Both Hardys rushed out of the room and down the stairs. When they arrived outside they split up, each taking a different direction toward the back of the house. Arriving at the scene, they took one look at the hapless youth and burst into laughter.
"Grruf," Joe mumbled, trying to tell the huge Saint Bernard to get off of him as it licked his face. Joe finally managed to push the dog's face away long enough to reprimand his father and brother. "Ha, ha," he growled. "Now get this monster off of me!"
Still nearly hysterical, Frank and Mr. Hardy rushed over and pried the big dog off of Joe. Joe extracted himself from the garbage can and its contents, having been pushed into it by the neighbor's dog.
Joe stood up and gingerly lifted a rotten banana peel from his shoulder. His nose was wrinkled in disgust as he let it fall onto the various smelly objects littered around his feet. "I wish the Brookshires would keep their mutt inside or get a stronger leash," Joe said, slowly making his way through the debris
Joe stepped over the last two cans and looked up just in time to see the dog break away form his dad and Frank. It launched itself at Joe fro a second time.
"Oof!" Joe cried out, tumbling backward into the trash once again. At this point, Frank fell to his knees because he was laughing so hard while their dad wiped the tears of merriment from his eyes his own laughter so vocal it dwarfed Frank's guffaws.
Joe surrendered. He lay there and let the dog lick him all it wanted as he waited for rescue.
Mr. Brookshire arrived to take his dog away, offering to return and clean up the mess. Mr. Hardy thanked him but told him they would take care of it. He did, however, have pity on Joe and sent him to take a shower while he and Frank picked up.
Later, all of the Hardys were gathered in the kitchen. Mrs. Hardy set cups of cocoa in front of her sons, then brought two more over to the table. She gave one to her husband and then sat down and took a sip of hers.
"Mmm," Frank said appreciatively, taking a sip. "You make the best cocoa," he said looking at his mom.
"That's because it isn't from a mix," she informed him. "Now, why don't you tell your father about your case?" she suggested.
"I did," Frank informed her. "But Joe and his sweetheart interrupted us," he finished, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"That monster's name is Sweetheart," Joe clarified, glaring at Frank. "She isn't MY sweetheart."
"But she obviously likes you," teased Frank.
"Enough," Mr. Hardy ordered, seeing Joe's eyes grow darker. Hiding his own smile, Mr. Hardy leaned back in his chair, letting it balance on its back legs as it rested against the counter. "How many contestants were there before the accidents started happening?"
"Six schools times three contestants," Joe said. "Eighteen."
"And how many have been taken out of the tournament and from which schools?" Mr. Hardy inquired.
Frank got up and left the room. When he returned, he had a notebook and a pen. He wrote down the names of each of the schools then listed the number of entrants and the accidents. "So far, East Bridge is down to two contestants and Cornwell only has one left."
"So there are fifteen potential targets left, including you?" Mr. Hardy observed, looking at his youngest son. "And the tournament is one week from this Saturday?" he asked.
"In Tomlin," Joe specified.
"What do you intend to do first?" Mr. Hardy asked.
"I have to practice every afternoon and all weekend," answered Joe, frowning at Frank. "I don't really want you to investigate this alone," he added.
"I know," Frank said, smiling fondly at Joe. "But we do need to go to East Bridge."
"Why don't you see if Chet can go with you tomorrow after school?" Mrs. Hardy suggested.
"Good idea," approved Joe. "And after I finish practice, I can meet up with you guys."
"Sure," agreed Frank. "Just keep your cell phone handy."
They talked for a little longer and Mr. Hardy told them what he could about his latest case. It was Mrs. Hardy who finally stood up and announced it was time for bed. The boys bade their parents goodnight and went to bed.
The next morning, Principal Dylan caught the two brothers as they were entering the school. "Could you two come to my office, please?" he requested, his face set in a serious expression.
Inside Dylan's office, Frank and Joe took seats in front of his desk. "Someone else has been injured?" guessed Frank.
"Margaret Stover from Mercury," Dylan replied. "She was practicing last night at the gym and the balancing beam broke. She ahs injured her back and is out of the tournament."
"That means there must be at least three people involved,' Joe said.
"Why do you say that?" asked Dylan, looking at Joe curiously.
"The equipment must have been in use during regular school hours," explained Joe. "So whoever sabotaged the equipment had to have done so after school. That person couldn't have gotten from there to here in time to eavesdrop on you or try and run Frank off the road."
