Jupe sat pinching his lower lip–a sign that he was thinking hard–and stared thoughtfully at the old man. Finally he smiled and said, “Well, that’s settled then. We’re happy to have been of service.” He got up to go. “Incidentally, Mr Prentice, do you own a mandala?”
“Why, yes. How did you know? Would you like to see it?”
At Jupe’s nod, the man led the way into the den and pointed out a framed design that hung on the wall over the desk. It was intricate and brightly coloured. A circle decorated with drawn scrollwork enclosed a square. Oriental deities or demons appeared in the four corners of the picture. The centre was composed of triangles overlapping triangles, intersecting one another and enclosing smaller circles in which tiny beings had been depicted.
Prentice said, “This belonged to a young artist I once knew who had travelled to Tibet. It was made especially for him. That was long ago. He has been dead for many years, and I acquired the mandala from his estate. I always admired it as a piece of design, although I know little of Eastern religions.”
“Mr Prentice, has Sonny Elmquist ever been in this apartment?” asked Jupiter Jones.
“Certainly not,” said Prentice. “Except for that malignant specimen of womanhood who manages this place, no one else in the building has ever been here. I value my privacy, as you know. Least of all would I open the door to young Elmquist. He has a lot of half-baked ideas, and he doesn’t seem particularly clean.”
“No, he doesn’t,” agreed Jupe. “Have you had any occasion to send the mandala out for repair? Has it been framed lately, for example?”
Prentice shook his head. “It’s been hanging on that wall for more than ten years. It has only been taken down when the apartment has been painted. Why?”
“How would Sonny Elmquist know that you own a mandala?”
“He knows that?”
“He does. He even knows that it’s a Tibetan mandala. He has a book with a diagram somewhat like it, but much simpler.”
Prentice shrugged. “I can only guess that those tiresome newspapers mentioned I have a mandala in my collection. My friends in the art world know of it.”
Jupe nodded and headed for the door.
“Now, Jupiter,” said Mr Prentice jovially. “Don’t you go looking around here for another mystery! One was quite enough!”
“You’re right, Mr Prentice,” agreed Jupe. “And I’m glad we could solve it for you. Feel free to call on us if you have any problems in the future.”
“I will, boys, I will.” Mr Prentice shook hands all around and ushered the Investigators out.
The boys trooped downstairs and out to the street.
“Well, that’s that!” exclaimed Pete as they headed for their bus stop. “Must be the quickest case we ever solved! Now what are we going to do for the rest of Christmas vacation?”
“Stay out of The Jones Salvage Yard for one thing,” retorted Bob. “Aunt Mathilda is all too willing to fill up our time! You’re in for it now, Jupe!”
“Mmmnpf,” replied Jupe. His mind was on something else, and he hardly spoke a word all the way home to Rocky Beach.
As the boys parted outside the junkyard, Jupiter suddenly said, “Please stay close to your telephones, fellows. The Investigators may have more work to do soon. I don’t think we’ve heard the last from Fenton Prentice!”
He smiled mysteriously and waved good-bye.
7
The Light in the Church
AUNT MATHILDA began scolding the minute she saw Jupiter enter the salvage yard.
“You went off this morning without so much as a by-your-leave! Writing a note and pinning it to your pillow is not at all the same as telling me where you’ll be! Jupiter, I had things planned–”
“It’s always slow at the salvage yard after Christmas,” Jupe pointed out. “And I’m free now. I can work for the rest of the day.”
“See that you do,” grumbled Aunt Mathilda. “Your uncle just brought in a whole load of small appliances. Sort them out and see what works and what can be fixed. I suppose you’ll end up buying half of them yourself.”
Jupiter grinned. He was always on the lookout for junk that could be fashioned into detective equipment. Headquarters was full of devices that he had repaired or rebuilt from odd parts–walkie-talkies, a loudspeaker for the phone, a tape recorder, a periscope. Most of the money that Jupe earned by working in the yard went into these items.
For the rest of the afternoon, Jupe happily sorted through his uncle’s latest acquisitions, setting aside a few things that he thought he could use. At six he walked across the street to the Jones house for dinner. An hour later the phone rang.
