The Mystery of the Dead Man's Riddle Read online

  “Then why not let us find it for you?” offered Jupe. “We’re experienced detectives and—”

  “I’m sorry boys,” interrupted Mrs. Towne. “Perhaps a real detective agency would—”

  “They are real detectives, Mom,” Billy cried. “Show your card, Jupiter!”

  Jupiter whipped the Investigators’ business card out of his pocket and gave it to Mrs.

  Towne. It said:

  THE THREE INVESTIGATORS

  “We Investigate Anything”

  ? ? ?

  First Investigator – Jupiter Jones

  Second Investigator – Peter Crenshaw

  Records and Research – Bob Andrews

  “Um, that’s very nice, boys, but —”

  “Jupe, show her the card from Chief Reynolds,” urged Pete.

  Jupiter produced another card. This one read:

  This certifies that the bearer is a Volunteer Junior Assistant Deputy cooperating with the police force of Rocky Beach. Any assistance given him will be appreciated.

  Samuel Reynolds

  Chief of Police

  Mrs. Towne smiled. “I apologize, boys. You are detectives.”

  “And perhaps just who we need,” Roger Callow said. “From what Billy tells us, you boys have solved some very strange and difficult cases. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could solve those riddles faster than any adult. I admit they have me stumped! Nelly? What do you say? Shall we hire The Three Investigators?”

  “All right,” Mrs. Towne answered.

  “Hooray!” yelled Billy. “And I can help, too, can’t I, Mom?”

  “Certainly not! You’re only seven years old, Billy Towne! That’s too young to be chasing around the countryside.”

  “Aw, Mom,” muttered the boy. “I’m almost eight.”

  “You can start at once, boys,” said Roger Callow. “Speed is vital — and secrecy.”

  “Gee,” Pete said glumly. “We have to go to school.”

  “And I don’t think there will be total secrecy,” added Bob. “I mean, Dingo’s will is going to be in the paper today!”

  “Oh, no!” groaned Mr. Callow. “We’ll have every fortune hunter in the state searching for the treasure! You must hurry, boys!”

  “Speed,” said Jupiter Jones, “is relative.” Jupe had a trick of seeming older and wiser than his years, and now his authoritative tone calmed the lawyer. “The riddles require careful thought. No one is going to solve them by rushing into things. I’ve studied the will, and I’m sure each riddle must be solved step by step. I’ll examine them all again during school, and we’ll meet this afternoon where the first riddle says to begin.”

  “And where would that be, young man?” Roger Callow asked.

  “Why,” Jupiter said triumphantly, “where the wild dog lives, of course.” He took a copy of the will from his pocket and read:

  Where the wild dog lives, the bottle and stopper

  shows the way to the billabong.

  He grinned. “A dingo is an Australian wild dog,” he said, drawing on his encyclopedic knowledge. “And a billabong is a stream or water hole in Australia. So, we meet at Dingo’s house, and look for a bottle with a stopper that points toward some water!”

  Chapter 3

  New Enemies — And Old!

  THE MOMENT SCHOOL ended that day, the boys headed for Dingo Towne’s house. It was just inside the city limits of Rocky Beach, next to the Botanical Gardens and a large county park. As the boys rode their bikes up a hill a block from Dingo’s house, Jupiter said:

  “We must remember to be discreet, fellows. On a sensitive case like this one, we don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

  “Att–attention, Jupe?” Pete stammered. “Look!”

  They had reached the top of the hill. Below and to their left lay Dingo’s spacious property, surrounded by a tumble-down fence and littered with junk, old lumber, and mounds of bottles. To one side was a neat white cottage. In the centre stood a dilapidated old house with sagging walls. But the boys weren’t staring at the house!

  There was a mob scene below! People were

  everywhere, swarming over the property like

  ants! From small boys to old women, they ran

  madly about, trampling bushes, digging holes,

  pulling at the piles of bottles and trash.

  Pandemonium filled the spring afternoon as

  fights broke out and people screamed at each

  other.

  “It’s mine!” … “I found it!” … “Let go the

  bottle!”

