“Is my guy here?” he called.
“He’s here, Mr. Coop,” the director said, looking back from his swivel chair at Jupe. The Investigator was wearing his official Big Barney 10 Year Anniversary T-shirt. It had a drawing of a chicken’s body with Barney’s head.
“Pandro said you went creamed corn over the Drippin’ Chicken sample,” Big Barney called out. “I’ve got plenty for everybody today.”
“Too bad you wore your good pants,” Pete whispered to Jupe.
Once Big Barney was seated comfortably with his feet on the desk, the studio settled down and the director announced, “Quiet please. Drippin’ Chicken. Take one!”
And Big Barney began to talk, looking into the camera as if he could see through it to the people watching TV.
“Hey, guy,” he said. “This is your friend and mine, Big Bamey Coop. You know that I don’t make commercials unless I’ve come up with some new way for you to make me rich. Well, this time I’ve got to tell you that I’ve outdone even myself. Okay, I wasn’t there when they invented the wheel. And I wasn’t there when they invented penicillin. And I wasn’t there when they invented the paper clip. History didn’t call me at those momentous moments. Or if it did, I didn’t get the message, which is why I’m firing my secretary. Hahahaha! But today you and I are not only going to make history, we’re going to eat it.”
At that point, Big Barney uncovered the silver tray to reveal a mountain of steaming-hot Drippin’ Chicken biscuit-sandwiches. Even the crowd in the production booth began to ooh and aah hungrily.
Big Barney picked up one of the sandwiches and brought it close to his mouth. The camera moved in for a tight shot. The Three Investigators gulped. Was he really going to eat one?
“I have done what people have been trying to do since the dawn of civilization — or maybe the sunset of civilization. I have created Drippin’ Chicken, the chicken with a bucket of unbelievable, irresistible gravy in every bite. And get this — the gravy is inside the sandwich! That’s right. Now there’s nothing to get in the way of your having major gravy stains down the front of your shirt. I told my guys, this time let’s give people something they never expected in their sandwich. Well, we’ve done it, and I can’t wait for you to gobble it down. Like this!”
Then he did it. Big Barney took a big bite out of the Drippin’ Chicken sandwich he was holding. And with gravy dripping down his chin, he gave the camera a big smile.
“Cut,” yelled the director. “Great!”Some of the bright lights in the studio dimmed and people in the booth relaxed.
Kelly leaned over and said to the Investigators. “That was hysterical!”
But Jupe, Pete, and Bob were still watching Big Barney through the studio glass. And they saw him spit out the bite of Drippin’ Chicken without even chewing it!
It was as if Big Barney were confessing that Drippin’ Chicken was poisonous — too poisonous to be eaten by any human being!
When it was all over, Big Barney yelled, “Let’s party!” and invited everyone in the studio to dig in and enjoy the Drippin’ Chicken samples. There was a microwave off to one side so the samples could be heated up. The camera crew, floor crew, and production people in the booth all rushed up to pig out on the hot biscuits filled with chicken and gravy.
Jupe watched carefully.
No one was dropping dead. No one was writhing with stomach cramps or chills or any of the other symptoms of poisoning. The only moans Jupe heard were the sounds of ecstatically happy people raving about the delicious taste.
Slowly Jupe walked over to the desk where the Drippin’ Chicken sat invitingly on the silver tray. There were only two sandwiches left. Just as he reached for one of them Bob poked him on the shoulder. “Notice who’s not eating the samples?” he asked.
Jupe looked around.
“Big Barney and Mishkin,” Bob said. “Why is it the two people who know the most about Drippin’ Chicken are the two people who aren’t eating it?”
Jupe hesitated — and lost his chance.
“Excuse me,” said a young woman. She reached in front of Jupe and grabbed both sandwiches. “I was going to take one to my boyfriend, but they’re too irresistible.” She gobbled up both of them right in front of Jupe’s face.
Jupe gave Bob a look of pure frustration, but he maintained a calm and rational voice. “Oh, well. If it turns out that they’re not harmful, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to try them fresh from the Chicken Coop.”
When the party started to wind down, the Three Investigators ducked out for some fresh air. They leaned against their cars, waiting for Kelly and Juliet and deciding what to do next.
Finally Kelly and Juliet came out of the studio and into the parking lot. Kelly was brushing her long brown hair as they walked. “I’m going with Juliet to pick up the clothes I left at her house,” Kelly said.
Jupe didn’t like that. He still wanted Kelly to have a reason to keep in touch with Juliet. When he thought Juliet wasn’t looking, he shook his head at Kelly. She must have gotten the message because she gave him a small wink and a nod before she got into Juliet’s car.
