Chapter V
Joe sat for a moment, clutching the bracelet, his throat suddenly tight. So. At least he knew Frank had come this way last night...unless...could he have lost it in their travels earlier? Joe closed his eyes and concentrated. No. He was sure he had seen it on him at the police station. He glanced up again at the nearest vendor, rising quickly to his feet. He'd see if she could tell him anything pretty quick. Then he hesitated. That was just the sort of impulsiveness Frank was always warning him against. Much as he longed to run over and shake any information she might have out of her, he needed to go slow. He needed a story that wouldn't scare her. After a moment's thought, clutching the bracelet like a talisman, he strolled over to a table a young girl about his own age was piling with tee shirts.
"Hi," he said pleasantly. "Beautiful day, huh?" The girl looked at him with an interest he fully returned.
She was a petite girl with a cute, turned up nose and a dandelion fluff of blonde hair. The round eyes she fixed on him were as grey and sparkling as the waters of the Bay.
"Can I help you? We're not really open yet, but if you see something you like..."
He grinned, right into her eyes. "I see something I like a lot, but it's not a tee shirt. And actually, that's not why I came over."
She laughed, looking pleased and amused. "Pretty smooth. Okay, why did you come over?"
"I found this bracelet here last night. It was too late to tell anybody then, but it looks kind of valuable and I thought I'd check and see if anybody reported it missing. Or if maybe you'd noticed anybody wearing it."
The girl wrinkled her nose in a cute fashion. "No-oo...not that I know of. Of course, my mother was on part of the afternoon, and she might have heard something. I can ask her later."
"Great." he nodded. "It looks like something somebody might miss."
"It's nice of you to try and find the owner." She held out a small, tanned hand. "I'm Dru Larkin. Short for Drucilla." She wrinkled her nose again. "Pretty awful, huh? Who're you?"
"Joe. Joe Hardy." He accepted the hand and wished that he had more time to concentrate on it. "Was it you or your mother watching the table last night? I mean, I don't remember seeing you."
She laughed. "It was me. But I'll forgive you, since it was dark. Say - " Her eyes lit as a sudden thought struck her. "Is it a medical bracelet?"
"A medical bracelet?" Joe was puzzled.
"Yeah. You know - those things people wear to warn you they're allergic or have a medical problem. We had a little excitement down here yesterday with a diabetic collapsing and I thought it might be his."
"No kidding." Joe had a funny feeling in his stomach. "What happened?"
"Well," Dru leaned her elbows on the table. There were few people about, and she seemed in no hurry to get back to work. "This young guy - about our age, y'know - collapsed right over there. His uncle and his - well, I don't really know who he was, but somebody with him, gave him an insulin shot, right on the street."
"No kidding," Joe repeated. His instincts were sending him nervous signals.
"Yeah. It was just like watching 911. I remember I felt bad, because I saw him come down and lean against that wall over there and I thought he was just, y'know, thinking, and so later when it turned out he was sick I felt like I should have known and helped him."
"And he just fell over?"
"Oh, no." Dru shook her head so that her fluff of hair danced. "His uncle and this other guy must have come looking for him. The uncle - he's the one that gave him the shot - said he forgets all the time. Which sounds kind of like a bad thing to me, because of course, if you're diabetic, you should take care of it."
Joe ground his teeth quietly but held his smile. He nodded. "Yeah. And they called an ambulance...?"
"Uh-uh. They were leading him to their car, see, and that's when it happened. That's when he just collapsed, I mean. I didn't actually see that part, cause I glanced away to adjust the tee shirts, but when I looked up he was on the ground, just all of a sudden. And so they gave him the injection."
"And then...what. He revived?"
"Of course not, silly. It doesn't work like that. They carried him to the car. And then to the hospital, I guess. Or home. I don't know how serious that is."
Joe swallowed carefully. "You noticed a lot."
She looked a little uncomfortable. "It was slow. Dinner hour, y'know. And - well, he was cute."
