Joe froze, feeling his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth. Why were all these teachers standing there?
"Go ahead, the conference room is ready." Mrs. Gamble was saying, behind him. "I know Mr. Dyson wants to get the faculty meeting over with quickly."
Faculty meeting? Whew! Joe mentally heaved a sigh of relief, and began to make his escape. A few of the instructors looked at him a little curiously but he politely excused himself as he stepped between Mr. Drew and Mr. Bartlett, and headed for the front doors. Once outside, he plopped down on the front steps to wait for Frank, work on his homework, and study the list Mrs. Gamble had given him.
Forty minutes later, teachers began exiting the building. Joe was still sitting there, his homework nearly complete, and he glanced up and smiled, or gave polite greetings to them as they passed.
Ms. Westerman stopped beside him to chat a moment.
"Joe, thank you again for what you and your brother did for me last night. I appreciate it very much." Ms. Westerman smiled warmly down at the younger Hardy boy.
"We were glad to help." Joe said sincerely. "Did you talk to the police?"
"Yes, and they sent a team to check things over, but they didn't find anything. They believe he was wearing gloves; there weren't any fingerprints on anything, other than mine."
Abruptly, Joe smacked the side of his head. "I don't know where my mind was last night - did you get a look at the guy?"
"Yes, I did." she replied. "He was about your height, I think - very muscular build, and he had tightly curled brown hair and a strong jawline. Mid-twenties in age, I believe. That's all I remember, though."
"That's more than a lot of people would remember." Joe commented, a slight frown creasing his forehead. She had seen all that and hadn't noticed if he was wearing gloves or not?. "Are you heading home now?"
"Yes, but…" Ms. Westerman paused, and her pale skin flushed a delicate pink shade. "I must admit, I'm a little nervous about walking into the house alone."
Joe stood up. "Would you like me to go with you? I can give Frank a call, and have him pick me up there, instead of here."
"Why - yes, Joe, I would appreciate that very much!" she exclaimed. "You're very kind to offer."
"No problem." Joe flipped open his cell phone and punched the digit that dialed Frank's number.
Frank ended the call and grinned at Callie. "Joe got excused from detention, and he is escorting Ms. Westerman home." he announced. "So I can pick him up there, instead of going back to the school."
"Oh, I'm glad he didn't have to do the detention!" Callie said approvingly. "That was so unfair!" She glanced around. "I think that's it. I don't see anything else missing."
"Okay." Frank consulted the piece of paper he'd been jotting notes on. "So, taken from you was the picture of us at the beach, the teddy bear I won for you at the school carnival, and…" he stopped, blushing a little. "…and that mushy poem."
"It was a nice poem!" Callie defended, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I think you write lovely poetry, Frank!"
He blushed redder, and riveted his attention on the list. "And from Vanessa's was the picture of Mr. Drew - pardon, I mean the picture of Abraham Lincoln! - a photo of all of us that Andrea took at the St. Patrick's Day party, and that gold locket that Joe had inscribed for Vanessa for Valentines' Day."
"Vanessa was broken up about losing that locket." Callie said soberly. "I'm glad Andrea got home while we were there, so that Van could stay home with her, rather than coming back here. I mean - I think she felt better, being with her mom."
"I agree." Frank concurred. "Well, I'd better go fetch Joe from the lair of Ms. Westerman." he quipped, and pulled Callie in for a quick farewell kiss. "I'll call you later, probably."
"If you aren't too wrapped in this mystery," she corrected him with a teasing glint in her eyes. She knew him so well! "Bye!" She returned the kiss, and watched him depart, smiling.
Frank drove to Ms. Westerman's house, noting as he drove up that plastic had been taped over the broken front window. Joe had evidently been watching for him, for he emerged almost immediately from the house as Frank pulled up in front. He climbed into the van, and Frank started for home without delay.
As he drove, Frank noticed Joe brushing futilely at his black tee-shirt, which on closer inspection, appeared to be covered with hair. "Vanessa wouldn't be happy to see that." he commented teasingly. "She doesn't take kindly to being two-timed."
"Yeah, she was all over me!" Joe cracked, then grinned disarmingly. "Actually, it was 'he was all over me'." he continued, and waited while Frank choked a bit over that comment. "Ms. Westerman has a dog!" he explained, at last, putting Frank out of his misery. "A very exuberant, friendly dog…that sheds!"
