To allie351: Yup, it was supposed to be a joke.
I don't any of the Hardys.
The Hardys and Lach waited en masse at the Greyhound station for hours. They had their empty suitcases with them, and fidgeted and complained like all of the other families in the depot did. Nothing happened. Buses came and went, but there was no sign of any of the Wassa men, and nobody was acting the slightest bit suspicious.
When one o'clock rolled around, even Fenton was ready to give up. They drove back to their hotel and packed for real. They moved to another nearby hotel, a good thing to do periodically on investigations, it was explained to Lach. Once settled, she and Frank went to put in an appearance at Sleepy Hollows. Frank wanted to search room 212, and he first called it from the lobby while Lach chatted inanely with Lacey.
A child's voice answered. "Hello, is that Uncle David?"
Frank, taken aback, said, "Sorry, wrong number," and hung up. He found Lach speaking apparently knowledgably about wedding gowns. "Hi, guys," he said, and kissed Lach under Lacey's approving look. "Have you got things taken care of?" he asked, being deliberately vague.
"Oh, no, sorry, honey! Completely slipped my mind. We were in deep discussion about veils, you see," explained Lach, looking perfectly earnest. Frank could tell, however, that she as on the verge of laughing out loud.
"We'd like to check out," said Frank.
A few minutes later, they were walking back to their new hotel, a Holiday Inn. There were two messages waiting for them. The one from Joe said, "I went out to pick up some pizza for us all. Be back around six." Fenton's was: "I went after the key."
"Short but sweet," commented Lach.
Frank nodded. "Let's go upstairs and wait for Joe. I'm getting hungry. He better be back soon."
Over breakfast the next morning, Fenton explained what he'd discovered the night before. He'd gone to the warehouse to get the key Joe'd found earlier. He'd figured it belonged to a storage locker at the bus depot. At the warehouse, Fenton had seen and followed Long to the Marriott, where all three men now had rooms.
"Let's go check out the locker," said Joe.
They staggered their entries into the depot. Lach went to Arrivals to await a bus that never came, Frank repeatedly stood in the ticket line-up, Joe talked endlessly on a pay phone, and Fenton strolled over to the storage lockers. When it was determined that he wasn't being observed, he opened number 348, and pulled out a single piece of paper. He put it in his pocket and casually left the station.
Two overcrowded buses pulled in, and in the ensuing commotion, the three teenagers made their leave.
They met in the Holiday Inn dining room and ordered lunch.
"It says, 'Call home,'" shrugged Fenton.
"'Call home'?" repeated Lach. Fenton nodded.
"D'you think it's meant for us?" Frank asked, frowning heavily.
"Well, a regular person wouldn't leave a note like that there," said Joe.
"Do they know about us?" asked Lach.
"Well, you and me were seen outside Sleepy Hollows when you made that big fuss," pointed out Frank.
Lach glared for an instant, wishing she was angry at Frank, but actually angry at herself. "I'm sorry," she said, and swallowed hard.
"Frank," said Fenton reprovingly, and Frank sighed. "Well," Fenton went on grimly, "either way, I think we should call home."
They drove to a busy shopping mall to use the telephone. Frank, Joe and Lach watched silently as Fenton dialled the Hardy home in Bayport. He stood there as it rang, and hung up after hearing the answering machine message.
"I guess everything's fine, then," said Joe. "Nobody's supposed to be there."
"Wait," said Fenton, looking at Lach.
"Maybe I should call my house." She took the phone and dialled her parents' number. No answer. She dialled twice more, but to no avail. She looked at the Hardys. "My mom should be home now. She teaches piano. If the phone rings twice in a row, she knows it's important and she answers." Lach stood there, biting her lip.
"Maybe you should call a neighbour, ask them to go over… and call your dad at work," suggested Fenton.
