Chapter III

"Frank? Frank! Frank!" Frank groaned and reached up with one hand to push away whatever was shaking at his shoulder. "Frank! Can you hear me?" Frank tried to say that of course he could hear, but it came out as another groan. "Can someone help me get him out of the street?" Now he recognized the voice as Callie's. He started to say that he would help her, but somehow or other he was having trouble forming words. He felt a muscular arm under his shoulders and it gradually dawned on him that Callie was talking about him - he was the one in the street. The scenario with the thief came back in a flash and he started to speak, but the arm had moved him into sitting position and he had to grit his teeth against a sudden wave of pain and nausea.

"You want an ambulance, miss?"

"Yes. Please." Callie sounded grateful.

Frank shook his head. Ouch. Bad idea. "No - " he clutched at someone - he wasn't sure who. "M'okay."

"Frank - " Callie sounded impatient.

Frank started to shake his head, remembered in time, and patted at someone - he hoped it was Callie. "M'okay. One minute."

Callie's exhalation of disgust was audible. "Thank you for your help. I guess I can take it from here."

"Whatever you say, miss." Frank was cautiously unprying his eyes now, and saw a tan, muscular blond man, like a middle aged surfer, kneeling near him. "If I were you, kid, I'd see a doctor."

"Thank you." said Callie.

"Yeah. Thanks." Frank echoed faintly. He noticed with embarrassment that a crowd had gathered. Callie was peering at him anxiously. "I'm okay. Really." he tried to smile at her. The results must not have been too convincing, because she frowned and leaned closer to study his forehead. "Where's Joe?"

"He went after the thief. Frank, I really think a doctor - "

"I'm fine." he tried smiling again, and this time it must have been better, because after a moment, she smiled back tentatively.

A pair of familiar tennis shoes came to a screeching halt beside him. "Lost him." Joe sounded breathless. He dropped into a crouch next to Frank and looked at him closely. "I'll get us a taxi and we can check out the emergency room."

"Mr. Macho doesn't want a doctor."

Joe raised his eyebrows and he and Callie exchanged a meaningful look.

"Cut that out!" said Frank irritably. "It's just a bump." His hand rubbed the beginning swelling at the back of his head where he'd hit the curb, and he grimaced. "Two bumps."

"Okay," said Joe slowly. "Think you can stand?"

"Yeah." Joe helped him to his feet and Frank swayed and clutched at him.

"Take it slow. I think lunch might be a good idea about now."

For once, Callie didn't laugh. "I think you're right. Do we still have a table?"

"Sure." Joe guided his brother toward the table they'd abandoned. "Boy, you should have seen the traffic slam to a halt when you bounced off that curb. Good thing there's those California Pedestrian laws."

"Yeah, I'll have to write Sacramento my thanks." Frank sank gratefully into a chair and propped his elbows on the table, letting his head rest in his palms.

"It's not funny." Callie said sharply. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm fine." Frank rubbed at his forehead and looked up at her. "Of course, if you've got an aspirin, I could sure use one."

"I've got some in my purse." Callie handed him the aspirin, then dipped her napkin in a glass of the ice water that had been set out and dabbed at his forehead.

"Ow!" Frank pulled away.

"Hold still. That thing's swelling like a tennis ball. Here…" she emptied the ice from her water into her napkin and held it against the growing bump. "Hold that there." Frank flinched, but set his teeth and obeyed. After a minute, it did feel better.

"You see that guy?" Joe asked.

Frank shook his head. "It happened too fast. All I saw was his boots. And those I saw real up close and personal. You?"

Joe shook his head. "I didn't do much better. Medium height, baseball cap, sunglasses, sweatshirt without any decoration on it, sweats - coulda been anyone. Coulda been a woman, even. Oh - one thing - he got into a car. Little odd for a mugger, I thought."

"Hmm. What kind of car?"

"Dark blue Lincoln. Late model."

"Little classy for a mugger, too. What did he want my miserable wallet for? He's doing better than I am."

"Maybe that's how." Joe smiled up at the waitress as she approached. "I'm starved. Seeing you almost get run over has that effect on me. Let's order."

Frank sighed. "Okay, as long as one of you is willing to stand treat. I'm a little short of change at the moment. At least until I can replace my Travelers Checks."

"No problem. Then after lunch, maybe you'd better go back to the hotel and lie down."

"After lunch I need to take a tour of the beautiful downtown San Francisco P.D."

"Frank Hardy?" Frank opened his eyes and rubbed at them. He must have dozed off.

