It was almost evening and the plane flying the Hardys touched down on the runway in Bayport. Joe, still in shock, had sat the entire trip staring out the window, his eyes seeing nothing because the tears which had began when he had found Frank had only recently ceased.
When neither boy had returned, Mr. Hardy and Dr. Duvalier had gone in search of them. They had come across the distraught figure of Joe, lying on his brother shortly after exiting the house. Instead of following the footprints as Joe had done, they had heard Joe's anguished sobs and followed the sound.
Mr. Hardy had fallen to his knees and began crying when he saw the boys. He had been oblivious to the paling of his friend's face and the anxious look he had cast around the area.
As Mr. Hardy's tears lessened, he leaned over and toched the shaking back of his youngest son. "Joesph," he said in a ragged whisper.
Joe, lost in despair, never heard him. Mr. Hardy rose and dragged Joe away from his brother. Joe buried his head in his father's shoulder, crying even harder, as Dr. Duvalier kneeled by Frank.
Dr. Duvalier closed Frank's eyes and stood up. "I'm so sorry, Fenton," he said, softly. "He appears to have had a heart attack."
"That's impossible," Mr. Hardy said. "He is," he paused and swallowed. "Was in perfect health."
"You'll need to have an autopsy done," Dr. Duvalier said. "But it will have to be in the states." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's at times like this, I wish I hadn't given up my practice when I inherited this place."
Mr. Hardy nodded his head, knowing the area had no medical facilities and little police. Even the larger cities were ill-equipped for the procedure.
"I'll have some of my men prepare a temporary coffin and ready it for transport," Dr. Duvalier offered.
"The police," Joe breathed. "We need to..to.." he broke off, unable to say more.
"The nearest police are in Petion-Ville," Dr. Duvalier informed the distraught youth. "And it looks like a natural death," he added, swallowing a bit nervously. "You need to catch your plane. If you wait for the next flight, Frank's body will have decomposed too much for a decent funeral afterwards."
"Thank you," Mrs. Hardy whispered, still holding tight to his youngest son. He led Joe away from Frank and back to the house where Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Duvalier were busy packing the rest of the Hardy's things.
As soon as Mr. Hardy and Joe entered the house, the women knew something terrible had happened. Mrs. Hardy, having heard the sobbing of her son, came running into the kitchen. She took one look at her husband's pale face and fell to the floor in a faint.
The plane touched down and soon people began to disembark. Joe sat still, looking out the window, seeing Frank grinning down at him as he held Joe's quilt just out of his reach.
"Son," Mr. Hardy said, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder and squeezing it. "We're home." Joe looked up at his dad with bloodshot eyes. "Let's go," Mr. Hardy said gently. Joe gave a slight nod and stood up, allowing his father to lead him from the seat.
Mr. Hardy led Joe forward to where Mrs. Hardy sat, then let him preceed them from the plane. Joe descended the steps, freezing momentarily as he saw his blond-headed, brown-eyed girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, and Frank's girlfriend, Callie Shaw, standing near three of their friends, blond, beefy, eighteen-year old Biff Hooper, chubby, blond headed,seventeen-year-old, Chet Morton, and bookish, eighteen-year-old Phil Cohen with sandy hair and glasses, carrying a big welcome home sign.
Joe bowed his head and continued down the steps. By the time he reached his friends they had realized something was amiss and were no longer smiling and waving. The sign had been set down and Vanessa and the boys started forward to meet Joe.
Joe walked by his friends and continued forward until he stood in front of Callie. She looked into Joe's eyes and threw herself into his arms, sobs wracking her body.
Joe held her tight, his own tears falling yet again as the others gathered around the twosome locked in a shared sympathetic embrace.
Mr. and Mrs. Hardy joined the group and Vanessa enveloped the petite woman in an embrace.
"What happened?" Phil asked quitely of Mr. Hardy, who seemed to have regained control of his emotions although his eyes were as red as those of his wife and son.
Mr. Hardy shook his head. "It looks like he had a heart attack, but we won't know for sure until after the autopsy," he replied.
After several minutes of silence, Mr. Hardy excused himself to arrange for Frank to be taken to the city morgue. When he returned, the group made their way to the parking lot. Vanessa took Callie home, offering to stay with her for a while since Joe had declined to have anyone over for the time being.
"No," Joe had insisted. "I'm going to the morgue. I'm not going home until I know how he died."
Chet volunteered to take Mrs. Hardy home and wait with her until Joe and Mr. Hardy returned. Phil and Biff left, letting the Hardy's know they would tell their other friends of the tragedy.
When Joe and Mr. Hardy reached the morgue, Bayport's tall and graying Chief of Police, Ezra Collig, was already there. His face was solemn as he greeted the Hardys at the entrance.
"Fenton, what happened?" Chief Collig asked, his face holding more than concern.
Mr. Hardy shook his head sadly. "We don't know," he answered. "Joe found him lying near the house. When Galen and I went looking fot them, we found Joe lying on Frank, crying." He looked Collig in the eyes. "Has the autopsy begun?" he inquired.
"Was he murdered?" Joe asked in a small voice from behind his father.
Collig turned his attention on Joe, saw the despondent look in his eyes, then turned back to Mr. Hardy, not having the courage to tell Joe what he had to say.