Lach nodded. "I'll call my dad's school first." He was an elementary school principal. "Hi, it's Lachlan, is Tom there, please? Oh, called in sick, thanks, good bye, Jan." Lach swallowed hard. "My dad is never sick. I'll try our neighbours." Lachlan called directory assistance first, and it took some time. She was getting antsy, and kept having to redial the phone number after she made mistakes. "Hi, Mrs. Keith? It's Lachlan Nolan. Yes, fine, thank you. Yes, well, I'm in Boston now actually… By any chance, could you go ring my doorbell? Nobody's answering… it's a little odd. Great, thanks. No, I'd better call back. Ten minutes? Okay, bye, right, bye." Lach sighed heavily and collapsed in a chair. Frank sat beside her and gave her a quick hug.
"I'm sure they'll be fine."
The seconds passed as if they were hours. Finally, ten minutes had gone by, and Lach snatched up the receiver. She dialled, but there was no answer at the Keiths'.
"This is very odd," said Joe.
"Well, she could have got talking with your mom and lost track of time," Frank mentioned. "If she's anything like my mom."
Fenton nodded. "Try again in five minutes."
An eternity passed, and Lach picked up the phone. Still no answer. "I'll call another neighbour." She gave a weak smile. "Probably nothing's wrong at all and the whole block'll think I'm crazy and property values'll go down until we move away."
"Probably," agreed Frank, impressed with Lach's ability to make jokes in time of stress.
"Hi, Mrs. Colway, it's Lachlan Nolan. Yeah, I'm calling from back East. Great time, yes. Um, could you please, well, go outside and knock on my door and the Keiths'? I asked Mrs. Keith to go to my house, and I haven't been able to get a hold of her since. Good. Thanks. Five minutes. Bye."
Lach sat again and closed her eyes. "I might kill my parents after all this is sorted out," she muttered. She turned suddenly to Fenton. "Don't ever just disappear or anything, no matter what you're investigating. Your family's peace of mind is worth much, much more than any case."
The time came for Lach's next call, and it was answered in the middle of the first ring. "Hi, Mrs. Col – what! There's – what? They've… oh, no. Oh, my." Lach leaned against the wall, unable to support her full weight any longer. "Right. Well. Thanks. I will. Oh, dear. Yes. Good bye."
The Hardys all spoke at once, knowing it was bad news that Lach had heard, and dying to hear it.
Lach studied the three faces. Fenton's and Frank's, so much alike, just a couple of decades apart. Joe's, different, but vaguely similar to Frank's. All showing great concern. Fenton's also gravely worried, contemplating the possibilities, Frank's on the verge of terrified, knowing Lach didn't get upset over just anything, Joe's almost morbidly eager to share Lach's pain and fear.
"In my house," said Lach slowly, evenly, "Mrs. Keith found two… people. Very obviously… dead. Blood all, well, all over. The police are there."
Horror spread across the Hardys' faces, and they turned pale. "Is it… do they know who…?" began Joe.
Lach nodded. "Man and woman. Probably my… Well, they're not sure; it's hard to tell."
There was a silence, then Fenton herded the teenagers back to the car and they drove to the Holiday Inn. It seemed even more incongruous now that ever before.
They sat down, the Hardys on one bed, Lach on the other. She wouldn't let anyone near.
Fenton cleared his throat. "Lachlan? Would you like us to leave?" A shrug. "Do you want to talk?" Another shrug. Fenton studied his sons. "Hmm. Joe, maybe you and I should go talk with the agency about all this, all right, Lachlan?" Another shrug.
Fenton and Joe rose and got their coats and shoes on. They stood at the door for a long moment. Fenton walked over, patted Lach on the shoulder, and embraced Frank. Joe followed suit, hugging them both.
Joe didn't move, looking into Lach's unseeing eyes. "I'll wait for you in the lobby," said Fenton. Joe didn't react. He simply stood between the beds, on the verge of tears.
Frank stood beside him. "She'll be fine, Joe. She's strong, you know that." He paused. "You'd better go with Dad, now. You're helping, doing that."
Joe nodded, and left the room.
Frank sat beside Lach and put an arm around her. "Want to talk?" A headshake. "All right, we'll just sit here then." After a minute, Lach's head dipped and Frank could feel her tense. "Cry," he told her. "Cry. Holding it in is harder. Doesn't matter if you're the crying sort or not. Joe isn't, and he was just in here crying." Frank could feel Lach beginning to shake. Out of words, he simply held Lach tighter.