“Oh. Hi, Bob. Hi, Jupe — I mean, Mr. Collegiate,” she added with a giggle.
Jupe snarled at the speaker phone.
“What have you been doing? Working on the Ark, Petey?”
“Nope,” Pete said, giving Jupe and Bob a wink. “As a matter of fact, I don’t even know where it is. I’m driving something else.”
“You traded cars already? That’s a record. What’d you get this time?”
“A Porsche.”
“Petey, we’ve got a bad connection. It sounded like you said Porsche.”
“1986. 911 Targa. A totally cool blue.”
“Come on, you guys. What’s the joke?”
“It’s true,” Bob said. “Pete’s got a Porsche. It’s the next installment from the guy who’s bribing him.”
Kelly was silent for a moment. “Pete, if you care about me at all, you’ll promise not to solve this case until I get home and drive that car.”
“See what I mean?” moaned Pete, looking at his friends.
“The way things are going,” said Jupe gloomily, “that’s a promise he can almost guarantee.”
At 10:15, the phone rang again. Bob answered. It was Valerie this time. She and Bob talked for about five minutes before they discovered that they didn’t know each other. Valerie had dialed the wrong number. However, they still set up a date to go see a movie.
“When I get wrong numbers, they want to sell me magazines,” said Jupe with a sigh.
A third phone call came at exactly 11:00. Jupe was nearest, so he answered. The voice on the other end surprised him. It was Chuck Harper, president of Shoremont College. The call-forwarding button on the HQ phone had bumped Harper’s call over to Pete’s house.
“Jupe, could you and your guys come to my office at four o’clock this afternoon?” Harper said.
“Of course,” Jupe said. Afterward he looked at the clock. Now they had the next five hours to wonder why President Harper sounded so worried — and why Michael Anthony hadn’t called.
For the rest of the day the phone didn’t ring. By two P.M., Pete was so fidgety he was driving Jupe and Bob crazy.
“Are you going to give up on this guy Michael Anthony, or what?” Pete asked as he repeatedly tossed the keys to the Porsche into the air and caught them again.
“I’m beginning to suspect he won’t call,” Jupe agreed. “He must have spotted us when we were tailing him yesterday.”
“What a shame,” Pete said, although a huge smile began spreading across his face. “All right, I’m out of here!”
“Drop me at Sax’s,” Bob said. “I can’t make the four o’clock meeting. Gotta work tonight and tomorrow. And Monday.”
“Right,” Jupe and Pete groaned in unison.
The three of them piled into the Porsche and drove Bob to the talent agency. Then Pete and Jupe cruised until it was time to head for Shoremont.
The administration building was empty and quiet, as usual for a Saturday afternoon. Pete and Jupe found President Harper sitting behind his desk instead of on it. He was unbending paper clips at a rapid rate and wearing a very solemn face. With him was a second man, seated in a tall-backed leather chair.
“Jupiter Jones and Pete Crenshaw, this is John Hemingway Powers,” said President Harper.
Oh, yes, Jupe remembered, you are Mr. Check-book, who offered to pay for a new gym.
The man stood up. His height wasn’t impressive. He had dark wavy hair and a small mustache. He looked like any successful business executive in an expensive blue suit — except for his eyes. They were dark and seemed to bore into the two teenagers as he shook hands.
“I have been informed by President Harper that you received bribery money to enroll at Shoremont,” he said tersely to Pete. “And you,” he said when his eyes turned to Jupe, “are posing as a student to find out who sent the money.”
President Harper cleared his throat. “Mr. Powers and I played tennis this morning,” he explained. “And during the match, he mentioned that he wanted to contribute an additional sum of money — to increase Coach Duggan’s discretionary budget. I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea right now and tried to leave it at that. However — ”
Powers interrupted in a strong, to-the-point voice. “When someone tells me there’s something I can’t do, I start asking why.”
President Harper continued, sounding slightly uncomfortable. “Well, finally I decided it was only fair to let John know about our suspicions. Fortunately, John understands and respects the way we’re dealing with this problem. He has graciously offered to help with the investigation in any way he can. But of course he’s as concerned as I am to avoid a scandal.”
“Well?” Powers said, staring at Jupe and Pete. Jupe understood: John Hemingway Powers wanted to know what was going on — and he wanted to know now.
“I think we are getting very close to uncovering which players are receiving bribery money and who is behind the plot,” Jupe said, putting on his most confident face. “A man calling himself Michael Anthony contacted Pete in person. He gave Pete a car — ”
“A Porsche,” interrupted Pete.
“And he also admitted that he is working for someone else. But we don’t know for whom yet.”
“Best guess,” Powers demanded.
“Coach Duggan,” said President Harper.
“True,” said Jupe, “but it’s also possible that Bernie Mehl is trying to frame Coach Duggan.”
“Yeah. We followed Michael Anthony to Costa Verde’s campus,” added Pete.
“Guys, I don’t care who it is,” said President Harper. “I just want you to get the proof you need and settle this fast. We’ve got to clean house before this leaks out. Because if the press finds out, they won’t
Powers turned to President Harper. “Chuck, I’m convinced you’re going about this the right way. I think these guys are on the right track.”
Then Powers gave one of his penetrating stares. “I hope, young man, you won’t get the wrong idea about Shoremont. The things I learned here when I was a student helped me become what I am today. It’s a wonderful school. And if you really are an outstanding athlete, we’d be pleased to have you enroll — but not for money.”
As Jupe and Pete left the building Pete said, “That Powers is something else. I’ll bet he could tell an earthquake what to do.”
“I’m certain he’d try,” agreed Jupe. “I think he expects us to solve this case by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. What are the chances?”
“It all depends on what I find out from Walt Klinglesmith. I’m supposed to tutor him in chemistry in an hour. See you later.”
Jupe waited for Walt in the student center, going over strategies in his mind.
Strategy #1 was to pump Walt. He’d start with simple, casual questions. Questions like: “Who recruited you for the Shoremont team?” and “What made you decide to take the offer?” If a subtle approach didn’t work, he might just come out and ask Walt about the bribes. Jupe figured if anyone was going to open up to him, it would be Walt.
Strategy #2 was a thorough search of Coach Duggan’s office. Duggan was still the number-one suspect, but so far Jupe hadn’t been able to get close enough to him to find out a thing.
Strategy #3 was on the back burner. It was Pete’s idea — a full-fledged investigation of the Costa Verde coach, Bernie Mehl. Jupe had to admit it was a logical ploy. But as he told Pete, there was no way he was going to spend another second on the Costa Verde campus. Not with those Costa Verde jocks still hungry for the parrot’s blood! Jupe suggested Pete investigate Bernie Mehl alone, to which Pete replied, “It’s bad enough being the Two Investigators with Bob gone all the time. But the One Investigator? No way!”
“Hi, Jupiter,” called a girl, bringing Jupe back to reality.
Jupe turned and saw Cathy, the cheerleader who talked so fast Jupe wondered if she were trying to break the sound barrier. She came up to him as he sat in the student center lobby.
