Katie janeway, Branwen and Paris: thanks a million for your reviews! I think I know what you mean about the quotation marks but it wasn't supposed to appear the way it did, it's probably because I just got a new computer which I'm not enirely in control of but I think I've fixed it.

And well, like it says here comes...

Chapter 2

The Hardys were sitting in a comfortable restaurant, enjoying their spicy spanish beef.

"What's first stop?" Frank asked, downing the food with coke.

"The police station. I know a man there, sergeant José Moneo, he might have something," Fenton answered.

"Hopefully. 'Cause we really don't have anything to go on," Joe commented.

"Well, why would someone want to kidnap a song competition director?" Frank wondered.

"Maybe, it's personal and has nothing to do with his job," Joe suggested.

"Belson said he went missing, we don't know whether if he was kidnapped yet," Fenton said.

"Yeah, but how 'bout the threats they've been getting?" Frank asked.

"Who is they, is it Belson or is it the EBU, we didn't ask..." Joe said.

"I'm guessing the broadcasting union," Frank said.

"Well, if you're done eating, perhaps someone at the station can tell us something," their father concluded.

After putting the meals on the EBU account, Fenton drove to the police station where he had his connctions.

"José Moneo?" Fenton asked the receptionist who gave him directions in spanish.

"Gracias," he thanked and followed the directions which led to an office in a badly lighted corridor. He knocked on the half open door and heard a deep male voice from inside.

"Ingresar!"

Fenton pushed the door open and went inside. A dark haired man (with bald spot on his pate) was sitting at the large wooden desk talking on the phone in his own language. He looked up when Fenton came in and his face lit up in a smile. He was chubby with a sizable brown mustache covering the space between his nose and upper lip ( actually the lip itself too). He said good-bye to whoever he was talking to and hung up.

"Fenton! How very nice to see you!" he said with his natural spanish accent and glanced curiously at the brothers that were standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, long time, no see," Fenton smiled and sat into an armchair in fron tof the desk and pointed towards his sons. ,You haven't met Frank and Joe, have you?"

"No, I haven't. Nice to meet you...please come in and have a seat," Moneo said then turned his attention to Fenton, "So what brings you to Spain this time?" He answered the question himself. "The contest, isn't it?" he guessed, "You're the private investigator the EBU hired."

"That's right."

"And your sons will help you?"

"Yup, or even solve the case before me, I wouldn't be too surprised," Fenton said proudly.

"Ah, and they've had the best teacher available," the sergeant leaned forward, suddenly all about business, "So what is it that you need?"

"A place to start from really, I'm not sure where to begin," Fenton said.

"Salvatore Elina?" José suggested, "His family filed in for a missing person two days ago. We don't have any lead on what happened to him. It seems he just disappeared into thin air..."

"Maybe we could go talk to his family?" Frank said.

"We have questioned them...but maybe you can work out something," José hesitated, "Your...your hands are not as tied as ours so...so perhaps..."

Not wanting to get the sergeant into troubles, Fenton cut him off. "Well, I'm sure we'll come up with something, we always do but please do call me if you feel there is anything I need to know to solve the case."

"Sí, if you do the same," Moneo answered. They exchanged cell phone numbers.

"What about the threat notes?" Frank suddenly asked.

"They're still being analyzed but so far they're clear so we just have to wait for complete results before we can do something."

,Then I guess we should get going, can you give me Elina's address?" Fenton asked.

José frowned and started digging in the piles of papers on his desk. "I can't find it right now..."

"It's all right, I'll call Belson," Fenton stood up and held out his hand to Moneo,"Thanks for your time."

He took it and shook it and turned it and patted on the back of the hand. "I whish you the best of luck, Fenton, don't forget to call me!"

"I won' t, promise," Fenton answered laughing.

"Nice to meet you, boys," José said as they walked out the door.

"You too, sergeant," Joe said.

"Adiós!"

Fenton had already called Steven and gotten Elina's home address and memorized it when they got to the car. Fenton drove, Frank was in the passenger seat and Joe in the back seat.

The address led them to a white concrete villa in a peaceful suburb in the northern part of the city. They parked across the street crossed it and Frank knocked on the wooden door.

A girl, maybe 10 or 11 opened it, she had a long, black plait dangling on her back and enormous brown puppy eyes. "Sí?"

