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"That wasn't a joke, was it?" Brittany asks after Justus has hung up.
"I mean about the inspector. Was that really a police inspector calling you?"
Justus nods. "Inspector Cotta. We work with him. At least sometimes."
"And what did he want? Did he have a case for you?"
The First Investigator shakes his head slowly. "He just wanted to tell us that someone died: Victor Hugenay."
"Oh no!" Brittany says. She takes a step towards him and touches his arm gently. "I am so sorry. Was he a friend of yours?"
Justus laughs quietly, "No, you couldn't say that. Victor Hugenay's a thief. Or he was a thief - an art thief. He stole valuable paintings all across the world. We had a few cases with him in the past. But even though we could always solve the cases, Hugenay got away every time. He was always a bit quicker or smarter than we were." He is silent for a moment. "Oh well, I guess it's all over now for Mr Hugenay."
"And now? Are you relieved that you aren't in danger anymore?"
"Relieved? No. We were never in danger from Hugenay. He was not a brutal criminal. More like a gentleman, who hated violence. He didn't need it anyway, he was much too smart. Hugenay would never have hurt us."
"A gentleman-master thief," Britanny says. "How exciting!"
Suddenly, they hear the loud noise of Uncle Titus' pick-up truck in the junkyard. "I have to work," Justus sighs.
"And I have to go home. Shall I pick you up tomorrow morning?" Justus turns red, "Sure!"
"OK, see you tomorrow," Brittany says cheerfully as she leaves Headquarters.
Justus stares after her admiringly.
"Your aunt's cherry cake is really excellent," Bob says an hour later, after The Three Investigators have unloaded the pick-up. They are sitting on the porch and eating cake. Justus hasn't told his friends about Inspector Cotta's call yet.
"What's new, Justus?" Peter asks, taking another piece of cake.
"You're so quiet. And you aren't eating a lot of cake. Are you sick?"
"No, just a bit thoughtful."
"Did anything happen?"
"Yes, Victor Hugenay is dead."
Bob coughs and there are crumbs everywhere.
Peter, who was just about to bite into his piece, drops it. "What?"
Justus tells his friends about Cotta's call. "He didn't know much about what happened himself. He just got a note that the art thief Victor Hugenay, who has been wanted for years, was found dead in the French Alps. Apparently he died when he was mountaineering."
"I didn't even know that he liked mountaineering," Bob murmurs. "On the other hand, he was athletic."
"Not athletic enough," Peter answers. "Otherwise he wouldn't have had the accident." He sighs. "Poor Hugenay. I don't know . somehow I liked him, even though he was a criminal."
"I feel the same, Peter," Justus says. "I wouldn't have thought that I would feel like this about his death. I am quite sad, we hardly knew him, but I feel a bit sorry for him. He was the only honourable thief we ever came across . if there is such a thing as an honourable thief."
"You only say that because he wanted you to work with him. You felt flattered by the offer of the master-thief."
"Nonsense. I already know that I am a very intelligent young man."
Peter rolls his eyes. "Anyway, he's dead. That means we won't have anything to do with him again. And I am very happy about that."
When Justus comes home from school on Monday afternoon, there is an envelope with his name on it waiting for him at Headquarters. Justus' heart skips a beat. Maybe it's a letter from Brittany? Maybe she enjoyed their visit to the movies as much as he did. Excited, Justus opens the envelope.
The letter is written in a clear handwriting with black ink on expensive paper.
Dear Justus,
When you read this, I will unfortunately be dead. But I have planned ahead and asked a person I trust to send this letter to you in case I die.
Believe it or not, Justus, in the last few years I was always with you in spirit. I always hoped that we would meet again. Unfortunately, it didn't happen. I would have liked to have pitted my strength against yours one last time. That way, there would have been a clear winner. But now there won't be another contest, at least not in the way I imagined.
But how about a different kind of contest, Justus Jonas? My body is dead, but my spirit will stay alive as long as people remember me and my legacy.
There is a secret place where I hid several works of art, pictures which I stole but couldn't sell again:
'Drummer Girl' by Godart, 'Odysseus leading Calypso' by Stevenson, 'The Dark Hunter' by Kollenberg, 'Burglar on a Street Corner' by Stingwood, 'Farmer with Pigs' by Strachinsky and 'Portrait of my Monster' by Sanchez.
These paintings are worth millions of dollars. A treasure worth finding, don't you think?
I have thought long and hard about who should get these paintings after my death. Nobody deserves them. I didn't make many friends in my life. So how about a last game?
The rules are simple:
Find my legacy! If you find it: Congratulations, you're a rich man and you're a smarter detective than I thought.
If you don't find it, nobody will, and my legacy will be lost. And you will have to live knowing that there is someone who is smarter than you. Even though I am dead, I will be happy to have beaten you.
Good Hunting!
Victor Hugenay
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"That's unbelievable!" Bob shouts.
"I just can't believe it!" Peter tears the letter out of the First Investigator's hand and holds it so close to his eyes that his nose touches the paper. Then he holds it against the light. He does the same with the envelope.
"Don't bother," Justus tells him. "I tried that already and didn't get any results."
"Oh my, who would have thought it - there will be a final match against Hugenay after all! And the prize is a collection of stolen paintings worth millions!" Bob runs his hand through his hair. "Strange, that he chooses us of all people to give us a chance to find the treasure. Do you think he's really serious?"
"Hugenay is a gambler," Justus answers. "For him, this whole legacy is a big game. As he writes himself, he wants to test us one last time.
He won't see the result, but probably he had lots of fun making the plan. I wouldn't put anything past him."
"If that's the case, then maybe there isn't even a hiding place," Peter says. "Maybe the...
