Thank you all again for reviewing! It seems so amazing that there are people out there reading this from probably all corners of the world.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Hardys.
Joe and Lach were walking together now. They were telling each other funny stories from their childhoods, and laughing as they tailed Frank. Suddenly, Joe took her hand and bent down and kissed her on the cheek. "Be my girlfriend," he whispered.
Keeping a bright smile on her face, Lach hissed back, "D'you think we could discuss this at a later date?"
Joe was confused at her harshness for an instant, until he realized what she thought. "I meant, let's pretend, for the sake of a guy a block behind us, in a grey raincoat."
Blushing, Lach laughed. "Sure," she said, slipping an arm around Joe's waist. She shot a look of pure adoration at him, and Joe thought he'd melt. He knew it was feigned, but Lach's acting was incredible. He could easily convince himself that she was serious. Joe put his arm around her shoulders and breathed deeply, hoping his heart would stop pounding so hard.
"At this stoplight, let's turn sideways so that I can see this guy that we're performing for."
At the corner, Lach turned towards Joe, and he held her at arm's length so that she could see the man out of the corner of her eye. Unfortunately, because she wore glasses, the man was indistinct. Lach leaned into Joe, pressing the side of her face into his chest. She was looking down the street, and plainly saw a large man, in brown pants and zipped-up grey coat, sauntering along. He wore a Yankees baseball cap, so his hair was hidden and his face in shadow. "Do you think he's actually following us?"
"He's been behind us for a while."
"Well, maybe he's going to the same place we are."
"Lach, coincidences happen, but when you're detecting, you assume they don't."
The light changed, and Lach let go and she and Joe crossed the street.
Lach walked unconcernedly down the street at an easy pace. Her hair was loose at her shoulders, and it was swept across her face by the breeze. She was aware of the trio of men fifty yards ahead of her, but she didn't stare. She happened to notice that they turned a corner, and she subtly increased her pace.
Fenton began to wonder if the men knew they were being tailed. Nobody in the city actually walked more than a mile in one go, did they? He'd been following the men, Frank, Joe and Lachlan for almost an hour. Ahead of him, Lachlan coughed twice, and they congregated in the lobby of the Marriott hotel.
Joe explained. "Two of the guys went into the bar there, and the third's on the phone."
Fenton thought quickly. "You kids go into the bar – can you go into the bar? – and I'll watch the telephone guy."
"Yup, we can go in; only Joe has to sit at a table," reported Frank, reading a sign by the door. Joe made a face.
The teenagers were seated in a booth with a clear view of their quarry. A waiter came by. "And what would you three like tonight?" He was trying to figure out the relationships in this group. The boys were obviously brothers, but their connection to the girl was uncertain.
"A Coke, please," said Joe.
"Beer, please," said Frank, ignoring Joe's stare.
"Red wine, please," said Lachlan, and the waiter left.
"Me and Lach are legal in Massachusetts," shrugged Frank. "We're in a bar; what are we supposed to drink?"
The three made aimless conversation and surreptitiously watched their suspects The bartender spoke. "Mr. Dunsmuir, shall I charge this to your room?"
"Yes, thanks."
Frank looked at his brother. "Go chat with the front desk, see if you can find out anything about Mr. Dunsmuir et al. Search his room. We'll stay here, follow these guys. If we don't see you, we'll meet at the hotel."
Joe nodded, a grim expression on his face. He wanted to stay with Lachlan.
It was eleven at night. Lach and Frank were bone tired, but the two men at the bar were lively as anything. "I think they'll be here all night," said Lach. "Do you think we could go? Or at least order more coffee?" Over the course of the evening, she'd drunk two glasses of wine and three coffees.
"Wait," said Frank, watching the pair intently. "They're getting up."
"About time," grumbled Lach. The romance of stalking had worn off long ago.
"Let's go." Frank left some money on the table, and he and Lachlan rose. They left the bar and stood in the hotel lobby and loitered near the telephones.
Their quarries emerged. They said their good byes, and one man walked towards the elevators, and the other walked towards the front door.
