“Okay, Strauss.” That was Ernie speaking. He stopped walking, and so did the others. “I can understand that you don’t want to move until you see some money, but we need to see the merchandise. It had better be good, too!”
“It’s good,” said a second voice. It had to be Strauss, since he spoke without an accent. His tone was brisk and businesslike. “But you guys don’t look as if you’re good for it. Why am I talking to you at all? I want to see Alejandro. He’s the one who set up the deal.”
“I speak for Alejandro,” said Ernie. “If you insist, we can arrange for an advance.”
“I insist,” said Strauss.
“One quarter of the total,” said Ernie. “The balance we hold ready, so you get it after we take delivery–if the things are as promised.”
“One half in advance,” said Strauss. His voice was flat now. He sounded almost indifferent. “The second half on delivery. But nothing moves without the advance–not a thing. I don’t need you, you know. I have plenty of places I can peddle the stuff.”
There was silence for a few moments, then Ernie said, “All right, one half in advance. But we get the merchandise before you see the other half. You go back to Pacific States and wait there. I’ll call you when I have the money.”
“Why don’t I wait here?” said Strauss. “I don’t like all this running around.”
“Because it will take time and that lady who’s my boss is sitting in her office right now getting very irritated because she thinks I’m loafing on the job. So you go back up the coast and wait for my call.”
There was silence, and Bob assumed that the man turned towards the glass-enclosed office. No doubt Eileen Denicola was there, and no doubt she was watching.
“Yeah,” said Strauss at last. “Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Okay. I’ll wait for your call at Pacific States. But don’t try to stall. Remember, you need me more than I need you.”
Strauss walked away from Ernie and his friends, and Ernie said something in Spanish. It did not sound like a compliment, and the young men with Ernie murmured in angry agreement.
There were light footsteps on the dock then, and Bob heard a voice that was tight with annoyance.
“Who was that?” demanded Eileen Denicola.
“Somebody who belongs to some kind of fishing club,” said Ernie. “He said he saw the Maria III from the highway. He wanted to know if she’s available.
“The next time someone wants to know if the boat’s available, you send them to me,” said Eileen.
“Yes, Mrs. Denicola,” said Ernie.
“Now go and get your lunch,” Eileen ordered. “I want you back here at one o’clock sharp so we can go and get gas. And leave you pals at home, you hear me?”
“Yes, Mrs. Denicola,” said Ernie meekly.
The young men moved off, and Eileen walked away. Bob waited in the shadows under the pier. When he saw Ernie and his friends strolling across the sand towards their ramshackle little house, Bob turned and went in the opposite direction. He wanted to find out where Pacific States was. It sounded like a town, but Bob had never heard of it before. He jogged back to the market and the telephone booth.
The telephone directory in the booth did not list a town of Pacific States, but under the P’s Bob found a Pacific States Moving and Storage Company on West Albert Road in Oxnard. He called the number listed and asked to speak to Mr. Strauss.
“He isn’t in right now,” said the man who answered the telephone. “Can I have him return your call?”
“No,” said Bob. “I’ll call back.”
He hung up. He was about to dial Headquarters again when he spied a familiar-looking man coming out of the market. As the man headed for his parked car, Bob stepped out of the telephone booth and casually walked in his direction.
“Hey, Bob!” said the man. “What you doin’ here?”
“Hi, Mr. Soames!” It was a neighbour–a man who lived just across the street from Bob in Rocky Beach. “I was just . . . just checking out the fishing here,” said Bob. “My dad and I might go fishing this weekend.”
The man looked around. “You come on your bike?”
Bob shook his head. “I got a lift with a friend,” he said, lying almost as expertly as Jupe could when the need arose. “Say, you wouldn’t be headed north, would you?”
“Well, yeah,” said Mr. Soames. “I’m going to Carpinteria to see my sister.”
“I thought that’s where you might be going. Could I ride with you as far as Oxnard?”
“Sure, but . . . but I won’t be coming back today. How are you going to get home from Oxnard?”
“I’ll catch the Greyhound,” said Bob easily. “Gee, thanks, Mr. Soames. I sure appreciate this.”
Bob slid into the passenger seat of Mr. Soames’s little sedan, smiling to himself. Jupe couldn’t have done it better. He was saved a long trip on the highway by bike, and perhaps, before the day was over, he would know what sort of merchandise Ernie and his friends had bargained for–and how much they planned to pay for it!
15
Trouble for Bob
JUPITER SAT on the curb across the street from Gracie Montoya’s apartment. He felt frustrated and bored. He had rung Gracie’s doorbell at nine that morning, and had tried once more to interest her in subscribing to the Santa Monica Evening Outlook. She had refused to take the paper, and this time she had not been inclined to stop and chat.
Jupe had retreated to the apartment house across the street and watched Gracie’s apartment all morning. He watched her carry laundry into a room at the back of her building, and later return with piles of neatly folded clothes. She was now sitting beside the pool fixing her nails. Jupe wanted very much to talk to her again. He decided that he would pretend to be searching for a lost order book.
Jupe got up from the curb and crossed the street. But when he reached the gate of Gracie’s house, he stopped. The girl had a telephone now, on a long cord, and she was talking with someone named Marilyn.
“The acting isn’t any good,” she said, “but I hear the effects are great. When they blow up the spaceship, you can feel the seats shake. I called, and the first show’s at two. Want to have a sandwich before we go in?”
Jupe turned away. Grace Montoya was about to leave for a movie. Even if he could follow her, he decided he would learn little sitting in a theatre all afternoon.
Jupe wondered whether Bob was having a more rewarding time at the Denicola pier. He wondered, too, whether he and his friends were really doing anything to help Mr. Bonestell. Could Ernie and his friends be the bank robbers? And if they were, how could The Three Investigators prove it?
Suddenly Jupe remembered something he had seen in movies and on television shows. He got his bike and sped back to the salvage yard.
Pete was in Headquarters, leafing through a sports magazine and looking bored.
“Glad to see you,” said Pete. “It’s been dull here. But Bob called once.”
“Oh?” said Jupe. “What did he say?”
“He thinks there’s something up at Denicola’s. Ernie’s two room-mates are hanging around talking with Ernie. Bob says they’re excited about something. And old Mrs. Denicola had a dream about Bob. She said he was in danger, and told him he shouldn’t be there at the dock!”
Jupe felt a flicker of excitement. He wasn’t sure he believed in Mrs. Denicola’s dreams, but Ernie was another matter. “How long ago did Bob call?” he asked.
“Maybe half an hour, maybe a little longer. I said I’d go to Denicola’s to take over for him, but he wanted to stay.”
Jupe nodded. “Okay. Listen, I’m going up there. I’m going to try to photograph those three guys. If I make prints of the photos and touch them up with a felt pen–draw on moustaches and wigs–I can show them to Mr. Bonestell. He might recognize them.”
Jupe ducked into the darkroom and brought out a camera equipped with a telephoto lens. “You stay with the phone,” he ordered. “I’ll call you after I’ve seen Bob.”
Half an hour later Jupe was across the road from the Denicola pier. The Maria III was not there, and the little glass-enclosed office near the dock was empty. Ernie and Eileen were nowhere about.
Shrugging, Jupe wheeled his bicycle across the highway. He bumped down over the rocks to the beach and found Bob’s bike locked to a piling under the pier. Jupe locked his own bike next to it, then looked up and down the beach. He saw surf fishermen, and children playing with a dog, but no Bob. Carrying his camera, he climbed back up to the Denicola parking lot. There was no one around. Then he spotted the station wagon in the carport of the grey-shingled house near the pier. Someone was home at the Denicolas’.