Chapter I: The Wind of Mystery

Frank

It was a windy day in Bayport, with the stiff breeze bringing the scent of salt to every corner of our small town. My brother Joe and I hadn't had a case to work on for a couple of weeks. That and a salty sea breeze are always a bad combination to me. Whenever it happens, I always find myself wishing for an adventure to come my way.

Of course, it doesn't happen all that often. A few weeks without a case, that is. My name's Frank Hardy. My brother, Joe, and I are amateur detectives, and adventures always seem to be following us. I admit, we do a healthy bit of seeking them out, but whether we're looking for them or not, they always find us. I think it runs in the family. Our dad, Fenton Hardy, has been a private detective ever since he left the NYPD and came to live in Bayport, and he's got some pretty thrilling stories to tell about his own adventures.

But this was the start of one of Joe's and mine, believe it or not. The scent of adventure wasn't the only thing the wind was blowing it.

I was on the beach when the wind came up, so I got the full effect of it. My girlfriend, Callie Shaw, had wanted to paint a seascape on the beach. She's very artistic and very passionate about it. When the wind sprang up, though, that endeavor went south.

"Oh!" Callie said as the breeze caught her canvas and pulled it from the easel.

I jumped to try to save it, but I was too late. It landed painted-side-down in the sand. Callie picked it up and looked at damage, disappointment showing in her brown eyes.

"It's ruined," she said. "Everywhere that the paint wasn't dry, there's sand sticking to it. I'll never be able to get it off."

I looked over her shoulder at the painting. It was really good – like all of Callie's work. The picture was still clear, but as Callie had said, there was sand stuck in several places.

"Maybe it's all right," I ventured. "I mean, it's a seascape. The sand kind of fits. Who knows? You might start a new fad in the art world."

Callie sort of half-grinned. I'm pretty sure when she does that, she thinks I've said something kind of funny, but completely wrong. That happens a lot when I try to talk about art to her. Hey, just because I've foiled a few art heists and stopped several art forgers doesn't mean I know everything about art itself.

"I don't think so, Frank," she said. "At least, it doesn't sound like my style." She looked up at the bay and the wind swept her blond hair back away from her face. "I guess my endeavors are hopeless in this kind of wind. We might as well go home."

I was a little disappointed. What with trailing mysteries to the ends of the earth, I don't get a lot of chances to go on an uninterrupted date with Callie. Now without smugglers or kidnappers to get in way, it looked like the wind was going to cut things short.

"Are you sure you don't want to go get a cup of coffee or something?" I asked hopefully.

Callie turned away from her painting to smile at me. "Why not?"

I helped her carry her ruined canvas, easel, and other painting paraphernalia back to my car. Well, Joe and I share it at the moment. Mom and Dad say that when I go to college, we can each get our own car. For now, they don't need an extra one on their insurance policy, which is already high enough with all the car trouble we have. Anyway.

We went to the Crème and Sugar, a little coffee shop off the main drag of the town. It's usually quiet in there, and the Bayport High crowd doesn't hang around much, except for a few couples who are on dates. Today, Callie and I were the only customers besides two old guys who were sitting at a corner table, chatting about the good ole days.

After we ordered at the counter, we went to sit at a table along the far wall from the door. The setup worked that the waitress would bring us our coffee when it was ready.

"I was hoping I could enter that seascape in a contest that the university over in Layson is holding," Callie told me. "The theme this year is the sea. I guess I'll have to figure something else out now."

I didn't understand why she couldn't just repaint the picture she'd been working on, but that didn't seem to be the way she worked. "Maybe you could paint some coral. It would be a great chance to learn more about it. Besides, it would make a great picture." If you haven't guessed, I'm a little bit of a science nerd. Okay, maybe a lot of science nerd.

"I guess so," Callie said, but she didn't sound very interested.

One of the guys at the other table said good-bye to his friend and left. The other sat for a minute longer. He drank a couple more gulps of coffee as his glance wandered around the room. After a second, his eyes caught mine. He started – maybe he was surprised. He finished off his coffee, and then he got up and came over to my table.

"Excuse me," he said with old-fashioned politeness. "I don't want to interrupt – but are you one of Fenton Hardy's boys?"

"Yeah," I told him. "I'm Frank Hardy. This is Callie Shaw. Do you need something?"

"I hear you and your brother like working on puzzles," the man said. "I've got one I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking a crack at."

Callie sighed so softly that I just barely heard her, but I leaned forward. Especially on a day like today, there was no way I was going to turn down a "puzzle."

"What kind of a puzzle?" I asked.

The man took the question as an invitation to sit down, and he pulled up a chair from a nearby table. "The name's Evan Sinclair. I've got a treasure that maybe you could help me find."

I urged him to tell me the whole story. Callie leaned back in her chair and looked down in her hands. I felt bad, realizing that she wasn't too interested in lost treasures or any of the other things I was always getting mixed up in.

"Hold on, Mr. Sinclair," I said. "My brother, Joe, will want to hear this, too. It would be best if he heard it straight from you. Would you be willing to come by our house this evening to talk about it?"

"Fair enough," Evan Sinclair agreed. "What say seven?"

That sounded good to me. I gave him the address, and he went meandering on his way. Just then, the waitress brought our coffee. I tried to change the subject to anything besides the mystery, but my mind couldn't focus on anything else. Callie, too, seemed distracted, and as soon as we'd finished our coffee, I took Callie home.

When I got to our house at the corner of High and Elm Streets, I found the place pretty much deserted except for Joe. He was outside talking to something up in one of the trees in our lawn.

"What are you doing?" I asked, getting out of the car.

Joe rolled his eyes and pointed up in the tree. "Playback," he said. "He took my phone again and then flew out the window. Why'd you have to teach him that trick in the first place?"

"Me?" I asked. "I didn't teach him. You're the one who wanted him to bring your phone to you when you forget it in your room."

Joe shrugged. "Can I help it if I forget things sometimes? Besides Playback's gotta do something to earn his keep."

Playback is our parrot. I guess technically he's my parrot. I volunteered to take him after his owner turned out to be the culprit in one of our cases. Since then, he's honestly been more of a pain than anything else.

"How are we going to get him down?" Joe asked.

"Stop acting like you want him to come down," I recommended. "Meanwhile, we've got a mystery to work on."

"Really?" Joe asked, seeming to forget Playback and his phone. "What kind of a mystery? It's been so boring around here."

"I don't have any details," I admitted. "Some guy named Evan Sinclair says that he's got a treasure hunt for us. He's going to come around at seven to tell us about it."

Joe rubbed his hands together. "This is great! I hope it's something good."

Playback must have gotten bored without us paying attention to him. He doesn't like to be left out of anything. With a whirring of wings, he flew down and landed on my shoulder.

"Hey, it worked, Frank," Joe said. Then he noticed that Playback's claws were empty. "Where's my phone?"

"He must have left it up there," I replied.

Joe sighed. "Now how will I get it down?"

"I guess you'll have to climb," I told him.