  The boys could see Chief Reynolds and his

  men trying to control the horde. They rode

  down through the melee and up to the cottage,

  where Mrs. Towne, Billy, and Roger Callow

  watched in dismay.

  “They’ll ruin the clues,” Billy wailed.

  “Broken bottles everywhere,” Jupiter observed

  calmly. “Why are there so many?”

  “Because Dingo collected bottles,” Roger

  Callow fumed. “Hundreds of them! Thousands!

  Now we’ll never find the right one!”

  Chief Reynolds came up mopping his brow.

  A fat man and a skinny woman were behind

  him. They spoke with English accents.

  “Make them all leave, Officer!” the skinny woman demanded.

  “Trespassers!” the fat man raged. “Arrest them all!”

  Chief Reynolds shook his head wearily. “Your uncle’s will gave them permission to come here, Mr. Percival. It would take the Army to disperse this mob. All we can do is protect the houses.”

  “Our uncle was crazy,” the woman said. “We’re the owners.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not, Winifred Percival,” Mrs. Towne said.

  Winifred Percival reddened. “You’re not even his flesh and blood, Nelly Towne. This is some scheme to cheat us! I knew we should have come from England sooner and cared for dear Marcus.”

  “He wouldn’t even have you in his house!” Mr. Percival said. “Made you live over here in the cottage!”

  Roger Callow said, “He hadn’t spoken to you in ten years, Cecil! He wouldn’t have let you in the house, either! Now, the court will decide who owns what. But the cottage is Mrs.

  Towne’s. Marcus — Dingo — gave it to her years ago, and you’re trespassing.”

  “Then she stole the cottage!” Cecil Percival cried.

  “The way she’s trying to steal his fortune! You and she, Mr. Lawyer Callow!” Winifred Percival raged. “But we know there has to be a real will that names us to inherit.”

  “The real will names Billy and Nelly,” Roger Callow said.

  Cecil Percival sneered. “So you say, but you conveniently lost that will, eh? You probably forged this crazy one, but we’ll break it.”

  “Then Billy will get everything anyway.” Callow smiled. “He’s the only direct descendant.”

  “We’re relatives too!” cried Winifred. “We’re entitled to a share!”

  “Not under California law,” replied Callow. “You have no claim to your uncle’s fortune if there is a direct descendant.”

  Both Percivals glared at the little boy, who glared back.

  “We’ll see about that,” Cecil said nastily.

  “Please leave my house at once,” Mrs. Towne said, looking pale.

  The two Percivals turned red as beets.

  “We’ll get our fortune, you hear?” Winifred said. “We know what belongs to us!”

  The two of them stalked away. Chief Reynolds shrugged and moved off to break up a nearby fight among the searchers.

  “Wow,” Pete said, “those Percivals sure sound mean.”

  “They are,” Roger Callow said. “Disagreeable snobs who thought they were too good to associate with old Dingo — until now! They’ll, get nothing. Perhaps we’d better start looking for the bottle and stopper clue ourselves. You boys —”

  Jupiter broke in, “I think
we should go inside, sir.”

  Without waiting for an answer, the stocky leader of The Three Investigators walked into the cottage. The others followed. Jupiter glanced around the neat living room with its windows open to catch the breeze.

  “Did you search the two houses for any bottle that could be a clue to some sort of water?” he asked.

  “We sure did,” Billy cried, “but we didn’t find one.”

  “No,” Jupiter said, “because I don’t think there is one!”

  He took out his copy of the riddles. “Dingo wants us to start here, somewhere on his property, but he doesn’t say so expressly. He says where the wild dog lives. That’s like poetry—the words don’t name something, they sort of describe it, hint at it. A special kind of code!”

  “You mean,” Bob said slowly, “bottle and stopper doesn’t mean a real bottle, but maybe something that looks like one?”

  “Exactly!” Jupiter said. “Something that looks like a bottle, and points to a place with water.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything here that simply looks like a bottle,” said Nelly Towne.

  “But there’s water!” cried Billy. “The duck pond next door in the Botanical Gardens!”

  “And look,” said Bob, “the next clue is above the apples and pears all alone. Isn’t there an orchard around that pond?”

  Roger Callow was excited. “I think you’ve hit on it!”

