Part of the Family
Chapter Twenty
by hbwgonnabe
"Hello Frank," Benson greeted Frank as he looked at Fenton curiously.
"Mr. Benson, I'd like you to meet my father, Fenton Hardy," Frank made the introductions.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Benson said, shaking Fenton's hand briefly. He looked at Frank a bit questioningly. "Isn't there school today?"
"We have an emergency," Fenton explained. "Joe's missing."
"Oh my!" Benson exclaimed. "I do hope nothing's happened to him."
"We were wondering if you could tell us everything you know about Langley," Frank said.
"Don't you mean Sorrel?" Benson parried. "I mean, he did take the Renoir."
"Actually, we have reason to believe Langley took the painting," Frank said. "So he could collect the insurance money," he explained.
"I...I see," Benson said. "That would be a motive. But when did he have the chance to take the painting? He wasn't here Friday."
"An accomplice, maybe?" Fenton suggested, watching Benson's face closely.
"Any idea who?" Benson inquired, trying to appear nonchalant but failing...or at least in Fenton's eyes.
"One of the guards, most likely," Fenton replied, putting Benson at ease. "What can you tell us about Langley?" he asked.
"I'm afraid I don't know all that much about him," Benson answered. "I've only met him a few times and each of those times was here at the museum. I gave Frank his address that we have on file, but I'm afraid that's all the information I have."
"I see," Fenton said. "In that case, we won't waste any more of your time," he added, ushering Frank out before he could say anything.
"What's going on?" Frank demanded as his father pulled him to a stop in one of the museum's recesses.
"I don't trust him," Fenton admitted.
"Why..." Frank started to ask why not but he remembered what Joe had told him. "Joe didn't either," he said. "Benson was the only person with access to the painting that we didn't check out."
"Why not?" Fenton asked curiously.
"I thought Sorrel was behind the theft," Frank confessed, knowing he had blown it. "So I didn't look hard enough to find anyone else."
Fenton grabbed Frank's arm to silence him as Benson passed their hiding place. "Let's find out what he's up to," Fenton suggested softly.
The two followed Benson at a discrete distance to his office. "You do realize the security guard can see what we're up to," Frank told his father.
Fenton nodded. "I know. But I'm hoping he will keep quiet for now. At least until we can find out for sure if Benson is involved in Joe's or the painting's disappearance."
Frank was sure the guard would help out. After all, he could hear everything that was being said via the intercoms connected to the cameras.
Fenton eased Benson's office door open just enough to listen. Benson was drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk but stopped when he started talking.
"What took you so long?" Benson demanded, then waited for the person on the other end to speak.
"Forget the kid," Benson growled. "His brother and father were here. Of course I didn't tell them anything!" he snapped angrily as the other person spoke.
"Look, meet me at my place," Benson instructed the person on the other end of the phone. "We'll get rid of the painting and the kid at the same time." He paused for a minute. "No. We'll leave the body somewhere along the way. And yes, I'm sure the buyer won't ask any questions. I've dealt with him before."
Fenton held Frank's arm tightly as he pulled the door shut. "That rat!" fumed Frank once they were out of earshot. "He has Joe and he's going to kill him if he hasn't already!"
"No, he's not," Fenton corrected him sternly. "Come on, we'll follow him." The two exited the building and got into Fenton's car. It wasn't long before Benson emerged and climbed into a Mercedes.
They followed him to a modest house on the outskirts of town. Fenton parked at the end of the street and watched Benson go inside. Fenton opened his door to exit but stopped as another car pulled to a stop in Benson's driveway.
"That's Langley," Frank hissed. After Langley had gone inside, he and Fenton exited the car and hurried down the street and peered in the front window. There was no sign of anyone but muffled voices could be heard coming out of a second story window.
The two Hardys entered the house and crept silently up the stairs. As they neared one of the open bedroom doors the words became distinguishable.
"Ohhh...no," Benson denied. "You aren't laying this one on me. You're the one who got spooked when Joe stopped by your place while I was there. 'Get rid of him', you insisted. Well, I tried! And what do I have to show for it? A car with no back windshield locked in my sister's garage because I can't get it fixed now. I had to rent a car just to be able to get to work and back."
"Well it was 'your' bright idea to follow them. You're the one who insisted on ambushing Joe when he took off on his own this morning," Langley retorted. "And what happened to 'Sorrel will be blamed for the theft'?" he demanded. "I thought you said he would kill the Hardys for us."
"I don't know," Benson admitted, completely befuddled. "I left Sorrel's card in the room for the police to find. How was I supposed to know they wouldn't think it was him at the beginning?"
"Ah, forget it!" Langley snarled. "Let's just go down to the basement, waste the kid and get rid of the evidence."
"What did you think I was doing?" Benson demanded, getting on the floor. "The Renoir is under the bed." He bent over to reach for the crate beneath the bed but froze as the unmistakable sound of a cell phone rang from just outside the door.
Langley rushed over and pulled the door open with his left hand. His right hand held a revolver which was now trained on Fenton. "Well now, why am I not surprised?" he asked.
"The police will be here any minute," Frank said. "You might as well put the gun down and surrender."
"He's right," Fenton agreed. "You don't want murder added to the charges you already face."
"I can't be charged if no one knows I was the one who killed the Hardys," Langley replied calmly, lifting his gun and aiming it between Fenton's eyes. "Alive, you ruin everything," he continued. "But if you're dead, we can go on as planned," his words ended with the roar of a revolver being fired.