“There goes the Chicken mobile,” Pete said. He pointed to a specially built yellow and orange Cadillac convertible with a giant three-dimensional Chicken Coop emblem on the hood. Big Barney beeped the horn as he drove off. It played a cock-a-doodle-do.
“Where’s he going?” Jupe asked.
“Maybe he’s just going to dinner,” Pete said.
“Sneaking off to McDonald’s?” Bob joked.
“You follow him, Pete,” Jupe said, giving orders as usual. “Bob and I will tail Pandro Mishkin. If we’re lucky, one of them will lead us to something useful.”
Pete drove away in Kelly’s car. Bob and Jupe climbed into Bob’s VW to wait for Pandro Mishkin to leave. After a while Pandro got into a long Lincoln Town Car, which had a Chicken Coop logo painted on the side, and drove away.
Bob and Jupe followed him for several hours, first to a seaside restaurant where Mishkin had dinner alone, and finally to a small house set back on a very steep hill in an area called Sugarloaf Canyon. It was getting dark by the time they arrived. Sugarloaf Canyon looked like a community planned for people who hated to have neighbors. The houses were hard to get to and set very far apart.
Jupe and Bob parked down the hill from Mishkin’s house, wondering what their next move would be.
“Look — he didn’t go inside,” Bob said as they watched through the thick bushes that surrounded Mishkin’s large house. “He’s walking around to the back.”
“Let’s go,” Jupe said, climbing out of the Volkswagen with relief after so much time in the cramped car.
They waited a minute to let Pandro get ahead. Then they walked up his long driveway and past the low stucco house, following the path he had taken. All the lights in the house were dark, but at the back they saw an outdoor light shining down from a tree.
“There’s a fence,” Jupe said. “And from its style and height, I would surmise that there’s a swimming pool behind it.”
No sooner had Jupe made that pronouncement than he and Bob heard splashing sounds.
“Come on, baby, you can do it,” said the familiar voice of Pandro Mishkin. “Come on, my little Petunia. Hup, two, three! Swim!”
More splashing sounds wafted through the soft summer air. The light on the tree cast an eerie glow as it shone through the slots in the wooden fence.
“Who’s he in there with?” Bob wondered out loud. He and Jupe looked at each other, puzzled.
“Shall we find out?” Jupe asked softly.
Bob nodded and the two of them approached the gate to the pool area. They opened it noiselessly and slipped inside. A small outdoor shower and equipment house blocked their view of the deep end of the pool. Jupe led the way as they crept around the structure to get a better look.
But suddenly Jupe’s foot got caught on a plastic hose. He fell with a loud crash onto a poolside deck chair. One instant later, Jupe and Bob found out who Pandro Mishkin’s swimming companions were. Terrible barking, growling, splashing sounds erupted — and two huge Dobermans leaped out of the pool!
“Charge! Enemies in the camp!” Mishkin yelled from the pool. “Sic ’em, Petunia! Get ’em, Zeus! Don’t take any prisoners!”
Jupe scraped his hands scrambling up to escape the frantic Dobermans. He stumbled desperately toward the gate. Bob was way ahead of him. They ran as fast as they could, screaming for help the whole time. But who was going to hear them? The neighbors were miles away.
The barking got louder and louder. Where was the gate? Had someone moved it? In reality, it was only a few feet away, but Bob and Jupe felt like they’d been running forever.
Finally Bob and Jupe reached the gate. They ran through it and Bob slammed it shut, locking the dogs inside. But he and Jupe kept running, down the driveway to Bob’s car.
“Close one,” Bob said, jumping behind the wheel.
Bob peeled away from Mishkin’s house so fast that even his little VW kicked up some stones. Jupe’s heart was still racing when they were several miles down the road.
Finally Jupe caught his breath long enough to start acting like himself again — which meant analyzing the situation and giving orders. “We didn’t learn much,” he said. “But we did find out that Mishkin has fairly tight security at home. I wonder why? Let’s get back to Headquarters. We have some plans to make.”
Later that night in Jupe’s workshop, he and Bob told Pete and Kelly about Pandro Mishkin and his swimming Dobermans.
Then it was Pete’s turn to report. “I followed Big Barney to a takeout salad restaurant called Veg Out. He bought a chef’s salad, took it with him, and drove to Don Dellasandro’s office building.”
“Miracle Tastes?” Jupe said.
“You got it,” Pete said. “Dellasandro’s got a building with offices, labs, and a warehouse down in Long Beach.”
“How’s the security?” Jupe asked.
“The guards look harmless,” Pete said. “But the security system on the entrance is a monster. Lots of alarms and a computer keypad to get in.”