"Say," Joe leaned forward, selecting his words with care, keeping his expression as ingenuous as he could. "Say, you know, that's where I found the bracelet - over there. It's not a medical bracelet, but it could still be his. Maybe I can find him. What did he look like?"
"I told you, cute. Tall. Dark hair. Blue jacket. But, gee, that describes a lot of guys in San Francisco."
"True." Joe tried to look thoughtful. "Okay. Maybe you could tell me what the car looked like?"
Dru frowned, remembering. "Um. Yeah. Big. Dark blue. One of those status-mobiles."
Joe was suddenly having trouble breathing. "Maybe a - a Lincoln?"
"I guess. Say - " she peered at him suspiciously. "Wait a minute. You a cop or something?"
"No." Joe was taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "But Dru - if you can - I know it's a long shot, but it's very, very important - if you can possibly remember any of the license plate."
She was still studying him, but she said cautiously, "Well, as a matter of fact...I mean it was slow, and this was the most excitement we've had and - you won't tell my mother, will you? If she knew I was staring around instead of paying attention here..."
"Never," Joe breathed devoutly. "Not under pain of death."
"Well. Okay. It was one of those vanity things, so I happen to remember it, though it doesn't make any sense. I can write it down for you." She pulled out a receipt and wrote on the back, handing it to him.
Joe studied it. It said TOSCA. It didn't mean anything to him either, but no matter. At least he had a straw to cling to.
"Say," Dru's voice interrupted his revery. "You gonna tell me what this is all about?"
"Dru, I can't. Not right now. But I promise, as soon as it's over I'll come back and tell you everything. Over dinner. Wherever you say."
"No kidding." Her mischievous smile peeped out, showing a dimple. "Okay, it's a date. You can almost always find me here, and my number just happens to be on that receipt. But don't keep me waiting long, Joe Hardy!"
*
Joe hardly noticed the trip back up the steep hill he was so busy turning what he'd learned over in his brain. He could hardly wait to see Callie.
As he approached the hotel, however, his steps slowed, then stopped. What did he really know, anyway? There was no good reason to believe the supposed diabetic was Frank. Same basic look, same time and place, and of course, that blue car. And his instincts. It wouldn't be good enough for Frank, who preferred solid logic, but it was good enough for him. Besides, Frank was the one who didn't believe in coincidences, and that car just kept popping up. He glanced at the license plate on the receipt in his hand and blessed Dru and his own good fortune. If everything worked out, he'd buy her the best dinner ever.
He entered the lobby to find Callie waiting for him. She looked as though she'd had about as restful a night as he'd had. She met his eyes questioningly and he said, "Let's go to the coffee shop and get some breakfast. I'll tell you what I found out."
They found an isolated booth and Joe pulled the bracelet out of his pocket.
"First of all, I found this. It means that Frank was at the Wharf, because I remember seeing it on him at the police station."
Callie took the battered bracelet and let it rest in her palm. She studied it, blinking hard. She turned away from Joe, and suddenly, dropped her face into her hands and began to cry.
Joe was at a loss. "Callie - hey, c'mon, Callie. Don't. We'll find Frank. I promise we will. Aw, c'mon, Callie, stop, or you'll have me bawling in a minute."
At that Callie gave a choked laugh. She fumbled for a napkin and dabbed at her eyes, then blew her nose satisfyingly. "I'm sorry...it's just...I won't do that again. Promise." She drank from her water glass and composed herself. "I'm okay now. What else did you find out?"
"Well..." Joe hesitated. "It may be just a hunch, but..." He related the story Dru had told him.
When he was done, Callie said in bewilderment, "And you think it was Frank? You mean somebody gave Frank some injection and took him away somewhere? Oh, Joe..." she swallowed hard a few times. Joe found himself having to swallow too, though it was difficult around the big lump in his throat. He had been trying not to think about that part which made him nearly frantic, and he wished Callie hadn't brought it up.
