Hello, again and welcome to chapter 7! I hope you all enjoy and want to give you a big thanks for all the love you give this story.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys.
Frank had barely comprehended that he was really grounded before his bedroom door was pushed open. Joe slipped in, shutting the door behind him. Frank shook his head. He knew their father should have known it would take far more than a grounding to keep the Hardy brothers apart but he had not been expecting Joe to make a break from his room so early on.
"I can't believe he grounded us," Joe hissed, furiously. "There's got to be more to this."
Frank settled into a seat at his desk while Joe paced the room like a caged animal. They both hated being penned in, especially when there was a mystery going on.
"Maybe Dad really just doesn't want us involved because there is a serial killer on the loose," Frank said, trying to be reasonable.
Joe turned to him with a glare and pointed out that they had dealt with prolific killers before.
"And ones who had been striking seemingly at random. This one is only killing members of the Olympian Gang and unless you've been living a double life that you're not telling me about…"
"If people are after members, they might be after someone who sold them out. This gang was taken down while Dad was a police officer - maybe Dad was involved in an undercover sting against them and is worried that they'll go after him to take revenge. Maybe he was actually Hades or something and convinced Artemis to rat."
Frank shrugged, telling his brother that they should review the evidence they had.
"So, Apollo murdered, means unknown. Zeus and Ares found guilty. All the gang goes to prison."
"Apart from Artemis, who is the one who tells the police about the gang," Joe interjected.
Frank nodded.
"Next is Zeus. Dies in a prison riot. Nineteen years later his son, Ares dies. A prison riot again. He's the first of this set. Then our killer changes tact. Stabs Poseidon, Mr Strugess and Sarah Jacobs."
"And one of these is likely the Paul we were being warned about," Joe said.
Frank hummed his agreement, saying that left four members of the gang.
"Artemis, Athena, Hermes and Hades. What do we know about them?"
"Artemis - the one who went to the police. A mother. Contacted by Sarah. Sister of our first murder victim."
"Chesterfield," Frank interrupted. "That was the last name Sarah Jacobs gave Apollo. Artemis has probably changed it by now. Even if she didn't change it after the murders, she probably got married."
Joe nodded, asking what they knew about Athena. They knew she was rich, they knew she had an interest in Apollo.
"She didn't marry. Jacobs suggested she might have never gotten over him. Maybe she's doing this for revenge."
"Hades," Joe began. "He's Sarah's choice. If he isn't in prison. She says he's killed before."
Frank nodded, suggesting they should look into it. If Hades had killed before, he might have formulated a MO - his usual method of killing - and if that involved stabbing, Sarah Jacobs might have already solved the mystery for them.
"And physical evidence?" Joe said. "All looks like normal killings besides the little models."
Agreeing, Frank pointed out they could try to trace the models but he didn't imagine it would be much luck. They weren't unique symbols. They were common things. He could think of a few board games similar models could be found in.
"It's a sign though," Joe said. "It's to make it clear this is about the Olympian gang. Possibly to scare the other members into giving themselves away. And we got our bow and arrow."
Frank turned a book of Greek gods in Joe's direction, pointing at a page.
"Mom's right, it's either Apollo or Artemis. I am thinking Apollo."
Joe frowned, asking why Apollo would be significant for them. Frank shrugged. Apollo was the sun god, there wasn't much that linked them to him. Frank would have assumed Zeus was the god that the Hardy family were most represented by - amongst other things he was the god of law and order. It seemed more appropriate for detectives.
"The only thing I could find for Apollo was that he was the god of protection for the young. We're teenagers. Maybe one of the gang who isn't trying to kill us is trying to show that we are protected. Or assigning us a god so they can kill us. Yeah, it's definitely meant to tell us whether or not we're targets, I'm sure of it. Especially since he was the one who died before."
Joe picked up the book and skimmed over it. Then he grinned.