"There's more bad news," Frank broke into the conversation. "Someone tried to run Joe down last night at Barney's Burgers."
Dylan looked distraught at the news. "Are you all right?" he asked in concern.
"I'm fine," Joe assured him. "But since the attempt failed, Emily or Nick may be the next target here."
"Or you could still be a target," Dylan said, looking at Joe sternly. "You had better not let your guard down now."
"I won't," Joe promised, grinning at him. "But I think it wise to keep an eye on Nick and Emily too."
Dylan nodded his agreement. "The only problem is these "accidents" haven't been limited to school grounds."
"You have to tell them," Frank insisted. "Leave out the prize part if you like, but they deserve to know what's been going on."
Dylan sighed. "You're right, of course," he admitted. "I'll tell Nick and Emily this morning and suggest to Dr. Vaughn that all of the contestants be informed."
The boys left the office and headed for their homerooms. Chet Morton, a stout boy with blond hair and brown eyes, was in Frank's homeroom. Frank told him about the case and asked him to accompany him to East Bridge after school.
"I'll call home and see if it's okay," Chet promised.
When lunch time rolled around, Frank made his way to the cafeteria. He spotted Chet and Biff along with some of his other friends seated at their usual table. Going over, a pretty blond with brown eyes smiled at him. Frank took the seat next to the seventeen-year-old girl.
"Hey, babe," Frank whispered so only she could hear.
"Hi, yourself," she returned, grinning at him. Callie Shaw had been dating Frank for almost a year now but she still turned to mush when she looked into his beautiful brown puppy dog eyes.
"Give it up," ordered olive skinned Tony Prito from the end of the table. He looked at Frank through dark eyes. "What's this mystery that Biff and Chet mentioned but refused to divulge any details about?"
"Do tell all," seconded Phil Cohen, a bookish boy with hazel eyes, putting both elbows on the table and cupping his chin in anticipation.
"Wait," Vanessa stopped him before he could begin. "Where's Joe?"
"I saw him talking to Emily in the hall," Biff said. "He should be here shortly."
"Does your new case have anything to do with the tournament?" Callie asked Frank. She, along with the rest of Bayport High School, had been told about the tournament this morning over the intercom.
"Everything," admitted Frank, his eyes scanning the line entering the cafeteria until he spotted his brother. His whole demeanor became relaxed as Joe approached the group and sat down next to Vanessa.
"I take it Principal Dylan talked to Nick and Emily?" asked Frank, lifting an eyebrow.
"Yeah," said Joe. "Emily wants to quit but said she would stick it out as long as I stayed in the tournament."
"What's going on?" demanded Callie, her eyes going from one brother to the other.
Frank told everyone about the "accidents" that were plaguing the contestants and about Principal Dylan's asking them to help out. Vanessa looked at Joe in concern. "Shouldn't someone watch the participants?" she asked.
"My thoughts exactly," Frank said approvingly. "Someone should check the equipment before it's used and be with the contestants while they are in the gym." He stopped speaking and frowned. "But the problem is that a lot of the kids are being hurt outside of the school."
"Which means that whoever is behind the mishaps has to know who the contestants are," Phil said.
"That's right," agreed Frank. "Why didn't we think of that?" he asked looking at Joe. "It has to be someone directly involved with the creation of the tournament."
"I don't like the sound of that," Callie said, looking sick. "That means the superintendent or even one of the principals could be involved."
"Or someone connected with Braun Enterprises," Frank added and told them about the owner of the truck.
"What we need to do is get inside Braun Enterprises," Joe said, his expression less than happy.
"Don't worry, baby brother," Frank told him, knowing Joe was upset because he had to practice and couldn't go undercover with him. "Chet and I will keep our guards up."
"What are we going to do about Emily and Nick?" Vanessa asked.
"Maybe Vanessa and I could hang around Emily and make sure she gets home okay?" suggested Callie.
"That would be great," Frank said. "But be careful, hmm? I don't want you two getting hurt."
"We will be," promised Callie and Vanessa nodded her head in agreement.
"I wish I could help out but mom and dad are expecting me to keep Annie entertained while she's on leave," Biff apologized.
"Don't worry about it," Tony told him. "Phil and I can keep track of Nick."
The bell rang announcing the end of lunch and the young people left for their various classes. After school, Frank and Chet left in Chet's jalopy, leaving the van for Joe to drive home after he had finished practice. They made a quick stop at the Hardy home to don disguises before continuing to East Bridge.