When they arrived home, the boys headed for the kitchen, intending on finding something to eat. Laura greeted them, and laughingly watched their attack on the cookie jar.
"Go easy on the cookies; I don't want you spoiling your dinners!" she warned.
"Since when have we not eaten dinner because of cookies beforehand?" Joe inquired, stacking half-a-dozen on a napkin, while Frank poured them each glasses of milk.
"Well…since you were twelve, probably." his mother admitted. "Still, issuing warnings like that is part of my job description. And so is this: do you have homework, and if so, shouldn't you go do it?"
"Yes, and yes." Frank replied, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and scooping up his cookies. "I'm going up to my room right now, Mom."
"I finished mine at school." Joe said smugly. "I'm going to go check out ESPNews."
Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head, but refrained from comment, and both boys left the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang, and after Laura answered it, she popped her head into the family room where Joe was contentedly watching TV, the remains of his afternoon snack lying on the coffee table. "That was Mr. Wong at the drycleaners'." Mrs. Hardy said. "I forgot to pick up our clothes today. Could you or Frank go and get it, please?"
"You couldn't have picked it up anyway, Mom; your car's in the shop." Joe reminded her. "Hey, want to run a laundry errand?" he queried Frank, who was just coming down the stairs, curious as to the phone call. Every time it rang, all three Hardys jumped, hoping it was Fenton.
"Yeah, sure." Frank agreed.
"Want some company?" Joe offered casually. Inside he was anything but casual. What if there's another 'accident'? I don't want Frank to go alone - but I don't want to say anything about it, because he'll for sure give me a hard time for worrying about him!
"Nah, I think I can manage to pick up laundry by myself." his elder brother said. "You just take it easy for awhile. You're supposed to be recovering from a car accident, remember?"
Frank departed and Joe, deciding there really wasn't anything he could do to prevent an incident, went into the den to catch up on the latest installments of online fanfiction. He accessed the mystery story site, and clicked on Truth and Consequences curiously. Might as well see what the message board posts meant about the characters being like us! He pulled up the first chapter.
The beginning was too much romantic mush and not enough action to suit Joe. The main character, Fletcher, did seem to resemble Frank a bit, physically, but his girlfriend Carol had dark hair, and was shorter than Callie. Joe did like the intriguing scene at the park, where Fletcher chased away a Rottweiler dog which was threatening some small children, but all too soon, it reverted to more romantic interchanges. Must be a girl writing this! Joe thought with some disdain.
But he kept on reading. The message board had given the story good reviews, and he wanted to get to the part with the protagonist who was supposed to be like him!
AHA! There he was! Jeremy, the jock! Blond, blue eyes, good looking - impulsive and acts without thinking. Ah, whoever thinks this guy is me, is going on looks alone! Joe thought. He read the chapter critically, and when Jeremy was challenged to a race, and ended up crashing through a construction barrier and hitting a truck, Joe hooted with laughter. What a dope! He logged off, just as Laura called to him.
"Joe, honey, could you empty wastebaskets and take out the trash?" she requested. "Tomorrow's garbage pickup day."
"Sure Mom." Joe got a plastic garbage bag, and circulated through the house, emptying wastebaskets in the various rooms. When he completed the circuit, he took the bag out to the trash container - and then halted in surprise, for large letters were chalked on their driveway, and the message wasn't a friendly greeting!
'I have my way in everything,
With your consent, and no responsibilities.'
Joe scowled, and went inside the house. He didn't tell Laura immediately, instead, he went directly to the telephone and called the Bayport police station. He reported the vandalism, and was reassured that a team would be there shortly, to take pictures and get a statement. Only then, did Joe go to the kitchen and tell his mother what he'd discovered.
The police had come and gone, and Joe was outside, copying down the chalked words in a notebook, when Frank pulled up to the house and got out of the van, carrying the plastic-bagged laundry.
"What in the heck is this?" Frank stared at the driveway in perplexity.
"Another prank." Joe informed him, and pocketed his notebook.
Frank read the two lines, frowning. "I've heard that somewhere before," he muttered, loud enough for Joe to hear him.
"What does it mean, then?" Joe demanded.
"Sounds like our villain is not only bragging about his misdeeds, he's also telling us he's able to get away with them because we let him." Frank replied.
"Still makes no sense to me," Joe growled. "How exactly are we letting this person get away with what he's doing? It says with our consent - I know I never gave anyone permission to do any of these sick pranks!" He shook his head in dismissal, and caught Frank's eye. "I'm going to scrub off the driveway now, and any help would be appreciated." he hinted.