"Says here that Apollo was the best-looking god. I don't know about you but that's me in a nutshell. Better yet, blond, athletic... "
Frank rolled his eyes dramatically and sat back. A million thoughts raced around his head. Joe recognised the expression on his brother's face and frowned, wondering what Frank was thinking about. When he voiced the question, it seemed to startle the older brother who looked at him like he had almost forgotten he was there.
"I just don't get why she called the house. We hadn't even taken the case at that point. Why think we needed a warning?"
"Well Mom and Dad clearly know more than they're letting on," Joe said. "Perhaps Dad really was involved in the case. I mean, he would have been a police officer at the time."
"Barely," Frank pointed out.
Joe shrugged and pointed out that they both knew what their father was like. If he wanted to be involved in a case, there was little stopping him. Frank wanted to argue but he knew Joe could see through him easily. He was itching to solve the mystery. It was the curse of being a Hardy. They needed to know everything, needed to leave no stone unturned. Even if it meant disobeying their father.
"So what's our next move?"
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Frank looked at Joe in alarm who duck behind the door as Frank called for the visitor to come in. The door was opened and Laua stood there, holding a tray covered by a tea towel. She looked at Frank before shuffling in. Shutting the door, she jumped when she saw Joe standing there.
"Oh, Joe. I should have guessed," she sighed. "Well, at least you're both here."
She placed the tray she was carrying on the side and nudged it towards Frank.
"I know Hardy sentencing guidelines say those who are grounded do not get dessert but I thought I might need a peace offering."
She lifted the tea towel to reveal two slices of cake on plates. Joe and Frank thanked her, grabbing the cake from the tray. They ate quickly, thanking their mother.
"You shouldn't be angry with your father," Laura said, taking a seat on Frank's bed. "He's just trying to do what is best for all of us. One day the two of you will understand, I promise. But right now…"
"Was he involved?" Joe asked. "In the case? Did he stop the Olympian Gang?"
Laura hung her head, telling Joe it wasn't something she wanted to discuss.
"One day the two of you are going to have children of your own and you are going to realise that not telling them everything doesn't mean you love them any less. Sometimes parents keep secrets from their children. It keeps them safe, it keeps them from worrying needlessly."
"This isn't needless," Frank tried. "People are dead. Dad could be next."
"I highly doubt your father will be next."
Joe went to press for more but Laura shook her head firmly. She pulled her two sons into a hug, wondering when they had gotten too big for her to easily fit her arms around them. She had spent their childhoods silently pleading her boys would do anything but detective work. Well, anything but detective work and turning to a life of crime. She just wanted them safe but she also knew that the boys had the same hunger for truth as their father. She had the same feeling, of course, but she was able to satisfy it through research in books, learning about what others had already discovered. Her husband and sons seemed to take a personal offence to the idea someone might want to keep something hidden from them.
"One day, I promise we will tell you everything. We will. I just need you both to be patient."
The brothers went to protest but Laura made it clear that the conversation had ended. She released Frank from her hug, telling Joe that he should go back to his room before his father caught him.
"Thanks for the cake, Mum."
The brothers used their grounding to catch up on much-needed homework. It was a losing battle - it often was when a mystery came up - but they ensured they did the homework that would get them in the most trouble if they neglected it. Then, after their father had called for lights out, Joe had called Iola. Frustration at his homework, his father, the mystery - it was all going to make sleep impossible.
"Hey," Joe said.
Iola sounded tired when she spoke and Joe couldn't help but smile at memories of how adorable Iola looked when she was on the verge of falling asleep.
"Hello, you. Callie said you and Frank were grounded," Iola said, sounding a little shocked.
"What's shocking about that?" Joe asked.
"Nothing. I'm more shocked you haven't had your phone confiscated yet."
Joe chuckled good-naturedly and told Iola that he and his brother were getting very good at sneaking around, even if that involved tricking their father.
"Hence the grounding," Iola returned, laughing herself.
Joe scowled playfully at his phone, unable to hold back his smile. Then thoughts of his situation pushed down any joy he was feeling. He asked what Iola knew about the case. Her brother had told her a little (Chet was about as good at keeping secrets from a sibling as Frank and Joe were) but what she did know didn't make sense to her.