"That's me."

"Come with me, please." Frank rose and, closely followed by Joe and Callie, trailed after the uniformed police officer and took a seat by a battered metal desk. The officer shook his head at their story.

"Not much chance of retrieving it, probably, but we'll see what we can do. Lose much money? Credit cards?"

Frank shook his head. "My Dad always taught me to carry my credit card separately, so I've still got that. Some Travelers Checks and some money, but not that much. My drivers license. Some pictures. My library card."

The officer nodded. "Good idea. Well, at least you didn't make it too profitable for him. Nice bump. He do that?" Frank nodded.

"I chased him for a few blocks. He got into a waiting car and drove away. Is that normal here?"

The officer switched his gaze to Joe. "And you are?"

"Joe Hardy. Frank's my brother."

The officer nodded. "Well, Mr. Hardy, who knows. There's always some guy coming up with a new slant on ripping people off. What can you tell me about the car?" Joe went into as much detail as he could about the car and the appearance of the mugger. The officer, whose desk plate read "Clary" took everything down and asked them to wait while he typed up the report.

It seemed as though he was gone forever.

"Did you say he was wearing cowboy boots, Frank?" Frank snapped his eyes determinedly open and turned to Joe.

"Cowboy -? No. Um...black leather boots. More like - I don't know. Italian or something."

Joe shook his head. "I can't believe he outran me in boots."

"Well, he did have the help of a car. I guess I'd better go talk to someone about replacing my Travelers Checks after this." This day was starting to seem endless.

"You notice anything else? Anything at all?"

"For heaven's sake, Joe," burst out Callie. "How many times does he have to go over it? First with us. Then with the police. You've heard it all! That's all there is!"

Joe glared at her. "Sometimes repetition jogs something loose. Something you didn't remember right away."

"Well, leave it to you. It's not enough to have to go through this, now you have to try to turn it into a reason for a little detective work!"

"It is reason for a little detective work!" Joe's voice rose indignantly. "My brother was robbed and nearly killed! I can't think of a better reason!"

"The robbery is the police's job! As for the rest, that was just an accident!"

"Oh, you know that for a fact do you?"

Callie narrowed her eyes at him. "Of course I do, Joe Hardy. Don't be paranoid."

"Look, maybe it seems paranoid to you - "

"Okay! Enough, already!" Frank winced and made a mental note that yelling didn't help his head. More quietly he continued, "C'mon. You'll get us cited for disturbing the peace. Just settle down." Joe and Callie exchanged one last glare and sat back down on either side of Frank. The atmosphere was distinctly chilly.

To Frank's relief, Officer Clary chose that moment to return with a neatly typed report in his hand. "Want to read that over and sign?" Frank read it quickly. "Thanks. We'll contact your hotel if we find anything. In the meantime, just try to forget it and have a good time. Hope the rest of your stay is more pleasant." Frank hoped so, too, but the polite distance Joe and Callie maintained as they headed for the exit didn't look too promising.

Flagging down a taxi took some time, and Joe and Callie remained silent and mutually distant throughout the wait. Frank tried to think of something that would start a conversation, but his feeble attempts were answered by monosyllables and his head was throbbing too much to think clearly. Finally, a cab pulled over at their signal and they all climbed in. Joe and Callie gazed out of opposite windows as the cab pulled away from the curb. Frank settled his head back and closed his eyes. This would almost be funny, if it wasn't so annoying.

"Hold it, driver - pull over." Frank sat up straight at the sound of Joe's voice and realized that he had been dozing again. He stared out the window.

"This isn't our hotel."

"No, it's where I saw that guy get into the car. We should at least check it out. Can you wait, driver?" Joe climbed out of the car and Frank followed him. Callie hesitated, then pushed out of her door, too. She was frowning.

Joe eyeballed the stretch of street consideringly. "It was right there, I think." He walked toward the spot he'd indicated, eyes scanning the road and curbs around him for anything out of place. Frank trailed him curiously, also studying the pavement. Callie watched them stonily. After a while, Joe shook his head in disappointment.

"Nothing, I guess. Well, it was a few hours ago by now. It was a long shot."

The cabbie tooted his horn. "You're on the meter, kid."

"Yeah, I know." Joe slid into the back seat. "Thanks." Frank and Callie slid in after him. "I guess we'd better just go back to the hotel."

"Oh, may we?" Callie's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Now that you've satisfied your curiosity?"