“Well, I was a real klutz about handling my assignment,” Kelly said with a laugh. “Just as Juliet was giving me back my clothes, somehow, just by ‘accident,’ I managed to spill my iced tea all over them. Juliet felt so bad, she offered to have them dry cleaned herself. I can pick them up at her house tomorrow.”
“Or perhaps the next day, or the next,” Jupe said, smiling. “Good work, Kelly.” Jupe’s head suddenly turned toward the front door of the workshop. He put his finger to his lips and motioned for Pete to follow him. They moved quietly and took positions on each side of the door. Then Jupe opened the door with a jerk.
Outside in the dark there was no one, but there was a box. It was about the size of an extra-large shoe box. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a red string, and it was lying right in front of the door. The handwriting on the paper said “For Jupiter Jones.” Pete scooted the box with the toe of his sneaker, pushing it farther away.
“Feels heavy,” he said.
Jupe bent down and picked up the package. “It is heavy,” he said.
“You going to open it?” Bob asked as Jupe carried it into the workshop, leaving the door open.
“Don’t,” Kelly said, holding Pete’s arm.
Jupe listened carefully for a minute, first to the box and then to the sounds in the night air. Was someone still out there? Pete and Bob listened, too, and their leg muscles tensed, ready to spring into action.
Finally Jupe untied the string. The box seemed to move in his hands. “Whatever’s in here is moving around, because the balance of the box keeps changing.” Jupe unwrapped the brown paper. But he was holding the box with the lid facing down, so the contents spilled out onto Jupe’s feet.
Splat!
Kelly screamed and Jupe’s face went white.
There, lying on Jupe’s new white sneakers, was a dead chicken — with its head cut off! It was floppy and freshly-killed, with a big smear of blood at the neck. Then Jupe saw the note, also stained with chicken blood. Slowly he picked it up. It said:
“Come on, Jupe,” Pete said, passing the basketball back to him. “Are you playing?”
“I keep thinking about last night and that chicken,” Jupe said.
“You’re telling me,” Pete said, coming up to Jupe. “Yuck — it’s enough to give us nightmares for a week. That’s why you’ve got to get some exercise. It’ll take your mind off having to wash all that blood off your shoes.”
Jupe gagged, remembering the horrible sight of the headless chicken, dripping blood and veins. While he was trying to catch his breath, Pete knocked the ball out of his hands and went in for another lay-up.
“Let’s not relive the moment,” Jupe said with a shudder. “The question is, who sent it? Who wants us to stay away from Big Barney? It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing Big Barney would do himself. He’s giving us other signals — inviting us to come closer, to get involved with his business.”
“Jupe,” Pete said seriously, “you’ll figure it out. You always do. I have faith.”
Jupe smiled at his friend and quickly stole the ball from him. Jupe threw a long, arching shot toward the basket — and missed by a mile.
“You’re getting closer,” Pete said. “You’re definitely in the same state.”
Bob’s car horn beeped in the driveway and he hopped out as soon as the VW chugged to a stop.
“Morning, guys,” Bob said. “Seen the paper, Jupe?” He tossed Jupe the morning edition. “Check out the front page of the business section.”
Pete tossed Bob the basketball and they shot a few while Jupe read the news story.
“This is extremely timely,” Jupe said a few minutes later. “Michael Argenti has intensified his efforts to acquire the Chicken Coop restaurants. Hmmm. I’ve got to make a phone call.” He disappeared into Pete’s house. Five minutes later he came out, wearing the famous Jupiter Jones I-told-you-so smile.
“Who’d you call?” asked Pete.
“Michael Argenti,” Jupe said. “I thought it was time that we checked him out. After all, it’s possible that he won’t succeed in buying the Chicken Coop restaurants. In which case, he might settle for merely ruining Big Barney’s business by poisoning his food.”
“What’d Argenti say about that?” asked Pete.
“I didn’t talk to him,” said Jupe. “His secretary said he was out of town today. And do you know where?”
“No, but you’d better know or this is a really dumb conversation,” Pete said.
“Petaluma,” Jupe announced. “Just north of San Francisco. It’s where Big Barney has his chicken farms.”
In less than an hour Jupe and Pete were climbing aboard a commuter plane to San Francisco. They had phoned Juliet and gotten her to agree to pay all their expenses in this investigation — although she didn’t realize that they were also investigating her father. Bob stayed behind because he had some heavy-duty responsibilities at the talent agency. One band was scheduled to play at two different weddings that day, and Bob was supposed to make sure that the band didn’t get too drunk to make it to the second wedding reception on time.