The Mystery of the Dead Man's Riddle Read online

  THE MYSTERY

  OF

  THE DEAD MAN’S RIDDLE

  Text by

  WILLIAM ARDEN

  An Announcement from Alfred Hitchcock

  ATTENTION!

  I, Alfred Hitchcock, deny any connection with the mysterious riddles of one Marcus (“Dingo”) Towne! Why, I barely knew the old scoundrel, and he had no right to involve me in his scheme from beyond the grave!

  However, despite my annoyance over the entire affair, I must admit that without me the cunning mystery might never have been solved. It was I who brought the junior detective team of The Three Investigators into the baffling case — if only to disentangle myself from the whole web of tricks and greed.

  I admit that I failed to perceive the deadly implications of old Dingo’s “crazy”

  document, and in penance have agreed once again to introduce the Investigators’ latest case, and the boys themselves: the much too clever Jupiter Jones, the athletic Pete Crenshaw, and the studious Bob Andrews. All three of the lads reside not far from Hollywood in the town of Rocky Beach, California, where Dingo Towne issued his challenge to solve a dead man’s riddles.

  From Jupiter’s first brilliant insight into the key behind the dead man’s message, our heroes were beset by greedy villains, hidden dangers, and unknown menaces. And in the end they learned that the solution to a riddle is not always the final answer!

  But enough. You shall soon find that all is not what it seems when a devious man speaks after he is dead! Proceed at your own risk, and look sharp — even the brainy Jupiter Jones can fail to see what is before his eyes.

  Who knows, perhaps you will see what Jupiter missed if you have the daring to pursue the dead man’s riddle!

  ALFRED HITCHCOCK

  Chapter 1

  Dingo Towne’s Challenge

  IT WAS AN HOUR before dinner on a spring Wednesday in Rocky Beach, California. Bob Andrews, the Records and Research man of The Three Investigators, was in his room writing up the trio’s latest case — a minor affair of finding Mrs. Hester’s lost diamond ring.

  From outside came the sounds of neighborhood children playing in the late afternoon sunshine. A car door banged close by; Bob’s father had arrived home from work.

  A few moments later Mr. Andrews came into Bob’s room, grinning. He carried a long piece of paper.

  “How would you and your detective friends like to find a fortune,” Mr. Andrews said,

  “and keep it all!”

  “Gosh, Dad,” the blond boy said, “you mean someone lost a fortune, and if we find it we can keep it?”

  “It isn’t lost,” Mr. Andrews said. “It’s

  hidden!”

  WEALTHY ECCENTRIC LEAVES

  CHALLENGE

  “Gee, it can’t be much of a fortune if

  “FIND HIS FORTUNE—AND KEEP IT!”

  someone’s giving it away. Unless he’s

  crazy, maybe.”

  “Crazy” Will Is Proof of Mental Illness

  “I don’t know what kind of fortune it

  Declares Family Lawyer

  is, but I think crazy is the right word, all

  The late recluse and mystery man, Marcus

  right.” Mr. Andrews laughed, then rubbed

  (“Dingo”) Towne, who died last Sunday in

  his chin. “Still, I see your Mr. Hitchcock

  Rocky Beach, has apparently left his entire

  fortune to anyone who can find it!

  is involved, so maybe it’s not so crazy.

  Here, Bob, you can read it.”

  The unexpected development came yesterday

  when Mr. Towne’s long-time friend John

  Mr. Andrews held out the long sheet of

  (“Jack”) Dillon filed a surprise will for probate.

  paper. It was galley proof from the

  Mr. Towne, a mysterious eccentric in Rocky

  newspaper on which Mr. Andrews worked.

  Beach for twenty years, always wore shabby

  “We’re printing the story tomorrow,”

  clothes and lived in a ramshackle old house,

  he explained to Bob, “but I thought you

  but was widely thought to be a millionaire.

  boys might like an advance look, eh?”

  Mr. Roger Callow, representing Mr. Towne for

  the Rocky Beach law firm of Sink and Waters,

  Bob took the galley and read it.

  declared the secret will to be proof that Mr.

