"Carey, M.V. - The Three Investigators 15 - The Mystery of the Flaming Footprints" - читать интересную книгу автора (Carey M.V)

Too Many Newcomers



JUPITER refused Haines's offer of a ride back to Rocky Beach. "I've got my bike," he told the policeman. "And I'm okay."

Haines squinted at the bruise on Jupe's forehead. "You sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure. It's just a bump." Jupiter started down the path.

"Well, watch it, Jones!" McDermott called after him from the house. "You keep poking your nose in where it doesn't belong, you'll get it cut off one of these days. And stick close to home, you hear? The chief will probably want to talk to you, too."

Jupiter waved, picked up his bicycle, and stood waiting for a break in the traffic so that he could cross the highway. The tan Ford which Jupe had noticed earlier was still parked on the shoulder above the beach. The traffic slackened, and Jupe raced across the road with his bicycle. He stood beside the car and looked down at the beach. The tide was going out, leaving broad stretches of wet sand. Coming up the path towards him was the most magnificent fisherman Jupe had ever seen. He had on a sparkling white turtleneck shirt and, over it, a spotless pale blue jacket with a crest on the pocket. The jacket exactly matched his pale blue duck trousers and these, in turn, blended beautifully with his blue sneakers. He wore a yachting cap so immaculate it might have been taken off the shelf at the sporting goods store only yesterday.

"Hello, there!" said the man, as he came abreast of Jupe. Jupe saw a thin, tanned face, oversized sunglasses, and a grey moustache, waxed so that the ends pointed out and up towards the man's ears.

The man's fishing tackle and creel were, as perfect, as gleaming bright as the rest of him.

"Any luck?" asked Jupiter Jones.

"No. They're not biting today." The man opened the boot of the dusty Ford and began to stow his gear. "Maybe I'm not using the right bait. I'm new at this."

Jupiter had already guessed that. Most fishermen, he knew, looked like refugees from the Salvation Army store.

The man looked across at the patrol car parked in front of The Potter's house. "Excitement?" he asked.

"A little," said Jupiter. "A housebreaker, probably."

"How dull." The lid of the boot thumped closed.

The man unlocked the car door on the driver's side. "Isn't that the shop of the very famous Potter?" he said.

Jupe nodded.

"He a friend of yours?" asked the fisherman. "You live around here?"

"Yes, I live around here. I know him. Everybody in town knows The Potter."

"Hm. I should think so. Does beautiful work, I understand." Behind the sunglasses, the eyes went over Jupe from head to toe. "Nasty bump you've got there."

"I fell," said Jupe shortly.

"I see. Can I give you a lift anywhere?"

"No, thank you," said Jupiter.

"No? Well, you're right. Never take rides from a stranger, eh?" The man laughed as if he had just said something terribly funny, then started his car, backed on to the highway, waved at Jupe, and drove off.

Jupe rode back to the salvage yard. He did not, however, go in through the main gates. Instead he continued on down the length of the wonderfully painted fence until he came to the curious fish poking its head up from the sea to watch the ship sailing through the furious storm. Jupiter got off his bike and pressed on the eye of the fish. Two boards swung up, and Jupe pushed his bicycle ahead of him into the salvage yard.