Megan Stine - Murder To Go

Jupe studied Big Barney’s full, round face. What was that deep in his eyes? Was it the look of a father worried for his daughter? Or was it the look of a maniac who didn’t want his daughter to find out about his plot to poison the world?

Without walking into the room, Big Barney said, “How about giving me time alone with my daughter?” Jupe, Pete, and Bob reluctantly moved out into the hallway. Jupe glanced around and then walked toward the nurses’ station in the center of the hall. There was only one nurse behind the desk, the woman with the copper-red hair. Her nametag said Elizabeth Lazar, R.N.

“Could you tell me who was the nurse on duty last night?” Jupe asked.

“Funny you should ask,” Nurse Lazar answered. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it was me — that’s who. One of the other nurses ran off and got married and I’ve been pulling triple shifts. Twenty-four hours straight.”

Jupe smiled excitedly. “Great. Then perhaps you could tell me about Juliet Coop’s three visitors,” he said. “Besides her father.”

Nurse Lazar frowned and shook her head. “No way. Patient info is strictly for the family.”

The conversation was closed. Jupe could see it in her eyes. She was tired, she was grumpy, she was, a lot of things, but talkative wasn’t one of them. Jupe sighed and looked away.

“It’s really important,” Bob said, running his hand through his blond hair.

She turned her stare on Bob, who smiled back. Then he said in his most friendly voice, “Triple shifts, huh? What a bummer. How about if we personally sing you three choruses of the Beatles song of your choice — and, trust me on this, you haven’t heard ‘Sergeant Pepper’ until you’ve heard us.”

“Spare me the charm. I’ve had a long day,” Nurse Lazar said. But her face actually thawed and she almost smiled. “Okay, look. There weren’t three visitors last night. Only two — a young man and a young woman.”

“What about the guy in the army jacket?” Jupe asked.

Elizabeth Lazar’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I told him he couldn’t go in,” she said. “What a nerve! That guy gave me the creeps.”

“Why?” Bob asked.

“He kept asking me questions,” she said. “And he was asking some doozies.”

“For example?” asked Jupe.

“ ‘Is she going to make it?’ — he said it just like that. And ‘Where is her personal property?’ Questions like that. He didn’t exactly look like a friend of the family, either.”

“Did you get a good look at him?” Bob asked.

Nurse Lazar shook her head. “I’m not a face person,” she said. “I remember his jacket and his questions. I could remember his temperature if I took it. Not his face.”

“Thanks,” Bob said.

As the Three Investigators turned away, Jupe said, “This Mr. Sweetness sounds suspicious to me. But maybe Juliet knows who he is. Let’s go back in the room and see if she’s awake.”

“Hey, guys,” said Nurse Lazar, shaking her head. “Juliet Coop was shaken up pretty badly, and her body needs to sleep it off. So she won’t be awake for a while.”

With that piece of news, the Three Investigators decided to take another approach. Jupe and Bob would do exactly what they’d done on a million other cases in the past. They’d go to Rocky Beach’s police station to talk with their longtime ally, Chief Reynolds. Pete, on the other hand, would do exactly what Kelly told him to do — stay at the hospital and keep her company.

Bob jumped behind the wheel of his red VW bug, and Jupe squeezed into the passenger side.

In a little while, the two of them were sitting across from Chief Reynolds, watching him dig into his lunch — a box of Chicken Coop fried chicken.

“You guys want a piece?” the chief offered.

“Thanks,” Bob said, dipping into the cardboard box, which pictured a chicken wearing a crown.

Jupe gripped his chair with both hands and tried to say “no, thanks” as calmly as he could.

“So what are The Three Investigators up to now?” asked the chief as he gnawed happily on a leg.

“We wanted to know the circumstances of Juliet Coop’s accident,” Jupe said.

“No mystery there,” said the police chief through a mouthful of chicken. “She lost control of her car on a hill in the rain and crashed. Beginning, middle, and end.”

“Isn’t there anything strange about the case?” Jupe asked.

“A couple of questions to be cleared up, but there always are,” said the chief. “For one thing, the accident was reported anonymously. We’d like to track down the citizen who called us. Maybe it was a witness. But why didn’t he give his name? Also, there were two sets of tire skid marks — one from Juliet’s car, going straight off the road, and another set beside hers. They ended farther down the hill from where she crashed.”

Jupe tried to imagine it. He saw two cars coming down the hill. Juliet’s car was in front and someone else — who? — was behind her. Jupe pinched his lower lip and visualized different scenarios.

“Chief Reynolds,” Jupe said slowly. “Have you considered the possibility that Juliet Coop was being chased?”

“Juliet coop being chased?” said Chief Reynolds, putting down his plastic cup of coleslaw and staring at the young detective. “What’s your thinking, Jupe? Because that’s a skinny limb you’re standing on.”

“It’s an entirely logical possibility,” Jupe said, leaning back in his chair. “If you were driving down a hill in the rain and the car in front of you skidded off the shoulder, what would you do?”

Bob spoke up first. “If I hit the brakes hard, I’d probably skid and stop down the road.”