Aunt Mathilda answered it and announced, “It’s for you, Jupiter.”
Jupe’s eyes gleamed as he took the receiver.
“Jupiter? Is that you?” said a quavery voice. “Fenton Prentice here. Jupiter, you won’t believe this, but . . . but my apartment is still being haunted!”
“Yes,” replied Jupe calmly.
“After you trapped that Bortz woman, I was sure I’d imagined that shadowy presence,” Prentice went on. “But I didn’t! I just saw it again, in my den! Either I’m losing my mind or I am being haunted!”
“Would you like us to come into town this evening?”
“Please. In fact, I’d deem it a favour if you and your friends would stay overnight with me. I don’t usually like company, but . . . well, I can’t bear to be alone here! I sit wondering when that thing will appear next–and I can’t stand it!”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” promised Jupiter.
“Jupiter, must you always be running off?” complained Aunt Mathilda as soon as he’d hung up. But when Jupe explained briefly about the Investigators’ elderly, frightened client, Mrs Jones became sympathetic.
“Poor soul!” she said. “It’s hard enough to be old without being alone. You boys go stay with him as long as he wants. Your uncle can drive you into town.”
Jupe called Pete and Bob, and before long the boys were piling into the back of Uncle Titus’ small pick-up truck for the trip into Los Angeles.
“Well, Jupe, you did it again,” said Pete as he settled into a comfortable position. “How did you know we’d hear more from Prentice?”
“Because I was sure he wasn’t imagining that presence in his apartment. I saw it myself.”
“You what?” exclaimed Bob. “When?”
“Yesterday, in Mr Prentice’s den. I saw someone in there. At first I thought it was Pete, but he was in the living room.”
“I remember,” said Pete. “But you decided it was only a shadow.”
“At the time, it seemed the only logical conclusion. Later, I was not so sure. As soon as I saw Sonny Elmquist–”
“You jumped,” recalled Bob. “Elmquist came out of his apartment after the police arrived and you kind of jumped.”
“Yes. Did you notice that he resembles Pete?” asked Jupe.
“Hey, now!” Pete protested. “I don’t look anything like that guy. He’s at least twenty, and he’s skinny, and–”
“He’s about as tall as you are,” Jupe interrupted. “He has dark hair, as you do, and last night he was wearing a black sweater and you were wearing a dark jacket. The light in Mr Prentice’s den was dim. I thought I saw you. Isn’t it possible that I saw Sonny Elmquist?”
Bob and Pete sat still, pondering this. At last Bob said, “But how could he get in? The door was locked.”
“I don’t know,” admitted Jupe. “I’m not even positive it was Elmquist I saw. But somebody besides Mrs Bortz has found a way into that apartment. Now we have to find an explanation.”
Within an hour of his call, the Three Investigators were at Mr Prentice’s door.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Prentice said. “I am quite unnerved!”
“Understandably,” replied Jupe. “May we look around?”
Prentice nodded and Jupe made a beeline for the den. The desk lamp cast a soft glow in one corner of the room, illuminating richly bound books on shelves, a few Chinese porcelains, and the mandala above the desk. Jupe stared up at the intricate design, frowning and pulling at his lip.
And again, as on the previous evening, he had the feeling that someone stood silently watching him.
Jupe spun around.
There was a sensation of a darker darkness which seemed to pulse, then ebb away, in the far corner of the room.
Jupe jumped towards that corner. His hands groped at walls–plain plaster walls. He switched on the overhead light and stared wildly around. No one else was there.
He dashed out to the front door, startling the others as he sped past, and went to the balcony.
Below in the courtyard, the swimming pool was a swirl of gold and blue, and the floodlights sent amber beams up against the walls of the building. Jupe could see the windows of Sonny Elmquist’s apartment. The curtains were open. A bright flicker of movement indicated that the television set in Elmquist’s living room was on. Jupe could see Elmquist himself sitting motionless on the floor, his head hanging slightly forward as if he had nodded off.