  The article then printed the entire will,

  Towne was no longer in his right mind. “We

  which Bob read with growing excitement.

  know a legitimate will exists that leaves

  everything to his daughter-in-law and grandson,”

  “Wow, can I show this to Pete and

  Mr. Callow stated.

  Jupe, Dad? There’s time before dinner!”

  The surprise will, written in longhand, was

  Mr. Andrews laughed and nodded.

  witnessed by Mr. Dillon and another friend,

  Bob dashed to the phone to call his

  Mrs. Sadie Jingle.

  friends, then hurried to his bike.

  He pedaled rapidly to The Jones

  Salvage Yard, a fabulous junkyard owned by Jupiter Jones’s aunt and uncle. Not wishing to run into Aunt Mathilda Jones, a formidable woman who always wanted to put the boys to work, Bob proceeded past the junkyard’s main gate and stopped at the far corner. Here was Green Gate One, one of The Three Investigators’ private entrances to the yard. Bob pushed up two loose, green-painted boards and stepped directly into Jupe’s outdoor workshop.

  When he found no one there, Bob dropped his bike and pushed aside an iron grating that seemed to lean casually against Jupiter’s workbench. Behind it was the mouth of a large, galvanized pipe. This was Tunnel Two, which led under piles of junk to the secret headquarters of The Three Investigators. Headquarters was a damaged old house trailer which Uncle Titus Jones had given to Jupiter when he found he couldn’t sell it. Except for the tools in Jupiter’s workshop, Headquarters was equipped with everything The Investigators needed for their work: an office desk, telephone, tape recorder, darkroom, miniature laboratory, and assorted pieces of detective equipment, mostly rebuilt from junk.

  Outside, the boys had piled so much junk around the trailer that no one could see it anymore, and by now everyone else had forgotten it was there.

  Bob crawled through Tunnel Two, which ended underneath Headquarters, and entered the trailer through a trap door. Jupiter and Pete were waiting.

  “What’s this about a will, Records?” Jupiter Jones asked. The stocky First Investigator looked like a round-faced young owl, especially when he was thinking — which was most of the time. He was the ‘brains’ of the trio, and liked to prove it!

  “Will, shmill,” Pete Crenshaw said. “What about the fortune?”

  The Second Investigator was taller and stronger than his buddies — big, athletic, and the most happy-go-lucky of the trio. He leaned forward eagerly as Bob handed the galley to Jupiter, who read the will aloud:

  I, Marcus Towne, being of a lot sounder mind than most men, especially my relatives and their friends, and one who made his pile by hard work and quick brains, see no reason to leave it all to shiftless, greedy, stupid, and otherwise useless people who liked my money more than they liked me!

  Therefore, in this my last will and testament, I bequeath to my daughter-in-law, my grandson, my niece, and my nephew the sum of $1.00 each! The remainder of my estate I give, without reservations, to anyone who can find my treasure!

  As an aid for the more intelligent, if there
are any, I leave this set of riddles. Solve them and find the loot!

  Where the wild dog lives, the bottle and stopper

  shows the way to the billabong.

  Above the apples and pears all alone

  the Lady from Bristol rides from a friend.

  At the tenth ball of twine, you and me

  see our handsome mug ahead.

  One man’s victim is another’s darlin’,

  follow the nose to the place.

  Where men buy their trouble and strife,

  get out if you can.

  In the posh Queen’s old Ned,

  be bright and natural and the prize is yours.

  Who’d have thought the old man had so much money in him? Roll the dice and the swag is yours!

  Executors swill be: John Dillon, who likes me; Sink and Waters, who like money; Alfred Hitchcock, who likes mystery!

  Jupiter, who had once been a child actor on TV, finished dramatically and beamed at the others.

  “Wow,” Pete said at last. “A dead man’s riddle! Is that a real will, Jupe? Or just a crazy joke?”

  “Oh, I assume it’s real,” said Jupe. “I mean, if you solve the riddles, I assume you will find Mr. Towne’s fortune. But I don’t know if the will is legal — if the person who found the treasure would be allowed to keep it. But even if the will is legal, I imagine the family will go to court and claim that the old man was crazy and his will is invalid. Still,” and his eyes sparkled, “I wonder what he hid, and where?”

