Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).
Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give pretty much all the credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.
Story note: This takes place approximately a month after Fanfare for June, in the story arc.
DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY
By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH
Chapter 1
"This is so lovely!" Megan Wright's soft voice was barely audible over the penetrating wail of bagpipes. "New York City has parades, of course – but this is completely different! I love it!" She glanced up at the tall boy beside her, her aquamarine eyes alight with pleasure behind her sunglasses.
"Bayport does a nice Fourth of July parade," Nineteen-year-old Frank Hardy admitted, surveying with warm brown eyes the passing cadre of kilted pipers. "I hadn't thought about it being different from what you'd seen in New York. It's hard for me to remember sometimes that you haven't even been in Bayport for a year. It seems like you've been here forever." He put an arm about Megan's shoulders and pulled his girlfriend against him for a moment, brushing his lips across her tumbled red-gold curls.
"Hey, watch the Public Display of Affection!" his younger brother Joe cracked from where he stood on the other side of Megan. He grinned teasingly at Frank and Megan before leaning sideways to plant a kiss on Vanessa Bender's cheek, ducking beneath the brim of her lightweight straw hat. The tall ash-blonde Vanessa smiled and tilted her head against Joe's, but didn't take her eyes from the parade.
The Fourth of July was a big day in Bayport, New York. The entire population of the city, some 50,000 inhabitants, might not all have gone downtown to view the parade, but a large percentage of them was either standing or sitting on the sidewalks watching it, or was participating in it. The crowds of people were good-natured enough, but it made for a lot of pushing and shoving as parade-watchers jostled for position. To complicate matters, there were scores of booths and vendor displays set up for all sorts of merchandise, food and drinks. Children darted through the throngs of people, occasionally diving into the street to pick up the wrapped candies tossed from the various floats in the parade. Firecrackers popped and high-pitched "wailing" ones screeched. The noise level was horrific.
The weather had cooperated too enthusiastically; instead of the hoped-for low-eighties high temperature, the forecast was for a high in the upper-nineties by the afternoon. Already, at 11 a.m., the sun was beating down remorselessly. Every available spot of shade was taken; for the most part, the parade-goers simply stood and sweltered in the hot sunshine. Tonight, when fireworks were set off over Barmet Bay, the warmth would be a delight; at the moment, it was simply too much of a good thing. Although the Hardys and their dates were dressed for the weather, they still felt as if they were standing in front of an open oven, as the heat radiated up from the sidewalks and the street.
Frank and Joe were the sons of eminent private investigator Fenton Hardy and his wife Laura. Once a detective for the New York City Police Department, Fenton had dropped police work to go into business for himself, and moved to Bayport when the boys were small. As they matured, Frank and Joe found themselves irresistibly drawn toward investigative work too, and despite some misgivings on their parents' parts, had declared that some form of this activity was what they wished to make their careers. They had been working on solving cases for the past several years, both on their own and in conjunction with their illustrious father.
Frank, a lean, dark-haired six-foot-one, had just completed his freshman year at Bayport Community College, as had Megan. Eighteen-year-old Joe was a contrast in appearance, with wavy blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a muscular frame to go with his six-foot height. He and Vanessa had recently graduated from Bayport High, along with their friends Chet Morton, Biff Hooper, Devon Marshand, and Karen Kerr.
The four teens stood watching the parade entries pass by, the boys attempting to protect their dates from being shoved into the street by the ever-growing crowd. Vanessa, being nearly six feet tall, managed to hold her own better than tiny Megan, but Megan was standing between Frank and Joe, and was therefore jostled much less than her friend.
After another hour of floats, marching bands, politicians riding in top-down convertibles, troops of mounted sheriff's posses, and flatbed trucks piled high with Little League teams and Cub Scouts, a final pair of Bayport's finest mounted on motorcycles signaled the end of this year's Independence Day parade, revving their engines and making their sirens yelp, adding to the tumult. The crowd began to disperse, streaming in various directions: some toward the booths selling food and cold drinks, others heading for their cars and homes; still others walking towards the nearby small city park where the local Rotary clubs were joined in putting on a hamburger-and-hot dog barbecue in the welcome shade of the trees.
"Whew, what a crush!" Joe whistled through his teeth, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I didn't think there were this many people in Bayport!"
"And it's so hot!" Megan added. "I feel like I'm about to melt!" She took off her hat and fanned herself with it.
"Shall we get something to drink?" Frank suggested. "And then we could walk down to the carnival area, maybe?" He pointed down the street, from whence came the music of various carnival rides and occasional shouts of the "carnies" to passers-by. "Hey, little girl, if you come with me, I'll buy you some cotton candy," he added to Megan, with his best attempt at a leer. She giggled, and punched his arm.
"Sounds okay to me," Joe offered. Megan nodded agreement, and they looked to Vanessa, who had been abnormally silent for some time. "Van? Does that sound like something you want to do?" Joe asked her.
His girlfriend closed her eyes briefly and bit her lower lip. "Not – really," she murmured.
"Babe? What's wrong?" Joe peered at her anxiously and put his arm around her. Frank and Megan huddled close in shared concern.
