M. V. Carey
The Mystery of the Invisible Dog
A Word from Alfred Hitchcock
Greetings, mystery fans!
Again it is my pleasure to introduce that trio of young detectives known as the Three Investigators. They specialize in unusual cases, bizarre happenings, and eerie events. And unusual, bizarre, and eerie their new adventure certainly is! In it, they encounter one haunted man, a phantom priest, a would-be mystic with the ability to walk through walls, and also the image of a demon dog–a very solid image which manages to be completely invisible.
For any reader who is meeting the Three Investigators for the first time, I shall duly state that Jupiter Jones, the leader of the group, is a plump young lad with a keen mind and insatiable curiosity. Pete Crenshaw is quick and athletic, and Bob Andrews, a bookish fellow, keeps the records for the group and has a decided talent for research. All three reside in the coastal town of Rocky Beach, California, on the outskirts of Los Angeles.
So much for introductions. You may now turn to Chapter One and commence reading!
ALFRED HITCHCOCK
1
The Haunted Man
IT WAS TWILIGHT–the abrupt, chill twilight of late December–when Jupiter Jones, Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews first came to Paseo Place. They walked up the street past a park where a few late roses still bloomed in spite of the cold. Next to the park was a stucco house with a sign announcing that this was St Jude’s Rectory. Beyond the rectory, lights glowed behind the stained-glass windows of a little church and an organ boomed and droned. The boys could hear children’s voices piping phrases from an old hymn.
They passed the church and came to an apartment house which looked very private. On the street level it had a row of garages. Above these were two storeys of apartments. All of the windows had carefully closed curtains, as if the tenants wanted to shut out the world.
“This is it,” said Jupiter Jones. “Number 402 Paseo Place, and it is now exactly half past five. We’re right on time.”
To the right of the garages, broad flagstone steps led up one flight towards a gate. A man in a camel-coloured jacket was coming down them now. He passed the boys without looking at them.
Jupe started up the steps, with Pete and Bob close behind him. Suddenly Pete jumped and let out a startled exclamation.
Jupe stopped. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small, dark shape glide away down the stairs.
“It’s only a cat,” said Bob.
“I almost stepped on it.” Pete shivered and pulled his dark ski jacket closer around him. “A black cat!”
Bob laughed. “Come on! You don’t really believe they’re bad luck!”
Jupe reached for the latch on the gate. Beyond, in the centre of a flagstoned courtyard, was a large swimming pool surrounded by chairs and tables. As Jupe opened the gate, floodlights went on in the pool and in the shrubbery that rimmed the court.
“No peddlers allowed!” said a nasal, raspy voice almost at Jupe’s elbow.
A door next to the gate had opened. In the doorway stood a thick-bodied, red-haired woman who squinted at the boys through rimless glasses.
“I don’t care whether you’re selling magazine subscriptions or candy or taking up a collection to help orphaned canaries,” said the woman. “I don’t want my tenants disturbed.”
“Mrs Bortz!”
The woman looked up and past the boys. A thin, silver-haired man had come down a stairway from a balcony that overlooked the courtyard. “I believe these are the young gentlemen I am expecting,” said the man.
“I am Jupiter Jones.” Jupe made the statement in the precise, formal way that was characteristic of him. He stepped aside and nodded towards his friends. “Pete Crenshaw and Bob Andrews. I assume that you are Mr Fenton Prentice.”
“I am,” said the elderly man. He glanced at the woman in the doorway. “We do not need you, Mrs Bortz,” he added.
“Well!” exclaimed the woman. She retreated into her apartment and slammed her door.
“Nosy old crone,” said Fenton Prentice. “Please ignore her. Most of the other people who live in this building are reasonably civilized. Won’t you come with me?”
The boys followed Mr Prentice up the stairs to the balcony. Only a few feet from the top of the stairs was a door which Fenton Prentice unlocked. He ushered the boys into a room with a beamed ceiling and a chandelier which appeared to be very old and precious. On one table stood a small artificial Christmas tree, decorated with exquisite little ornaments.