"Do you speak english?" Joe asked.

The girl nodded. "A little."

"Is your mom at home?"

"Sí."

"Can we talk to her?"

The girl turned into the house and shouted: "Mamá!"

The house was on two floors and the stairs was opposite to the front door so the Hardys saw a middle aged woman come down. One immediately would have thought that either she had looked just like her daughter on her age or that the girl would be very much like her mother when she got older, same slim body, same black pait and same large brown eyes.

"Hola?" the woman said.

"Senora Elina? Do you speak english?" Fenton asked.

"Yes..." she replied.

"I am private investigator Fenton Hardy and those are my sons Frank and Joe, we were hired by the EBU to find your husband," Fenton explained.

"And have you found him?"

"Um...no, not yet. We just arrived today..."

"The police has already been here asking questinons..." Mrs. Elina said tiredly resting her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Well, I'm afraid I will have to ask you some of the same questions again, senora," Fenton said patiently.

She sighed. "Very well, come on in."

The Hardys entered the house. Mrs. Elina guided them into the living room. A slim, dark haired teenage boy, probably 14 or 15 sat in the sofa, his eyes fixed on MTV on the television.

His mother took the remote control and turned it off. She said something to the boy in spanish. Probably to go to his room or somewhere because he stood up and left the room. The girl followed.

"Sit down," Elina offered when they were gone, "Coffee?"

"No, thank you," Fenton declined, "So when was the last time you saw or heard from your husband?"

"Two days ago. He was just going to work at 9 a.m. as usually but then I got a call from his work because he hadn't arrived two hours later but his car was in the parking lot so he had been there and then disappeared. I tried to call his cell phone and beeper but he didn't answer so I called his parents and a few of our friends and...he wasn't anywhere."

"Did he ever speak of some sort of enemies or somebody who might be threating his job...something like that?"

"It's the first time he was asked to direct the contest and he was very very excited about it but I don't recall...well, there is always very tight security around the contest, especially if there should be some problems, nothing's ever happened until now that I know of. There were actually protests a few days ago about because of the Israeli competitiors...-"

"Israeli? But Israel is not in Europe," Frank stated.

"No but it's part of EBU all the same, the fact is: any nation can join the EBU for fees. I remember in 1980 that the Moroccan participated. The Israelis said that they wouldn't compete again in the same contest as Morocco and in 2005 Lebanon had to withdraw because they couldn't guarantee that the Israeli entry would be broadcasted in Lebanon, but it's a eurovision rule to broadcast all entries. Those politics...Lebanon tried to enter again this year but the same thing happened and so the Lebanese supporters were protesting, wanting to have the Israelis thrown out but the police took care of that and the case was closed."

"Unless the Lebanese people won't give up like that," Joe said.

"But why kidnap Salvatore? He was only the stage director, he doesn't control things like that," Mrs. Elina said sadly.

"It's only a guess, it could be something totally different," Fenton said.

"Is that him?" Joe suddenly asked looking up at a enlarged photgraph in a frame hanging on the wall above the tv.

Mrs. Elina looked at it. "Yes, it was taken at Raoul's confirmation last year."

The Hardys studied the photograph. There were all the four members of the family dressed in their best, the teen was wearing a white gland. His sister was in front of him, the parents behind. Salvatore Elina was a chubby bald man about fifty, with a black typical spanish mustache, but his smile was happy and the brown eyes of the family shone with pride.

Mrs. Elina sighed dreamily. "Ah, he hasn't changed a bit since 20 years ago," she said smiling.

The Hardys smiled back.

"So what exactly is it that a stage director does?" Frank asked.

"He is in charge of the light-sound-stage and camera crew, he helps contestants with their performances and to adjust the performance to the stage, and makes sure that rules are being followed. He's involved with opening-and-interval acts, how the hosts are supposed to be...this kind of things..."

"You know how many people he's in charge of?" Fenton questioned thoughtfully.

Mrs. Elina thought for a while. "I'd say between 250 and 300."

If Joe would have been drinking something he would have choked on it. He turned to his dad. "Um...dad...just so you know it, we are not about to question all of these people and solve the case in two weeks and definately not in one week!"

