Frank and George had their guns drawn instantly.
"What was that?" George asked, wide-eyed.
"I don't know," Frank replied as he hurried towards the kitchen.
The two rushed into the kitchen, guns ready. The only person in the kitchen was Bess. She was huddled on top of the island. Shards of what looked like a bowl covered the floor. Milk and cereal were also among the wreckage.
"What happened?" George asked excitedly.
"I saw a mouse!" Bess exclaimed.
"A mouse?" Frank asked, trying to conceal a grin. He replaced his gun in his shoulder holster.
"I see that smirk, Franklin Hardy!" Bess scolded. "And for your information, I hate mice!"
"I gathered that," Frank replied dryly.
"Don't worry," George snickered, "we'll protect you from the big bad mouse."
Bess just scowled as Frank helped her down from the island. "I'll buy some mouse traps," Frank assured her.
George just continued to snicker as she went to find a broom and dustpan.
Joe slowly drove by the address that Bess had given him. Seeing no activity, he parked his GTO a block away and casually strolled up to the front door of the house. He knocked on the door and waited. When nothing happen he glanced up and down the street before leaning over to peek into the window beside the front door. His view was blocked by a heavy curtain. Joe pulled out his lock picking kit and quickly picked the lock on the heavy front door. He returned the kit to his pocket and drew his gun. He eased the front door open while pointing the gun inside the house.
"This is the FBI," he called. "Is anybody home?" When there was no answer, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. He quickly checked all of the rooms on the single story of the house to make sure that nobody was hiding from him. Finding the house empty, he returned his gun to its shoulder holster and turned his attention to the house's furnishings.
Joe returned to the front room and looked around. "Bess wasn't kidding," he murmured to himself. "This is torture equipment alright." He examined the various implements, being careful not to touch anything. Once he was finished examining the torture instruments, Joe pulled on a pair of latex gloves and pulled open the drawer of a filing cabinet that was sitting against one of the walls. "They obviously were in a hurry to get out of here," Joe continued to speak to himself. "Otherwise they wouldn't have left all this behind." He pulled out a file folder and set it on the desk that was beside the filing cabinet. He flipped open the folder and looked at the contents.
Within seconds, Joe's stomach had begun to turn. He closed the file and pulled out his cell phone. "We need to get a team over here ASAP," he instructed Agent Luck. "There is a lot of evidence here.
Frank sat in the living room of his nearly empty house looking at furniture on the Internet using the extensive Network computer setup. George slept on Bess' bed and Bess sat on the living room floor reading a fashion magazine.
"I'm bored," Bess announced as she dropped the magazine on the floor beside her. "We need something to do."
"I think that computer there has Solitaire on it," Frank said absently as he examined a living room set.
Bess glared at him. "I don't think that's going to cut it," she replied. "What are you doing over there anyway?"
"Looking at furniture," Frank answered.
"Oooo," Bess said, her voice perking up. "That could be interesting." She got up and stood behind him, looking over his shoulder. She grimaced. "You cannot be serious," she said.
"What?" Frank asked.
"I think Nancy might kill you if you bought that," Bess said certainly.
"You don't like the puke green plaid?" he asked innocently.
"Absolutely not," Bess stated. "Move over." She grabbed one of the folding chairs and placed it in front of the keyboard. She quickly navigated through several web pages. "This is more like it," she pointed to the screen.
"That's nice," Frank agreed. He looked at the bottom of the page. "Um, Bess?" he gulped.
"Yeah?"
"Check out the price on that set."
Bess winced. "Moving on," she stated as she navigated away from the hideously expensive living room set. "How about this one?" she said a minute later.
"If I want my living room to look like the set for a porno movie," Frank scoffed.
"Oh?" Bess asked, her eyebrows raised, "and how would you know?"
Frank's face reddened. "Um, I've heard," he said quickly.
"Right," Bess said, "like I believe that. Wanna try again?"
"Okay, fine," Frank said. "Joe and I had a case where we were bodyguards for a porn star."
Bess tried to stifle a laugh. "And why haven't I heard about this before?"
"Because we knew you would react exactly how you're reacting now," Frank retorted. "And that's why we didn't tell anybody." He reached over and navigated away from the offending living room set. Bess was almost beside herself with laughter.
"What's so funny?" George asked as she walked into the room, yawning.
"Frank and Joe," Bess began and then doubled over with laughter. "They…guarded a porn star!"
"No way!" George exclaimed as she began to giggle as well.
"For a case," Frank stressed crossly.
"What case was that?" George snickered. "The Case of the Missing Clothes?"
Frank's face darkened even more. "It's not exactly something I like to advertise."
"Does Nancy know about this?" Bess asked innocently.
"No," Frank answered cautiously.
"Oooo," George said wickedly, "this could be more fun than I thought."
"What could be fun?" Joe said as he entered the room. "I'm always up for some fun."
"Not this fun," Frank assured him. At Joe's questioning look he said, "The Murphey case."
A look of horror crossed Joe's face. "You told them about that?" he asked in disbelief.
"Bess kind of forced me," Frank replied with a grimace.
"This is too rich!" Bess hooted. "Wait until we tell the others about this!"
"Don't you dare!" Joe exclaimed. A thoughtful look crossed his face. "What do you think, Frank?" he asked, "protective custody?"
"Um, Joe," Bess said, "I'm already in protective custody."
"Oh no," Joe said evilly, "I'm talking about the kind of protective custody where you are locked in a cell and nobody is allowed to talk to you."
"Just you try, Joseph Hardy," Bess threatened. "You have to have somebody guard the cell and bring us meals. I'm sure they would be more than happy to spread the news."
"This is a diabolical female," Joe informed Frank crossly. "Do you have any ideas since you were the one who let the cat out of the bag?"
"I'm thinking," Frank assured him.
"So what was his name?" Bess cackled.
"Her name was Deanna Murphey," Joe replied. A faraway look came into his eye, "She sure was good looking."
Bess smacked his arm. "You're a married man, Hardy!" she reprimanded him.
"But I wasn't at the time," he pointed out.
"So, Joe," Frank said, quickly changing the subject, "did you find anything at the house?"
"Why yes," Joe replied, "I did."
"What did you find?" Bess wanted to know.
"I'm not going to tell you," Joe retorted haughtily.