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 2005, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. People still used landlines, and texting, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat were still in the future or in their infancy. Also the story was co-written with someone from the Hardy Detective Agency, pen name Aspen, now known on this site as RokiaHDA.

Thank you to Cherylann, Max2013 and LaurieQ for the kind commentary. You make it seem like a much better story than it really is.

Fanfare for June

By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA

Chapter 7

Joe stared at the little cell phone in his hand, stunned. What had gotten into Phil? Why was he warning them off the case? Hardly anyone even knew we were looking for that violin! And why would it matter if we were?

Joe hit buttons to call Phil back, but repeated ringing brought only a voice-mail response. Either Phil had turned off his cell phone, or was refusing to answer it.

If Phil thinks he's going to talk us out of working on this for some reason, he's got another think coming! Joe fumed silently, listening to the recorded message play. I'm not going to let him try and do this alone – and Frank wouldn't either! Scowling, Joe hit the Off button on his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He was tempted to simply get in his car and head for New York, graduation rehearsal or no rehearsal…But… He paused, feeling torn. I can't go. Even if it wasn't for the rehearsal, I can't go. That dinner with Vanessa tonight is way too important to skip…at least for the moment.

"What's wrong, Joe?" Joe looked up to find April standing next to him, inquisitive hazel eyes fixed on his face. "What was all that about?"

"I'm not sure," Joe admitted. "A very confusing phone call from Phil Cohen." He went on to explain about the missing violin, and then told April of Phil's mysterious attitude on the phone.

"Weird," she commented. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Nah – thanks, kiddo, but there isn't anything you can do," Joe assured her. Seeing her anxious expression, he patted her shoulder in reassurance. "Don't worry about it; Frank and I will get it sorted out when we get there tomorrow."

As if mentioning Frank's name had produced him from thin air, the elder Hardy arrived at the airfield scarcely ten minutes later. Joe walked out onto the tarmac, watching Frank taxi up next to the hangar and then sit there, doing his post-flight checks. He grinned as Frank finally climbed out of the cockpit and looked around, brushing off his red polo shirt and smoothing the wrinkles from his khaki slacks.

"Hey, little brother!" Frank greeted him, lifting a hand in acknowledgement of Joe's presence.

"How was the flight?" Joe asked him.

"Great!" Frank smiled. "Long, but good…. I like this job – a lot!" he added, with deep satisfaction.

"That's good…speaking of jobs," Joe plunged into the worrisome topic, "I got a really weird call from Phil a little bit ago."

"Oh?" Frank arched an interrogatory eyebrow. "Weird how?"

Joe detailed the brief, disturbing conversation he had held with Phil, and watched Frank's features contract with concern.

"That is unusual," Frank conceded, "and mysterious. Doesn't sound like Phil at all, especially since you say you talked to him earlier, and he didn't seem upset then. What do you think?"

"I think we should get to New York sooner rather than later," Joe stated firmly. "I'd be pushing to leave right now, only…." His voice trailed off into silence.

"Only?" Frank prodded gently.

"I've got that stupid rehearsal – and then I have a date tonight with Vanessa," Joe mumbled, somewhat embarrassed. "It's a big dinner date….It's important. I can't miss it."

"Of course not," Frank's tone was entirely understanding; although his dark eyes held a glint of suppressed amusement. "We'll go tomorrow morning, just like we planned. In the meantime, I'll keep trying to get hold of Phil. I'll keep calling until I manage to reach him. If he won't answer his home phone, then maybe I can track him down at work, or something."

"Do you think he'd be working on Saturday night?" Joe said doubtfully.

"No, but I'll check every angle if I need to." Frank turned and began walking across the pavement towards the hangar.

Joe followed him, still looking worried. "Frank, you don't suppose someone grabbed Phil – that he's being held captive, or something? And was forced to make that call? And that's why we can't reach him now?"