"I'll just take this in, and then I'll help." Frank promised, and headed for the house.
Working with the hose and a brush, Frank and Joe got the offending message removed from the asphalt in short order. As they were finishing up, Frank raised a question.
"Did you think to ask the cops if there was anything new about the brake line thing?"
Joe stared at him in chagrin. "No! I forgot! Darn it…"
"Well, we can check when we go inside." Frank comforted him. "The guys here might not have known anyway." He began coiling up the hose. "That looks pretty clean; let's call it good."
Frank made the call, but the answers were a disappointment. No, nothing new had been found out about the car or the phone call which had summoned Mrs. Hardy to the drycleaners'. When he hung up, Joe was waiting with more news.
"Ms. Westerman said that the police couldn't find any leads to her intruder, either." he reported. "They think the guy was wearing gloves. She did get a look at him, though." he continued, and described the man as Danielle Westerman had.
Frank, in turn, told Joe what the girls had discovered missing from their homes. As expected, Joe was upset about the locket taken from Vanessa, and wondered if it might be expected to turn up somewhere.
They ate dinner, and Mrs. Hardy had to admit that the cookies didn't seem to have affected the boys' appetites. Afterwards, Frank finished his homework, and Joe read a magazine; they watched the late news together, and went to bed.
The next morning the Hardys went to school, pleased to note that there were no offending pictures on the bulletin board, and no one seemed to be snickering at them. Callie met them at the main entrance, and Frank immediately offered to walk her to her first class. They departed, his hand protectively on her elbow as he guided her through the crowded hallway.
Somewhat to Joe's surprise, Vanessa hadn't arrived yet. Hoping she hadn't had car trouble, Joe went to his locker to get a book for his first class.
He stood in front of the metal compartment, and spun the combination lock, his fingers automatically finding the familiar numbers of the combination sequence. As Joe pulled the locker door open, he heard a loud click, and simultaneously there came the crashing noise of an explosion!
Joe was propelled backwards across the hall, and slammed hard into the lockers there. Locker doors popped off and went flying, bits of metal shooting out like shrapnel; and books, papers, backpacks and articles of clothing flew through the air, hitting peoples' bodies with stunning force!
Faculty meeting? Whew! Joe mentally heaved a sigh of relief, and began to make his escape. A few of the instructors looked at him a little curiously but he politely excused himself as he stepped between Mr. Drew and Mr. Bartlett, and headed for the front doors. Once outside, he plopped down on the front steps to wait for Frank, work on his homework, and study the list Mrs. Gamble had given him.
Forty minutes later, teachers began exiting the building. Joe was still sitting there, his homework nearly complete, and he glanced up and smiled, or gave polite greetings to them as they passed.
Ms. Westerman stopped beside him to chat a moment.
"Joe, thank you again for what you and your brother did for me last night. I appreciate it very much." Ms. Westerman smiled warmly down at the younger Hardy boy.
"We were glad to help." Joe said sincerely. "Did you talk to the police?"
"Yes, and they sent a team to check things over, but they didn't find anything. They believe he was wearing gloves; there weren't any fingerprints on anything, other than mine."
Abruptly, Joe smacked the side of his head. "I don't know where my mind was last night - did you get a look at the guy?"
"Yes, I did." she replied. "He was about your height, I think - very muscular build, and he had tightly curled brown hair and a strong jawline. Mid-twenties in age, I believe. That's all I remember, though."
"That's more than a lot of people would remember." Joe commented, a slight frown creasing his forehead. She had seen all that and hadn't noticed if he was wearing gloves or not?. "Are you heading home now?"
"Yes, but…" Ms. Westerman paused, and her pale skin flushed a delicate pink shade. "I must admit, I'm a little nervous about walking into the house alone."
Joe stood up. "Would you like me to go with you? I can give Frank a call, and have him pick me up there, instead of here."
"Why - yes, Joe, I would appreciate that very much!" she exclaimed. "You're very kind to offer."
"No problem." Joe flipped open his cell phone and punched the digit that dialed Frank's number.
Frank ended the call and grinned at Callie. "Joe got excused from detention, and he is escorting Ms. Westerman home." he announced. "So I can pick him up there, instead of going back to the school."
"Oh, I'm glad he didn't have to do the detention!" Callie said approvingly. "That was so unfair!" She glanced around. "I think that's it. I don't see anything else missing."