"Same. Everything we know doesn't make any sense. We're missing something. I can feel it. I just don't know what."
"You'll work it out," Iola reassured him.
"It's not stuff we need to work out though," Joe sighed. "Mom and Dad know something that they're not telling us."
"Maybe they have their reasons."
Joe could tell Iola was gripping at straws, trying to suggest reasons to help lead the investigation forwards. If her parents, her brother, him and Frank, had started acting in such a secretive, reclusive way, she would have been leading the charge to work out what was going on.
"Well, I'd love to hear them. Dad's told us all sorts. Murders, kidnappings, matricide, patricide, fratricide… We've seen people die, seen all manner of crime scenes… What makes this case any different?"
"Maybe it's not the danger at all. Maybe it's that something happened that they don't want you to know about, not because it would upset you but because it would make you look at your father differently. Maybe before your father became a detective, he was experimenting with which side of the law he wanted to be on."
Joe sat up sharply.
"You think Dad was part of the gang?"
"I'm just trying to consider all the options. Isn't that what you detectives do?"
Joe was forced to concede that Iola was absolutely right, that was what detectives do. And it was clear his father was keeping something from him. He needed to know what.
"I have an idea," Joe said, chewing on his lip. "If I get caught, I am probably going to be grounded for the rest of my life. And definitely lose my phone. So if I don't message you tomorrow, you know what happened."
"Just don't do anything stupid," Iola said.
Joe chuckled quietly, getting out of bed and pulling on his dressing gown.
"When have I ever done something stupid?"
Joe jumped as he saw movement in front of him. In the gloom, it took him a moment to realise Frank was emerging from his bedroom as well. The brothers stared at each other for a long moment, trying to make sense of what the other was doing. Then Joe glanced pointedly towards the door to his father's office. Frank nodded, admitting that the brothers had had the same thought.
They slowly slipped towards it, Frank trying the door. Although neither brother was shocked that their father had locked it, they were perhaps a little hurt. Hurt because their father could really be so suspicious of them to lock his office door. But also hurt that he really thought a lock was going to be enough to keep out the Hardy boys. Without needing a word of discussion, Joe ducked back into his room to grab his lock-picking kit while Frank watched their parent's bedroom door like a hawk. It took Joe a few moments to pick the lock in the gloom, wanting to ensure he left no traces of it being picked. He had the feeling his father would look.
The brothers hurried into the room the moment the door was open, shutting it behind them. They looked around for a moment, trying to work out their next move. Then their eyes locked onto the filing cabinet. Their father was an organised man and he kept files on everything - old enemies, shops in the area that might have been used to buy equipment for crimes… He said that half of being a detective was knowing where to look and his files allowed him to do that.
"Dad's going to kill us if he finds us in here," Frank pointed out.
Joe rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees beside the filing cabinet. Their father had a lot of tricks to ensure that his filing cabinets would not be opened without him knowing about it but his sons knew them all. Their father had told them so they could collect files for him and reset it to ensure no one could take information covertly and they'd seen their father put them in place enough times. Joe finished with the lock and grinned as he slid the door open. He began to flick through it, murmuring to himself as he went. Frank glanced down the hallway to check no one was coming and then darted over to his brother as Joe produced a brown folder full of sheets of paper, labelled Olympian. The brothers grinned at each other and hurried over to the desk, spreading out the papers.
"This is a lot of information on a gang Dad is pretending he doesn't know much about," Joe observed with a smirk.
Frank began to sort through the pages. There were newspaper clippings of the crimes the gang were associated with. They were all older than the boys, detailing robberies and carjackings. There were two murders. That got the main focus although Frank could see mentions of several more throughout the file.
"There's no photographs," Joe pointed out.
Frank only just realised that his brother was right. Apart from the pictures from the newspaper, there were no photographs. Normally photographs made up a good portion of his father's files - pictures meant to help identify the criminals if you came across them during another case.
