CHAPTER 5
"Well, that was a waste of time. We're back in square one," Joe commented ten minutes later as the Hardys walked across the lobby of the ten-story building of Lee & Bauer, Inc.
"Not really," Frank corrected. "We did learn something. Lee & Bauer are interested in Datatronics despite the murder."
"And they are not interested in ElectroSoft because of their financial status?" Joe asked incredulously. "Who's getting weird here?"
"Maybe they are thinking in a long-term basis. After all, Datatronics has gain a lot of recognition and success, even though it's still young," Frank shrugged.
"And Mr. Lee is very confident about the company's prospects," Joe added.
Frank noticed two framed pictures hanging on the wall of the reception area. One was the picture of Mr. Lee and the other was of a fifty-year old man. He had dark eyes and hair with receding hairline. The latter picture was of Mr. Bauer, as Frank read the small inscription beneath the picture.
"I think we should check McGuire's home. Maybe we'll find something the police had missed," Joe suggested.
"We also need to check Duncan's house, too. There must be a clue of where he is right now," Frank told him.
"Let's check Duncan's house first. After all, we've already promised Bradley that we'd check on Duncan – just in case he's there," Joe said.
"Good idea," Frank agreed as they both climbed into the van.
A few minutes later, they arrived in front of Duncan's house, which turned out to be a rented place. The two-story house was nicely well-kept. They met with Mrs. Streetman, a fifty-year-old woman, who was the owner of the house. After introducing themselves, the Hardys found out that Mrs. Streetman had rented the rooms in her house after her husband and son had died in a boating accident four years ago. She did that as a way to support her living.
"So, you must have talked to the police," Frank prompted after Mrs. Streetman offered them to sit in the nice living room. They declined politely when the elderly woman offered to make some tea.
"Yes," the woman said gravelly. "They've searched Duncan's room and found the murder weapon," she replied. "I'm still shock about the discovery."
"You don't think that Duncan could hurt anyone, do you?" Joe asked gently.
"For four years that he's been here, I don't believe what they have been implying in the news. I've always treated Duncan like my son," Mrs. Streetman replied.
"Four years ago? That was about the same time as…" Frank said quietly.
"Yes, after my husband and son died," she nodded. "Duncan came to me after he read about the ad that I've put in a newspaper. He told me that he wanted a place to stay in Bayport so that he could go to the university easier."
"Do you know where he stayed before he came here?" Joe asked, looking intrigued.
"He did mention that he was in a detention center before," Mrs. Streetman told them.
"Yes, I know about that. We used to play skateboard together before the police caught him," Joe acknowledged.
"I was very suspicious at first, of course, when he told me that," Mrs. Streetman continued, "But he promised that he wouldn't get into trouble if he stays here. I decided to give him a chance. Well, after three months, he still sticks to his words, and I guess he really has changed."
"Do you have any other people renting the rooms here?" Frank asked, noticing how quiet the place was.
"Not at the moment, they come and go. Duncan is the longest one," she answered. "I think you've already known that Duncan had lived in an orphanage center after he finished his detention."
"But I thought he used to live with his mother," Joe frowned. Duncan had told him a lot about his mother. But when Joe thought back, he realized his friend never mentioned to him about his father at all.
"She died while he was in detention," Mrs. Streetman told him. "She was shot by a group of muggers while she was on her way home. The place Duncan used to live was demolished to make way for a new building."
"That's tough," Joe said, feeling sympathy for his friend. "It must have been hard for him to lose a mother while he was away. I know that he cared for her deeply."
"I know," Mrs. Streetman agreed, "I guess I was acting on a mother's instinct when I accepted him to stay here."
"Does he have any close friends?" Frank asked.
"No, he never brought any friends here, as far as I can recall," Mrs. Streetman frowned thoughtfully.
"No friends at all?" he asked incredulously.
"Well, he did mention some names of his classmates, and his colleagues now and then, but I could tell he isn't close to them. But…" Mrs. Streetman trailed off thoughtfully.
"But what?" Frank prompted curiously.
"I don't know if this'll make any difference," she hedged, "but there's one name he reacted strangely when he mentioned it."
"Who is it?" Joe asked eagerly.
"It's a girl's name – Duncan called her simply as Lyn. He mentioned a couple of times about her recently," she told them.
"What's so special about her?" Frank asked curiously.
"Nothing I supposed," she shrugged, "but when he mentioned the name, he suddenly clammed up and grew red in the face. I have a feeling he is hiding something."
"What did he tell you about her?" Joe asked.
"Not much, he only told me that she is his classmate and his project partner. That's all I know."
"Hmm, I wonder why," Frank mused thoughtfully. "Do you think if we could take a look at his room? Maybe we can find out his whereabouts."
"All right. I hope you get the real murderer," Mrs. Streetman said as the boys followed her up the stairs to the first floor.
"I hope so, too," Frank said, not mentioning that Duncan could also be the murderer.
Duncan's room was a cheery room with flower-patterned curtains. The first impression that struck Frank was its neatness. The bed was made neatly – not a single wrinkle on the pastel cover. The bookcase was filled with textbooks. The books were arranged so neatly that even a librarian might envy them. He noticed a table beside the closet. There was a PC, a telephone, and a mug that was filled with pens and pencils on the table – all were arranged neatly.