  The one thing Jupiter could never resist was a challenge to his brains, a puzzle of any kind.

  “Maybe Mr. Hitchcock knows if it’s legal?” Bob said.

  “An excellent thought,” Jupiter agreed. He reached for the telephone and dialed Mr.

  Hitchcock’s number. The famous director was still at his office. Jupiter explained why he was calling.

  “Thunderation!” The great moviemaker’s voice roared from the loudspeaker Jupiter had rigged up so that they could all listen to a phone conversation at once. “Must I be badgered by everyone? That crazy old bandit had no right to name me! I barely knew the old blackguard!”

  “Yes, sir,” Jupiter said nervously, “but is it legal? The will, I mean. If we found what he hid—?”

  “He advised me on one film! One! ” Mr. Hitchcock grumbled, and paused. “Legal? Yes, confound you, it’s quite legal — and quite crazy! Sure to be broken in court. Waste your own time if you like, Jupiter Jones, but don’t waste mine!” Bang.

  Jupiter winced as the great director hung up.

  “Well,” Pete said, “it was a nice idea.”

  “Just a crazy old man,” Bob said. “The family will get the money after all.”

  “But don’t you see?” said Jupe excitedly. “Even if the court says the treasure belongs to the family, no one knows where the treasure is! The riddles still have to be solved!”

  The ringing telephone made them all jump. Jupiter grabbed it.

  “Confound it,” Mr. Hitchcock’s voice growled once more, “perhaps there is a case for you young rascals! I have just been told that the family is concerned. The will is sure to be broken, but that may take time and the family is worried. I have suggested your services.”

  “Worried, sir?” Jupe exclaimed. “Worried about—?”

  “Enough! The Townes may or may not call you. Now I want no further part of this nonsense!”

  Once again the irate moviemaker hung up, but this time the boys grinned at each other.

  A new case! They agreed to meet at Headquarters the next day before school.

  Jupiter would spend the evening in Headquarters, near the phone!

  Chapter 2

  Where the Wild Dog Lives

  Early next morning, Pete ate a hurried breakfast and rode his bike to the salvage yard.

  Jupiter hadn’t called to report anything from the Townes. As the Second Investigator neared Green Gate One, he saw Bob crouched at the fence.

  “Did Jupe call you?” Pete exclaimed.

  “No,” Bob whispered, “and someone’s sneaking around HQ!”

  Pete crouched beside his smaller chum and peered in through the secret opening in the front fence. Beyond the workshop area, he saw someone moving among the mounds of junk that hid the trailer. Neither boy could see the intruder clearly in the long morning shadows, but whoever it was seemed to be pulling aside junk to look in!

  “Is Jupe inside?” Pete whispered. “We’d better warn him —”

  “Look!”

  Bob pointed to the opening of Tunnel Two under Jupe’s workbench. Jupiter’s pale round face loomed behind the cover grating.

  “He’s heard the guy,” Bob whispered.

  Jupe caught the whisper, put his finger to his lips, and rolled his eyes upward. Then he motioned toward the rear of the junkyard.

  “He wants us to circle around,” Bob said softly. “Chase whoever it is into the workshop where we can grab him!”

  The two boys ran softly around to the rear of the yard where there was another secret opening in the fence. Slipping inside, they crept forward past piles of junk. They stopped close to Headquarters, crouched behind a stack of old washing machines, and peeked out.

  The shadowy figure was still there, trying to find a way through the junk surrounding the trailer. Pete jumped up.

  “Stand right where you are!” the tall boy yelled.

  The figure whirled, slipped on some loose junk, and fell. He scrambled up — a very small boy!

  “Grab him!” Bob cried.

  The Investigators charged. With a frightened cry, the small boy turned and ran — right toward the workshop. He cast a glance back at Pete and Bob and never saw Jupiter come out of the pipe ahead. Jupiter ran forward and grabbed him. The little boy struggled wildly.

  “Let me go! Let me go!”

  He was no more than eight, thin and wiry, with wild black hair and big, dark eyes. He wore blue jeans, a black sweatshirt, and black sneakers.

