William Arden - The Secret of the Crooked Cat

There was the sound of a key turning in the lock in the door of the back room, and a heavy sliding noise as something solid dropped across the door— a metal bar.

“There, that should hold you,” the hoarse voice said. “But take a warning, smart boys. When you get out, stay away from me!”

There was no laugh this time. The boys heard footsteps going away and the slamming of the front door. A heavy silence descended over the small house.

“The window,” Jupiter said, undaunted. He felt his way in the dark to the window, pushed it up, reached to open the outside shutters and stopped.

“The window’s barred,” he cried. “This must have been a storeroom for the watchmaker who lived here!”

“Open the shutters and yell,” Bob said. They all yelled out into the grey, darkening sky. No one came. The small house was far from the street, and the houses across the back alley were some distance away on the next street After some minutes, Andy sat down on the floor and noticed something in the grey light from the window that they’d missed before. “Look! There’s a back door!”

Jupe rushed over to it. The back door was double-locked and solid.

“We’re stuck, fellows, and that tattooed man is sure to get the last crooked cat now!” Andy moaned. “We’re finished.”

“Perhaps not!” Jupiter said suddenly. “You forgot my new signal. Pete will see the red light, and the directional-signal will lead him to us.”

The stocky First Investigator took out the tiny instrument he had built and bent close over it.

“Help,” he said into it “Help.” The small instrument began to hum very low.

“It lights only on the receiving instrument,” Jupiter explained.

They all watched the humming signal and wondered if Pete would see the call for help.

Where Pete sat up in the beams of the old roller coaster, the sharp wind from the mountains made him shiver. He could barely see the exits from the carnival in the early dusk of the gloomy day.

None of the people he had seen leave had come back, and the carnival would open in not much more than an hour. Where were the carnival people he had watched leave, and where were Jupiter, Bob and Andy? Andy was supposed to be in his booth before the carnival opened, and it wasn’t like Jupiter or Bob to stay away so long without at least trying to send a message. Pete was worried. Sometimes, Jupiter’s tendency to keep his plans secret so that he could astound them all, annoyed Pete. It was, he knew, only the First Investigator’s love of the dramatic, but it had got the boys into tight corners before. He hated to leave his post, but he was uneasy now.

He climbed down from the roller coaster and hurried through the dilapidated amusement park. The enormous, laughing mouth of the Fun House seemed to leer at him as he passed it and went on to slip back through the hole in the fence.

At the carnival the Ferris wheel gondolas were being uncovered. The carousel was already playing its gay music. Andy Carson was not at his booth. Pete chewed on his lower lip. Where were they? He suspected that Jupiter had taken them to the man who wanted to buy crooked cats, but where was that? Some sixth sense told Pete that something was wrong.

If they came back to the carnival, they would expect to find him at his post. They would, perhaps, want his report at once. If he left his post and went looking for them, he could miss them, and they could return to the carnival to find him gone. On the other hand, if they needed help, he — Pete remembered the new directional-and-emergency signal!

He dug into his pocket and brought out the tiny instrument. He stared at it eagerly. But it was silent. The red emergency light was dark.

In the locked storeroom of the small house, Andy looked up at Jupiter from the floor.

“How far does that signal reach, Jupe?”

“Three miles,” Jupiter said, and suddenly groaned again. “Of course, the carnival is almost five miles from here! Pete won’t get our signal!”

They all looked at each other.

“Someone’ll hear us yelling, fellows,” Bob said, trying to make his voice optimistic.

“Of course they will,” Jupiter said firmly. “But in the meantime, we can try to find a way out ourselves. The experts say there’s no such thing as a room you can’t get out of somehow. There’s always a flaw in a room. Come on, let’s find it.”

“But how, Jupe?” Andy asked. “We’ve looked.”

“There’s always a chance that we’ve missed something,” Jupiter declared. “Bob, you examine all the walls for weak spots, places where pipes go through, anything. I’ll check the window more closely, and Andy can recheck the doors and that cupboard in the corner.” Despite their pessimism, Andy and Bob couldn’t help being convinced by Jupiter’s staunch refusal to give up. They set to work with renewed vigour. But Andy soon decided once again that there was no way. out through the solid doors, and Bob found no weak places in any of the walls.

“Keep trying, fellows!” Jupiter urged. “There must be some weakness in this room.”

The First Investigator continued to study the barred window, and from time to time yelled out for help. Bob got down on his hands and knees to examine the walls at the floor. Andy went into the single cupboard. “Jupe! Bob! Look here!”

The carnival boy held a typewritten sheet of paper he had found in the cupboard. “It’s a complete itinerary of the carnival,” Andy told them. “Our whole route and schedule in California.”

“Then the tattooed man is part of the carnival” Jupiter said in triumph.

“Or at least he’s following the carnival pretty closely,” Bob said.

“Andy,” Jupiter exclaimed, “did you recognize his voice? You didn’t recognize the tattoo, or his face, but think about his voice”

“No,” Andy said slowly, “I’m sure I’ve never heard that voice before, Jupiter.”

Jupiter thought a minute. “He could be disguising his voice, too. It had that odd rasp.”

After looking at the carnival itinerary, Bob began to rummage round in the long, narrow cupboard that was partly filled with old boards and boxes. Suddenly he came out with some strange clothes in his hands.

“Look at this, fellows. I found it all just dropped on the floor.”

Bob held up a pair of strange, black overalls that were cut very narrow, like tights; a black hoodlike head covering that fitted a whole head but left the face open; and a pair of black canvas shoes with odd rubber soles that looked a little like curved suction cups.

Jupiter frowned. “It looks like some kind of costume, Records. Perhaps a carnival costume, but I don’t recall any costume like that. Andy?”

Andy was staring at the black garments with a puzzled expression. He took them and studied them. “Well, what is it, Andy?” Jupiter wanted to know. Andy shook his head.

“None of our people wears a costume like this, but — ” The carnival boy hesitated, shook his head. “I can’t be sure, fellows, but I think this looks a lot like a costume the Amazing Gabbo used to wear.”

“The Amazing who?” Bob said, staring.

“Gabbo,” Andy said. “When I was just a little kid, right after my Mom died but before I went to Grandma, my Dad worked a little while with a small circus near Chicago. The Amazing Gabbo worked in the show, too, for a few days. We never, knew him, really, and he wasn’t around long. I only remember him because he was caught stealing from the circus and fired. I think he got into worse trouble later and went to prison.”

“Prison?” Jupiter said quickly. “Then he could be a thief! Did he look like that tattooed man, Andy?”

“I don’t know, Jupe. I guess his age is about right. But I wouldn’t remember what he looked like. I don’t think Dad would, either. I mean not right away unless someone told him to look for Gabbo. I guess we really never saw him out of his costume.”