Frank made the split-second decision to follow the man who was leaving. They knew where to find his partner.
"I've never walked this much in my life," observed Lach, several blocks later. "No, that's not true, it just feels like it should be true."
"Tell me about it," smiled Frank. "Oh look, the end may be in sight. Go in there, see what's happening."
Lach shot him a look that he missed because of the darkness. Fenton had explicitly stated earlier in the day that Lach was not to be left alone, but Frank was blatantly ignoring this. Lach didn't mind. She could handle herself.
Frank watched as Lach undid another button of her shirt and pulled her hair up into a bun, making her look older and flashier than she really was, before walking away.
Lach strolled into the lobby of the reasonably pricy inn. She smiled brightly at the receptionist. "Hello, I'd like a room for my husband and me." She giggled and fiddled with the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. "We just got married yesterday. We're on our honeymoon."
The young receptionist smiled back. "Oooh, congratulations! What colour was your wedding? I'm getting married in August," she confided, leaning forward confidentially.
"Blue," answered Lach. "Navy blue, with white highlights."
"Oh!" squealed the receptionist, whose name was Lacey, Lach noticed. "My favourite colour is navy! It wasn't too sombre?"
"Oh no," assured Lach. "It was an outdoor wedding, and it was quite bright."
"It must have been gorgeous!" gushed Lacey. As an afterthought, she added, "What's your name?"
"Chris Jameson, now."
"All right… and your address?"
Lach gave the address of her old house in Vancouver, changing the city to Toronto.
"Canada!" exclaimed Lacey.
"Yes. We decided to come here for our honeymoon… Boston is such a nice city. I can't wait to explore it!" Lach smiled some more. She pulled out some cash from the wallet. "I'll pay for two nights. After that, we may decide to go elsewhere. We're not really sure…" Lach leaned over the counter and pointed at something on the desk. "Is that a tourist guide that I could get a copy of?" she asked, while looking at the rack of room keys and guests' names behind Lacey.
"Yes, let me go and get you some brochures." Lacey rose and walked over to a small kiosk near the front desk. Lach squinted at the paper attached to the key hook that she'd seen Lacey remove the man's key from. It was room 212, and the name was…
"Here you are," said Lacey, startling Lach.
"Thank you," smiled Lach. "And could we have a room on the second floor? I can't sleep if there's people walking around above me." The front doors opened behind her, and she turned quickly and saw Frank. "Oh, Jack!" she said, using the first name that came to mind. She rushed over and gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the lips. Frank's eyes widened. Lach grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the desk. "This is my new husband, Jack," introduced Lach.
Lacey smiled. "I hear you're from Toronto."
"Yes," said Frank, thoroughly confused, though he smiled anyways. He watched Lach sign a receipt with her left hand. He was fairly sure that she was right-handed. The signature was illegible, but he thought he saw a J. The clerk handed over two keys. Frank took them.
"Where's our luggage?" said Lach. She frowned. "Did you leave it in the car?"
"Yeah," admitted Frank, looking sheepish.
Lach sighed mightily. "Well, nice to have met you, Lacey. I hope your wedding goes well. Let's go get our bags, Jack." She took his hand, and they walked out the front door.
Neither spoke until they were far down the sidewalk.
"Explanation time," said Frank.
"I think it's pretty obvious," answered Lach. "I chatted with the clerk, got her distracted, and figured out where our mystery man is staying. Isn't that what you wanted?" Lach asked sweetly.
Frank stared for an instant, and then laughed. "Yeah. Good job, Lachlan."
Late that night, the Hardys and Lach sat in their hotel room. "I'll send the names and descriptions off to my contact," Fenton was saying, "but the names'll probably be fake."
"What do we do tomorrow?" Lach asked.
"More of the same," answered Frank with a tired smile.
"I was afraid of that."
"We'll get up early," planned Fenton, "and Frank and Lach can watch the man at that inn… Sleepy Hollows, wasn't it called? Joe and I'll go back to the Marriott and check up on our men there. Anything happens, leave a message at the front desk here. Okay?" Three nods. "Then let's go to bed."