idea of Jupe’s to help people remember the name of The Three Investigators.

  “They stand for mysteries unsolved, enigmas unanswered, and conundrums of all kinds,” Jupiter Jones said, “which we attempt to solve. Therefore, the interrogation mark is our symbol. As you can see, our motto is ‘We Investigate Anything.’ At this moment we are investigating a very strange addendum to your great uncle’s will. Here it is...” He handed Bob’s notebook to Ben, who read it with a frown.

  “Great scott! What on earth does that mean?” he cried. “It looks like pure gibberish!”

  “Perhaps you can help us figure it out, Ben,” said Jupiter. “As I was saying before, the first line seems clear enough – other than the ‘Skip the H20’ part. There must be some kind of box or crate hidden here in the house or on the grounds. Possibly one that floats.”

  “Gee, Jupe,” said Bob, “that’s not very specific. How will we know it when we find it?”

  Jupe pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger – a habit of his that signaled he was putting his brain into overdrive. “My guess is that it will be a very distinct box, something that seems out of place with the rest of the house. Patricia, do you know of any boxes that might fit this part of the riddle?”

  “I’m sorry, Jupiter,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not sure what my father has laying around this house. Perhaps we’ll know it when we see it.”

  “I guess so,” he agreed. “At any rate, let’s split up and begin searching. Pete and Ben, you can look on this level. Bob and Patricia, you look downstairs. I’ll look outside and in the garage. If you spot anything that might look like the crate in question, bring it to the living room and put it on the coffee table. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

  The search party split up. They looked under pillows, behind pictures, in closets and cupboards. Bob and Patricia pulled books off of shelves and rummaged through desk drawers. Pete and Ben searched every inch of the main level, even looking up the fireplace and in the crawlspace that served as an attic.

  Finally an hour had passed and the group met back in the living room. Jupiter came in the sliding glass doors looking disheveled and dirty, and clearly annoyed that there were no boxes on the coffee table.

  “I looked all over the yard and in the garage,” he panted, collapsing on the sofa. “If there’s a box out there, it’s buried in the ground.” Jupiter wasn�
�t much for physical exertion. The pudgy boy preferred exercising his mind, rather than his body.

  “Creeps!” cried Pete. “You don’t think Mr. Hichcocke really buried treasure out in the yard, do you, First?”

  Jupiter held the notebook with the strange message in front of him and stood up, pacing back and forth. “No,” he said finally, “there doesn’t appear to be a reference to anything being buried.”

  “Maybe the ‘Skip the H20’ part is a clue to where we’ll find the box,” suggested Bob.

  “An excellent deduction, Records,” said Jupiter stiffly – he was just about to suggest that himself. “I guess we probably should have tackled that first to see where it leads us.”

  “Perhaps it means to skip a rock,” offered Ben. “You know, like on a pond.”

  “Yeah,” said Pete. “A pond would be H20! Is there some kind of pond on the property, Patricia?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said. “Although behind the house there is a golf course. There might be some kind of water hazard out there – although I never knew father to play golf, or any other sport, so that doesn’t seem very likely.”

  Jupiter agreed with her. “No, I’m sure he must have meant some kind of water here on the property.” He began pacing again and the room fell quiet as they each tried to guess what ‘Skip the H20’ might mean.

  Suddenly Jupiter’s eyes lit up and he smacked himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Of course!” he cried. “Patricia, did your father own any other property besides this house? Specifically, did he own a home in a different country?”

  Patricia thought for a moment, but then Ben exclaimed. “Great scott! Grandfather has the summer house in England, remember Aunt Patty? It was where he and Grandmother Alma sometimes vacationed!”

  “Why yes!” she cried. “Ben’s right! Father and mother did have a house just outside of London. I had forgotten all about it!”

  “How does that tie in with the riddle, Jupe?” asked Bob.

  Jupiter looked triumphant. “What does it mean to ‘skip’ something?” he asked.

  “To go across – or maybe to go over something,” answered Pete.

  “And what is H20?” asked Jupiter smugly.

  “Water!” cried Bob. “Go over the water! That’s what the first part of the riddle means! Go over the water – meaning the ocean – and on my estate you’ll find the crate!”

  “Ben, how soon will you be returning to England?” Jupiter asked quickly.

  “In two days,” the English boy answered. “Once Aunt Patty’s legal affairs have been put in order.”

  “Jupe, are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” asked Pete.

  “What do you have in mind, Jupiter?” asked Patricia Hichcocke O’Connell.

  “That The Three Investigators move this investigation across the Atlantic,” the chubby boy replied. “That’s where the treasure is hidden, and that’s where we need to go!”

  “But what of your parents?” Patricia said. “Certainly you can’t go off to England by yourselves!”

  “We won’t be by ourselves,” said Bob. “We’ll be with Ben. Besides, we’re off on summer break right now. I’m sure our parents will be okay with it if we tell them we’re helping out Mr. Hichcocke’s family!”

  Patricia considered this for a moment. “Well, if you can get permission from your parents,” she said, “I will pay for your plane tickets and act as your chaperone while we’re away.”

  Jupiter held up his hand and shook his head. “We can’t allow you to do that,” he said. “Plane tickets to England will be much too expensive. With what we have from our savings working at the salvage yard, only one of us can afford to go.”

  “I insist!” she said stubbornly. “If this is what father had planned, then all of The Three Investigators are going! Besides, money won’t be an issue with the inheritance he left me.”

