“Is that the catch?” Bob asked.
“Surprisingly, it isn’t,” Jupe said. “The FDA — the Federal Food and Drug Administration — tested Multisorbitane, as it must test all new drugs and products of this nature. But it denied Don Dellasandro permission to market Multisorbitane because it found strong evidence that it might be a carcinogen.”
“A what?” asked Pete.
“It could cause cancer,” Bob explained.
Jupe cleared his throat and continued. “We know that you met with Pandro Mishkin on the Friday of your accident. And we know that you have his copy of this incriminating report in your possession. Now we move from what we know,” he said, tapping the report, “to what we think we know. I suspect that you discovered this report, perhaps by accident, sometime during your visit to Mishkin’s office. Considering the time of your accident, I’d say it was late in the day when you found it. And when you did, I think it upset you quite a bit,” Jupe said.
Jupe was pacing now, going into high gear. “I think it upset you so much that you took it from Pandro Mishkin’s office and fled. He probably chased you to get it back. And when you left the Chicken Coop Corp. building in your car, I think that Pandro Mishkin followed you. In short, I believe it was he who was driving the car that left the second set of tracks at the scene of your accident.”
“Time out,” Pete said. “Why did this report upset Juliet so much?”
“Yes, that is the key question, isn’t it?” Jupe said, smiling knowingly. “It upset her because she knew, or suspected, as I do, that Multisorbitane is a key ingredient in a delicious new product called Drippin Chicken!”
Jupe let them all digest that idea for a moment and then he began again. “You discovered the horrible fact that someone—maybe Pandro, maybe Dellasandro, maybe even your father — was knowingly and quite cold-bloodedly putting this poison into Drippin’ Chicken., Of course the effects of the Multisorbitane wouldn’t show up for years. But slowly, over a period of time, millions of people who had regularly eaten this carcinogen would begin to get cancer. No one would realize the danger until it was too late.”
Juliet’s mouth was trembling. “My father wouldn’t do something like that!” she cried out.
“We can’t really know that — unless you can help us prove it,” Jupe said without missing a beat.
It was clear to everyone that his mind, as usual, was working well ahead of the conversation.
“What kind of scheme do you have in mind, Jupe?” Bob asked.
“It’s simple,” Jupe said. “We’ve got to find out if Big Barney knows about the Multisorbitane in the Drippin’ Chicken recipe. Any idea how we can do that?”
“I know how,” said Juliet. “My father keeps the recipes for his products in a safe in his office.”
Jupe snapped his fingers. “I was hoping he did. Can you get it for us?”
“I don’t know the combination of the safe,” she replied. “Only Big Barney knows it.”
“Well, that’s no good,” Jupe said. “We have to get the recipe without Big Barney knowing it. He can’t suspect what we’re doing.”
Juliet suddenly smiled. “How about Dad’s secretary?” Juliet asked. “She probably knows more about him than he does. She might know the combination.”
“Let’s go,” Pete said.
“No. I want to go by myself,” said Juliet. “I’m not even sure I should be doing this. Dad’s recipes are top secret — you’ll have to promise. ”
“Of course, of course,” Jupe said. “Now, when do you think we can expect you?”
“A couple of hours,” said Juliet.
Two hours came and went. The Three Investigators and Kelly spent the time doing what Juliet had suggested. Eat her food, watch her TV, relax. The third one was too difficult for Jupiter.
Another hour passed.
Finally the door opened and Juliet came in, carrying a piece of paper and giving everyone a large smile.
“I’ve got the recipe,” she whispered, looking around to be sure her father wasn’t home. “There’s no mention of Multisorbitane in Drippin’ Chicken’s ingredients. See? My dad isn’t some kind of crazed killer.”
Jupe grabbed the paper quickly and started reading it.
“Looks like our case is going down the tubes,” Pete said.
Jupe folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Then he looked at Juliet. “If no one is poisoning the chicken, then why did you say so in your sleep? And why was it so important to you to find your briefcase? And why was this report about Multisorbitane, with Pandro Mishkin’s stamp, in your possession?”
“I don’t know,” said Juliet.
“We don’t know either,” Jupe said solemnly. “But there are a few things we do know. For one, our list of suspects is shrinking rapidly. Your father seems to be out. Michael Argenti is out, because we have nothing to connect him with Multisorbitane or with this report from Pandro Mishkin. Pandro himself is a question mark. He could be innocent, he could be involved. But the suspect I’m most interested in is the person who didn’t want us to find this report. the person who sent Mr. Sweetness to scare us off. the person who invented Drippin’ Chicken in the first place. Don Dellasandro!”
“What now?” Kelly asked. “Call the police?”
“No. We need proof,” Jupe said. “We’ve got to get into Miracle Tastes and find out exactly what Don Dellasandro is hiding.”
“Jupe, the place is a Class A security nightmare,” Pete warned.
“Okay, then we’ll have to go in there late tonight,” said Jupe, “when the guards are half asleep.”
“You’d better make that early tonight,” Juliet said. “My dad’s secretary reminded me of something else I forgot. There’s a big press party planned for this evening. Big Barney is going to introduce Drippin’ Chicken to the world! Everyone will be eating the stuff,”
“Oh, no!” Kelly exclaimed.
Remembering Big Barney’s own words, Jupe said, “The American people won’t know what hit them!”
14
The Secret Ingredient
At 5:00 p.m. the investigators were sitting in Bob’s car, parked inconspicuously across the road from the Miracle Tastes office and warehouse building in Long Beach. They had stopped first at home to change into black jeans and black T-shirts. Jupe also brought with him a small, mysterious black leather case, which he held carefully on his lap. It was something Pete and Bob had never seen before.
“As soon as Dellasandro leaves, we make our move,” Jupe said, cradling the black box.
“How do we know he’s in there?” Bob asked.
“His car is there,” Pete said. “I recognize it.”
“When did you see it?” Bob asked, surprised.
“After the taping of Big Barney’s new commercial. I followed Big Barney, remember?” Pete said. “And he came here, to Miracle Tastes.”
Little by little, the parking lot at Miracle Tastes emptied out. But it wasn’t until 6:00 p.m. that Don Dellasandro’s gray Cadillac Allante rolled out and headed up the road toward L.A.
“He’s probably going to Big Barney’s press party,” Pete said.
They got out of the car and ran across the nearly empty Miracle Tastes parking lot. When they reached the entrance, Bob kept watch as Pete and Jupe examined the door.
“Will you look at that security system?” Pete moaned.
All six of their eyes focused on a small electronic panel with a lighted keypad. It was located on the chrome wall beside the glass doorway. Just inside the door was a security guard’s station, but no one was there.
“He’s probably still making rounds,” Bob concluded. “Let’s make this snappy.”
From the look of the keypad, the Three Investigators decided that it worked something like their own security system at Headquarters. A special combination had to be entered on the keypad before the door would open. But who knew what would happen if the wrong codes were entered?