Part 1 (1/2)
THE MYSTERY OF THE PURPLE PIRATE.
by William Arden.
A Challenge from Hector Sebastian
h.e.l.lO, MYSTERY LOVERS!.
Once again it's my pleasure to introduce an action-packed case of the Three Investigators. First let me introduce the young super-sleuths. There's Jupiter Jones, First Investigator, a chunky boy fond of a good meal and a good puzzle. His razor-sharp memory and brilliant powers of deduction have got the team out of a number of tight corners. Then there's the tall and athletic Second Investigator, Peter Crenshaw, nervous in the face of danger but bold in meeting it head on. The last but not least is Bob Andrews, in charge of Records and Research-a reliable and quiet young man, indispensable to his fellow Investigators.
This time the junior detectives take on a mind-teasing case at the Purple Pirate Lair and aboard the pirate s.h.i.+p Black Vulture Black Vulture. Certain strange events lead them to believe one pirate is still very much alive at the former heaven of California's notorious privateers.
The mysterious adventure tests the boys' insight and repeatedly gets them into tight corners. Match wits with the Three Investigators and see if you can beat them to the solution of The Mystery of the Purple Pirate The Mystery of the Purple Pirate.
HECTOR SEBASTIAN.
Chapter 1.
Buccaneers, Brigands, and Bandits!
WHEN HIS ALARM CLOCK rang violently, Pete Crenshaw opened one eye and groaned. Only the second week of summer vacation and already he wished bitterly that he'd never agreed to do yard work for his next-door neighbours while they were away on a trip. But the funds of the junior detective agency to which he belonged were at an all-time low after an end-of-school trip to Disneyland, and the team needed summer money. The other two sleuths had also been put to work: Bob Andrews had a part-time job at the library, and Jupiter Jones had reluctantly agreed to work extra hours at The Jones Salvage Yard, where he lived with his aunt and uncle.
With a final groan, Pete crawled out of bed and hurried into his clothes. When he dragged himself into the kitchen, he saw that his father was already having breakfast.
”Too early for you, Pete?” Mr. Crenshaw said, grinning.
”Got to do that dumb yard work,” Pete grumbled as he got his orange juice from the refrigerator.
”Summer money, eh? Well, maybe there's an easier way. This was left in our mailbox last night.”
Mr. Crenshaw put a yellow sheet of paper at Pete's place as the boy sat down.
Pete glanced at the paper while he drank his juice. It was one of those advertising flyers that local businesses pay to have delivered house to house. As Pete read his excitement grew: BUCCANEERS! BRIGANDS!.
Lovers of adventure! Historians!
Bookworms! Descendants of pirates!
The Society for Justice to Buccaneers, Brigands, Bandits, and Bushwhackers will pay $25 an hour to anyone who can report detailed information about local pirates, bandits, highwaymen, and other colourful miscreants of California's l.u.s.ty past.
Come to 1995, De La Vina Street any day of the week, June 18-22, from 9 to 5.
BANDITS! BUSHWHACKERS!.
”Wow!” Pete yelled. ”We can make a fortune, Dad! I mean, we know a lot about old-time crooks around here, especially Jupiter! I've got to show this to Jupe and Bob right away. Today's the eighteenth, and it's almost eight already!”
”Whoa,” Mr. Crenshaw said. ”Before you become a millionaire, finish your breakfast.”
”Dad! I have to water the lawn, then-”
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”You boys always think better on a full stomach, especially Jupiter. Force something down.”
Pete groaned. ”Just some cereal then!”
He ate the cereal quickly, then sniffed the plate of hotcakes and bacon his father set down in front of him.
”Well, ”Pete said, ”maybe just one plate.”
While his Dad grinned but said nothing, Pete finished the hotcakes and bacon, had another plateful, and then picked up the advertising flyer and ran out. He hurried next door, watered the lawn, impatiently raked the fallen leaves and branches, then jumped on to his bike. He pedalled hard, and it was just nine o'clock when he rode up to the long, colourful fence of The Jones Salvage Yard.
The fence had been decorated by local artists. Near one corner it showed a s.h.i.+p foundering in a green ocean as a painted fish looked on. Pete pressed the fish's eye and the board swung open-this was Green Gate One.
Pete slipped through and stood in Jupiter's outdoor workshop, located close to the boys' hidden headquarters in an old mobile home trailer. The trailer was the centre of operations of The Three Investigators detective agency. Pete was the Second Investigator of the team. Leaving his bike by two others in the workshop, Pete crawled in to the mouth of a long corrugated pipe that was too narrow for an adult to enter.
The pipe, named Tunnel Two, led under a great mound of junk that totally surrounded the house trailer. By now everyone else had forgotten that the trailer was even in the salvage yard. At the end of the dark pipe, Pete pushed up a trapdoor and emerged into the small trailer room, which was filled with furniture and all the equipment the boys used in their detective work.
”Guys look at this!”
Pete waved the yellow flyer. Then he stopped and stared. Jupiter Jones, the chubby and very brainy First Investigator of the team, was standing near the desk.
Bob Andrews, the small, blond, and studious Records and Research man, was leaning against a filing cabinet. Both of them held the same yellow flyer!
Bob sighed. ”I got here five minutes ago, Second, with the same big news!”
”Which I already had,” Jupiter said. ”It appears, fellows, we all had the same idea for making money!”
Pete climbed all the way inside the hidden room and dropped into an overstuffed armchair they had retrieved from the salvage yard.
”I guess we're all tired of work already,” Pete decided.
”Work never hurt anyone,” Jupiter reproved the Second Investigator and then slumped into the desk chair. ”But I must admit that spending day after day in the salvage yard is cruel and inhuman. Perhaps the Society for Justice to Buccaneers, Brigands, Bandits, and Bushwhackers will come to our rescue.”
”Anything for a little extra money,” Bob said.
”Who should we tell them about?” Pete asked.
”Well, of course there's the French privateer de Bouchard,” said Jupe. ”He's the most famous pirate in California history.”
Pete said, ”There's El Diablo, the bandit we learned about in the Moaning Cave case.”