"Fill out these applications," the secretary told Frank and Chet, handing them each a piece of paper and a pen.
Chet finished his application first and returned it to the pickle-faced woman behind the desk. She looked it over, her cat like eyes giving it close scrutiny. "I see you are applying for night janitor," she said, looking up into his eyes.
"Yes...yes, ma'am," Chet stuttered caught unaware by her fixed stare.
She returned his application. "Go down the hall to the fourth door on your left," she told him. "You will need to see Mr. Curtis."
"Thank you," Chet replied but the dour woman had already turned her attention elsewhere. Chet rolled his eyes at Frank before heading down the hall.
Frank finished his application and walked up to the secretary. She gave it the same scrutiny she had Chet's then sent him down the hall to see Mr. Matthews.
Frank stopped in front of the door with Grey Matthews's name on it and knocked. "Come in," came an order. Frank entered and came face to face with a man who reminded him of Robert Shaw, Callie's father.
He was roughly five foot eleven with sandy brown hair and green eyes. But where Mr. Shaw had twenty /twenty vision, this man wore a set of wide plastic framed glasses. Too, Mr. Shaw was lean but this man was rather large although Frank could tell it was due more to muscles than fat.
"Yes?" he asked as Frank stepped inside.
"My name is Frank McGuire," Frank introduced himself using the alias he had chosen for the application. "I'm here to apply for a part-time position."
"Part-time?" Matthews repeated with the lift of a brow.
"I'm still in high school," Frank admitted. "But I am going to Georgia Tech next fall to major in software design," he lied. "I was hoping I could learn something before I go."
"A kind of internship?" Matthews asked. At Frank's nod he continued. "We haven't any internships available at the present although we have been discussing starting some." He took Frank's application and looked it over. "We can't offer any credit but a part-time position is available for you if you would like?"
"That would be great!" Frank enthused with shining eyes.
"You can start tomorrow morning at eight, but I will show you where you will be working now," he said, standing up.
Frank followed him out of the door and down the hall past the open door of Mr. Charles Curtis where Chet was listening to the man explain what was expected of him. Frank caught a glimpse of Curtis as he sat on the edge of his desk talking to Chet. The man had on a brown blazer and a cowboy hat sat perched on a file cabinet behind him!
"Grruf," Joe mumbled, trying to tell the huge Saint Bernard to get off of him as it licked his face. Joe finally managed to push the dog's face away long enough to reprimand his father and brother. "Ha, ha," he growled. "Now get this monster off of me!"
Still nearly hysterical, Frank and Mr. Hardy rushed over and pried the big dog off of Joe. Joe extracted himself from the garbage can and its contents, having been pushed into it by the neighbor's dog.
Joe stood up and gingerly lifted a rotten banana peel from his shoulder. His nose was wrinkled in disgust as he let it fall onto the various smelly objects littered around his feet. "I wish the Brookshires would keep their mutt inside or get a stronger leash," Joe said, slowly making his way through the debris
Joe stepped over the last two cans and looked up just in time to see the dog break away form his dad and Frank. It launched itself at Joe fro a second time.
"Oof!" Joe cried out, tumbling backward into the trash once again. At this point, Frank fell to his knees because he was laughing so hard while their dad wiped the tears of merriment from his eyes his own laughter so vocal it dwarfed Frank's guffaws.
Joe surrendered. He lay there and let the dog lick him all it wanted as he waited for rescue.
Mr. Brookshire arrived to take his dog away, offering to return and clean up the mess. Mr. Hardy thanked him but told him they would take care of it. He did, however, have pity on Joe and sent him to take a shower while he and Frank picked up.
Later, all of the Hardys were gathered in the kitchen. Mrs. Hardy set cups of cocoa in front of her sons, then brought two more over to the table. She gave one to her husband and then sat down and took a sip of hers.
"Mmm," Frank said appreciatively, taking a sip. "You make the best cocoa," he said looking at his mom.
"That's because it isn't from a mix," she informed him. "Now, why don't you tell your father about your case?" she suggested.
"I did," Frank informed her. "But Joe and his sweetheart interrupted us," he finished, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
"That monster's name is Sweetheart," Joe clarified, glaring at Frank. "She isn't MY sweetheart."
"But she obviously likes you," teased Frank.
