The following day the weather cleared. The usually reliable California sun shone again. For the next three weeks the Three Investigators were all busy in their own ways.
Bob was putting in more time at his job. His boss, Sax Sendler of Rock- Plus, Inc., talent agency, had booked several of his groups for a big outdoor rock concert. Bob was working twelve hours a day, preparing advance publicity and running errands and helping to set up the equipment.
Pete was having trouble with his girlfriend, Kelly. She seemed to have cooled off a little lately. Although Kelly was the one who had first suggested going steady, her way of going steady wasn’t what it had been. Sometimes when he’d arranged to pick her up at her house, he’d find she wasn’t home. She had gone shopping with a girlfriend. This hadn’t changed Pete’s feelings about her. And he often felt she was just as attached to him as ever, in her own casual way. But Pete did find he was wasting a lot of his vacation waiting around for her. It cut into his surfing time and even his karate practice.
Jupe was again making a determined effort to lose weight. At 5 feet 8 ¾ inches and 190 pounds, he could no longer hide the truth from himself. He wasn’t just stocky. He was. well, maybe not exactly fat. But his physique could use a lot of improvement. His problem was that the more he swam and practiced his judo, the hungrier he felt. And the harder it was to stick to his new diet.
This week it was Keil Halfebrot’s Body-Building Regimen — nothing but protein and salads. Since muscleman Halfebrot looked like Superman and Jupiter resembled a large pear, he thought it would be worth a shot.
One afternoon Jupe was standing outside his electronics workshop, next to Headquarters. The workshop was a tinkerer’s paradise, jammed with all the equipment needed to build and repair the electronic gadgets the team used on their cases.
And that’s exactly what Jupiter was doing now — tinkering. He was testing a new security device for the workshop, a lock that could only be opened when he spoke the special password.
Pete was on the other side of the headquarters trailer in his makeshift auto shop. He had been stood up by Kelly for the second time that week.
Jupe adjusted a final silicon chip.
“Beware of the dog,” he commanded.
“What?” Pete kept cutting the canvas that would become a new roof for his convertible.
“Rats,” Jupe complained. “The lock’s supposed to open when I say that.
As Jupiter was rolling his eyes the phone rang in his workshop. Jupe ignored it, knowing there was another extension in Headquarters. Bob was inside, laying out a leaflet for the rock concert on the word processor. The call was probably one of his girlfriends begging him for a date. Let him answer the phone.
After a moment it stopped ringing. Pete went back to his auto pit.
Bob stepped out of the trailer. “Jupe, it’s your Aunt Mathilda.” Jupe caught a glimpse of three pretty young faces inside before his friend closed the door.
“She wants to talk to me?” Jupe asked, a little surprised.
His Aunt Mathilda and his Uncle Titus had given him a home since he was four years old, when his parents were killed in an automobile accident. Jupe was still grateful for that, and he was fond of both Titus and Mathilda. But now that he was seventeen, they no longer played the important part in his life they once had.
A few years ago summonses from Aunt Mathilda had been as frequent as homework assignments. They had usually meant one thing — work. She had endless jobs for him to do in the salvage yard. But recently Jupe had computerized the inventory in exchange for freedom from those chores. So a call from Aunt Mathilda these days was as rare as girlfriends for Jupe.
“No. She just had a message for you,” Bob said. “There’s someone over at the house who wants to talk to you.”
“Who?” Jupe asked.
“Name of Rice.” Bob smiled. “Something to do with that puzzle contest you auditioned for.”
“Yeah?” Jupe felt his interest rise. He hadn’t forgotten about the crossword contest. He never forgot anything. But he had been so busy trying to lose weight that he hadn’t thought much about it lately.
Now he might have a chance to find out who was putting up the dough for those two weeks in Mexico.
The Three Investigators decided they all should meet Mr. Rice. They were crossing the road outside the junkyard when a man appeared on the porch of the Jones house.
He was tall and lean. In his late thirties, Jupe guessed. And he looked like quite a dude in his designer jeans and hand-tooled cowboy boots. He had an expensive Stetson cocked at an angle on his head. As the Investigators approached him he took it off and waved it in greeting.
“Hi. I’m Dustin Rice.”
He looked at the three guys in turn. “So which of you is the lucky one?” he asked. “No, don’t tell me. See if I can guess.”
He turned to Pete and smiled at him. “Just for fun, let me hear your voice, friend. Say. ” He hesitated. “Say, ‘South of the border, down Mexico way.’ ”
“South of the border, down Mexico way,” Pete obliged him grudgingly. He wasn’t much taken with Dustin Rice.
Rice shook his head. He waved his Stetson at Bob.
“Now you.”
“Mouth of disorder, brown Mexico day,” Bob said. He had never liked the song anyway, and he didn’t feel like taking orders from this cowboy.
Dustin Rice managed to keep smiling. He looked at Jupe. Jupe looked back at him.
His first impression of this man was that he was slightly unreal. His jaunty smile and breezy manner weren’t altogether convincing. He reminded Jupe of someone walking a tightrope, carefully planning his next step.
“Would you mind letting me hear you say it?” he asked Jupe.
“South of the border, down Mexico way.”
The effect was astonishing. Rice’s eyes brightened with excitement. He stepped forward and shook Jupe’s hand.
“My friends call me Dusty,” he said. “You must be Jupiter Jones and your aunt says they call you Jupe. It’s my great pleasure to tell you you’ve won the grand prize in my crossword puzzle contest! A free visit to my ranch.” His smile broadened. “Down Mexico way. And I’m looking forward to having you there as my guest, Jupe, and. ”
His voice trailed away. Jupe was holding up his hand like a traffic cop at a busy intersection.
Given his height and weight, Jupe was not a naturally imposing figure. But he had the remarkable ability of asserting his authority when he felt like it.
He felt like it now. He wasn’t going to let Dustin Rice take it for granted