"Well, they were mostly teenagers, right? Might have been hard to get hold of pictures of them," Joe said.
"Or Dad didn't want to risk someone getting hold of the file and seeing the pictures," Frank mused, not really directed at his brother.
The two were still struck by the choice of wording. Normally someone was the mysterious criminal they were hunting for, someone was a shadowy dangerous figure who was trying to elude the Hardys or do them harm. Yet this case had made someone them. They both knew they were the ones their father had not wanted to see the pictures. Frank could imagine, if this case had not come up, the brothers flicking through the file while helping their dad sort out paperwork and not bother looking into it at all due to the lack of pictures.
"This just confirms it," Frank said. "One of the gang members must be someone we recognise."
"So what do we do? Make a list of people we know who lived in New York at the right time?" Joe suggested.
Both brothers wanted to keep going, keep thinking, keep detecting but Frank knew they had to consider the implications.
"That would put Mom, Dad and Sam Radley on the top of the list," he whispered.
Joe and Frank considered it for a moment before sharply turning their attention back down to the file in front of them.
"I'm so dumb," Frank suddenly gasped, holding up a sheet of paper.
"I could have told you that," Joe joked. "What has prompted this shocking revelation?"
Joe reached for the sheet but Frank pulled it out of his reach. If his brother was going to make jokes like that, he was going to make him work for the same conclusion he had come to.
"When did Dad start acting strange?"
"After talking to Rupert Sturgess," Joe answered almost instantly.
"Wrong."
"Wrong?"
Frank nodded, telling his brother he had heard him correctly. Joe looked away, frowned on his face. Then his eyes widened with realisation.
"It wasn't that. It was after talking to that man at the theatre. Mr Willis? The one who talked about the prison break."
Grinning proudly, Frank nodded. He informed his brother that it had been a Mr Wilson who had told them about the riots at St Jerome's Penitentiary, riots that had killed two people and led to one escape.
"Paul Morgan," Joe suddenly breathed.
Frank's grin widened, telling his brother he had come to the same conclusion. Then Frank tossed the file in his brother's direction. Joe opened it up. It was their father's on file Morgan. Recently written by hand in one corner was the declaration that Paul Morgan had been killed in riots at St Jerome's Penitentiary.
"We need to talk to Wilson," Joe said.
Frank nodded. He knew exactly where his father hid his address book, in a draw of his desk, covered by a false bottom. Frank pulled it out and searched out Mr Wilson's details. He photographed them with his mobile before slipping the book back.
"Come on, we don't want Dad to catch us," Joe said.
Frank nodded. The brothers tiptoed back to their rooms, vowing to call Mr Wilson in the morning. The boys had barely entered their rooms when they heard whimpers and crying from down the corridor. Immediately both looked up. Their eyes locked onto each other, scanning the other in the gloom to see if they had any information about what was happening. Then the tortured noises rose to a crescendo.
"Joseph!"
Their mother! Without a thought, the brothers raced down the corridor into their parents' room.
Laura was sitting up in bed by the time they raced in. Fenton was holding her, letting her bury her face into his chest. As the boys burst into the room, Fenton reached for the handgun he kept in his draw.
"Dad, it's us," Frank rushed to explain, going to shield Joe in case a shot was fired.
Fenton dropped the handgun unceremoniously on his bedside cabinet, drawing Laura closer to him. Joe rushed around his brother, kneeling beside his mother and taking her hand.
"I'm here, Mom. I'm here."
Through her tears and terrified eyes, it took Laura a moment to focus on her son and another moment to recognise him. Then she rested a hand against his cheek, thanking him for coming.
He forced a reassuring smile at her, glancing over her shoulder to look at Frank.
"Is everything alright?" Frank asked.
Laura forced a smile and sniffled. She looked around the room for a tissue and Frank spotted a box on her dresser. As she composed herself, he collected the box and offered it out. She thanked him quietly as Fenton pressed a kiss into her temple. Then he turned away, slipping his gun back into the draw of his bedside cabinet.
"It was just a nightmare. You must think I'm being so silly. I didn't mean to wake either of you."
