Hazy sunlight streamed through the blinds of the office's small window. Joe and Frank Hardy sat facing Martin Lombard across his desk. It was one p.m. and they were meeting in his office as agreed to.
"Now, boys, what answers have you found?"
"Sir, shouldn't we be telling this to Prof. Coville too?" questioned Frank.
"He's in class all afternoon."
"We heard sounds coming from his office just now as we went past," said Joe. "Quite loud ones too, like furniture being moved."
Lombard snapped to attention. Without a further word he jumped out of his seat and headed for the door. The Hardy boys were at his heels.
"Prof. Coville, are you in there?" Lombard called. He rapped on the door. There was no response. The door had a corrugated glass window. There was no light turned on in the office but they could see shadowy movement inside. Lombard turned the doorknob. If they were expecting to find the man who had attempted to burgle Heinze's hotel room they would have been surprised. Craig Shelbourne, with a slight grin of embarrassment, stood before them.
"What are you doing in there, Shelbourne?" snapped Lombard. It was the most expression the brothers had yet seen in the cool, impassive engineer.
"I thought I left some of my papers in the office. I got the spare key from the receptionist. I started looking at a magazine article lying on the desk and I guess I lost track of time."
Frank looked to see if Shelbourne's slightly freckled face showed any signs of a blush but he couldn't detect anything. Lombard glared suspiciously at the research assistant for a moment before turning away. The Hardys surreptitiously scanned the room without moving from the same spot. File folders were strewn about. The professor's appointment book had been flipped to a day two weeks ago. The room had clearly been searched. Frank had to smile as he thought to himself, "If this guy was looking for a particular piece of paper and he didn't already know where it was it would take days to go through all the stuff in this room."
They were soon back in Lombard's office. "You were going to tell me about your investigations before we were interrupted."
Frank said, "I'd like to recommend that we bring this matter to the attention of the local police. I realize Mr. Heinze hasn't been missing very long but there are certainly reasons to be afraid for him. If one person knew where he was staying then so could others."
"Very well, if you think so. Go on."
Frank began. "As you said, there were a good number of interesting clues in the hotel room. To begin with, that page in the phone directory contains the number of the Checkered Cab Company. That's what leapt out at me. Of course there are many other numbers on that page, which we'll have to consider if the clue about the cab company doesn't check out. I contacted them but they wouldn't release any information to me about fares that they picked up at the hotel. That's something we'll need the cooperation of the police for.
"The street map shows a portion of the East Bronx, specifically the eastern shoreline and Long Island Sound. It's too big an area to search even with the help of the police. It would be pointless unless we knew more.
"I talked to the hotel staff. The bed was, in fact, slept in Tuesday night. Mr. Heinze did not make or receive any long distance phone calls at the hotel. Oh, and he left his shoes in the hallway to be polished Tuesday night. Nothing suspicious or unusual was reported for him or for that floor of the hotel.
"Everything about the hotel room indicates that Mr. Heinze left with no intention of spending the night anywhere else. He didn't take his shaving kit, or any other clothes. But he did take his briefcase."
"Ah, yes. That was missing from the hotel room."
Joe occupied himself with examining Prof. Lombard's office as his brother spoke. There was very little personal about the room. On the desk was a silver frame with photographs of a woman, presumably Lombard's wife, and two blond-haired boys. There was a tennis trophy in the form of crossed tennis racquets. On the bookshelf was a camera, the old-fashioned kind with an extension bellows between the lens and the back. Joe noticed a rectangle on the wall that was a shade darker than the surrounding yellow paint.
It was Joe's turn to speak. "I followed up on the shopping bag. It's from a small sporting goods store not far from the hotel. It's a good thing it's small because the sales clerk remembered a man fitting the description I gave of Mr. Heinze. He bought a small baseball glove on Tuesday."
Lombard's face, which had a look of deep concentration, gave a wry grin. "Are you sure that wasn't a mistake?"
Joe grinned. "The clerk was pretty sure so I guess I am too. Too bad we don't have the sales receipt."
"Finally, what do you make of the telegram from Lotte Heinze?" Lombard leaned forward, showing some eager anticipation.
The boys were silent for a while. Frank said, "I can imagine how a man just arrived in a foreign country would find it very disturbing to find out that his wife no longer wished to be married to him."
"You think that it points to suicide?"
"Now hold it right there," objected Joe. "That's a mighty big leap to a conclusion."
"Admittedly so. But it would be a striking coincidence, don't you think?"
The interview ended at that point as no one had any more answers.
The brothers spoke quietly to one another in the corridor. "So, do you think Shelbourne left his papers in Prof. Coville's office?" Joe asked with a smirk.
"It's possible."
"I'm guessing the guy thinks there's a clue to Heinze's disappearance in there."
"And maybe there is."
"That would mean Prof. Coville is holding out on us."
Frank shrugged. "It's something to keep in mind. If we need to, we'll do our own search of the office."