"Enough," Mr. Hardy ordered, seeing Joe's eyes grow darker. Hiding his own smile, Mr. Hardy leaned back in his chair, letting it balance on its back legs as it rested against the counter. "How many contestants were there before the accidents started happening?"
"Six schools times three contestants," Joe said. "Eighteen."
"And how many have been taken out of the tournament and from which schools?" Mr. Hardy inquired.
Frank got up and left the room. When he returned, he had a notebook and a pen. He wrote down the names of each of the schools then listed the number of entrants and the accidents. "So far, East Bridge is down to two contestants and Cornwell only has one left."
"So there are fifteen potential targets left, including you?" Mr. Hardy observed, looking at his youngest son. "And the tournament is one week from this Saturday?" he asked.
"In Tomlin," Joe specified.
"What do you intend to do first?" Mr. Hardy asked.
"I have to practice every afternoon and all weekend," answered Joe, frowning at Frank. "I don't really want you to investigate this alone," he added.
"I know," Frank said, smiling fondly at Joe. "But we do need to go to East Bridge."
"Why don't you see if Chet can go with you tomorrow after school?" Mrs. Hardy suggested.
"Good idea," approved Joe. "And after I finish practice, I can meet up with you guys."
"Sure," agreed Frank. "Just keep your cell phone handy."
They talked for a little longer and Mr. Hardy told them what he could about his latest case. It was Mrs. Hardy who finally stood up and announced it was time for bed. The boys bade their parents goodnight and went to bed.
The next morning, Principal Dylan caught the two brothers as they were entering the school. "Could you two come to my office, please?" he requested, his face set in a serious expression.
Inside Dylan's office, Frank and Joe took seats in front of his desk. "Someone else has been injured?" guessed Frank.
"Margaret Stover from Mercury," Dylan replied. "She was practicing last night at the gym and the balancing beam broke. She ahs injured her back and is out of the tournament."
"That means there must be at least three people involved,' Joe said.
"Why do you say that?" asked Dylan, looking at Joe curiously.
"The equipment must have been in use during regular school hours," explained Joe. "So whoever sabotaged the equipment had to have done so after school. That person couldn't have gotten from there to here in time to eavesdrop on you or try and run Frank off the road."
"There's more bad news," Frank broke into the conversation. "Someone tried to run Joe down last night at Barney's Burgers."
Dylan looked distraught at the news. "Are you all right?" he asked in concern.
"I'm fine," Joe assured him. "But since the attempt failed, Emily or Nick may be the next target here."
"Or you could still be a target," Dylan said, looking at Joe sternly. "You had better not let your guard down now."
"I won't," Joe promised, grinning at him. "But I think it wise to keep an eye on Nick and Emily too."
Dylan nodded his agreement. "The only problem is these "accidents" haven't been limited to school grounds."
"You have to tell them," Frank insisted. "Leave out the prize part if you like, but they deserve to know what's been going on."
Dylan sighed. "You're right, of course," he admitted. "I'll tell Nick and Emily this morning and suggest to Dr. Vaughn that all of the contestants be informed."
The boys left the office and headed for their homerooms. Chet Morton, a stout boy with blond hair and brown eyes, was in Frank's homeroom. Frank told him about the case and asked him to accompany him to East Bridge after school.
"I'll call home and see if it's okay," Chet promised.
When lunch time rolled around, Frank made his way to the cafeteria. He spotted Chet and Biff along with some of his other friends seated at their usual table. Going over, a pretty blond with brown eyes smiled at him. Frank took the seat next to the seventeen-year-old girl.
"Hey, babe," Frank whispered so only she could hear.
"Hi, yourself," she returned, grinning at him. Callie Shaw had been dating Frank for almost a year now but she still turned to mush when she looked into his beautiful brown puppy dog eyes.
"Give it up," ordered olive skinned Tony Prito from the end of the table. He looked at Frank through dark eyes. "What's this mystery that Biff and Chet mentioned but refused to divulge any details about?"
"Do tell all," seconded Phil Cohen, a bookish boy with hazel eyes, putting both elbows on the table and cupping his chin in anticipation.
"Wait," Vanessa stopped him before he could begin. "Where's Joe?"
"I saw him talking to Emily in the hall," Biff said. "He should be here shortly."
"Does your new case have anything to do with the tournament?" Callie asked Frank. She, along with the rest of Bayport High School, had been told about the tournament this morning over the intercom.
"Everything," admitted Frank, his eyes scanning the line entering the cafeteria until he spotted his brother. His whole demeanor became relaxed as Joe approached the group and sat down next to Vanessa.
