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).
This story was originally written in the early 2000s. There are many technological differences from today's world. Co-written with RokiaHDA, who wrote back then under the name of Aspen.
Thank you, Cherylann and Max2013, for your commentary.
Ides of August
By EvergreenDreamweaver and RokiaHDA
Chapter 9
Frank Hardy opened his eyes, blinked in the dim light seeping around the hotel window shades, and turned his head to look at the clock on the night table. Seven-eighteen…. He smiled, relieved. It was still early – too early to have to get up, and definitely too early to stir around and disturb Joe! He let his eyes close, and relaxed into the comfort of the pillows once more. Drowsily, he let his mind rove back over the past few days, seeing images against his shuttered eyelids as if a series of slides were being projected on a screen inside his head.
Arriving here in Nevada, at the Reno airport; Megan dragging her little wheeled carry-on bag along the jetway as they disembarked from the plane…. The drive to Stateline, with six of them crammed into the largest rental car Fenton had been able to obtain, Vanessa all but sitting on Joe's lap, to make room for luggage….Vanessa's blue-gray eyes sparkling with delight, trying to look in every direction at once as they made their way through the casino, that first day, and Joe handing Laura a handful of quarters, saying "Mom, play 'em for me! I'll split any winnings with you!"…. Megan, wearing a brilliant teal-blue shirt and white shorts, sitting cross-legged on the grass outside the hotel, watching enraptured as the South Tahoe Shakespearean Players did scenes from Julius Caesar…. Frank's mouth curved into a fond smile as he pictured it in his mind.
Now the images began to take on a darker hue, as Frank reviewed the previous day: That walk on the beach, and Vanessa's problems with sand in her shoes…. The man in the dark glasses who had ridden the aerial tram to Heavenly with them…the attack on the dock…the strange occurrences his parents had witnessed aboard the Royal Tahoe…Joe's unsuccessful pursuit of the thief…. The unlikelihood of the thefts, in such a small place as Stateline, even if it was a tourist Mecca! Regretfully, Frank opened his eyes. There wasn't much use trying to stay in bed, he decided; he was too wide awake now.
He sat up, experimentally rolling his shoulder to test it. It still ached a little from the strain he'd put it through the day before, hanging from the dock, but otherwise he felt fine. Quietly, he got out of bed and went to the 'living room' area of their room. As he did so, Joe rolled over and let out a soft, snuffly little snore, then subsided once more into his pillow, sound asleep. Frank smiled. He could sleep through a tornado if he really wanted to!
Sitting down at the table, Frank opened his laptop computer. He had decided to do a little research on those thefts, since there didn't seem to be any other leads to follow at the moment. He pulled up one of the local newspapers, searching for any police reports from the day before. He glanced across the room at Joe once or twice, but the younger boy didn't seem to be disturbed by the occasional soft tap-click of the keys or the mouse.
To Frank's not-too-great surprise, there were articles regarding the rash of thefts in the Reno Times Online, as well as the police reports. From what he could gather, in a swift overview, several things stood out. One, there hadn't been a major crime wave in Stateline since 1982. Nice, peaceful little town…he mused. Good for the tourist trade. Although there were of course, minor crimes taking place, as always seemed to be the case anywhere you went, it was usually of the petty, opportunistic sort. A tourist would set down a camera for a moment, and someone would walk by and pick it up. People would park their cars near a deserted stretch of beach, and go for a dip in the lake or a walk; while they were so engaged, someone might break open a car trunk and rifle their belongings for anything salable. Occasionally, a hotel might report a theft or two by an employee, or even more rarely, a robbery committed by one member of a party on another. But wholesale robbery? Brazen thefts in public, in daylight? NO!
This time, the situation was different. Frank read the police reports carefully. One diamond-studded Rolex watch – appraised at $1600 – owned by Mrs. Margaret Turndale of Chesapeake, Maryland, who was visiting in South Lake Tahoe. One digital camera, valued at $465, stolen from Mr. Adam Lloyd, of Sonoma, California, also vacationing in the area. One camcorder, cost $1200, taken from Rina Green of Reno, who had been filming a documentary on the Tahoe region. And there was his report, one attempted theft of a camcorder from Frank Hardy of Bayport, New York, attempt foiled by intervention. All the witnesses reported the same general description of the thief – fairly tall, dark clothing, dark hair, Caucasian, wearing sunglasses. The description was too vague to be much help, Frank thought with resignation. It could describe him!
Frank glanced at the time, and decided to go take a shower, so as to be out of the way when Joe finally managed to awaken. He was pleased with what he had found out, even though the description of the robber was so general. Perhaps he could talk to some of these other victims, and compare notes! Discussing the incidents might help them remember further details, after all.
###
Perhaps ten minutes later, Frank emerged from the bathroom, clad only in plaid boxers, a towel slung over one still-wet shoulder. His dark hair was shoved back from his face, but dripped down the back of his neck, and he rubbed at it absently as he walked.
