And now it was starting again.
Marilyn looked up. “Did you hear it?” she said. She was whispering.
Pete wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. He looked away from Marilyn and said nothing.
“Did you lock the back door?” Marilyn asked.
“I–I thought you did,” he countered.
She stood up, looking toward the kitchen. “Someone could have come in.”
“We’d have heard them,” said Pete. “We’d have known it if the door opened.”
But he went to the kitchen. The door was locked. The dead bolt was on. No one had come in.
Or had an intruder come in, then turned the dead bolt from the inside? Marilyn came into the kitchen and stared at the door. She frowned, then went back out. Pete followed her to the hall, where she stared up the stairs. “Listen!” she said.
The footsteps were louder now. They made a hollow sound on the bare boards of the attic floor.
“Blast!” Marilyn went to the phone, lifted the receiver, and dialed 911. “I want to report a prowler,” she said.
But was it a prowler? Pete wondered. Jupe said that last night no one came up the stairs and no one went down. Yet someone had walked in the attic, and walked and walked. “Creepy!” said Pete out loud. Marilyn ignored him. She was giving the address to the dispatcher on the other end of the line.
Pete started up the stairs. He was trembling and his throat was so dry that he couldn’t swallow, but he went up anyway, step by step.
The pacing in the attic continued. A ghost? Or something more dangerous than a ghost?
Marilyn hung up the phone and followed Pete. She was no longer the arrogant rich girl. She was afraid, and she kept close to the big, athletic boy.
“When I was little,” she said, “we had a cook who got her jollies scaring kids. She told me this house was haunted.”
“Did you have to bring that up now?” complained Pete.
The two stopped in the upper hall. The pacing stopped too. They listened.
Was there another listener above? Was someone waiting at the top of the attic stairs, leaning over the railing, ready to attack if anyone opened the attic door?
“I think we’ll stay right here,” Pete decided. He got a chair from the computer room, put it in the hall, and motioned for Marilyn to sit down.
“When the police get here,” said Marilyn, “if there’s nothing, like there’s been nothing so far, you know what?”
“They’ll think you’re crazy,” said Pete.
“Right. And sooner or later, they’re going to stop coming. I’ll call and they’ll say it’s just that nutty Pilcher kid and they won’t answer the call.”
“I think they have to answer calls,” said Pete. “They can’t take a chance you might be in danger. Only they’ll look at you kind of funny when they show up.”
He thought for a minute. What would Jupe do if he were here? He might look for some physical evidence he could show the officers — something they couldn’t deny. Like a broken lock or… footprints! That was it! Footprints!
Pete remembered something he’d seen in Jeremy Pilcher’s bathroom. When he was shut in there during the engagement party, he had noticed a can of talcum powder on the shelf over the basin.
Pete trotted through the collector’s bedroom to the bathroom and snapped on the light. The powder was still there. He grabbed the can, carried it out to the hall, then sprinkled powder on the floor near the attic door.
Marilyn looked at him questioningly.
“If that’s a real person up there, he can’t get out without coming this way,” said Pete. “If he’s like other people, we’ll see him — I hope. And he’ll have to wade through the powder. He’ll leave footprints and the cops will see the prints.”
“Oh, right,” said Marilyn. “Except, what do we say if he comes this way and there aren’t any prints?”
Pete didn’t answer. He heard a car pull into the drive. Car doors slammed. Someone began to circle the house, making sure no one was hiding in the shrubbery.
Marilyn Pilcher was halfway down the stairs when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to two uniformed men from the Rocky Beach Police Department. Pete heard her say, “Upstairs. In the attic. He’s up there.”
“All right,” said one of the officers. He started up the stairs.
At that moment Pete heard the unknown intruder start down the attic stairs.
Pete turned to look at the door at the bottom of the stairs. In an instant it would open. The one who walked in the attic would be just a few feet away.
The officer on the main stairway must have heard the prowler coming. He drew his gun.
Pete heard a door open. However, the door did not move. There was only the sound of a knob turning.
The intruder stepped into the hall, still unseen. He walked past Pete and Pete felt cold — very cold. The one who paced so restlessly went down the stairs. He passed the officer who was looking desperately to the right and the left as if he would surely see who was making the footsteps if he only looked hard enough.
The officer shivered. He had felt the deadly chill, just as Pete had.
Pete looked at the floor where he had sprinkled the talcum. The powder was not disturbed. It lay like a light dusting of snow, with no mark to show that anything had come this way.
“Haunted!” croaked Pete. “This place really is haunted.”
Downstairs in the hall, Marilyn Pilcher gave a whimper. “Stay here if you want to,” she said. “I’m going home to my mother!”
10
Jupe On Display
Jupe was three blocks behind when Ariago’s car turned east on Santa Monica Boulevard. He was four blocks behind when Ariago slowed at Mayfield and drove into a parking building next to an enclosed shopping mall. An A. L. Becket store was at the west end of the complex. This could be the branch Ariago managed for Pilcher, thought Jupe. He locked his bike in a rack near the Becket store and went into the mall.
He was only minutes from Mrs. Pilcher’s home. Why had Ariago gone there during business hours? Jupe wondered. And how often did he and Mrs. Pilcher meet? Ariago’s past was unsavory. Why had he been visiting Jeremy Pilcher’s ex-wife? Was she conspiring with him against Pilcher? If so, what did she hope to gain?
Jupe frowned. It would do no good to keep going over the scant bits of information he had. He decided that he would try to see Ariago. He would explain that he and his friends wanted to help Marilyn Pilcher, and he would ask if Ariago knew anything about a bishop’s book, or about Sogamoso or Navarro. Of course Ariago would be expecting these questions; no doubt Ariago had overheard Jupe’s conversation with Mrs. Pilcher. Just the same, his reaction might be interesting. There was also a possibility that he might have some information that would lead Jupe to the truth.
The executive offices of the Becket store were on the third floor, behind the children’s department. A woman smiled at Jupe from behind a desk and asked if she could help him. He handed her one of the cards of The Three Investigators and announced that he was Jupiter Jones, and that he needed to talk with Mr. Ariago.
The woman looked at the card and said, “Oh? Investigators?” Her tone was amused.
“It’s about the disappearance of Jeremy Pilcher,” said Jupiter. “I was at his daughter’s engagement party yesterday. I met Mr. Ariago there.”
“Mr. Pilcher?” Suddenly the woman stopped smiling. “He’s disappeared?”
“Mr. Ariago knows the situation,” said Jupiter.
When he did not say more she picked up a telephone, dialed an extension, then announced that Jupiter Jones was there to see Mr. Ariago. “It’s about Mr. Pilcher,” she said.