"I take it Principal Dylan talked to Nick and Emily?" asked Frank, lifting an eyebrow.
"Yeah," said Joe. "Emily wants to quit but said she would stick it out as long as I stayed in the tournament."
"What's going on?" demanded Callie, her eyes going from one brother to the other.
Frank told everyone about the "accidents" that were plaguing the contestants and about Principal Dylan's asking them to help out. Vanessa looked at Joe in concern. "Shouldn't someone watch the participants?" she asked.
"My thoughts exactly," Frank said approvingly. "Someone should check the equipment before it's used and be with the contestants while they are in the gym." He stopped speaking and frowned. "But the problem is that a lot of the kids are being hurt outside of the school."
"Which means that whoever is behind the mishaps has to know who the contestants are," Phil said.
"That's right," agreed Frank. "Why didn't we think of that?" he asked looking at Joe. "It has to be someone directly involved with the creation of the tournament."
"I don't like the sound of that," Callie said, looking sick. "That means the superintendent or even one of the principals could be involved."
"Or someone connected with Braun Enterprises," Frank added and told them about the owner of the truck.
"What we need to do is get inside Braun Enterprises," Joe said, his expression less than happy.
"Don't worry, baby brother," Frank told him, knowing Joe was upset because he had to practice and couldn't go undercover with him. "Chet and I will keep our guards up."
"What are we going to do about Emily and Nick?" Vanessa asked.
"Maybe Vanessa and I could hang around Emily and make sure she gets home okay?" suggested Callie.
"That would be great," Frank said. "But be careful, hmm? I don't want you two getting hurt."
"We will be," promised Callie and Vanessa nodded her head in agreement.
"I wish I could help out but mom and dad are expecting me to keep Annie entertained while she's on leave," Biff apologized.
"Don't worry about it," Tony told him. "Phil and I can keep track of Nick."
The bell rang announcing the end of lunch and the young people left for their various classes. After school, Frank and Chet left in Chet's jalopy, leaving the van for Joe to drive home after he had finished practice. They made a quick stop at the Hardy home to don disguises before continuing to East Bridge.
"Fill out these applications," the secretary told Frank and Chet, handing them each a piece of paper and a pen.
Chet finished his application first and returned it to the pickle-faced woman behind the desk. She looked it over, her cat like eyes giving it close scrutiny. "I see you are applying for night janitor," she said, looking up into his eyes.
"Yes...yes, ma'am," Chet stuttered caught unaware by her fixed stare.
She returned his application. "Go down the hall to the fourth door on your left," she told him. "You will need to see Mr. Curtis."
"Thank you," Chet replied but the dour woman had already turned her attention elsewhere. Chet rolled his eyes at Frank before heading down the hall.
Frank finished his application and walked up to the secretary. She gave it the same scrutiny she had Chet's then sent him down the hall to see Mr. Matthews.
Frank stopped in front of the door with Grey Matthews's name on it and knocked. "Come in," came an order. Frank entered and came face to face with a man who reminded him of Robert Shaw, Callie's father.
He was roughly five foot eleven with sandy brown hair and green eyes. But where Mr. Shaw had twenty /twenty vision, this man wore a set of wide plastic framed glasses. Too, Mr. Shaw was lean but this man was rather large although Frank could tell it was due more to muscles than fat.
"Yes?" he asked as Frank stepped inside.
"My name is Frank McGuire," Frank introduced himself using the alias he had chosen for the application. "I'm here to apply for a part-time position."
"Part-time?" Matthews repeated with the lift of a brow.
"I'm still in high school," Frank admitted. "But I am going to Georgia Tech next fall to major in software design," he lied. "I was hoping I could learn something before I go."
"A kind of internship?" Matthews asked. At Frank's nod he continued. "We haven't any internships available at the present although we have been discussing starting some." He took Frank's application and looked it over. "We can't offer any credit but a part-time position is available for you if you would like?"
"That would be great!" Frank enthused with shining eyes.
"You can start tomorrow morning at eight, but I will show you where you will be working now," he said, standing up.
Frank followed him out of the door and down the hall past the open door of Mr. Charles Curtis where Chet was listening to the man explain what was expected of him. Frank caught a glimpse of Curtis as he sat on the edge of his desk talking to Chet. The man had on a brown blazer and a cowboy hat sat perched on a file cabinet behind him!