After a minute Callie said, more calmly, "But why, Joe? And what do we do now?"
"I don't know why," Joe admitted. "As for what we do next, we need to trace this license number - " He stopped dead. This wasn't Bayport, with a friendly Con Riley to help them out, and he wasn't Frank, who could possibly break into the San Francisco Department of Motor Vehicle records with his computer. So. What did they do next?
"Callie. You can't use Frank's computer can you?"
Callie shook her head. "Only as a word processor." They were silent a moment, gazing at their untouched breakfasts. "Joe. Do you think we should go to the police?"
Joe sighed. "And tell them what? That my eighteen year old brother hasn't even been missing twenty-four hours, but that we suspect foul play because of a story a tee shirt girl told us? What would you say to a couple of teenagers, Callie, if you were the police?"
"I guess. Oh!" She put her hand to her mouth. "I almost forgot! The police called. They found Frank's wallet."
Joe half rose from his seat. "They did! And if the robbery and Frank's disappearance are connected, there might be a clue there! Let's -" he glanced at his breakfast again and forced himself to sit back down. No. This one time, he was curbing his impulsiveness. There was too much at stake. "Let's finish breakfast and see if they'll turn the wallet over to anyone but Frank."
Callie pushed her plate away stubbornly. "I'm not hungry. I just want to find Frank."
"Me, too," Joe said levelly. "But if we do find a clue, we don't want to lose the trail because we need to stop and eat. Better eat now, while we can."
*
It took all the coaxing at Joe and Callie's disposal, but they did get the wallet. Joe let Callie do most of the talking, since she seemed to have a mellowing effect on Officer Clary; using sweetness, then concern, then indignation, asserting that no one could possibly expect them to rouse Frank when he was finally resting from his injuries of the previous day and they knew perfectly well that they had been with him yesterday. A much frazzled Officer Clary finally let Joe sign for the wallet, and they hailed a cab back to the hotel.
"You were great, Callie," remarked Joe admiringly, opening the wallet.
"Thanks," said Callie, a little distractedly. "Of course, that story won't help us much if we need to go to the police for help. How long do we have to wait?"
"Usually forty-eight hours, for an adult."
"Is Frank an adult in California? Drinking age is twenty-one."
"I don't know." Now Joe was the distracted one, because there was something weird about that wallet and he couldn't put his finger on it. "Callie, I think Frank's money is still here. At least, twenty dollars of it is, and I don't think he had much more in cash. Remember, we each cashed one Travelers Check?"
Callie nodded. "Is anything missing?"
"Um. Let's see. Well, unless he was carrying his driver's license with the credit card, that's gone."
Callie digested this. "He wasn't. He reported it missing, remember? So you think somebody with a blue Lincoln just wanted to know who Frank was, and where to find him. Is the hotel receipt there?"
Joe checked, then shook his head. "Of course, it might be with the credit card."
"Or he might have thrown it away."
"Yeah, right. This is Frank we're talking about."
They noticed the cab had stopped and got out. Joe started to pay him with Frank's twenty, then thought better of it. They might need that for evidence.
They entered the hotel lobby, and the desk clerk called after them, "You're here with Frank Hardy, aren't you?" Joe stared, then remembered that Frank had signed the register and nodded blankly. "I have a message for the friends of Frank Hardy."
Joe lunged for the envelope she proffered. Maybe it was a message from Frank! He could see the same thought in Callie's eager face. They realized at the same time that Frank would certainly address them by their names and frowned.
He slit the envelope with his thumb. A small card with a magnetic strip on the back fell into his hand. He turned it over. It was Frank's driver's license. Wordlessly, he handed it to Callie.
Remaining in the envelope was a piece of plain white paper. Joe unfolded it carefully. There was only a single line of type, looking as if it had come from an ordinary laser printer: "Your friend will be returned to you in three days, unharmed. If you go to the police, he will be killed. This is the only warning you will receive."