“Exactly where we found the second pair of tire tracks,” Chief Reynolds added.

“But what would you do next?” Jupe asked.

“I’d probably back up the hill on the shoulder,” Bob said. “That way I wouldn’t have to run so far in the rain, and I could get to the other car faster.”

“Exactly,” Jupiter said with a triumphant smile. “Did the second car back up to try to help Juliet? Or even to find out if she was alive?”

“Not according to the evidence,” the chief admitted. “We didn’t find any fresh tire tracks or footprints in the soft, muddy shoulder. I’d have to say the second car just sat there.”

“Who would just sit in a car and not help a driver who went off the road?” Jupe asked, and then answered himself. “Perhaps it was someone who was chasing Juliet Coop — and didn’t care if she died in that crash!”

“It’s a good theory,” said Chief Reynolds. “You have any evidence?”

“We’re working on it,” Jupe said, standing up to leave. “Come on, Bob.”

Chief Reynolds called to them before they got to the door. “Don’t work too hard,” he said. “As soon as the Chicken King’s daughter wakes up, we’ll get the whole story.”

It was true, Jupe realized. When Juliet woke up, she could tell them whether someone had been following her before the crash. Maybe the other car had even tried to force her off the road. And maybe the driver of the other car was the person who was going to poison the chicken!

Juliet had all the answers in her sleepy head, and the Three Investigators would just have to wait.

But the real question was, would Juliet tell the truth when she woke up? If her father was somehow involved in this poison chicken thing, would she lie to protect him?

As Jupe and Bob left police headquarters and got into Bob’s car, Jupe’s stomach growled audibly.

“You know, Jupe, it’s great that you’re sticking to your diet and everything. But no fried foods and then eating melon at every meal? It’s weird,” Bob said.

“Easy for you to say. Do you have a single shirt with a tag that says Extra-Large?”

Bob recognized Jupe’s “discussion closed” tone of voice. “Okay. Sorry,” he said. “So what’s your plan — now?”

“It’s obvious that we have only one route to follow,” Jupe answered. “Who was driving the car that was following Juliet Coop? It could have been one of the three people who visited her in the hospital last night.”

“You mean Sean Fellows, Maria Gonzales, and that guy Kelly calls Mr. Sweetness,” said Bob.

“Yes. And we’ve got to find out more about Michael Argenti, too — Big Barney’s rival,” Jupe said. “I can handle that with the computer back in Headquarters. I’ll tap into DataServe and search their business files for everything about Michael Argenti and Roast Roost. The Wall Street Journal is in their database. It should be informative. While I’m doing that, I want you to find out where Sean Fellows was last night before he came to the hospital.”

“Can’t handle it,” Bob said apologetically. “Sax needs me at the agency.”

“All right, then call Pete at the hospital and get him to take up the slack.”

“No problem. But what about Maria and Mr. Sweetness?”

“I’m not too worried about Maria,” said Jupe. “She doesn’t seem to have any motive whatsoever. But I’ll call her and check her out. As for Mr. Sweetness, we’ll just have to wait until we cross paths.”

Just then Jupe’s stomach growled again. So Bob drove him to a supermarket to pick up another ten pounds’ worth of watermelon. Then he dropped Jupe off at The Jones Salvage Yard and drove on to work. From there Bob called Pete at the hospital and gave him the assignment: Check out Juliet’s ex-boyfriend, Sean Fellows.

But by the time Pete pulled himself away from Kelly, it was dark — too dark to find Sean’s address. So it wasn’t until Sunday that Pete pulled up in front of 23 Laurel Street, where Sean lived.

Sean Fellows’ house was in a quiet and pretty neighborhood of Melton, a few miles north of Rocky Beach. The street was lined with small white wooden houses that had wide front porches and small front yards.

There was an old Bonneville convertible parked in front of Sean Fellows’ house. And sitting on the porch railing was a guy with a blond flattop. He wore faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a leather vest. He jumped to his feet the moment Pete stepped into his yard.

“Come on!” he shouted, motioning with one hand to Pete and holding the other behind his back. “Make my day!” As soon as Pete was close to the porch, the hidden hand came out — holding a motorcycle chain!

What was going on? Pete’s mind raced as his heart started thumping. Suddenly, for no reason, some maniac was coming at him with a vengeance. The guy had the motorcycle chain wrapped a couple of times around his hand, but its long tail swung freely. Pete froze in his tracks. Should he try some of his new karate moves? Or back off?

“Just you and me this time,” the guy called to Pete. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” His arm swung, and the tail of the vicious chain clattered and ripped into the wooden porch railing.

Forget the karate, thought Pete. He started to back away.

“I’m going to tear you open!” the guy yelled, jumping off the porch. He wasn’t very big. In fact, he was much shorter and smaller built than Pete. But his voice was full of anger and he was swinging the chain wildly.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Pete said as he backed farther away. The guy kept coming, his black leather boots eating up the ground between them. His shoulders hulked like a gorilla’s.

“I don’t know what you think, but I’m looking for Sean Fellows,” Pete said desperately. “I’m a friend of Juliet Coop’s.”