  Jupiter looked to Ben as if for help, but the tall boy just folded his arms across his chest in agreement with his aunt. Finally, the stocky Investigator looked to Bob to Pete and then shrugged his shoulders. “Okay,” he grinned, “let’s go ask our parents!”

  The boys and Ben raced for the door and the waiting Rolls Royce. As they climbed into the plush interior, Jupiter spoke up. “It appears, Ben, that when your Aunt Patricia has made up her mind there is no changing it! It’s easy to see that she’s a lot like her father – Alphred Hichcocke!”

  London Calling

  TWO DAYS LATER, The Three Investigators’ plane was touching down at London’s Heathrow Airport. The boys had easily gotten permission from their parents to fly to England, once they had explained that they would be helping out Alphred Hichcocke’s daughter.

  The flight had been an uneventful one, with only mild turbulence from an approaching storm over London that threatened to make Pete sick. Finally, the plane touched down and the group of five climbed into a waiting limousine, chatting with enthusiasm.

  Ben Hichcocke was eager to show the boys the historic city and all of its wonders. “Shall we take a day to see the city, chaps?” he asked his new friends with excitement.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Tower of London!” cried Bob.

  “I want to see Big Ben!” exclaimed Pete.

  “I want to see Mr. Hichcocke’s second home just outside of London,” said Jupiter sternly. “We’ll have time to see those things once we’ve solved the riddle. We’ve only got a week here, so we better make good use of our time.”

  Pete nudged Ben with his elbow. “Get used to being outvoted by Jupe,” he said. “It happens to Bob and I all the time!”

  “Is that really how a democracy works back in the states?” Ben joked.

  The boys and Patricia all laughed as the limousine zoomed off into the chilly London fog. An hour later the car had left the busy city behind just as the sun was beginning to set in the evening sky. Between flickers of lightning, the boys could see that they had entered a quaint countryside of rolling meadows and simple cottages. Here, the roar of city life was left behind for a more picturesque and quiet existence.

  “It sure feels weird driving on the wrong side of the road,” Pete remarked.

  “That’s how I felt in your country,” said Ben. “Here, the left side of the road is the right side, if you take my meaning.”

  “Father’s summer home is just up this road,” said Patricia. “It won’t be long now.”

  The limousine turned up a narrow gravel lane that was guarded by carefully manicured topiary hedges shaped like lions.

  As they approached the house, Pete gasped. “Now that’s how I pictured Mr. Hichcocke’s house!” he cried.

  Jupe and Bob crowded close to Pete’s window. The house before them was not really a house at all – in fact it looked more like a small castle! The towering walls were of smooth gray stone and covered in thick ivy, the tops mounted with imposing parapets. The windows were a stained glass that looked as if they had been recovered from an ancient church centuries ago. With the sky turning a gloomy shade of purple, and standing in the midst of a rolling fog, it was easy for the boys to imagine all kinds of ghosts and ghouls roaming about the halls of the great house.

  “Jupe, Pete, Bob...Welcome to Hichcocke Manor,” grinned Ben.

  “I liked his other house better,” Pete shivered. “This one gives me the creeps!” Far off in the distance, thunder rumbled as if in agreement with the wary Second Investigator.

  Patricia patted Pete on the shoulder as they climbed out of the car. “Father always claimed the house was haunted, but it’s really not as bad as it looks,” she said reassuringly. “It’s actually quite cozy inside. You’ll see.”

  “It ‘tis haunted!” a voice with a thick British accent growled in the growing darkness.

  “Who’s there?” Patricia called out into the gloom. “Winston, is that you?”

  From around the corner of the house, a scruffy man of about fifty, with a thick, wild mustache came limping out. He wore a shapeless tweed
cap on his head and held a gnarled cane in his right hand. The steely grey-black whiskers on his face came down his cheeks in thick mutton-chops. He pointed his twisted cane at the group.

  “The house ‘tis haunted! By the ghost of Molly Thibidoux; a maidservant who hanged herself from the great willow tree out on the moors over one hundred years ago,” he croaked. “Her fiancé left her for another woman, you see. In her grief, young Molly took her own life. Now her spirit wanders the halls of Hichcocke Manor, waiting for her lover to return to her arms!”

  “Jebediah O’Connell!” snapped Patricia. “You will stop with that rubbish immediately. Is that any way to greet our guests?”

  “Surely, I’ll greet your guests,” Jebediah O’Connell scoffed, “but ‘tis for their own safety that I warn ‘em of the ghost! She’s a malicious one, aye! What the German’s call a poltergeist!”

  Patricia turned to the boys with her hands on her hips. “You’ll pay no mind to my cousin, Jeb,” she instructed. “He’s a grade-A troublemaker and is only trying to put a fright into you – he’s never been terribly fond of kids.”

  “I’ll say,” whispered Ben to Jupiter. “Quite frankly, I don’t trust Uncle Jeb. Mark my words – he’s up to something fishy!”

  “Come on boys,” said Patricia, “let’s get our bags inside.”

  “An excellent suggestion,” Jupe agreed. “I was hoping to make some progress on your father’s riddle before bedtime.”

  “Aye, funny riddle, that,” said Jebediah as he followed the group inside. The strange man closed the massive oak door behind the group with a “boom” that made them all jump. “’Tis always best to let the spirit know that you’re home,” he grinned mischievously.

  Patricia glared at her cousin. “Enough is enough, Jebediah! You never know when you’re pushing things too far.”

  Jeb shrugged his shoulders, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and sulked up the ornate staircase. “I’ll be in my room should ye be awakened by anything,” he grumbled. “Living or dead!”

  “I’m sorry boys,” said Patricia.