"Okay." Frank consulted the piece of paper he'd been jotting notes on. "So, taken from you was the picture of us at the beach, the teddy bear I won for you at the school carnival, and…" he stopped, blushing a little. "…and that mushy poem."
"It was a nice poem!" Callie defended, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I think you write lovely poetry, Frank!"
He blushed redder, and riveted his attention on the list. "And from Vanessa's was the picture of Mr. Drew - pardon, I mean the picture of Abraham Lincoln! - a photo of all of us that Andrea took at the St. Patrick's Day party, and that gold locket that Joe had inscribed for Vanessa for Valentines' Day."
"Vanessa was broken up about losing that locket." Callie said soberly. "I'm glad Andrea got home while we were there, so that Van could stay home with her, rather than coming back here. I mean - I think she felt better, being with her mom."
"I agree." Frank concurred. "Well, I'd better go fetch Joe from the lair of Ms. Westerman." he quipped, and pulled Callie in for a quick farewell kiss. "I'll call you later, probably."
"If you aren't too wrapped in this mystery," she corrected him with a teasing glint in her eyes. She knew him so well! "Bye!" She returned the kiss, and watched him depart, smiling.
Frank drove to Ms. Westerman's house, noting as he drove up that plastic had been taped over the broken front window. Joe had evidently been watching for him, for he emerged almost immediately from the house as Frank pulled up in front. He climbed into the van, and Frank started for home without delay.
As he drove, Frank noticed Joe brushing futilely at his black tee-shirt, which on closer inspection, appeared to be covered with hair. "Vanessa wouldn't be happy to see that." he commented teasingly. "She doesn't take kindly to being two-timed."
"Yeah, she was all over me!" Joe cracked, then grinned disarmingly. "Actually, it was 'he was all over me'." he continued, and waited while Frank choked a bit over that comment. "Ms. Westerman has a dog!" he explained, at last, putting Frank out of his misery. "A very exuberant, friendly dog…that sheds!"
When they arrived home, the boys headed for the kitchen, intending on finding something to eat. Laura greeted them, and laughingly watched their attack on the cookie jar.
"Go easy on the cookies; I don't want you spoiling your dinners!" she warned.
"Since when have we not eaten dinner because of cookies beforehand?" Joe inquired, stacking half-a-dozen on a napkin, while Frank poured them each glasses of milk.
"Well…since you were twelve, probably." his mother admitted. "Still, issuing warnings like that is part of my job description. And so is this: do you have homework, and if so, shouldn't you go do it?"
"Yes, and yes." Frank replied, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and scooping up his cookies. "I'm going up to my room right now, Mom."
"I finished mine at school." Joe said smugly. "I'm going to go check out ESPNews."
Laura rolled her eyes and shook her head, but refrained from comment, and both boys left the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, the phone rang, and after Laura answered it, she popped her head into the family room where Joe was contentedly watching TV, the remains of his afternoon snack lying on the coffee table. "That was Mr. Wong at the drycleaners'." Mrs. Hardy said. "I forgot to pick up our clothes today. Could you or Frank go and get it, please?"
"You couldn't have picked it up anyway, Mom; your car's in the shop." Joe reminded her. "Hey, want to run a laundry errand?" he queried Frank, who was just coming down the stairs, curious as to the phone call. Every time it rang, all three Hardys jumped, hoping it was Fenton.
"Yeah, sure." Frank agreed.
"Want some company?" Joe offered casually. Inside he was anything but casual. What if there's another 'accident'? I don't want Frank to go alone - but I don't want to say anything about it, because he'll for sure give me a hard time for worrying about him!
"Nah, I think I can manage to pick up laundry by myself." his elder brother said. "You just take it easy for awhile. You're supposed to be recovering from a car accident, remember?"
Frank departed and Joe, deciding there really wasn't anything he could do to prevent an incident, went into the den to catch up on the latest installments of online fanfiction. He accessed the mystery story site, and clicked on Truth and Consequences curiously. Might as well see what the message board posts meant about the characters being like us! He pulled up the first chapter.
The beginning was too much romantic mush and not enough action to suit Joe. The main character, Fletcher, did seem to resemble Frank a bit, physically, but his girlfriend Carol had dark hair, and was shorter than Callie. Joe did like the intriguing scene at the park, where Fletcher chased away a Rottweiler dog which was threatening some small children, but all too soon, it reverted to more romantic interchanges. Must be a girl writing this! Joe thought with some disdain.