"I'm sorry, guys, really I am." Vanessa's forehead creased in a pained frown. "But I have got the most horrendous headache. I woke up with it this morning, but I thought it would go away. It hasn't – and the noise and this hot sun, have made it a lot worse. I think I'd like to go home…." She rubbed her forehead fretfully, trying to massage away the pain. "I don't want to spoil your fun – maybe I can get a cab, or something."
"Don't be silly!" Joe said, scowling. "You aren't going to take a cab; I'll take you right home."
"First things first," Frank interposed. "Let's get you out of this sun, Vanessa." He marshaled the other three ahead of him towards the nearest tree; even a little shade was better than none. Stepping beneath the leafy branches was instant relief from the relentless sun, and all of them breathed involuntary sighs of relief.
"I don't want to be a bother—" Vanessa began again.
"Honey, you aren't a bother," Megan said gently. "The carnival and the rides and all this will be here all today and tonight. There's nothing that says we have to see them right now. And I have a suggestion – a possible solution."
The boys looked at her inquiringly; Vanessa had simply removed her hat, closed her eyes again, and was leaning against the trunk of the tree.
"Your house is the nearest," Megan reminded Frank and Joe. "Why couldn't we go there for a while, and let Vanessa lie down and rest and try to get rid of the headache? That way she doesn't have to go all the way home, and if she feels better later, we can always come back. If she still feels bad after an hour or so, Joe can take her home then. I wouldn't mind sitting somewhere cool and quiet myself."
"Sounds like a plan." Joe nodded his blonde head and sought his brother's eyes for confirmation. "Van, babe, is that okay?"
His girlfriend managed a wan smile. "That sounds wonderful. I'd really appreciate it – if you're sure you don't mind leaving for a while."
"You three stay here, and I'll go get the Aztek," Joe said, speaking of the SRV he had received for his 18th birthday, three months previously. "I'll pull up right in front of you; all you'll have to do is walk across the sidewalk and get in." He took off through the crowd, breaking into a jog as soon as he had a little space to do so.
"I'm going to see if I can get us something cold to drink." Frank eased himself into the glaring sunlight. "Maybe that will help a little, Vanessa."
"Maybe," she responded listlessly, her eyes still closed.
#####
It took Joe fifteen minutes to return. He had to edge the Aztek carefully through the crowds of people, who seemed to consider the street simply an extension of the sidewalk, and milled about as if they were in the middle of a parking lot instead of a main avenue. Frank had gotten cold lemonade for himself and the girls, and the beverage had revived Vanessa slightly. She still looked uncomfortable, but she wasn't quite so pale, and when Joe pulled up next to the curb, she walked unhesitatingly toward his little blue vehicle. Frank and Megan followed her closely. Their cherished patch of shade was immediately taken over by several other people seeking shelter from the sun.
Frank opened the back door of the Aztek and helped Vanessa into the rear seat. Megan slid in after her. On their way downtown, Vanessa had sat in front with Joe; right now, that seat was left for Frank to occupy. Joe switched the air conditioning on full blast. He glanced in the rearview mirror at his girlfriend's wan face; Vanessa wasn't often sick, and it worried him when she didn't feel well. Joe maneuvered deftly through the congested traffic, and as soon as it was possible to do so, increased his speed substantially.
Elm Street was shady and peaceful; the temperature seemed ten degrees cooler there than it had downtown. Joe pulled his car into the driveway, next to Frank's recently-acquired black Saturn. Neither their father's brown Volvo nor Laura's gold Ford Tempo were visible; the parents had taken Laura's car to the parade, and Joe assumed Fenton's was in the garage.
"Come on babe, you'll feel better when you lie down," Joe encouraged Vanessa as he unlocked the front door and ushered her into the house. The contrast between the humid heat outside and the air-conditioned interior was a welcome sensation to all four of them.
"There's some migraine-strength aspirin in mom's bathroom, I think; I'll go up and get it," Frank said now. Joe's lips twitched a little. Old take-charge Frank! he thought. "Joe, why don't you get Van settled on the couch in the family room?" the elder boy continued.
"Okay," Joe replied, deciding to withhold any comments about his older brother's tendency to boss people around, since it was exactly what he'd intended to do anyway. He took Vanessa's arm and headed for the family room; upon reaching his destination, he guided her to the sofa and gently helped her sit down.
"I'll get a cold cloth for your head, Vanessa," Megan offered.
"That's a good idea," Frank commented from halfway up the stairs.
Megan walked toward the kitchen, whistling softly; she had The Stars and Stripes Forever indelibly etched in her mind now, since she'd heard it at least three different times during the course of the parade. Oh well, better that than the theme from "Bridge on the River Kwai"! she thought, giggling a bit.
Frank, in his parents' bathroom, opened a drawer and found the bottle of tablets he was seeking. He was just turning to leave the room, when Megan's voice echoed up the stairwell and through the quiet house.
"Mrs. Hardy? Laura? … MRS. HARDY?" And then came a high-pitched, terrified scream: "Frank! FRANK! FRAAANK!"