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
