This is my first attempt at a Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew story. Please be gentle.
The Case of the Missing Paintings - Chapter 1
"We're going to New York."
Joe Hardy turned to see his older brother Frank standing in the doorway of the small office they shared on the upper floor of their home. They'd been working on some case files when his brother had been called to the phone.
"I take it that was Dad then," Joe presumed, turning in his chair while his brother sat down across from him.
"Yeah. He was pretty cagey, didn't really want to say what was up. He just told us to get to New York as fast as possible. I'm guessing he needs us on a case."
"I wonder what it could be," said Joe. Their father had been called away over a week ago, but neither of them had any clue what he was investigating.
Frank and Joe Hardy had joined their father in his private detective business, after many mystery-solving successes during their high school years. Although they usually took cases while their father was working on other assignments, Fenton Hardy often called on his sons for assistance. The Hardys had made a name for themselves across the whole of America as a crack investigating squad. They still lived at the family home in Bayport, which had recently been extended to accommodate an office and small but well-equipped laboratory for the boys.
"Well, I guess we better make some reservations for tomorrow morning's flight. I'll go and do that – why don't you go and break the bad news to Mum and Aunt Gertrude?" Joe quipped.
The elderly spinster still resided with the Hardy family, and still took interest in their sleuthing. She often told them that they were getting themselves into trouble, but was secretly very proud of their achievements.
"Why do I always get that part?" Frank complained, getting up from his seat.
"Because you, dear brother, are the one who reassures them that everything will be fine. I, on the other hand, am just looking for trouble, remember?" Joe smiled, then turned to their computer and logged on to the flight booking website.
The next morning, the two young men disembarked from the airplane at New York's airport, collected their baggage, and hailed a yellow cab.
"Where did Dad say to meet him, Frank?"
"He said he'd made reservations at the Mark Winter Hotel for us, and that we should check in and wait for him in our room. You know what Dad is like; he won't clue us in until he's ready to."
Joe sighed and looked out of the car window at the grey New York sky. The weather had been cloudy every since they left Bayport, and now rain was beginning to come down in a steady sheet. However, the prospect of a new case heartened Joe, and he was softly smiling to himself by the time they reached the hotel, situated in a busy street in the city.
Twenty minutes after checking in, there was a quiet knock on their door. Frank crossed the soft carpet and opened it to find his father, Fenton Hardy, standing outside looking as if he'd just had a shower fully clothed.
"Hi, Dad. You look…well, wet."
"Good to see you, Frank. It's horrible out there; the rain is getting worse by the minute."
After greeting Joe and drying off a little, Mr Hardy sat down and faced his sons, who were sitting on their beds with eager expressions. Mr Hardy, however, looked sombre.
"Come on, Dad, don't do this. Tell us what you've been working on so secretly this past week." Joe leant forward in anticipation.
"Boys, I hate to tell you this, but I'm stumped in this case. I honestly don't know what to do anymore." Fenton sighed and looked glum.
"Tell us all about it, Dad. Maybe we can help you shed some fresh light on whatever has happened. What has happened?" Frank said in his calming way.
Mr Hardy smiled a little, then said, "The National Art Museum has been robbed."
The boys looked at each other in shock. Joe blurted out, "How is that possible? I thought the National Art Museum was the most secure on the planet."
"Not to mention that their security system has just been upgraded," Frank added.
"I have no idea. That's what has me stumped. But it gets worse. A new exhibition had just opened of French paintings, mainly Monet and Manet, containing some of their most famous and priceless works. All of them were taken. The French authorities are in uproar. They are demanding an explanation, and the museum officials are looking to me to provide it."
"When did this happen, Dad? And why wasn't it in the paper – a big theft like that should have made global headlines?"
"The break-in occurred on Monday evening. Until now we've managed to keep it under wraps, but sooner or later the press are going to find out. Then everyone will want to know what happened, but so far nobody knows."
Fenton Hardy explained that none of the building's security systems had been alerted during the break in, and no traces of the intruders could be found, either in the museum building or the surrounding area.
"Sounds like an inside job to me," said Frank.
"That's what I thought too. However, I don't want to alert whoever is responsible that I am presuming that. That's where you two come in. I want you to look at that angle for me, while I pretend that the main investigation is still presuming an outside intruder. Hopefully, we'll be able to keep up the ploy for long enough that the thief will feel secure and make a move."
"Don't worry, Dad. We'll do our best." Both boys reassured their father that they would help him catch the perpetrators.
"Can we look over the museum?" Frank urged.
"I knew you'd want to, so I've had security passes made out for both of you. You must carry them at all times when you are in the museum. If you go over there now, the museum curator, Mr Greenward, will be waiting for you."
Fenton Hardy handed them two plastic cards on chains, which the boys pocketed, then said that he would not be accompanying them as he had a meeting with the city's chief of police. They arranged to meet for dinner in the hotel restaurant later in the day.