The Mystery of the Missing Mermaid Read online

  The courtyard itself had been carefully landscaped with paved walks, a fountain, plots of grass, and pots of flowers. In front of the Nut House there was a raised terrace with chairs and tables. A skinny, dark-haired young man was moving about there, gathering up dishes and clattering them onto a tray. He had sallow skin and looked as if he hadn’t slept or washed for some time. Young Todd was there now, too, jumping from the edge of the terrace down to the ground below, over and over again. Tiny sat nearby, watching his young master with devotion.

  “Hey, you! Kid!” snapped the young man with the tray. “Cut it out, will ya!”

  Todd looked hurt. He retreated toward the bookshop.

  “That guy didn’t have to yell,” said Pete. “Todd wasn’t hurting anything.”

  “Mooch Henderson has yet to learn the social graces,” said Mr. Conine. “Tony and Marge Gould, who operate the Nut House, haven’t had good luck getting help.”

  “Does Mr. Burton own that building too?” Bob asked. He nodded toward the Nut House.

  “He does. As you can see, it and the other wing are quite new. Only the inn was a part of the old Venice. It was built in the 1920s when the community was being developed. Venice was going to be one of America’s showplaces, and it was very grand. There were canals, almost like the ones in Venice, Italy, and the movie people used to come from Hollywood to spend weekends here. They stayed at the Mermaid and swam in the ocean. But then the stylish people began to spend their weekends in Malibu. The community slowly began to go to seed. The inn went out of business and was boarded up. When Clark Burton bought the property and built the two

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  new buildings, we were sure he’d have the old place renovated. But he never has.”

  “Clark Burton!” said Jupiter suddenly. “The actor! I knew he looked familiar when I saw him yesterday.”

  “What actor?” said Pete. “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Yes, Burton is an actor,” said Conine. “But he hasn’t made a film for years. Certainly not since before your time. How do you know him, Jupiter? From television?”

  “Jupe’s a movie addict,” said Bob. “He goes to see the old pictures that are revived at the little theaters in Hollywood.”

  Pete grinned wickedly. “Jupe used to be a movie star himself,” he said, “known as Baby Fatso!”

  Mr. Conine looked startled. “My goodness! So you were Baby Fatso? Well, well!”

  Jupe’s face flamed. He hated being reminded of his past as a chubby juvenile performer. He changed the subject as quickly as he could.

  “You said Clark Burton runs that gallery?” he said, pointing to the upper floor of the north building.

  “He does. He sells ceramic art and some paintings and silver things.”

  Mr. Conine then pointed to the balcony on the south side of the court, above the cafe and the yarn shop. “There are two apartments up there,” he said. “I have the one next to the inn and Miss Peabody has the one with the ocean view. And there is Miss Peabody now. A lovely lady, if a bit strong-minded.”

  Mr. Conine’s next-door neighbor was a lady who was at least seventy. She was coming slowly down the staircase from the balcony, holding the bannister. She wore a dress that was too long to be fashionable, and a hat with pink roses around the brim.

  “Good morning, Miss Peabody,” said Mr. Conine. “Come and meet my young friends, Jupiter, Pete, and Bob.”

  “Jupiter!” she said. “What an interesting name. One doesn’t hear it often.”

  “The boys are working on a school project,” said Mr. Conine. “They are studying a changing neighborhood — Venice.”

  “All of Venice?” asked Miss Peabody. “Or only Mermaid Court?”

  Bob was surprised. “Is there that much to know about Mermaid Court?” he asked.

  “More than you’d think,” said Miss Peabody. “The old Mermaid Inn was the hotel from which Francesca Fontaine disappeared.” Bob and Pete looked blank. “Oh, dear!” said Miss Peabody. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? Well, Francesca Fontaine was an actress who often stayed here in the

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  Mermaid Court

  days when Venice was elegant. She got up one Sunday morning and left the Mermaid Inn to go swimming. She waded into the ocean and was never seen again.”

  Jupe frowned. “I think I’ve heard that tale.”