To Frank's surprise, Joe was sitting up in bed, sleepily rubbing at his face, and yawning. Wavy blonde hair straggled over his forehead, and he pushed it out of his eyes enough to look malevolently at his older brother.
"Morning!" Frank said cheerfully. He knew Joe hated it when he was bright and cheery in the mornings.
Joe's muttered response would have been unintelligible to most people, but Frank had lived with him for 18 years. Loosely translated, the basic meaning was: 'Morning; don't talk to me; leave me alone.'
"Going to get up now?" Frank encouraged, grinning. "It's after eight."
This time the mumbled words were a little clearer. "Too early…this is supposed to be a vacation!" But Joe stopped rubbing his eyes, and reluctantly pushed back his covers. He stood up and stumbled towards the bathroom with his eyes three-quarters shut. Frank laughed, and sat down on his bed to finish drying his hair.
Wandering back over to the table, he clicked on the headline news for the Stateline Gazette – and froze, staring at the lead story: MURDER IN STATELINE!
Frank sank into a chair, not taking his eyes from the screen as he avidly pursued the story. Evan Reed, age 25, was found dead in the woods behind Caesars Palace Amphitheater – Caesars!? Frank's eyes widened in shock – the night before, the victim of multiple stab wounds…
At that moment, a knock sounded on the door. Frank jumped, startled, then hastily grabbed his robe from where it lay on the end of his bed and flung it on. When he opened the door, he found his father standing there.
"Morning, Frank." Fenton looked a bit grim. "Have you seen the news headlines this morning?"
Frank nodded, and led the way to his laptop. "I was just reading about it."
Fenton set down the folded newspaper he was holding, and spread it open on the bed. Words screamed from the front page of the Tahoe Daily Tribune, essentially the same as those in the Gazette.
Frank resumed reading the computer screen. The article went on to state that Evan Reed was from Carson City, Nevada, and had worked as a parking valet for the Grand Tahoe Resort. His body had been found around eleven p.m. the night before, by a tourist, Jackson Sandoval, whose dog had escaped his leash and run into the woods behind the Amphitheater. It concluded by saying that the Stateline police were investigating, and the coroner's report was still pending.
Frank looked over at his father. "Dad, do you think this has anything to do with either of our cases? Or is it something totally unrelated, and we're just unlucky enough to be here when there's a crime spree going on?"
Fenton frowned. "Why would anyone kill a valet? If people are getting killed, then there's something more serious going on than just a string of robberies, or someone contaminating food. As I see it, this murder either has something to do with one or the other of our cases – or it was personal. Stabbing, now – that's usually personal…more personal than a bullet to the head."
At that moment the door to the bathroom opened, and Joe emerged, enveloped in a large white towel. He peered curiously at his father and brother between dangling damp strands of hair, noting their serious expressions, and said: "Hey Dad – what's up? You guys look awfully…grim."
"Now it's not just food poisoning and robberies," Frank said tersely. "It's murder." He indicated the newspaper lying on the bed, and then tapped his laptop screen. "And it happened right outside our hotel!"
Joe moved further into the room, clutching at his towel with one hand, and glanced hastily at the articles. His eyes lighted with excitement, and he started to punch one fist into his other palm, then made a hasty grab at his towel to keep from losing it. "We must have just missed nabbing the killer, Frank!"
"How so?" Frank asked. "Do you mean the guy that snatched the camera?"
"Hold on, you don't know that," Fenton cautioned him at the same time. "You're jumping to conclusions. That stabbing might have occurred days ago, and the body just dumped there last night."
"I don't think so," Frank disagreed. "If that were true, there would have been some mention of Evan Reed being missing, and his body found. There's nothing like that in the articles."
Fenton stood up, heading for the door. "Well, you two had better get dressed. We can try to sort out all the mysteries after breakfast. If we keep our ladies waiting too long, I, for one, am not going to be held responsible for the consequences!" He grinned back at his sons and departed. Frank and Joe exchanged glances, and hurried to comply.
#####
The Hardys, Megan, and Vanessa were soon assembled at a large table in the hotel's enormous coffee shop. Megan and Vanessa were clad in shorts and brightly colored shirts, Vanessa's long hair held back by an exotically-hued wide ribbon headband. Laura wore cream-colored slacks and a pastel tee-shirt, while Fenton had opted for a golf shirt and twill slacks. Frank was wearing khaki shorts and a dark green shirt, which had made Joe snort "You look like a park ranger!' when he saw it; Joe himself had gone with cargo shorts and a blue t-shirt, which made his eyes look even more startlingly-blue than usual.
As they waited for their breakfast orders to be brought to the table, the Hardys could hear subdued conversations from nearby tables. The main topic of conversation seemed to be, naturally enough, the murder, with some mention of the robberies added in. There was more than one person who could be heard saying "Maybe we'd better cut this short and go home…who knows who might be next ?" The six at the Hardys' table exchanged sober glances…this was becoming serious.
