A/N: Yes, I am still working on this :p I had writer's block, then it changed direction and it probably needs a title change, but I couldn't think of anything clever, so I'll get around to it later... sometime...
Thanx for the reviews! And the compliment ;-)
"I'm so sorry, you just looked so much like him... it was nice to meet you anyway. Matthew." the flustered woman smiled as she hurried away.
She, like many others before her, had mistaken the tall dark haired dinstinguished looking man for the famous private investigator Fenton Hardy. More than one had said that if he had been a few years younger, they might have been twins.
And Matthew Hardy liked the confusion. It was interesting and he was hearing things about his son he might never have known otherwise.
He walked into the New York City post office and searched for the box as he had been directed in the letter he was holding, a well read letter that was becoming unreadable along the fold lines from being folded and unfolded so many times. He unlocked it with the key that had been supplied in the envelope.
Inside were only two objects; one, a cell phone that had already been programmed and the other a photograph.
The photograph was a family portrait with five members. He already knew the blonde haired woman and her husband, as well as he knew the aunt who had been included in the picture, apparently considered as part of the family.
It was the two teenage boys in front of their parents, each with a hand on their shoulder, that caught his interest. One of them, a blond haired boy who looked slightly younger than his brother, had his mother's blond hair and blue eyes, but the older one was dark haired and hazel eyed, just like his father. Proof that a strong famly resemblance didn't only exist in two generations of the Hardy family, but three.
He flipped the photo over when he noticed writing on the back, assuming it to be a list of who was in the picture and the date it had been taken.
Don't forget we got you out, was scrawled in untidy, almost illegible handwriting.
"Joseph! No cookies before dinner, you'll ruin your appetitie!"
"Sorry Auntie," the seventeen year old boy quickly pulled his hand out of the cookie jar as his tall, angular aunt advanced on him.
Gertrude Hardy didn't technically live with her brother's family in Bayport; however, she would often invite herself to stay for abnormally long visits, during which the Hardy household and all the people in it – including her brother – was under her control.
However, despite her old fashioned ways and the dire warnings she constantly directed at her nephews ever since they had started following in their father's footsteps, they knew she meant well.
"Come on Auntie, be honest," he wheedled, perching himself on the counter, "you've never been interested in being a detective? Or at least some kind of law enforcement?"
"It was of more interest to your father – get off of there," she ordered, turning round and spotting him, swatting at him with the teacloth she was holding. "But yes, at one point we were both working with our dad."
"So was it the kind of phase that every kid goes through, like being a firefighter or ballet dancer, or because your dad was a detective?" his year older brother Frank had wandered into the kitchen, pulling on his coat as he jangled his car keys.
"Our father was a detective," she nodded.
"So what happened to him?" Joe asked curiously, "neither of you talk about him or your mom, we were starting to think they were both dead or something. And I don't think I've ever heard of him as a detective, either," he added, glancing at his brother, who nodded his agreement.
"Well, they got divorced, just before Fenton went to college. I suppose we lost contact with them after a while; it was a messy divorce and she was angry with all three of us, not just dad. She had threatened to leave when we got interested in his work, and said if dad encouraged us or we got hurt, she would leave; so, when Fenton almost got put in the hospital, she made good on her promise. And by then, even though I'd decided I wasn't interested enough to make it my career, it was too late."
She paused, lost in her memories for a moment, and the boys kept still, waiting for her to continue.
"A couple of years after the divorce – Fenton and I were both living in New York for college, but he had already married your mother by then, so they were living together. I think it was just after you were born," she directed at Frank, "that we got a message that our mother had been killed. Murdered. That was what made your father decide what he wanted to do; he wanted to help stop people from getting hurt and to bring justice to the people that were."
"He did that," Frank smiled proudly, thinking of his father's now international reputation.
"So? Did he – anyone – ever find out what happened to your mom?" Joe asked, still keen to hear the rest of the story.
His aunt smiled sadly, and shook her head slowly.
"There are people still trying to figure out who did it," she told them, "but their prime suspect has always been our father. That's why you've never heard of Matthew Hardy; it ruined his reputation. Fenton's lucky people trust him and don't connect the two."
"But they at least proved he was innocent, right?" Frank pressed.
Gertrude gave him a strange look before she quickly changed the subject.
"Aren't you boys supposed to be picking your mother up from the station?
"It's unlike you two to get so distracted by something other than a case," Laura Hardy chuckled when they finally go to the train station, hugging each of them in turn.
"Sorry mom," Frank apologized, opening the trunk of the car and putting her bags inside.
"We were talking to Aunt Gertrude about her and dad's parents," Joe explained as he climbed in behind the wheel and they pulled away.
"They don't talk about them often do they?" their mother murmured, "Fenton did tell me about Matthew's accident... a tragic loss, they could have been wonderful partners in their own detective agency. Just like you and him will be someday."
Joe glanced at his brother in the rearview mirror, both thinking the same thing. Loss?
"Hey, who's that?" he asked, indicating the taxi outside their house and the tall dark haired man climbing out, "can't be dad home yet."
"Sir?" Frank called, approaching him as Joe parked the car.
The man turned, and his face broke into a broad smile.
"Hi! You must be Frank," he greeted, "and Joe," he added as the others joined them. "And Laura! It's been a long – oh..." he cut himself off abruptly as the woman took one look at him, paled and fainted!
A/N: nah, it's not completely different from the prologue :p that's just not the main point of the story. Well it is, but... just read, as long as I know what's gonna happen, it's okay :D And I do have a general idea. I don't write by detailed plans, that's why there's so long between posting. My bad :(
And if that seemed too dialogue-y... it was necessary for this chapter, I do try to include description and action too :p
read and review!