Not too long ago I called Random House, I think it was, to inquire about the film rights to The Three Investigators series and the gentleman I was speaking with laughed and said, "Do you know? I get a call like this every six months."

For those who don't know, or remember, The Three Investigators (Alfred Hitchcock AND The Three Investigators...) was a series of books featuring three young sleuths living in a small town on the California Coast. (Rocky Point?) Those lads were: Jupiter Jones (the smart one), Pete Crenshaw (second investigator), and Bob Andrews (records and research).

Two memorable details on the series: the boys won the use of a Rolls or a Bentley and its chauffeur (Worthington) for 30 days because Jupiter, at a fair, correctly guessed the number of jelly beans in a jar. (All blog details subject to verification.) And they also had the clubhouse to end all clubhouses -- with three separate entrances! -- a junked trailer tucked in a corner of the salvage yard owned by Jupiter's Uncle Titus and Aunt... Matilda? Covered with vines and assorted debris it's where the boys hung out to discuss their latest predicament.

If my phone call was routine, so too I'm sure was my script idea: the boys, adults now, return to Rocky Point for Uncle Titus's funeral, they re-enter their creaky clubhouse only to find ... a clue! Uncle Titus's death is not so straightforward after all! In fact, it bears a strong resemblance to a case the boys worked years earlier, necessitating a string of heart-warming flashbacks...

I had forgotten all about The Three Investigators until seeing a hardback copy of The Mystery of the Screaming Clock sitting innocently in a box at a yard sale. Only then did I realize the major role they played in my lifetime of reading. Before Philip Marlowe; before Travis McGee and Grijpstra and de Gier there were The Three Investigators. They were the greatest detectives of all.

NB
malvernthenovel.com