"I-I guess not," his father mumbled. He asked the woman a few more questions which she answered as precisely as she could but the Hardys didn't gain much. Finally they decided they knew everything she could tell them and prepared to leave. Fenton gave her his P.I. card with the cell phone number on it.

"If there's anything, you just give me a call, senora."

She took the card. "I will."

"Have a good day."

"You too. Adiós."

"Have a good day?" Joe repeated once they were outside, "Her husband just went missing!"

It was getting dark.

"What was I supposed to say?" Fenton raised his eyebrows as he slid into the car.

Joe sighed heavily. "Never mind," he muttered.

Since it was getting late the Hardys decided to call it a day and go back to the hotel.

By the time they arrived there the sky was pitch dark.

Frank threw himself onto the couch in the living room, just now starting to feel the jet lag.

Fenton poured soda into a glass. Joe opened the door to the balcony to let in some fresh air.

"Hi!"

Joe jumped. Then he looked up angrily.

Maggie was standing exactly where she had been standing earlier that day,"Startled you again, did I? Gotta stop doing that, huh?"

Joe just glared at her without a word.

"Anyway," she continued, "Steven and dad are insisting you come over for dinner, you should, dad's a real good cook."

"Your dad's here?" Joe asked, wondering how her father and stepfather could be such good friends.

"Yes, of course, you don't acutally think I'd be hanging here alone with Steven, do you? Then rather send me to Hell...! So you're coming?" she disappeared again.

If it continues like that I'm gonna have a heart attack pretty soon, Joe thought to himself when he went inside. He patted on his brothers leg. "Get up, bro! We are being invitied to dinner next door," he informed.

Frank yawned. "Now?"

"Yup."

Frank stood up, stretched and yawned again. "Okay."

The three went to their neighbours room, smelling something good, they didn't know what, but it smelt good. Steven was settling the table in the living room. Maggie and another man were standing over the stove in the kitchen.

"Any luck today?" Steven asked.

"I don't know, our possible suspect isn't very possible," Fenton said.

"Well, you've still got some time, I mean, you only arrived today, anyways, here's a man I'd like you to meet," Steven said as the man from the kitchen came with a pot in his hands which he placed on the table and rubbed his hands on the chequer stub he was wearing. He was about 40 years old, rather tall and muscular with auburn hair and green eyes and freckles.

Steven put a hand on his shoulder. "This is William West...-"

"Call me Bill," William said.

"And Bill, this is Mr. Fenton Hardy and his two sons, Frank -the one who looks just like Fenton- and Joe."

"Hello, nice to meet you," Bill smiled and shook hands with them, "You've already met my daughter, Maggie...?"

"Yes, we have," Fenton said politely, feeling the tensity between the two men -not that in the negative sense of the word...

"If that's the one who nearly broke my fingers today, then yes, I've met her," Frank said, also noticing the connections and trying to keep a straight face.

Bill smiled. "Ah, yes, that's her," he said and looked at Maggie who was still in the kitchencorner.

There were a few moments of akward silence.

Then Steven cleared his throat and went to get a bottle of beer to the fridge. He opened the bottle, closed the fridge and leand against the door of it. He rubbed the bottle spout against his lower lip, obviously thinking something. Then he finally looked up.

"You know, eurovision isn't considered the collest thing to be interested in, a large part of the eurovision fans are homo sexuals...for some reason..."

"As you know, we don't know so much about eurovision," Fenton said, uncertain of where this was leading.

Frank saw it before him. "Oh, please don't think we have prejudice against homo sexuals," he said, "We're really not like that," he assured.

Steven let out a breath of relief and smiled more relaxed. "Good, so it will not spoil our cooperation...?"

"No, no, of course not," Fenton said, also relieved.

Joe nodded his agreement. Then he suddenly felt someone's eyes on him and he looked behind and right into Bill's eyes.

Bill smiled sheepishly, caught in the act and Joe sent him a playful glare meaning: "If you do that again..." But he wasn't too comfortable with it though.

"So are we gonna eat or let the food get cold on the table?" Maggie asked joining them in the living room.

"You're right," Bill said, "Let's eat!"

And they ate. Bill was a great cook. A professional one in fact. And they talked casually over the meal. Then the Hardys went back to their room, Fenton called his wife, Laura and they dove into bed after a long day.