"What was your nightmare about?" Joe asked.
It was genuine curiosity - nothing about the case. She'd screamed his name after all. Frank thought it should be obvious. Although seventeen, Joe had never outgrown the title of the baby of the family. And with his parents deciding two was enough and Gertrude not being fond of the idea of marriage, it seemed that Joe would remain as the baby until he either became an uncle or a father. Holding the unfortunate title of Fenton Hardy's youngest meant that Joe was often the target for kidnappers and hitmen so if their mother was going to have a nightmare about either of them, it made sense it would be Joe.
"You two should get some sleep," Laura said, finally letting her hand drop from Joe's cheek. "I will be fine. Really. I have your father here."
Although hesitant, the boys agreed. They kissed and hugged their mother, telling her they would be just down the hall if she needed them and then left the room.
Frank and Joe ensured they timed their emergence from their rooms perfectly. Technically, with the grounding, they were meant to spend as much time as possible in their individual rooms to ensure the brothers couldn't conspire together. However, they were allowed to leave for meals.
The brothers sat together for breakfast, looking at their phones and watching the expressions of the other out of the corner of their eyes. Phones on silent, they messaged each other, the conversation they would be having. They were planning an escape - a way to meet up with Mr Wilson to get the information they needed on Paul Morgan. It would have to be perfectly timed as their father had not made them privy to his plans and the last thing they wanted was to be caught. Breaching a grounding had dire consequences. No phones. No TV. An even longer grounding than before.
The brothers heard footsteps approaching and frowned. They looked over to see their father entering the kitchen. Quickly they hid their messages: Frank bringing up the news app, Joe bringing up social media.
Frank tried not to be angry with their father. The life they led was a dangerous one and their father just wanted them safe. It was all he had ever wanted for them. Frank knew what it was like to feel responsible for someone, to want them safe and know that they saw no problem with the risky options. But he trusted Joe to do the right thing and their father should trust them in turn.
Fenton stopped, resting against the kitchen counter. He stared at his sons who felt his eyes on them but purposefully ignored it. They kept their focus on their phones, doing everything in their power to not look at him.
"You understand why I felt the need to ground you, don't you?" Fenton said. "People are dying. Me and your mother don't want either of you to be next."
"Why do you think we would be next?" Joe asked.
Fenton scoffed gently and Frank noted that their father had calmed down, that he now was amused - and a little proud - of his sons' intrepid pursuit of the truth.
"One day me and your mother will tell you the truth about all this. In fact, we planned to. Frank's twenty-first birthday, we would tell you. Tell you both."
"Why not just tell us now?" Frank asked. "I'm eighteen. Joe's seventeen."
"We'll tell you once all of this is cleared up."
The boys jumped, turning to see their mother standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She looked exhausted. Fenton immediately set about making a coffee for her as she came to sit next to her sons.
"I just need you to be patient for a little bit longer," Laura finished.
"Can we trust you to do that? To be patient? I'll end the grounding, let you go about your normal lives. But you have to promise to leave this alone and be careful."
Frank glanced at Joe. The brothers silently debated their answer. Then they turned back. They nodded. Smiles spread across their parent's faces, both saying they were glad to hear it.
They wedged Frank's bedroom door, wanting to ensure their father couldn't just enter without warning them. Then the boys sat on Frank's bed, Frank holding his phone out between them as he called the number their father had for Mr Wilson.
"Hello, Mr Wilson," Frank said.
"Hello. Fenton? You…."
"It's not Fenton, Mr Wilson. It's his son, Frank. We met briefly at the theatre."
There was a pause and then Mr Wilson's voice came through the phone, fondly confirming that he remembered Frank.
"Yes. You're the one who looks like the spit of your father. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
Frank paused for a second, wondering exactly how he could phrase it. Joe came to sit down opposite him.
"Me and Frank are helping our father on a case and we think a member of the gang we're investigating might have been killed during one of the prison riots at the place you work. Could we possibly meet up with you and talk about it?"
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