Joe's reddened face shook with rage.
"It was about money," he growled. "It was all just about money."
He lashed out with one arm and swept piles of paper onto the floor as he stood. Callie scooted back, startled by Joe's outburst.
"Money!" Joe screamed, throwing the pillows from the beds around the room.
"Joe, calm down," Callie said, afraid to get too close until a pillow almost broke a lamp. She darted in and grabbed Joe's arm. "Joe, please."
Joe stared at Callie, hyperventilating. "Why?" he whispered. "It wasn't some crazy. It wasn't even about politics that I don't understand. It was just money." He spat out the last word like it was dirty.
Callie held him, sympathizing with his anger. "I don't know," she whispered back. "Things don't always make sense."
"No, they don't." Joe gazed at Callie with an odd look in his eye before leaning in and kissing her. Callie could feel the anger and the passion behind it. After the briefest moment of resistance, Callie gave in.
The door opened. "Um, could you please not do that on my bed?" Fenton asked.
Callie sprang away from Joe, embarrassed. She couldn't look at Fenton, and her face was uncomfortably hot.
"What'd you find?" Joe asked sheepishly.
Fenton rubbed his eyes. "Something I wish I hadn't, unless you're talking about Loggins's place, then the answer is nothing. Whoever did it was a pro." He stopped and stared at the papers all over the floor. He grimaced. "Please tell me you didn't make out on the desk too. I work there."
Frank pulled away. It took several seconds for him to catch his breath, and his heart continued to race.
"Uh," he began, struggling to marshal a train of thought.
Vanessa giggled nervously. "It happened again."
"Sleep deprivation," Frank proclaimed. "Coupled with the fact that we are still not out of harm's way, the tension-"
"Shut up," Vanessa said, smiling to soften the impact. "I get it. You can easily make mistakes under conditions of high stress. You've beat that point to death." She sighed. "I'm a hypocrite. I got so mad at Joe, and he didn't even know what he was doing."
Frank nodded in agreement.
"I can't wait to get back and see him," Vanessa said, looking at Frank slyly. "He's a better kisser than you. I'm going to kiss him and then apologize. In that order."
"Me too," Frank agreed. There was a short pause. "I mean to Callie."
Callie stepped into the elevator next to a familiar-looking older man. She racked her brain for why she knew him. The lights in the elevator flickered and it ground to a halt.
"Uh-oh," the man said in a deep voice. "Looks like we're going to get to know each other."
Callie looked at him quizzically.
"This elevator has got a problem," the man said. "It gets stuck from time to time. It takes them about fifteen minutes to get it going again." He extended his hand to Callie. "Phil Taylor, and you are?"
"We're not even sure this is the right hotel," Vanessa hissed.
"This is the right hotel," Frank responded. "This is the closest Hilton to Ducroy's headquarters. My dad would never lose out on a chance to get Hilton points."
Vanessa rolled her eyes. "I still don't understand how everyone thinking we're dead is helpful."
"Until we learn more, I don't want to risk anything. We need to figure out which room my dad is in."
"How are we supposed to do that?"
Frank smiled. "I just had an idea. When I was younger, my dad had to sleep on the couch for a week."
"Callie Sh-Webling," Callie responded, shaking Phil's hand. This was the executive whose retirement had suspicious timing. Should she use this opportunity to grill him?
"Nice to meet you," Phil responded. "What is it that you do here?"
"I'm Andrew Mills's assistant."
"Ah, helping him out on the insider trading audit." Phil said. "Andrew's an odd duck. Can I give you a piece of advice?"
Callie nodded.
"Never play poker against him. He's impossible to read."
A few minutes later, Phil broke the silence. "You hear that?" he asked.
Callie shook her head. "I don't hear anything."
"Listen," he said.
After a few seconds, Callie heard something. It sounded like the ticking of a watch hand. Callie's eyes widened as she realized it could be the ticking of a bomb!
"I feel ridiculous," Vanessa grumbled. "This was not the best use of our money." She adjusted her black wig and tugged on her short skirt.
"I'm telling you, this will work," Frank said. "It's lucky that wig was on sale. Apparently they're a hot item lately."
Vanessa wobbled up to the front desk. She wasn't used to wearing heels. "Excuse me," she told the hotel employee in her best sultry voice, "I'm here to meet Fenton Hardy for a . . . business meeting, and he forgot to give me his room number."
The young man gawked at her for a few seconds before hurriedly typing on his computer. He told Vanessa a room number, stuttering as he tried to get the digits out.
"Thank you," Vanessa said.
Frank met her in the hallway. "I knew that would work," Frank said. "They're usually not supposed to give room numbers out, but you flustered him perfectly." He flashed a room key. "Swiped this from a cleaning lady. Let's see what my dad is up to."
"Are you sure he won't be in?" Vanessa asked.
"Positive," Frank responded. "When he's on a case, he doesn't waste time hanging around at the hotel."
"What is that?" Callie gasped.
Phil chuckled. "It's my heart."
"What?"
"I had heart surgery two months ago, and they put a mechanical heart valve in. I guess I have a real ticker now."
"Oh," Callie relaxed. "Is that –", she stopped, realizing she was about to ask too personal of a question.
"Is that why I'm retiring? Yeah. What can I say, my doctor told me to cut out the stress. As much as I like my job, I like living more."
Callie smiled. "I can't say I disagree."
Frank waved the card in front of the reader and the lock clicked to green. He nodded at Vanessa, and they both slipped inside. Frank quickly took in the room. His attention immediately went to a desk covered with paper. He started toward it but stopped when he heard the click of a revolver cocking.
"Don't move," a low voice snarled.