  “No doubt you have. It’s a Hollywood legend. Well, since her body was never found, the gossips had a field day. Some said Fontaine had waded ashore down the coast and gone off to Phoenix, Arizona, to live with a poultry farmer. Others said she had come creeping back to the Mermaid Inn to shut herself in her suite because she had discovered she had a dreadful disease. Something incurable. Incurable diseases used to be very fashionable.”

  “And they say the hotel is haunted, and the ghost is Francesca Fontaine,” added Mr. Conine. “I am inclined to believe it, myself.”

  “Nonsense!” said Miss Peabody.

  “Somebody is in the hotel.” Mr. Conine spoke softly, but he was insistent. “I see lights behind the windows at night. And since no one ever goes in and no one ever comes out, it must be someone who is always there. I think Clark Burton knows, and that’s why he hasn’t had the hotel fixed up and reopened.”

  “He’s afraid of the ghost?” said Bob.

  “No,” replied Miss Peabody. Her eyes sparkled with malice. “He just hasn’t thought of a way to get any good publicity out of it. Clark Burton likes to be in the public eye. But if you want to know more, go and talk to him. He’s in his gallery right now.”

  Bob remembered the man who had raged at little Todd. “I … uh … wouldn’t want to bother him,” he said. “He might be busy.”

  “He’s never too busy to talk about himself!” cried Miss Peabody. “He’s a ham actor and he loves attention. Just tell him you want to put his name in your school paper and see what happens.”

  Miss Peabody left them and went into the cafe. Mr. Conine smiled encouragingly. “The parade won’t start for a while yet,” he said. “Go on.”

  The boys went slowly to the staircase on the north side of the court. Bob hesitated, then took a deep breath and started to climb the stairs. He didn’t look forward to meeting the ill-tempered Mr. Burton. Would the man bite off the boys’ heads too?

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  3 Trouble!

  The Mermaid Gallery had high ceilings and white walls. A bell sounded as the boys entered and looked timidly around. They saw carvings of ebony and rosewood, bright tapestries, paintings, and glass cases filled with beautiful ceramics. Here and there were bowls and vases made of silver or colored glass.

  A ceramic statue of a young mermaid stood on a pedestal near the big window by the door. The statue was perhaps two feet tall. The little half-human creature was in a playful pose, laughing, poised on her fish tail, holding a seashell high.

  “What is it?” said Clark Burton. He stood behind a waist-high counter that enclosed a little pantry area with a sink, cabinets, and broom closet in the right rear corner of the room. He was scowling at the boys.

  Bob hesitated, as if he wanted to retreat down the stairs. The man was just as grouchy as Bob had feared. Jupe stepped forward, however, and assumed his most pompous manner.

  “I am Jupiter Jones,” he said with great dignity. “We saw one another briefly yesterday, not in the most amiable of circumstances, when young Todd was brought home. Today my friends and I have returned because this place interests us. And you interest us, Mr. Burton.”

  Jupe sometimes startled grownups. Sometimes he even intimidated them. He seemed to amuse Burton, who came out of his pantry with his lips twitching.

  Jupe ignored Burton’s reaction and plunged ahead. “My friend Bob is writing a paper on urban areas that are in a state of transition. We have been told that you are part of the change that is taking place here in Venice.”

  “Ah!” said Burton. “Well, that’s true. I guess I can spare you a few minutes. Sit down.”

  He gestured toward some chairs near the wall. The boys sat down. Burton took a chair across from them and leaned back. He began to speak in a careful

  Trouble!

  way, as if someone had written lines for him and he had rehearsed them.

  “I have been interested in Mermaid Court for a long time,” he said. “I used to come to Venice to swim in the days before the town became popular again. There was no bicycle path then, and no boutiques. There were only the little beach houses that were going to ruin, and the canals all choked with weeds.

  “When Mermaid Inn came on the market, I made inquiries. The price was not too outrageous, so I bought the hotel and the land in front of it. I was a fan of Francesca Fontaine when I was a youngster, and it gives me a warm feeling to know that I own the place where she spent her last night.”