Chapter Twenty
by hbwgonnabe
"Hello Frank," Benson greeted Frank as he looked at Fenton curiously.
"Mr. Benson, I'd like you to meet my father, Fenton Hardy," Frank made the introductions.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Benson said, shaking Fenton's hand briefly. He looked at Frank a bit questioningly. "Isn't there school today?"
"We have an emergency," Fenton explained. "Joe's missing."
"Oh my!" Benson exclaimed. "I do hope nothing's happened to him."
"We were wondering if you could tell us everything you know about Langley," Frank said.
"Don't you mean Sorrel?" Benson parried. "I mean, he did take the Renoir."
"Actually, we have reason to believe Langley took the painting," Frank said. "So he could collect the insurance money," he explained.
"I...I see," Benson said. "That would be a motive. But when did he have the chance to take the painting? He wasn't here Friday."
"An accomplice, maybe?" Fenton suggested, watching Benson's face closely.
"Any idea who?" Benson inquired, trying to appear nonchalant but failing...or at least in Fenton's eyes.
"One of the guards, most likely," Fenton replied, putting Benson at ease. "What can you tell us about Langley?" he asked.
"I'm afraid I don't know all that much about him," Benson answered. "I've only met him a few times and each of those times was here at the museum. I gave Frank his address that we have on file, but I'm afraid that's all the information I have."
"I see," Fenton said. "In that case, we won't waste any more of your time," he added, ushering Frank out before he could say anything.
"What's going on?" Frank demanded as his father pulled him to a stop in one of the museum's recesses.
"I don't trust him," Fenton admitted.
"Why..." Frank started to ask why not but he remembered what Joe had told him. "Joe didn't either," he said. "Benson was the only person with access to the painting that we didn't check out."
"Why not?" Fenton asked curiously.
"I thought Sorrel was behind the theft," Frank confessed, knowing he had blown it. "So I didn't look hard enough to find anyone else."
Fenton grabbed Frank's arm to silence him as Benson passed their hiding place. "Let's find out what he's up to," Fenton suggested softly.
The two followed Benson at a discrete distance to his office. "You do realize the security guard can see what we're up to," Frank told his father.
Fenton nodded. "I know. But I'm hoping he will keep quiet for now. At least until we can find out for sure if Benson is involved in Joe's or the painting's disappearance."
Frank was sure the guard would help out. After all, he could hear everything that was being said via the intercoms connected to the cameras.
Fenton eased Benson's office door open just enough to listen. Benson was drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk but stopped when he started talking.
"What took you so long?" Benson demanded, then waited for the person on the other end to speak.
"Forget the kid," Benson growled. "His brother and father were here. Of course I didn't tell them anything!" he snapped angrily as the other person spoke.
"Look, meet me at my place," Benson instructed the person on the other end of the phone. "We'll get rid of the painting and the kid at the same time." He paused for a minute. "No. We'll leave the body somewhere along the way. And yes, I'm sure the buyer won't ask any questions. I've dealt with him before."
Fenton held Frank's arm tightly as he pulled the door shut. "That rat!" fumed Frank once they were out of earshot. "He has Joe and he's going to kill him if he hasn't already!"
"No, he's not," Fenton corrected him sternly. "Come on, we'll follow him." The two exited the building and got into Fenton's car. It wasn't long before Benson emerged and climbed into a Mercedes.
They followed him to a modest house on the outskirts of town. Fenton parked at the end of the street and watched Benson go inside. Fenton opened his door to exit but stopped as another car pulled to a stop in Benson's driveway.
"That's Langley," Frank hissed. After Langley had gone inside, he and Fenton exited the car and hurried down the street and peered in the front window. There was no sign of anyone but muffled voices could be heard coming out of a second story window.
The two Hardys entered the house and crept silently up the stairs. As they neared one of the open bedroom doors the words became distinguishable.
"Ohhh...no," Benson denied. "You aren't laying this one on me. You're the one who got spooked when Joe stopped by your place while I was there. 'Get rid of him', you insisted. Well, I tried! And what do I have to show for it? A car with no back windshield locked in my sister's garage because I can't get it fixed now. I had to rent a car just to be able to get to work and back."
"Well it was 'your' bright idea to follow them. You're the one who insisted on ambushing Joe when he took off on his own this morning," Langley retorted. "And what happened to 'Sorrel will be blamed for the theft'?" he demanded. "I thought you said he would kill the Hardys for us."
"I don't know," Benson admitted, completely befuddled. "I left Sorrel's card in the room for the police to find. How was I supposed to know they wouldn't think it was him at the beginning?"
"Ah, forget it!" Langley snarled. "Let's just go down to the basement, waste the kid and get rid of the evidence."
"What did you think I was doing?" Benson demanded, getting on the floor. "The Renoir is under the bed." He bent over to reach for the crate beneath the bed but froze as the unmistakable sound of a cell phone rang from just outside the door.
Langley rushed over and pulled the door open with his left hand. His right hand held a revolver which was now trained on Fenton. "Well now, why am I not surprised?" he asked.
"The police will be here any minute," Frank said. "You might as well put the gun down and surrender."
"He's right," Fenton agreed. "You don't want murder added to the charges you already face."
"I can't be charged if no one knows I was the one who killed the Hardys," Langley replied calmly, lifting his gun and aiming it between Fenton's eyes. "Alive, you ruin everything," he continued. "But if you're dead, we can go on as planned," his words ended with the roar of a revolver being fired.