"Well—" Laura endeavored to get the conversation started with some degree of normalcy, as they were served. "What're the plans for today?"
"I'm going to go back to the police station," Fenton replied immediately, starting to eat his hash browns. "And see if I can talk to Lieutenant Hunt again."
"I don't think there's much we can do, as far as pursuing the robbery case," Frank admitted ruefully. "All we have to go on is that description – and that fits who knows how many people in town! We may have to wait until something else is stolen – that sounds funny, doesn't it?" he added, smiling. "It makes it sound like I want something else to be stolen!"
Laura's eyes twinkled. "I meant, what sort of vacation activities were being planned," she reminded them gently. "I didn't mean the investigative battle plans!"
Megan dimpled, and winked at Vanessa. "I think I can come up with something to keep us busy," she murmured, and applied herself assiduously to her Eggs Benedict.
Joe sat and munched waffles, feeling torn. He knew he should stay with Vanessa, but he ached to go along with his father to the police station, to find out more about the guy who had been killed. Pursuing a mystery sounded like a lot more fun than seeing tourist sites around Stateline…. "That stabbed guy might have been involved in the robberies – or the poisonings…the police might know…." he mused aloud, then flushed when they all stared at him.
Vanessa gave him a long, knowing look, and laughed. "Joe, if you want to go with your dad instead of staying with us, then go, for goodness' sake! I'm not going to get my feelings hurt that easily."
"No – no, babe!" Joe answered hastily. "I could never leave you like that!" He winked at her, and took a gulp of orange juice.
"I promise, I'll fill you in on everything I find out at the police station," Fenton vowed. "And I'll ask about the thefts as well. But you four are supposed to be on vacation, and having a good time, remember? So try to get out and have some fun!"
"We will!" Megan promised him with her most captivating smile, and he reached across the table to rumple her red-gold curls affectionately. Frank wasn't the only Hardy male Megan had succeeded in enchanting.
"Ideas for things to do, then?" Vanessa prodded the little redhead. "You're the one with the tourist guide, after all!"
"I still want to see Vikingsholm Castle," she replied. "But rather than walking there, I wondered whether we might rent bikes. We'd still have to make it back up, but at least the ride down would be fun!"
Joe emitted a pathetic whimper of protest that brought gusts of laughter to all his listeners, but Frank was considering Megan's proposal more seriously. "Bikes might be fun – whether we go to Vikingsholm or not," he commented.
Vanessa was nodding too, and Joe, after a moment's consideration while he ate more of his waffle, agreed.
"Bikes would be okay," he concurred. "It would be good to get some more exercise. Just not all uphill…" he continued in a lower tone. "And I also want to rent jet skis and go flying across the lake!" he added, more enthusiastically.
"Well, let's see about renting bikes after we're done eating, then," Frank said. "And maybe check out the jet-ski rental places too, for later."
Laura and Fenton finished first, and got to their feet. "I'll take care of this," Fenton told the boys, picking up the check. "Your mother and I are going to go down to the police station now. Why don't we try to meet back here at noon, and we'll fill you in on anything I might have found out."
"We might have found out," Laura amended smilingly. "You kids have fun this morning," she continued, smoothing Frank's hair and then dropping a light kiss on Joe's cheek. "And we'll see you later."
###
The four teens blinked when they walked out of Caesars into the bright sunshine, and Vanessa and Megan immediately reached for their dark glasses. They turned south, and began to make their way toward the California side of Stateline, where most of the 'tourist' attractions were. After a few blocks' walk, they reached a concrete post erected between the sidewalk and the street, with a small sign attached which informed passers-by that this marked the dividing line between the two states.
"I want a picture of that!" Megan announced, delving into her tote bag for her little disposable camera. In fact, she got several pictures, with the boys and Vanessa posing and mugging for the camera, standing with 'one foot in each state,' and Frank obligingly recorded film footage, too.
As they resumed their trek for the bike rental stands, Frank lagged behind, attempting to get some good shots of Joe, Vanessa, and Megan as they walked. He was just shutting the camera off once again when he heard a noise behind him.
Glancing back, the elder Hardy saw a man wearing dark clothing and a visored helmet revving up the engine of a powerful-looking motorbike. Gunning the motor, the guy suddenly took off, and drove directly at the astonished Frank!
Taken by surprise, Frank barely managed to get out of the way. He felt the hot breath of exhaust on his leg as he leaped aside, and the sound of the engine's roar filled his ears. As he came down, he landed awkwardly on one foot, and tripped over the curbing. Instinctively clutching at the precious camera, Frank couldn't put out a hand to halt his fall. He landed hard on the sidewalk, and his head cracked solidly against the pavement….where he continued to lie, unmoving.