  He looked searchingly at the boys. “You know about Francesca Fontaine?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” said Bob.

  Burton went on. “When I purchased this property, there was nothing here but the inn and an empty yard with a fence around it. I built the two buildings that enclose the court, and I had the place landscaped, as you can see. Since I live here, I want things to be attractive. Today we have many visitors. They are not just beach people, but city planners and artists and architects — people who want to achieve renewal in their own areas.”

  Burton looked very pleased with himself.

  “Someday Venice will be what it was always intended to be,” he predicted. “The blighted areas will be cleared and we will have a really fashionable community. Mermaid Court will be worth millions!”

  He paused, and Jupiter said, “What about the inn? Are you going to renovate it?”

  “I haven’t decided,” said Burton. “It’s in terrible shape. It should be torn down, really. But it was such a grand place in its day, I hate to destroy it.”

  Burton looked toward the
open door. “I think I hear the parade coming down Ocean Front now,” he said. “Have I given you the information you need for your paper?”

  He obviously meant to dismiss them, so the boys thanked him and went out and down the stairs.

  The courtyard was empty. Everyone had crowded out to the walk to watch the parade. There was music in the air now — a weird, reedy sound of horns and drums and flutes.

  The boys went out to join the spectators on Ocean Front. A barrage of firecrackers now exploded on the beach. Then the parade began. It was like no other parade the boys had ever seen. There were no high school marching bands and drum majorettes. Instead there were marchers in bathing suits and leotards, jeans and T-shirts, saris and caftans. One man strutted past

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  Trouble!

  playing a xylophone, his head wrapped in a turban. Another marcher was splendid in a saffron robe that had tiny bits of mirror sewn to it. The boys guessed that anyone who felt like it just showed up for the parade and started marching.

  Bob took out his camera and began to snap pictures as fast as he could advance the film. A few feet away Regina Stratten was holding Todd high on her shoulders. Across Ocean Front, Mr. Conine had gotten up on his favorite bench.

  After a while Todd demanded that his mother put him down. Then he wriggled through the crowd, bound for the courtyard.

  “Don’t you go near Mr. Burton’s place. And stay with Tiny!” his mother called after him.

  “Okay,” Todd promised.

  He trotted away, and Tiny the dog trailed after him.

  The parade went on. For today only, cars were allowed on Ocean Front. Convertibles carried groups holding advertising placards for local businesses. Other cars pulled small floats sponsored by local organizations. Elderly ladies in summer dresses went past with a banner that read “Windward Court Senior Fellowship.” Then came a younger group in T-shirts with picket signs demanding rent control for Venice.

  After a bit, Jupe heard Regina Stratten say, “Now where’s Todd?”

  She edged away from the spectators and went into Mermaid Court. She was back in a few minutes.

  “Dad?” she called. “Dad, where are you?”

  Charles Finney struggled through the crowd.

  “I can’t find Todd!” said Regina.

  He patted her arm. “You worry too much. Tiny’s with him, isn’t he? So he’s okay.”

  But Regina was worried, and she and her father went into the court again. Jupiter followed them.

  Regina called and called, but Todd did not answer. Tiny did not come running.

  Charles Finney looked into the shops on the first floor of the court. Clark Burton stepped out onto his balcony, and Tony Gould, the cafe owner, came out onto his terrace. Neither had seen Todd.

  Regina looked frightened and exasperated. “He’s gone!” she said. “He’s run off again.”

  And so for the second time Jupiter, Pete, and Bob found themselves looking for the little boy. They went about it as they had the day before, peering into doorways, looking under hedges and behind bushes. It was slow

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  Trouble!

  going, with Ocean Front so crowded and the parade going on and on as if it would never stop.

  The Investigators were on a lane five or six blocks from Mermaid Court when they stopped to rest on the steps of a crumbling old apartment house.

  “By this time the kid is probably safe at home in the bookshop,” said Bob. “Maybe we should go back and check, huh?”

  “Yeah, or he’s joined the parade and is having a blast — while we’re missing the whole thing!” grumped Pete.