Frank's reply was calm and matter-of-fact. "Actually, no I don't. If I thought that, I'd be on my way to New York right now, and I'd be taking Jack's plane to do it. I think Phil's avoiding us. I believe someone's gotten to him by threatening either him, or Allison, and that's why he's trying to head us off. We need to get hold of him, and talk him out of this nonsense, that's all. He knows we won't let something like that stop us."

Joe glanced at his watch. "I agree – but you're going to have to be the one doing the calling; I'm going to be busy for the rest of the evening. In fact, I've got to leave right now, or I'll be late to rehearsal as it is!"

"You aren't going out to dinner dressed like that, are you?" Frank ran a disapproving eye over Joe's denim shorts and t-shirt. "You have time to change between rehearsal and dinner?"

"I'll have to make time," Joe said grimly. "I'll see you at home." He broke into a trot, heading for the parking area where his Aztek sat. Halfway there, Joe spun around. "Frank, Con's checking out Rodney for us – said he'd leave a message on the answering machine if he found anything!" he yelled.

Frank waved his understanding, and watched Joe depart, then he turned back to the plane, to finish all his post-flight checks, and begin cleaning it up.

Two different trains of thought ran through Frank's head as he worked. One was a semi-permanent thread that was always there, now, in some form: What's Megan doing now? How soon can I see her again? Did I remember to tell her last night how very beautiful she looked? Can we get together tonight?

The second was very different: What's up with Phil? Why would he have made that strange call to Joe, when he'd been all for us working on finding Allison's violin just this morning? There has to be a reason he did it. It can't be that he and Allison got the violin back – he'd have just said so, if they did.

Frank paused in his work, pondering the many questions he was coming up with. Who knew we were on the case? Rodney might – if he saw us and recognized us somehow, that is. But that's a long reach. That guy at Phil's apartment, Allison's ex-boyfriend…he might have. And he was there. Angel Coussard – and any other member of the orchestra who was paying attention, last night. There were too many possibilities, and no answers to the questions.

Frank walked into the hangar and made his way to the office, to fill out the log book.

"Hi, April," he greeted, seeing her seated behind Jack's desk, reading a book.

"Hi, Frank!" She looked up and smiled brightly. "Good flight?"

"The best," he nodded. "Yours?"

"Wonderful," she beamed. "I love my new plane!"

"Your plane, huh? Possessive, aren't you?" Frank smiled as he bent over the book to write down his flight information. Mileage…fuel used…time…. "What are you doing tonight?" he asked, closing the book and standing straight.

"Nothing much," she admitted. "Todd's tied up with a family thing tonight, so I'm just waiting for Jack to get back from his run. We might go to a movie after dinner, if he's not too tired." She lifted her book. "Studying for finals."

Frank gave her a thumbs-up of approval. "Good for you. Stay cool – I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Bye." She waved a hand as he left the office.

Frank went out to his car, and settled into the driver's seat. Instead of starting the engine, however, he took out his cell phone and tried to call Phil. His apartment number was picked up by the answering machine. Maybe his cell phone? Voice mail…. Frank left messages on both, asking Phil to please call him, ASAP, then leaned back in his seat for a moment, rubbing his face and trying to think.

Frank was worried about Phil and Allison, and he was also puzzled about that gold cuff link he had found on the floor of the concert hall the night before. He had no way of knowing whether it had any connection to the missing violin, after all. It might have been dropped months ago; the corridor was deserted, with people walking through it only rarely.

But it could connect someone in the Junior Symphony, his mind insisted. And all of them knew Joe and I were trying to help Allison find her violin.

Realizing that he had no answers to his questions, Frank started his car and drove home.

Laura, Fenton, and Gertrude were back from the craft fair, and the women were in the kitchen, preparing an early dinner while Fenton worked in his office. Frank greeted his mother and aunt, then checked the answering machine, hoping that Con Riley had dug up something interesting – or incriminating! – on Rodney Lewis. But he was doomed to disappointment; there were no messages.

He decided to seek some expert assistance with his dilemma.

"Dad?" Frank tapped lightly on the half-open door to his father's den. "Are you busy?"