"Wow, Duncan makes your room in comparison to a junkyard, Frank," Joe cracked. Even though his room was totally the opposite of Duncan's, Joe couldn't help teasing his brother about his tidy room.
"Yes, Duncan is always obsessed with neatness," Mrs. Streetman put in. "That's why I'm quite happy to have him staying here."
Frank gave a mock angry glare at his brother. "I guess that makes our search easier," he quipped as he walked to the desk. "You search the drawers while I go through here," he told Joe.
The two boys went to their tasks immediately, while Mrs. Streetman watched them curiously with her hands on her hips. Joe searched though the drawers. There was nothing but jeans, sweatshirts, and underwear. Then he went through the jackets that were hanging in the closet, searching through their pockets – except for some coins, he came up empty. The result was the same, too, when he searched other part of the room, and the bathroom.
"What have you got at the desk, Frank?" Joe asked, as he picked up a small wastebasket. It was empty.
Frank had already started-up Duncan's powerful computer. He was relieved Duncan didn't put on a password to access his computer.
"Aside from his class assignments, and his job at Datatronics – nothing," he replied as he scrolled through the folders. He noticed a computer game installed. It was called Undead: The Ultimate Quest. "Nice," Frank muttered as he clicked on the game.
"What did you say?" Joe asked him, approaching the desk.
"Look at this," Frank said, "I bet this is the game Duncan had played with McGuire." He pointed to a name in the online game section.
"McGuire the Barbarian?" Joe read in amusement.
"And Duncan as Schwarzebrunnen the Sorcerer," Frank said with a grin.
"Schwarzebrunnen?" Joe echoed in puzzlement. "Where did he get that kind of name?"
"It's German for Blackwell," he told his brother. "So, what did you find?" he asked.
"Zilch," Joe replied simply. "What about you?"
"Nothing here," Frank replied. "I've checked the desk – just some stationery and his disks and CDs for his work with Datatronics. His emails are only from his colleagues – nothing from McGuire at all." Then he suddenly stared at the desk, the bookcase, and the room. Something was missing. What was it?
"What's wrong, Frank?" Joe asked, looking at his brother's face. He knew that kind of look – that would mean his brother had an idea. It irritated him sometimes when his brother refused to tell him until the last minute.
"You didn't find anything at all in his closet did you? Any papers of any kind?" Frank asked suddenly.
"No, just his clothes, there are not many of them," Joe said. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, trying to hide his impatience.
"Nothing, I guess…" Frank muttered under his breath.
"But?"
Frank suddenly turned to Mrs. Streetman. "Does Duncan always receive his mails?" he asked the woman.
"What's this got to do with the case?" Joe asked, looking irritated.
Frank ignored Joe as he looked at Mrs. Streetman. "Yes, like the rest of us do," she replied, looking guarded.
"But they're not in his room," Frank pointed out. "Do you know where he keeps them?" he asked.
"Actually, I forwarded his recent mails to another address," Mrs. Streetman told them. "As for the rest of them, I guess he must have took them with him."
"You didn't tell the police about this?" Frank asked.
"Well, they didn't ask, and I didn't tell," she replied defensively. "After all, he requested it about two weeks ago. So, I didn't think it had anything to do with the murder."
"You mean he hasn't been here for two weeks?" Joe asked, surprised by the new revelation.
"Yes, I've already told the police that," she said. "Duncan told me he wouldn't be here for a while and he didn't tell me where he will be either. He just left me a message in an envelope."
"Can you show us the address?" Frank asked, trying not to sound too eager. Maybe they have a break in the case after all!
"All right," she agreed reluctantly. "But it's a PO Box address," she told them before she left the room.
While Mrs. Streetman was still out of the room, Frank turned to Joe. "If Duncan isn't staying here in Bayport, then where was he going the day we met him?" he asked his brother.
"It could be anywhere," Joe told him.
"Maybe, unless he already has a place to hide, don't you think so?" Frank pointed out.
Joe didn't agree. He hadn't a chance to reply when Mrs. Streetman came to them with a piece of paper. She handed Frank the paper.
"It's in Riverside," Frank read. "The town is only about fifteen minutes from here."
"But how do we search for him? It's not like we have to make a public announcement to locate him. Riverside isn't a small town anymore," Joe said.
"We'll think of something," Frank replied.
The boys decided to head home. After thanking the woman, the Hardys went out of the house and climbed into their van.
They reached their home a few minutes later. As soon as Frank stepped inside the house, the phone began to ring.
"I'll get that," Frank said and headed to the living room.
Joe went to lock their van. After that, he decided to check for mails. The mailbox stood tall on a wooden pole at the front lawn. Thick waist-high blackberry shrubs, which bordered the Hardy's lawn and the sidewalk, had already covered more than half of the mailbox pole. A piece of paper, which turned out to be a junk mail dropped to the ground when Joe opened the mailbox lid. As he was bending down to pick up the paper, two powerful arms suddenly grabbed him from behind, clamped his mouth shut, and dragged him into the dense shrubs.