The Mystery Of The Purple Pirate Part 1

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."

"And those soldiers who killed Don Sebastian Alvaro to get the Cortes Sword in the Headless Horse case," Bob added.

"Oh, and that follower of de Bouchard's - William Evans, the Purple Pirate,"

Jupiter continued. He glanced at the old grandfather clock they had rebuilt. "But we aren't the only ones who know those stories, so I suggest we move swiftly."

Suiting action to words, the trio dropped through the trapdoor and crawled through Tunnel Two to the workshop. As they emerged they heard, "Jupiter! Where have you gotten to? Jupiter!"

"It's your Aunt Mathilda, Jupe!" said Bob.

The caller could not be seen over the piles of junk that surrounded the workshop, but her voice came closer and closer.

"I'll bet she's got work for us to do!" exclaimed Pete.

Jupiter turned pale. "Hurry!"

The boys grabbed their bikes, slipped through Green Gate One, and rode off towards downtown Rocky Beach. As they neared the address on De La Vina Street, Bob realized he knew it.

"It's an old Spanish-style courtyard surrounded by a stucco wall, with shops at the far end of the court. Most of them are empty."

Jupiter puffed heavily as he pedalled. "That's probably why the society picked it.

Records. They undoubtedly rented it cheaply, and it will be a quiet place for interviews."

As the boys turned into the 1900 block of De La Vina, they saw a small crowd, growing larger by the minute, gathered in front of closed wooden gates in the high wall of number 1995. Jupiter studied the crowd as they rode up.

"A few adults, but mostly teenagers and kids," the stout leader of the team observed. "Because it's a workday, the adults won't come until later. An advantage for us, fellows."

As they locked their bikes to a convenient iron railing, the boys saw the high wooden gates open and a dapper little man with white hair and a big, bushy moustache come out. He wore a tweed jacket, riding breeches, boots, and a silk scarf at his throat, and he carried a riding crop. He looked like some old-time cavalryman.

The man faced the crowd and raised his riding crop for silence.

"My name is Major Karnes! I want to welcome all of you to the Society for Justice to Buccaneers, Brigands, Bandits, and Bushwhackers. We will interview all of you, but there are too many of you today, so we will have to limit our interviews to those who came the farthest! Only those who live beyond the city limits of Rocky Beach will be interviewed now; the rest can go home. Do come back another day."

A cry of disappointment went up from the crowd. The teenagers began to push and shove. Backing away, Major Karnes b.u.mped into the high wooden doors, closing them behind him! Backed against the gates, he tried to speak, but the teenagers drowned him out.

"Hey, what's goin' on?"

"You mean we came all this way for nothin'?"

"You've got a lot of nerve!"

Major Karnes swung his riding crop at the rowdy teenagers. "Get away from me, you young punks!"

The crowd turned ugly. A teenager grabbed the small man's riding crop and threw it away. The others surged towards him. Major Karnes went pale.

"Help! Hubert!"

The angry crowd pressed closer!

Chapter 2.

Cheated!

"HELP!" MAJOR KARNES cried as the furious teenagers closed in on him. "Hubert!

Help!"

Pete turned quickly to Jupiter. "Hey, this is getting out of hand. Get the major inside." With that, the tall, muscular Second Investigator leaped on top of a nearby parked car and pointed up the street.

"Police!" he shouted. "The police are coming!" The teenagers turned from the gates and looked up at Pete in alarm. Bob and Jupiter quickly slipped through the crowd and reached the major.

"Come on!" Pete yelled. "Let's get out of here!" He jumped down from the car and ran towards the far end of the street. Some of the teenagers began to run after him at once, while others hesitated. Behind them, Bob pulled the heavy wooden gates open a crack.

"This way, sir," said Jupiter and pushed the major inside. A few moments later Pete appeared from among the dispersing teenagers and slipped into the courtyard after Major Karnes, Jupiter, and Bob, Together the boys pulled the heavy gates shut again as Major Karnes leaned panting against the inner wall.

"Hubert!"

he bawled.

"Young punks! The police should throw them all in prison!"

The courtyard was paved with large stones from long ago, and jacaranda and pepper trees grew from open s.p.a.ces among them. The high wall, almost hidden by brightly flowered shrubs, extended all around the courtyard, and a short row of shops lined the far end. The shops all looked empty. A lone small truck was parked in front of the stores.

The major took a red bandanna from his jacket pocket and mopped his brow.

"Thanks for helping, boys, but I'd have liked to see the police take care of that rabble!"

Pete laughed. "There weren't any police, sir. I had to think of something to get their attention and scare them so they'd forget all about attacking you."

"And give us time to open the gates," Bob added.

The major gaped. "By gad, that was quick thinking. Well, for that you will be the first interviewed no matter where you live! Hubert, you idiot! Come out here!"

"Gosh, thank you, sir!" Pete and Bob exclaimed.

"Only fair."

Jupiter frowned. "I'm afraid the crowd outside will think this is preferential treatment."