"Not terribly." Fenton Hardy looked up from his paperwork and smiled a welcome at his elder son. "What do you need?"

"Advice," Frank admitted. He had told his parents about last night's concert, this morning at breakfast, and about Allison and the missing violin. "You know Joe and I were intending to help locate Allison Lewis' stolen violin…well, Joe got a really odd telephone call from Phil this afternoon." He proceeded to tell Fenton about the conversation. "Why would Phil not want us there?" he demanded, "Unless he was being threatened or coerced in some way. Besides, who even knew we were there, or that we might be any sort of threat?"

"The members of the orchestra knew," Fenton reminded him. "And you say you saw Allison's cousin Rodney there. It wouldn't take too much to put two and two together. You and Joe have had your pictures in the New York papers enough times for various cases, remember."

"I know, but it seems a real stretch to think Rodney would have recognized us."

"There's also the man who took the violin from Allison outside the restaurant. You chased him; let's assume he got as good a look at you as you did at him. And what about the man you saw at Phil's? Robert? You said you saw him at that back doorway, and he ran away….Could he have taken the violin in an attempt to get Allison back? And might he have figured out who you were?"

Frank shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know that much about the guy – only that he seems obsessive about Allison and definitely doesn't like Phil!"

"Fenton, Frank – dinner." Gertrude Hardy popped her head around the door to make the announcement. "Come eat before it gets cold."

Over dinner, Laura and Gertrude chatted about the craft fair, enthusing over the things they had seen and, in some cases, purchased. It sounded as if there were going to be a lot of hand-crafted birthday and Christmas gifts in the offing. Even Fenton admitted that he'd seen some very nice items.

Frank tried to listen politely, but his mind wandered. What was going on with Phil? Could Robert have come back and done something to him? He hadn't seemed like much of a threat, but you never could tell about people….

"Frank? Son?" Frank jumped at the touch on his shoulder, and looked up. Fenton was standing beside him, smiling good-humoredly. "We've received our marching orders," his father informed him. "According to your Aunt Gertrude, you and I get to clear the table and do the dishes tonight."

"Hmph!" Gertrude snorted eloquently. "There's no reason Laura and I should have to do it; we made dinner, after all! You menfolk can just share the work!"

Frank glanced down at his plate. Somehow, he'd managed to eat his whole dinner without realizing it! He got to his feet and began stacking plates.

As they cleared the dishes from the dining table and put them in the dishwasher, Fenton brought up the subject which was preying on Frank's mind.

"What are you intending to do next, Frank, about this situation with Phil and the violin?" he inquired.

"Keep trying to get hold of Phil, for starters," Frank replied. "I also want to check and see if anyone's attempted to sell the violin already." He began running hot water into the sink, preparing to wash the items which didn't fit in the dishwasher. "I'll check some of the Internet online auction sites first, and then I think I'll call some places around New York. It's a long shot, I admit, but it's not like I have anything else to do right now."

"And go to New York tomorrow," Fenton said.

"Right – Joe and I'll go first thing in the morning. If Phil's in some kind of trouble, we're going to do something about it. And there's no way we'd let ourselves be threatened into not helping him. We just have to be careful so that nothing happens to him, or Allison."

"Those are good ideas, son." Fenton thought a moment, then added a further comment. "If I could suggest something – you might try finding everything out that you can about that missing violin. And about Allison's great-grandfather, too. If he was with the Vienna Orchestra, and had any acclaim at all, there might be something about him in an online site. And I'm sure there's more information than you want, on Stradivarius violins!"

Frank smiled. "Thanks, Dad, that's a good suggestion. I will. I wish I had Allison's telephone number; I'd give her a call. I wonder if Julliard has an online directory – some schools do. If it doesn't, I could try Directory Assistance."

A short time later, with KP duty finished, Frank went to his room, game plan firmly in mind. He switched on his computer, preparing to start surfing. First, though, there was one very important phone call he needed to make….

"Megan? Hey, Baby – I've missed you!"