As he groped for words, the shrill, whining noise ascended to a full-noted shriek. The screeching seemed to be all around, engulfing them.
EEEE — ooo — EEEEE! EEE — ooo — EEEEE!
Bob yelled, “I’m getting out of here!”
With one mind, The Three Investigators wheeled and ran.
“Wait!” Mike called.
They turned to stare in utter amazement.
Mike Hall was laughing.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he called. “That’s only the metal shredder!”
The shrill, wailing sound slowly fell until it became a low, whistling note.
“Metal shredder?” Jupiter repeated dumbly.
Mike was pointing ahead through some trees. “Yes, Jupe. Over the fence, the other side of our property. There’s a salvage yard — steel and scrap iron. It’s full of scrapped cars and other junk.”
“What does the metal shredder do — besides scare people?” Bob asked.
“It’s a new recycling process to salvage precious metal,” Mike said. “Part of the new ecology drive. The cars used to be just pounded down and sold as scrap iron and steel. But now they have this new device — some kind of claw with a computer-selector-processing operation. It shreds the cars into little bits. The metal is separated from the other material, and then the more precious metals, like copper, are separated from the iron and steel.”
“Whew!” Pete exclaimed weakly. “Is that all? It sounded like all the gorillas in town were holding a convention!”
Jupe was plucking at his lower lip. He glanced at his wristwatch.
“It is now nine thirty,” he stated. “Does George usually become nervous and restless about this time, Mike?”
Mike shrugged. “Sometimes sooner or later. I don’t know exactly what time — except that it’s always after it gets dark.”
“Always at night? Never during the day?”
“Never,” Mike said firmly. “But I’m not counting this afternoon. George wasn’t nervous then — just acting mean. I’d say because he was hurt.”
“What’s your idea, Jupe?” Bob asked. “That the sound of the metal shredder made George nervous?”
“Animals are more sensitive to sounds than humans,” Jupe said. “Perhaps George is reacting to that high whine of the metal shredder.”
“ But he’d hear it all the time then,” Pete put in. “Not just at night.”
“A good point. Second,” said Jupe, “does this metal-shredding process operate during the day, too, Mike?”
“Sometimes,” Mike said. “Off and on again. I don’t pay much attention to the sound any more. It isn’t nearly as loud up by our house.”
“Hmmm,” Jupe said. “How long has that machine been in operation?”
“It’s kind of new, Jupe. The scrap yard has been here a long time, a number of years. And the wrecking part of it, also. But offhand my guess is they haven’t been using this metal shredder more than a month.”
“A month,” Jupe repeated. “And how long has George been acting nervous and restless?”
“Since about two or three months ago,” Mike said. “I remember it started just before the rainy season when Jim decided to bring George inside the house for good.”
Jupiter scowled, puzzled.
“Don’t forget, he didn’t act up every night,” Mike added. “He was restless at times, then seemed to be all right. But the last week or so, he’s been getting much worse, and it’s been regular since.”
“So he was nervous before the metal shredder came in,” Bob said.
Jupe looked thoughtful. “It would seem that George isn’t used to being cooped up indoors at night. That might account for his actions. The metal shredder could be a factor, or perhaps not. There could be different reasons.”
“Maybe it’s working in the movie that’s making him nervous,” Pete suggested, grinning. “A lot of actors get nervous at night trying to memorise their lines for the next day’s shooting.”
Jupiter snapped his fingers. “A humorous suggestion but nevertheless a possibility, Pete.” He turned to Mike. “How long have Jay Eastland and his crew been working at Jungle Land?”
“They’ve been around here about two months,” Mike said. “But a lot of that time was spent checking the locations, getting the setups planned for the shooting scenes, the right backgrounds, and so forth. They didn’t move in completely and start shooting until two weeks ago.”
“Do they shoot at night, too?” Jupe asked.
“Sometimes.”
Jupe frowned. “You said their set is about five minutes away from your house. Would their mikes pick up the sound of the metal shredder?”
“It’s possible,” Mike admitted. “I don’t know. Mr. Eastland hasn’t complained.”
“He might not have to do his sound work at Jungle Land,” said Pete, drawing on information he’d picked up from his father. “Sometimes the sound is dubbed in later — even the actors’ voices.”
Jupe nodded. “What about the actors and work crew? Do they live here, too?”
“Most of them go home at night,” Mike said. “The motorway is near here and most of them don’t live too far away — Westwood, Hollywood, West Los Angeles — it’s only a half-hour ride.”
“What about Mr. Eastland?” Jupe asked. “Does he stay here?”
“He can. He has his own trailer out there, and one apiece for the two stars, Rock Randall and Sue Stone. Uncle Jim rented them all of Jungle Land so they can stay if they want to. The gate is open and they come and go as they please. I don’t check and neither does Jim.”
“But they could be here,” Jupe said stubbornly. “They could be snooping around your house at night and making George nervous.”
“Why would they be doing that, Jupe?” asked Bob.
“I can’t think of any sensible reason, Bob,” he said. “All I say is the possibility exists.”
“Let’s get on with the tour, fellows,” said Mike. “Come on down to the fence and then we’ll circle around to the other side of the house.”
As the boys approached the fence, the strange sounds from the scrap yard began again. The rhythmical crunching, grinding noises ebbed and then the wailing sound started. This time the boys were expecting the almost human shriek of the mechanism and remained calm.