The Mystery of the Nervous Lion - West Nick - Страница 8

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It was still early afternoon and The Three Investigators were on their way back to The Jones Salvage Yard with Konrad. Their time had run out before Jim Hall returned. The boys left Mike with the promise that they would return at the earliest opportunity.

Konrad, already waiting for them outside the Jungle Land gate, looked relieved when they came out. “You look hokay,” he said. “I guess maybe you get along all right with that lion inside.”

“He sounds a lot tougher than he is, Konrad,” Jupe said. “We’ll see what happens next time.”

The big Bavarian shook his head dubiously. “You coming back here again? You push your luck too much maybe, Jupe.”

Jupe smiled. “I don’t think so, Konrad. At least, I hope not. Anyway, we’re involved in a mystery and we’ll have to keep coming back until it’s solved.”

Konrad only shook his head again and started the lorry, remaining gloomily silent on the trip home.

The boys resumed their conversation.

“We have one possible suspect anyway,” Bob said. “Hank Morton. He has a motive for letting George out — to get even for being fired. I’d suspect Jay Eastland, too, but what could his motive be? I don’t see that he gains anything by delaying his movie. Usually they try to get them done on time, don’t they, Pete?”

“Sure,” Pete replied. “I’ve heard it from my dad often. Film companies have a limited budget and a tight schedule, as a rule. Especially so when they’re working on location, like Mr. Eastland is now at Jungle Land. What do you think, Jupe?”

“I’m not certain yet what to think,” their stocky leader said slowly. “It could be an act of revenge on Hank Morton’s part. Or something to do with Jim Hall’s putting up his whole operation as security for his animals’ good behaviour while the movie is being shot. He stands to lose an awful lot if anything goes wrong. Too much, if you ask me.”

“Anyway, that’s not what we came out for,” Pete said. “It was because of a nervous lion, remember? Nothing anybody’s said so far deals with that. We still don’t know what’s making George nervous.”

“That’s true,” Jupe admitted. “And for all we know, the lion getting out of the house and then being wounded could have been purely accidental. He could have jumped out of a window, or the wind might have blown a door open. He could have cut his leg any number of ways. His nervousness is something else.”

“Maybe what they need there is a good animal psychologist instead of a vet,” said Bob.

Konrad interrupted their speculations by announcing their arrival at the salvage yard with a warning blast of his horn.

Jupe looked up surprised. “Thanks, Konrad. You made good time.”

“I go back that way again for more pickup stuff tomorrow,” Konrad said. “In case you fellows still got business with that lion.”

“Swell, Konrad,” said Jupe. “I’ll let you know if we’re going.”

The boys jumped out of the cab as Konrad continued to the far end of the junkyard. Jupe started towards Headquarters, then stopped abruptly, an astonished look on his face.

“They’re gone!” he cried.

“What’s gone?” Pete asked.

“The bars!” Jupe exclaimed. “That whole stack we unloaded from the lorry yesterday morning. All gone! Uncle Titus must have made a fast deal.”

Bob scratched his head, puzzled. “Who would want to buy a lorryload of rusty iron bars?”

Jupe shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s the kind of luck my uncle always has.”

Bob looked over Jupe’s shoulder and groaned. “Uh-oh! Here comes your aunt, Jupe. She’s got that look in her eye that means work!”

Jupiter turned to face his aunt. “Were you looking for us, Aunt Mathilda?”

“Indeed I was,” his aunt said. “Where were you boys? A customer came and bought up all those iron bars, and there wasn’t a soul around to help him load them.”

Jupiter explained that Uncle Titus had given them permission to ride with Konrad on his trip to Chatwick. “Wasn’t Hans around?” he asked.

“Indeed he wasn’t,” his aunt replied. “He was off again with your uncle to pick up some more of those bars. Apparently he’s found a place that has plenty of them cheap.”

Jupe smiled. “All right, Aunt Mathilda. We’ll try to be around if that customer returns for more of the same.”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he did,” his aunt said. “So mind you are here tomorrow.” As she turned to go, she added over her shoulder, “And by the way, I’ve fixed up a stack of sandwiches. They’re in the office. You and your friends might be hungry.”

As the boys started happily off towards the office cabin, Mathilda Jones added, “And when you’ve finished, Jupiter, you’ll have to mind the office. I have to go downtown to do some shopping now. Titus should be back soon.”

“All right, Aunt Mathilda,” Jupe said.

“Konrad is driving me in the small lorry,” Mrs. Jones said. “Now mind you don’t leave, and don’t miss any sales, Jupiter.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.”

Mrs. Jones nodded and walked away.

Inside the small office, the boys found piles of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper and several bottles of root beer and orange pop.

“Too bad, Jupe, about having to work tomorrow,” Pete said, wolfing down a thick sandwich. “I was ready to go back to Jungle Land and have Mike show us around.”

“We’d have some news then,” Bob said, “about what happened to Rock Randall. If George really did it, they’re in big trouble.”

Jupe looked glum. “We still have a lot of work ahead of us at Jungle Land. We don’t know the terrain at all yet. And there are far too many possibilities of what might be going on at night. Mike stated that George became nervous and restless at that time. So we’ll have to check that out.” He scowled. “Animals tend to become restless before an approaching storm. But Mike didn’t mention the weather. Far as I can recall, it’s been pretty good the past month. If not that, then who or what could be making the lion nervous? It’s still a complete mystery.”

“Why did Hank Morton pretend to be Jim Hall and bring us out to where George was?” asked Bob. “If you ask me, that’s a mystery, too. What did he have against us?”

“I don’t know,” answered Jupe. “But notice another curious thing. George was roaring before we got to him. It’s possible that Hank Morton did not inflict that wound. No,” he concluded, shaking his head, “I’m afraid next time we go back we’ll have to keep our eyes and ears open. We have to learn a lot more than we know.”

Pete noticed a movement out the window. “Uh-oh, Jupe — I think you have a customer. Somebody just came in. Didn’t your aunt tell you not to miss any sales?”

A dark saloon had pulled into the salvage yard. A light-haired man was looking around the neatly arranged junk. He walked quickly around the piles, lifting objects off the top to peer behind and below. Seeming unsatisfied, he wiped dust from his hands and turned to the door of the office.

Jupe was standing there waiting. Bob and Pete were behind him, ready to help.

The customer was thin and broad-shouldered, wearing a business suit and a bow tie. His eyes were a very pale blue and his face had a curious, hatchet-like shape, wide at the cheekbones and tapering abruptly to a narrow, pointed chin. When he spoke, his voice had the toughness of a man used to giving orders.

“I’m looking for some iron bars,” he said. He looked at Jupe questioningly. “Is the owner around?”

“No, sir,” Jupe replied. “But I work here. I’m sorry, but we don’t have any more iron bars. We just sold the whole stack of them.”

“What? When was this — who bought them?”

“Earlier today, I guess. I don’t know who purchased them, sir.”

“Why not?” the man demanded. “Don’t you people keep records of your sales here?”

“Only of money received,” Jupiter said. “Whoever bought those iron bars loaded and transported them himself. So we have no record of delivery. In a junkyard business like this, people generally just come in, pick what they want, and take it home with them.”

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