  “Well—” Jupiter began.

  A snicker suddenly filled the room—a snicker from outside the window! A voice said,

  “Thanks for the help, dumbheads!” Pete leaped to the window as feet ran away.

  “Skinny Norris!” he exclaimed.

  A tall, skinny youth was running off toward the Botanical Gardens. E. Skinner Norris himself—a mean, spoiled kid who constantly got in the Investigators’ way. Though not much older than the trio, he already had his driver’s license because his family lived half the year in another state where the driving age was lower. He also had his own car, a flashy red sports car. He couldn’t stand anyone being smarter than he was—which meant he hated the Investigators, especially Jupiter!

  “He heard,” Pete moaned. “We should’ve figured Skinny—”

  “Never mind,” Jupiter interrupted. “He won’t get far. The billabong clue might mean the duck pond, but apples and pears shouldn’t mean trees. Too easy. No, it must have some other meaning, fellows. Suggest something else.”

  Jupiter looked at everyone, but no one spoke. He frowned. “Perhaps if we knew more about old Dingo,” he said, “we’d know how to interpret his riddles.”

  “Well,” Roger Callow said, “he was born in Australia about 1895. His father had been a convict — England sent its convicts to Australia back then. Dingo was a wild boy, became a bushranger — that’s a bandit — then made a fortune in opals, but had to run from the law.

  He went to Canada, made more money, married late, had one son. He came here twenty years ago and lived like a hermit. When his son died five years ago in a car crash, Nelly had nowhere to go, so Dingo let her move in here with Billy. But he wasn’t very gracious about it. Old Dingo was suspicious of everyone and wouldn’t let anyone in his house. He hated almost everything except Australia, and maybe Cockneys like his father. A rough-and-ready man, boys.”

  Bob said, “Dingo used the Australian word billabong in his riddle, and his nickname is Australian for wild dog. Could apples and pears be something Australian or maybe Canadian, sir?”

  “Not that I know of, Bob,” Callow said. When Mrs. Towne shook her head too, the lawyer sighed. “Perhaps you boys had better go home and think some more. It’s getting late.”

  Billy looked crushed—his heroes had failed. The boys were unhappy, too. As they biked away, they saw that most of the mob was also leaving in defeat. They rode in silence until they had almost reached the salvage yard. Then Pete finally spoke:

  “Jupe, what are Cockneys? Mr. Callow said Dingo’s dad was a Cockney, and Dingo liked them. Some special Englishmen?”

  “From the East End of London,” Jupiter answered without much interest. “Supposedly, anyone born within sound of the Bow bells — the bells of Saint Mary-le-Bow Church.

  Cockneys have a funny accent — they say ‘ot instead of hot, blime instead of blame.

  Australians do it, too.”

  “They do?” Bob said. “Jupe, maybe the way Australians talk has something to do with the riddles. Maybe in Australia the clues sound different. Maybe what they sound like —”

  Jupiter sat up so suddenly on his bike that it jerked and almost ran into the salvage yard fence. “Cockneys!” he exclaimed. “Maybe—!”

  Just then Pete saw a familiar car parked across the street from the salvage yard, near the Jones house.

  “Jupe! It’s Skinny again!”

  The red sports car seemed empty, but as they watched, a head moved inside. Skinny Norris never could be patient. He was tailing them!

  “Quick,” Jupiter said, taking the riddle paper from his pocket. “Pretend we’ve just discovered something and I’m sending you off to investigate. Ride fast and lead him away.

  I’ve got a hunch, and I don’t want Skinny to see where I go!”

  Skinny took the bait greedily. Bob and Pete heard his car start as they pedaled hard down the block and vanished around a corner. Skinny waited just long enough to see Jupiter casually ride up to his front door, then took off after Pete and Bob.

  The two boys led Skinny a merry chase through the streets, pretending they were in a hurry and didn’t know he was following. Then they simply rode home!

  When Bob turned into his yard, Skinny looked startled. He continued to follow Pete, only to see him turn into his own driveway. Pete looked back and laughed aloud when he saw the anger on Skinny’s face. The older boy realized he had been hoodwinked and roared off in a violent cloud of dust.