Joe turned to return her glare. "You know, Callie, I don't get you. Half the time you're begging to be involved in our cases, no matter how much in the way you are. Now one happens right under your nose, and all you want to do is ignore it. Why is that?"

Oh, boy, thought Frank. Here we go.

Callie sat up straight. "Begging!" she repeated. "In the way!"

"Callie," Frank began, "All Joe means - "

"Is exactly what I said." Joe interrupted firmly. "I can talk for myself, thanks, Frank."

"And you do it so well, too." Callie agreed sweetly. "I especially like what you say while you're opening your mouth to change feet. I know it's difficult for you to accept that a woman might actually have a brain and know how to use it, Joe, but try to stay with me on this. I like to help with your cases - in fact, I have helped with your cases - when you actually have a case. I don't go around trying to create them just because there's no pretty girl around to keep me otherwise entertained."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't know a case if you fell over it."

"That's not true, and you know it. Why, I remember a time -"

"Your stop." The cabbie looked through the divider into the back seat. "Say, you kids married?"

Neither Joe or Callie answered. They both swung out of their opposite doors and continued their argument over the cab roof, moving it gradually to the front of the hotel. Frank followed more slowly, glancing at the meter and rummaging in his pocket. Oh. No wallet. He turned to Joe and Callie, who were working into a nice volume. The noise was like a relentless hammer on his aching head.

"Hey. One of you guys needs to - "

Joe glanced at him. "Frank, tell the truth. Have we or haven't we had to rescue Callie more times than she's ever helped us?"

Callie put her hands on her hips. "Oh, really. Frank, see if Joe can remember how many times I've had to rescue you two."

"Kid, I need my money. I got another call."

Something gave way inside Frank with an almost audible snap. "You want the truth?" he said in a rising voice "Here's the truth. I am truly sick and tired of this endless squabbling! It seems like you two can't get through a day lately without starting in on each other! I'm sick of the sound of it and most of all I'm sick of you dragging me into the middle of it! This is supposed to be our vacation, for Pete's sake, and I don't understand why you two can't just calm down and try to find a way to agree on something! I don't understand why it's so impossible for a few miserable days for you to work together as a team!"

It would be hard to say who was more astonished - Joe, Callie, or Frank himself. Frank felt himself flush. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and hunched his shoulders. "I'm going for a walk," he mumbled in the silence that followed his outburst. "Somebody pay the cab driver. I don't have a wallet."

Joe paid the driver and turned to see Frank walking swiftly far down the hill.

"I'll catch him."

Callie grabbed his arm as he moved forward. "No, I think maybe he could use some time alone."

Joe opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Maybe Frank was right. Maybe it was time he and Callie tried to agree on something. "Okay."

Callie looked at him, hesitating. "Joe - you know I don't think you're a jerk. Not that you don't act like one from time to time, but, what I mean is, generally speaking, I think you're a pretty terrific guy. You know that."

Joe grinned. "Yeah. I feel the same way about you. Frank knows it, too. It's just been a really rough day and we're all on edge." He paused. "Not that you don't really bug me sometimes."

Callie took his arm, shaking her head laughingly. "Same here. What do you say we clean up for dinner? Frank can never stay mad long. He should be back soon."

Joe nodded. "Good idea."

By the time Frank had reached the Wharf, he was feeling pretty foolish. It wasn't like him to blow up like that, and certainly not at Callie and Joe. True, their bickering got to him sometimes, but usually he took it in stride. And it had been a nerve-racking day for all of them - it was just their way of letting off steam. He stood gazing out across the Bay at the bright island of Sausalito. It was beautiful in the late afternoon sun. He leaned his shoulders back against the wall of the building behind him and let his eyes slide closed. Well, he'd make it up to them. When he got back they'd go to dinner - his treat. He smiled to himself. Dad's treat, actually, since he'd have to use the emergency credit card, but he'd pay him back. And then later tonight, Joe could pick out a dance club. Callie'd like it cause there'd be dancing, and Joe'd like it cause there'd be girls, and after a hot shower and another couple of aspirin, he might even like it himself.

The wind off of the Bay lifted his hair and felt cool on his aching forehead. After a minute, he decided reluctantly that he'd better start back up the hill. Someone brushed against him, jogging his shoulder and jabbing him hard in the ribs with something solid and cylindrical.

"Hey - " he said, opening his eyes in annoyance.

A soft voice in his ear murmured, "Just keep looking straight ahead. No sudden moves, no sudden sounds. This is a gun I have in your ribs, and at this range, there's really no chance of my missing."