  “Why are you spying on us?” Jupiter demanded.

  The boy suddenly stopped struggling. Pete and Bob ran up. The little boy looked at them wide-eyed.

  “You’re The Three Investigators, aren’t you! Gee, you scared me, jumping out like that.”

  “Why were you searching the junk piles?” Jupiter scowled.

  “I know you have an office hidden somewhere in the yard,” the small boy said, and grinned proudly. “I know all about you. I live in Rocky Beach, and I’m a detective, too.”

  Then he looked down and scuffed his toe in the dirt. “I mean, I want to be a detective, too.

  I’m practicing.”

  “You mean you were looking for us?” Bob said.

  The boy nodded eagerly. “I want to hire you. I mean, my mother does anyway, so I came —”

  A woman’s voice called angrily from across the yard: “Billy Towne! You march home at once, young man! I told you not to come here!”

  A young woman in a bright blue dress appeared among the piles of junk. She had long black hair, flashing brown eyes, and a worried look. She hurried toward The Investigators and the little boy. A tanned young man walked behind her. His brown hair was long, but he wore a conservative blue suit — and a frown.

  “Towne?” Jupiter’s eyes lit up. “Mr. and Mrs. Towne?”

  “I’m Nelly Towne,” the woman said. “My husband is dead. This is Mr. Roger Callow, my fiancé and our lawyer. I’m afraid Billy must come home now. He hasn’t even had his breakfast.”

  Pete was dismayed. “You didn’t come to hire us?”

  “We sure did!” Billy cried. “To find Granddad’s fortune!”

  Roger Callow laughed. “Whoa now, Billy. We’re not sure we want to hire anyone, even if Mr. Hitchcock recommends them. That will is a joke, boys,” he explained. “We’ll break it in court. Dingo’s estate will go to Billy, under California law — unless, of course, we find the real will that leaves the estate to Nelly and Billy.”

  “Find?” Jupiter said. “Don’t
you have the older will in your office, sir?”

  “We did have it,” Roger Callow admitted. “It’s missing. We’ll probably find it in old Dingo’s house somewhere.”

  “But we haven’t found it!” Billy said. “And we don’t know where the treasure is! And you even said someone could find it first and steal it all!”

  “That’s true, Roger,” added Mrs. Towne. “It could be stolen easily and we’d never get it back.”

  Jupiter asked, “Why easily stolen?”

  Mrs. Towne and Roger Callow looked at each other. The lawyer sighed.

  “Old Dingo was an odd man,” he said. “He had a nice cottage, but he let Nelly and Billy use that and lived himself in a run-down old house on the same property. He dressed poorly and never spent any money, but we knew he had a fortune. He wouldn’t invest it—

  kept it in banks and in cash. Or so we thought. When he died on Sunday, we searched the

  old house and found nothing! Not even a bankbook. Then yesterday we learned he’d turned everything into gemstones. A million dollars’ worth of opals, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds!”

  “Because,” Jupiter realized, “gems take up very little space for their value. They’re easy to hide — and easy to steal!”

  Roger Callow nodded grimly. “If we don’t find those jewels first, we may never see them! Especially if the Percivals get their hands on them. Much they’d care that the fortune belongs to Nelly and Billy!”

  “Who are the Percivals, sir?” Bob asked.

  “Old Dingo’s niece and nephew from London. They’re the children of his sister, who died years ago. Dingo never liked them and hadn’t seen them in years, but they arrived in Rocky Beach two days after he died. They want the treasure badly.”

  Jupiter pondered. “Why would Dingo write such a strange will, Mrs. Towne?”

  “Because he was old and crazy!” Roger Callow snapped.

  “Because,” Mrs. Towne answered sadly, “he didn’t really like any of his relatives, including Billy and me, and I guess he thought he’d play a good joke on us.”

  “Some joke!” exclaimed Pete.

  “Leaving a will in riddle form is a joke,” said Jupiter, “but I’m sure the riddles do lead to the jewels. Do you agree?”

  “I don’t know,” answered the lawyer. “But we have nothing else to go on. We know the jewels aren’t in Dingo’s house, and it would be just like old Dingo to hide his treasure.”