  Jupe did not answer. He stared ahead and looked irritated.

  Bob got up after a minute and went up the street by the side of the building. There was a big trash bin there, and he peeked in.

  “Oh, no!” he cried.

  “What?” said Pete. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Bob turned away from the trash bin. His face was very pale. “There’s a dog in there. I think it’s Tiny … and I think he’s dead!”

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  4

  Sinister Suspicions

  Regina Stratten was out of her mind with worry. The three boys had run back to get her and her father. Together they identified the dog. It was Tiny.

  Then the search for Todd Stratten became official. By afternoon a dozen policemen were looking for the child. They cruised Ocean Front in patrol cars. They went on foot through the lanes and walkways near the beach. They rang doorbells and asked questions.

  Bob, Pete, and Jupiter waited on the terrace of the cafe in Mermaid Court. Mr. Conine stayed with them, looking concerned. Late in the afternoon Miss Peabody came down from her apartment and joined the group on the terrace.

  “A dreadful business,” she said. “Gee, Miss Peabody,” said Pete. “Don’t say it like that. Sure, it’s terrible that the dog is dead, but that doesn’t mean Todd isn’t all right.”

  “He is not all right,” said Miss Peabody. “Todd and Tiny were inseparable. If someone attacked Tiny, Todd would yell and scream, and if someone threatened Todd …” She shook her head.

  “Yes,” said Jupiter. “If someone tried to hurt Todd, Tiny would attack. Then the person might strike the dog.”

  “The police said Tiny might have been hit by a car,” said Bob. “Maybe it was just an accident. Maybe the driver didn’t want to get involved, so he put the dog in the trash bin.”

  “Then why didn’t Todd run home?” Jupe asked. Charles Finney came out of the bookshop just then, and Regina followed him. Their faces were drawn and pale. They looked up and down Ocean Front. It was growing late and now the beach was not so crowded. A car pulled onto the pavement from a side street. It rolled through the remaining skaters and stopped just outside Mermaid Court. Two men got out, and one of them had a portable video camera.

  “The television people!” said Mr. Conine. “Are they going to interview

  Sinister Suspicions

  Regina? Yes, they are. And now they’ll invade what’s left of her privacy.”

  A man wearing a blazer and slacks was speaking to Mrs. Stratten, holding a microphone out to her. The watchers on the terrace saw that the longer he talked to her, the more twisted her face became. Finally she began to cry.

  Clark Burton appeared then. He came down the stairs from his gallery and went to stand beside Regina. He put his arm around her protectively.

  “He’s hogging the camera,” said Miss Peabody. “I understand he was always good at that.”

  “You don’t like him, do you?” said Jupe.

  “I do not,” she snapped. “He is snobbish, vain, self-centered, and he’s always acting.”

  “Dear Miss Peabody,” said Mr. Conine, “what an appalling description.”

  “I had barely gotten started,” she declared.

  Across the way, Burton had taken over the interview completely. He talked on and on while Regina stood sadly to one side. When the newscaster turned away at last and held the microphone out to Regina, she retreated into the bookshop.

  “Poor thing,” said Miss Peabody.

  After the TV people left, the boys started for home. As they passed the bookshop they saw Regina Stratten inside, crying again.

  On an impulse, Jupiter took a card from his wallet and went into the shop.

  “We’d like to help if we can,” he said. He gave her the Three Investigators business card. “Just call our number and we’ll come. I know the police are doing all they can, but if you think of anything at all … ”

  He left the sentence unfinished while Mrs. Stratten stared at the card. It said:

  “We have solved some unusual puzzles that baffled trained professionals,” said Jupiter proudly.

  “Sometimes we’ve found out things when the police couldn’t,” said Pete, who had come in behind Jupe.

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  Sinister Suspicions

  “Yes,” said Regina. “I suppose kids can uncover things that grownups can’t. But right now let’s leave it to the police. I’m sure they’ll find that Todd just crawled in someplace and went to sleep. At least I hope that’s what they’ll find.”