“Please sit down.” Mr Prentice waved vaguely toward some chairs, then locked his door behind him.
“It was good of you to come so quickly,” he said. “I was afraid that, this being Christmas week, you might have made other plans.”
“As it happens, we find ourselves with a little free time,” said Jupiter graciously. “We have few commitments before school resumes next week.”
Pete choked back a laugh. The three boys had no plans at all for the rest of the holidays, other than avoiding Jupe’s Aunt Mathilda. She had plenty of plans. All of them involved putting the boys to work!
“And now,” Jupiter went on grandly, “if you will kindly tell us why you summoned us, we will determine whether or not we can be of assistance.”
“Whether or not!” echoed Mr Prentice. “But you must help me. I need action immediately!” His voice shook suddenly and went up in pitch. “I cannot put up with what has been happening here!”
He paused a moment to calm himself, and continued, “You are the Three Investigators, are you not? This is your card?” He removed a business card from his wallet and showed it to the boys.
THE THREE INVESTIGATORS
“We Investigate Anything”
? ? ?
First Investigator –
Second Investigator –
Records and Research –
JUPITER JONES
PETER CRENSHAW
BOB ANDREWS
Jupe glanced at the card and nodded in recognition.
“The friend who gave me this card,” said Mr Prentice, “told me that you boys are detectives with a great interest in things which are . . . well, rather unusual.”
“That is true,” said Jupe. “The question marks on our card, symbolizing the unknown, might be taken as a statement of that interest. In the past, we have succeeded in solving some rather bizarre puzzles. But until you tell us what is troubling you, we won’t know if we can possibly help. We are prepared to try, of course. In fact, we have already begun preliminary work on your case. After we received your letter this morning, we investigated you!”
“What?” cried Prentice. “What impertinence!”
“If you are to be our client, don’t you think we should know something about you?” demanded Jupe reasonably.
“I am a very private person,” said Prentice. “I don’t care to have anyone prying into my affairs.”
“No one can be totally private,” said Jupiter Jones, “and Bob is a first-rate researcher. Bob, would you fell Mr Prentice what you discovered?”
Bob grinned. He admired Jupe’s ability to get the upper hand in most situations. He took a small note pad out of his pocket and opened it. “You were born in Los Angeles, Mr Prentice,” he said. “You are now in your seventies. Your father, Giles Prentice, made a fortune in real estate. You inherited that fortune. You are not married. You travel often and you give generously to museums and to individual artists. The newspapers refer to you as a patron of the arts.”
“I seldom bother with newspapers,” said Mr Prentice.
“But they bother about you,” Jupe remarked. “You do seem to take a great interest in the arts,” he added, looking around the room.
The living room was actually a luxurious showcase for an art collection. Paintings hung on the walls, porcelain figures stood on low tables, and here and there were lamps which might have come from some Moorish palace.
“Very well,” said Prentice. “There isn’t anything wrong with taking an interest in beautiful things. But that has nothing to do with what’s going on here.”
“What is going on here?” asked Jupiter.
Prentice glanced over his shoulder, as if he feared someone might be listening in the next room. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. “I am being haunted,” he said.
The Three Investigators stared at him.
“You don’t believe me,” said Prentice. “I was afraid you wouldn’t, but it’s true. Someone gets in here when I’m away. I come back and find that my things aren’t the way I left them. Once I found my desk drawer partly open. Someone had been reading my letters.”
“This is a large apartment house,” Jupiter pointed out. “Is there a manager? Would the manager have a master key?”
Prentice sniffed. “That loathsome Bortz woman is the manager, but she does not have a key to this apartment. I had a special lock installed. And if you are going to ask about servants, I don’t have any. And don’t even suggest that someone comes in through the windows. I don’t have any windows opening on to the balcony. The windows in this room look out on to the street and they’re twenty feet above the sidewalk. In the bedroom and the den, the windows overlook the church and they’re also many feet above the ground. No one could possibly get in through the windows without a long ladder, and that would most certainly be noticed.”