  After dinner, Bob called Jupiter.

  “He ate an early dinner and went right out,” Aunt Mathilda Jones said. “No, Bob, he didn’t say where.”

  By bedtime, Jupiter still hadn’t called either Bob or Pete.

  Where was Jupiter?

  Chapter 4

  Jupiter Finds the Key

  THE NEXT MORNING Pete waited until after his breakfast. When Jupiter still hadn’t called, the Second Investigator phoned Bob.

  “He hasn’t called me, either,” Bob said.

  They decided to bike over to the salvage yard before school. Headquarters was empty, so they went across the street to the Jones house.

  Uncle Titus was out front tinkering with one of his pickup trucks. “Nope, sorry, boys, but Jupiter went out very early. Some important errand, he said. Hardly ate a smidgen of breakfast!”

  “We’ll have to find him in our first class,” Bob decided.

  “If he shows up,” Pete said ominously.

  The boys hurried to school and into their classroom. Jupiter wasn’t there! They looked at each other nervously as the teacher called for order. Suddenly Jupiter came panting into the room, grinning at his chums. Bob and Pete had no chance to talk to him until lunch, and then only for a moment—Jupiter had to attend a lunch-hour meeting of the Science Club, of which he was president. He spoke to them hurriedly:

  “I’ve got it! The key. Meet at Headquarters after school!”

  Bob and Pete finished one class later than Jupiter on Fridays. Burning with curiosity, they rode straight to the salvage yard. They crawled through Tunnel Two and up into the trailer. Jupiter was already there.

  “Rhyming slang!” he announced.

  He sat at the office desk surrounded by sheets of paper covered with writing.

  “Huh?” Pete said. “What slang?”

  “Rhyming,” Jupiter crowed. “Something each of you said last night gave me the flash.

  Pete asked about Cockneys, and Bob said perhaps what the riddles sounded like was important. That made me think of rhyming slang. But I wasn’t sure, so I checked it out, and I was right!”

/>   “But what is rhyming slang, Jupe?” Bob asked.

  “A very special slang in which a word, or the last word in a short phrase, rhymes with whatever word you really mean. The true meaning of the rhyming word doesn’t matter — it just has to sound like the word in question. For example, you could call snow the fall and throw. See — snow and throw?”

  “You mean,” Pete said doubtfully, “if I was talking about baseball, I could call it, maybe, throw the ball? ”

  “Not quite. You’d never use the same word—not ball if you were rhyming baseball. You could call it down the wall or short and tall, or something.”

  “I get it!” Bob said. “But what’s rhyming slang got to do with Cockneys or old Dingo?

  Wait, his dad was a Cockney!”

  “And he was Australian. The Cockneys invented the slang, and took it to Australia.

  They still use it to fool people.”

  “Just like Dingo’s riddles,” Pete said.

  Jupiter nodded. “I went to our library, and to Los Angeles, and looked up all the books on rhyming slang.” He picked up a copy of the riddles. “First, apples and pears are — stairs! ”

  “Stairs?” Pete gaped. “Wow, I’d never have guessed that.”

  “No one else will, either.” Jupiter chortled. “Now, you and me means cup of tea. Trouble and strife is Cockney for a wife! Old Ned, also called Uncle Ned, is a bed. See?”

  Jupiter beamed at his friends.

  “Then we’ve got it solved?” Pete said.

  “Oh, no,” Jupiter replied, shaking his head almost happily. “It’s not that easy. Old Dingo was tricky. Only some of the clues are rhyming slang. Others we’ll have to solve when we get to where the rhymes send us.”

  “But we’ve got all the rhymes?” Bob asked.

  “Well, no,” Jupiter said, a little uneasily. “I couldn’t find them all, and rhyming slangers sometimes make up new ones.”

  “Then how do people know what they mean?” Bob insisted.

  “By what the slanger is talking about in general, Bob,” Jupiter explained. “We’ll know what Dingo meant by where the clues lead us, and by what we find there. For instance, apples and pears means stairs. When we find some stairs, we should find something near them that rhymes with the next clue in the riddle — the Lady from Bristol.”