The Mystery of the Kidnapped Whale (tti-3) by Marc Brandel

Author:Marc Brandel [Brandel, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: child_det
Published: 1983-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

10

The Faceless Giant

“Think you can fix it, Jupe?” Aunt Mathilda asked.

Jupiter looked at the old washing machine standing in his workshop in the salvage yard.

Uncle Titus had brought it home the night before. Its yellowing enamel surface was so cracked and crumpled it reminded Jupe of a sheet of paper that had been all scrunched up and then only half straightened out again. He hated to think what kind of shape the motor must be in.

“I’ll give it a try, Aunt Mathilda,” he promised. “I’ll work on it all day.”

Aunt Mathilda smiled. Here was a boy, her nephew Jupiter Jones, and there was the broken washing machine, a job of work to do. Put the two together and you had the perfect combination, the way Aunt Mathilda saw it. Work and a boy. A boy at work.

“You do that, Jupe,” she said contentedly. “And I’ll fix you a nice lunch.”

Jupiter didn’t really mind putting in the whole day at the salvage yard. He would be earning some money and, more important, he would be earning time off.

The other two Investigators were earning time off too. Bob was at the library and Pete was home mowing the lawn. Tomorrow they would all be entitled to a whole free day.

Early tomorrow morning they would meet Constance at the rocky cove she had picked out. Her Mexican friends would bring Fluke there in their tow truck. Then Constance and the boys would begin to search for the sunken boat.

Within an hour Jupiter had taken all the old, rusted screws out and had disconnected the washing machine’s motor. He hoisted it onto his workbench. It wasn’t in as bad a shape as he had feared. It must be one of the early postwar models, he thought, at least thirty years old. They had certainly built things to last in those days.

The first thing it needed was a new driving belt. He would have to make one. He started to rummage around the workshop for a length of tough rubber.

Jupe suddenly stopped dead. His mind was so busy figuring out how to fix the washing machine that for a second he didn’t realize what it was that had halted him. A red light was blinking over his workbench. That meant the phone was ringing in Headquarters.

Jupiter was not normally fast on his feet. But in less than half a minute he had pulled the old grating aside, squeezed his tubby body through the pipe of Tunnel Two, pushed open the trap door, bobbed up through it like a cork, and snatched up the phone.

“Hullo,” he said breathlessly. “Jupiter Jones speaking.”

“Hullo, Mr. Jones,” a familiar voice replied. “I’m calling to find out what progress you’ve been making with that whale.”

Only he didn’t say “whale.” He pronounced it “way-ull.”

“I’m glad you called, sir,” Jupiter told him. “We’ve been making a lot of progress. I’m happy to be able to tell you that by seven o’clock tomorrow morning, Fluke, I mean the way-ull, will be back in the ocean and our assignment completed.

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