"The coffin which came in from Hiati was empty," Collig informed them. "Apparently, Frank's body never left the country."
When neither boy had returned, Mr. Hardy and Dr. Duvalier had gone in search of them. They had come across the distraught figure of Joe, lying on his brother shortly after exiting the house. Instead of following the footprints as Joe had done, they had heard Joe's anguished sobs and followed the sound.
Mr. Hardy had fallen to his knees and began crying when he saw the boys. He had been oblivious to the paling of his friend's face and the anxious look he had cast around the area.
As Mr. Hardy's tears lessened, he leaned over and toched the shaking back of his youngest son. "Joesph," he said in a ragged whisper.
Joe, lost in despair, never heard him. Mr. Hardy rose and dragged Joe away from his brother. Joe buried his head in his father's shoulder, crying even harder, as Dr. Duvalier kneeled by Frank.
Dr. Duvalier closed Frank's eyes and stood up. "I'm so sorry, Fenton," he said, softly. "He appears to have had a heart attack."
"That's impossible," Mr. Hardy said. "He is," he paused and swallowed. "Was in perfect health."
"You'll need to have an autopsy done," Dr. Duvalier said. "But it will have to be in the states." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's at times like this, I wish I hadn't given up my practice when I inherited this place."
Mr. Hardy nodded his head, knowing the area had no medical facilities and little police. Even the larger cities were ill-equipped for the procedure.
"I'll have some of my men prepare a temporary coffin and ready it for transport," Dr. Duvalier offered.
"The police," Joe breathed. "We need to..to.." he broke off, unable to say more.
"The nearest police are in Petion-Ville," Dr. Duvalier informed the distraught youth. "And it looks like a natural death," he added, swallowing a bit nervously. "You need to catch your plane. If you wait for the next flight, Frank's body will have decomposed too much for a decent funeral afterwards."
"Thank you," Mrs. Hardy whispered, still holding tight to his youngest son. He led Joe away from Frank and back to the house where Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Duvalier were busy packing the rest of the Hardy's things.
As soon as Mr. Hardy and Joe entered the house, the women knew something terrible had happened. Mrs. Hardy, having heard the sobbing of her son, came running into the kitchen. She took one look at her husband's pale face and fell to the floor in a faint.
The plane touched down and soon people began to disembark. Joe sat still, looking out the window, seeing Frank grinning down at him as he held Joe's quilt just out of his reach.
"Son," Mr. Hardy said, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder and squeezing it. "We're home." Joe looked up at his dad with bloodshot eyes. "Let's go," Mr. Hardy said gently. Joe gave a slight nod and stood up, allowing his father to lead him from the seat.
Mr. Hardy led Joe forward to where Mrs. Hardy sat, then let him preceed them from the plane. Joe descended the steps, freezing momentarily as he saw his blond-headed, brown-eyed girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, and Frank's girlfriend, Callie Shaw, standing near three of their friends, blond, beefy, eighteen-year old Biff Hooper, chubby, blond headed,seventeen-year-old, Chet Morton, and bookish, eighteen-year-old Phil Cohen with sandy hair and glasses, carrying a big welcome home sign.
Joe bowed his head and continued down the steps. By the time he reached his friends they had realized something was amiss and were no longer smiling and waving. The sign had been set down and Vanessa and the boys started forward to meet Joe.
Joe walked by his friends and continued forward until he stood in front of Callie. She looked into Joe's eyes and threw herself into his arms, sobs wracking her body.
Joe held her tight, his own tears falling yet again as the others gathered around the twosome locked in a shared sympathetic embrace.
Mr. and Mrs. Hardy joined the group and Vanessa enveloped the petite woman in an embrace.
"What happened?" Phil asked quitely of Mr. Hardy, who seemed to have regained control of his emotions although his eyes were as red as those of his wife and son.
Mr. Hardy shook his head. "It looks like he had a heart attack, but we won't know for sure until after the autopsy," he replied.
After several minutes of silence, Mr. Hardy excused himself to arrange for Frank to be taken to the city morgue. When he returned, the group made their way to the parking lot. Vanessa took Callie home, offering to stay with her for a while since Joe had declined to have anyone over for the time being.
"No," Joe had insisted. "I'm going to the morgue. I'm not going home until I know how he died."
Chet volunteered to take Mrs. Hardy home and wait with her until Joe and Mr. Hardy returned. Phil and Biff left, letting the Hardy's know they would tell their other friends of the tragedy.
When Joe and Mr. Hardy reached the morgue, Bayport's tall and graying Chief of Police, Ezra Collig, was already there. His face was solemn as he greeted the Hardys at the entrance.
"Fenton, what happened?" Chief Collig asked, his face holding more than concern.
Mr. Hardy shook his head sadly. "We don't know," he answered. "Joe found him lying near the house. When Galen and I went looking fot them, we found Joe lying on Frank, crying." He looked Collig in the eyes. "Has the autopsy begun?" he inquired.
"Was he murdered?" Joe asked in a small voice from behind his father.
Collig turned his attention on Joe, saw the despondent look in his eyes, then turned back to Mr. Hardy, not having the courage to tell Joe what he had to say.
"The coffin which came in from Hiati was empty," Collig informed them. "Apparently, Frank's body never left the country."