But he kept on reading. The message board had given the story good reviews, and he wanted to get to the part with the protagonist who was supposed to be like him!
AHA! There he was! Jeremy, the jock! Blond, blue eyes, good looking - impulsive and acts without thinking. Ah, whoever thinks this guy is me, is going on looks alone! Joe thought. He read the chapter critically, and when Jeremy was challenged to a race, and ended up crashing through a construction barrier and hitting a truck, Joe hooted with laughter. What a dope! He logged off, just as Laura called to him.
"Joe, honey, could you empty wastebaskets and take out the trash?" she requested. "Tomorrow's garbage pickup day."
"Sure Mom." Joe got a plastic garbage bag, and circulated through the house, emptying wastebaskets in the various rooms. When he completed the circuit, he took the bag out to the trash container - and then halted in surprise, for large letters were chalked on their driveway, and the message wasn't a friendly greeting!
'I have my way in everything,
With your consent, and no responsibilities.'
Joe scowled, and went inside the house. He didn't tell Laura immediately, instead, he went directly to the telephone and called the Bayport police station. He reported the vandalism, and was reassured that a team would be there shortly, to take pictures and get a statement. Only then, did Joe go to the kitchen and tell his mother what he'd discovered.
The police had come and gone, and Joe was outside, copying down the chalked words in a notebook, when Frank pulled up to the house and got out of the van, carrying the plastic-bagged laundry.
"What in the heck is this?" Frank stared at the driveway in perplexity.
"Another prank." Joe informed him, and pocketed his notebook.
Frank read the two lines, frowning. "I've heard that somewhere before," he muttered, loud enough for Joe to hear him.
"What does it mean, then?" Joe demanded.
"Sounds like our villain is not only bragging about his misdeeds, he's also telling us he's able to get away with them because we let him." Frank replied.
"Still makes no sense to me," Joe growled. "How exactly are we letting this person get away with what he's doing? It says with our consent - I know I never gave anyone permission to do any of these sick pranks!" He shook his head in dismissal, and caught Frank's eye. "I'm going to scrub off the driveway now, and any help would be appreciated." he hinted.
"I'll just take this in, and then I'll help." Frank promised, and headed for the house.
Working with the hose and a brush, Frank and Joe got the offending message removed from the asphalt in short order. As they were finishing up, Frank raised a question.
"Did you think to ask the cops if there was anything new about the brake line thing?"
Joe stared at him in chagrin. "No! I forgot! Darn it…"
"Well, we can check when we go inside." Frank comforted him. "The guys here might not have known anyway." He began coiling up the hose. "That looks pretty clean; let's call it good."
Frank made the call, but the answers were a disappointment. No, nothing new had been found out about the car or the phone call which had summoned Mrs. Hardy to the drycleaners'. When he hung up, Joe was waiting with more news.
"Ms. Westerman said that the police couldn't find any leads to her intruder, either." he reported. "They think the guy was wearing gloves. She did get a look at him, though." he continued, and described the man as Danielle Westerman had.
Frank, in turn, told Joe what the girls had discovered missing from their homes. As expected, Joe was upset about the locket taken from Vanessa, and wondered if it might be expected to turn up somewhere.
They ate dinner, and Mrs. Hardy had to admit that the cookies didn't seem to have affected the boys' appetites. Afterwards, Frank finished his homework, and Joe read a magazine; they watched the late news together, and went to bed.
The next morning the Hardys went to school, pleased to note that there were no offending pictures on the bulletin board, and no one seemed to be snickering at them. Callie met them at the main entrance, and Frank immediately offered to walk her to her first class. They departed, his hand protectively on her elbow as he guided her through the crowded hallway.
Somewhat to Joe's surprise, Vanessa hadn't arrived yet. Hoping she hadn't had car trouble, Joe went to his locker to get a book for his first class.
He stood in front of the metal compartment, and spun the combination lock, his fingers automatically finding the familiar numbers of the combination sequence. As Joe pulled the locker door open, he heard a loud click, and simultaneously there came the crashing noise of an explosion!
Joe was propelled backwards across the hall, and slammed hard into the lockers there. Locker doors popped off and went flying, bits of metal shooting out like shrapnel; and books, papers, backpacks and articles of clothing flew through the air, hitting peoples' bodies with stunning force!