Chapter 7

After the meeting with Mr. Airedale the group split up and pursued separate missions. Bess stayed behind with Melinda to discuss the fashion show. Nancy, with the name of the Hawaiian detective assigned to the case, headed to the police station. Frank and Joe made their way to the hotel's rental shop to rent diving gear.

The Hardys were greeted by, Leilani, the rental shop clerk and a native Hawaiian. She was in her late twenties and an experienced diver.

"The area you mentioned is a coastal fringing reef," she told the brothers. "I've worked here six years and I've never had anyone want to dive there. Its too close to the hotel." She eyed them suspiciously as if she might refuse to rent gear for such a dive.

Frank decided honesty was the best policy. "Do you know about the death here at the hotel?"

"Yes, of course. All the employees are talking about it." She lowered her voice, "I heard it was a murder."

The hotel had managed to keep publicity of the death away from most guests and out of the local papers, at least for the time being. The hotel's official comment to the few guests that had inquired was that the police were doing a routine investigation as was required in any death. The idea being that guests would assume the death was due to a heart attack or stroke. It was a clever way to side step the issue for now.

Frank flashed his PI badge. "My brother and I are assigned to the case. During our investigation we saw someone throw something in the water there. We have to investigate all leads no matter what they are."

"You're going to try and find something in that reef?"

"Yeah. Have you ever dived there?"

"Once, when I first started here."

"What can you tell us about it?"

"Entry can be tricky. The volcanic outcrop makes for slippery walking and sharp edges. The reef varies in depth from between 20 to 60 feet. You'll need lights if you're going to search the bottom, oh, and tanks." She surveyed the diving gear lining the shop's shelves and began pulling items down.

Twenty minutes later the brothers were surrounded by a variety of equipment – wet suits, fins, tanks, lines and reel, goggles, and lights.

Joe looked up from his gear and lightly elbowed his brother. "Don't look now, bro, but here comes Magilla Gorilla."

"Who?" Frank frowned then followed the direction Joe pointed and spotted the guard they'd met outside Mr. Airedale's room on the day of the murder.

The tall burly guard peered at them through the shop's window.

He did resemble the cartoon gorilla Joe was referring to and Frank broke into a grin.

The guard had a jutting jaw, over-sized chest, and short bushy hair. A prominent brow protruded over his small dark eyes.

Frank remembered Joe's comparison of Melinda Smith to Morticia and said, "Anyone ever tell you you watch too much TV?"

"Mom. All the time."

"Well, she's right."

The guard lumbered into the shop. Frank and Joe watched as an unpleasant sneer settled on his face. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the dee-teck-tives." He laid a beefy arm on the counter and eyed the diving gear with mild interest. "Looks like you boys are planning on going diving."

Although the word 'boys' irked him, Frank replied evenly, "Yeah." He intentionally ignored the guard's condescending smirk and kept checking his gear. He wasn't going to let this guy get under his skin.

The guard leaned back and placed both arms on the counter. "Diving for pleasure?"

Leilani moved further away to finish writing the receipt for the Hardys. Her dislike of the guard was obvious to Frank and Joe.

"Nope." Frank could feel the guard's disdain. Frank kept his eyes on his gear and gave Joe a warning glance to say nothing.

The guard's jaw shifted from side and side and his bushy brow lowered over his eyes. "So, what'cha diving for?"

Frank detected a hint of anger in the guard's voice and hid his satisfaction. This guy thought he was better than the Hardys. That thought didn't sit well with Frank. Frank met the guard's icy glare with one of his own. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

Frank saw the curiosity in the guard's eyes. Great. Got him right where I want him. "The murder weapon." Frank watched the information sink into the guard's bushy head.

The guard's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Real funny. That's a good one. I like a good joke now and then, but now I want a real answer. What are you diving for?"

"The murder weapon," Frank repeated. His gaze never left the guard as he turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder, "Joe, am I joking?"

"Nope." Joe stepped over his gear and stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother.

The guard's eyes continued to bore down on Frank. He towered a good two inches over the dark-haired Hardy who stood a respectable six-foot-one.

Joe was highly amused by the confrontation between Frank and the guard. It was rare to see his older brother — the intelligent, calm, and controlled Hardy — elicit such disdain.

With exaggerated expressions, and a grin, Joe said, "Ahem, you see, I've known Frank my whole life. And one thing I can tell you about Frank is that he never, and I mean never ever jokes. I mean, there are times when —"

The guard shoved Joe aside. He knew when he was being made fun of.

"Hey!" Joe balled a fist, ready to defend himself or his brother.

"Think you're pretty tough, huh?" The guard's face was an inch from Frank's. The big guard was all menace and muscle. "Well, don't ya, kid?"

Frank, fists clenched at his sides, stood his ground. "How much?" he asked with a sneer.

The question confused the guard, as it was meant to. He backed up a step and looked at Frank like he'd lost his mind.

"Huh?" the guard mumbled.

"How much you want to bet we don't find the murder weapon?" Frank jabbed a finger in the guard's chest and growled, "Put your money where your mouth is."

Frank let the guard ponder that for a moment. He turned to Leilani at the counter. "Miss, how much was my security deposit for this gear? Two hundred dollars?"

"Um, yes. Two hundred even." Leilani's eyes were wide and round. The sudden hostility between her customers and the guard, Butch, had her completely bewildered. Leilani was not well acquainted with Butch Overton and after witnessing this little episode she planned to keep it that way.

"Thanks," Frank said, acknowledging Leilani's answer, but his eyes never left Butch. Frank's next comment was directed at Butch, "Here's the deal. Just between you and me. If my brother and I don't find the weapon then you get my security deposit, all two hundred bucks of it."

Butch rubbed his chin and thought it over. The deal sounded too good to pass up. And then, who did these 'boys' think they were? They were going to find the murder weapon by diving in the ocean? The ocean was a pretty big place to be looking for a murder weapon. Good luck with that!

# # # #

Half an hour later, Frank and Joe stood on the beach squinting in the bright sunshine. They wore swim shorts, t-shirts, and rubber-soled water shoes. Their diving gear and other equipment lay in piles at their feet. They were in the same area Frank and Nancy had been in last night.

Joe hitched a thumb toward a group of palm trees to the right. "Water bottles and towels go over there."

"Okay." Frank collected his gear.

Joe kept his eyes on the sand as they walked the short distance. "That was quite a bet you made with the guard."

A trace of anger arose in Frank. "He ticked me off."

Frank and Joe stepped into the shade of the palm trees. The shade was a welcome retreat from the blinding sun.

Joe dropped his gear on the sand. One thing most people didn't know about Frank, Joe thought, was that Frank had a temper. A well-controlled temper, but a temper nonetheless. Early on, as the younger brother, Joe had learned not to push Frank too far and over the years Frank had learned to control his temper and emotions extremely well.

He's like a Vulcan. Joe grinned at the comparison. Another TV comparison. Maybe Frank and mom were right, maybe he did watch too much TV.

Joe quickly shook his head. Nah. No way.

"I don't know why he doesn't like me?" Frank said, bringing Joe out of his reverie.

"Yeah. Really weird." Joe lifted an eyebrow. "And what happens if we don't find a weapon?"

"We'll find the weapon. We're not leaving here until we do."

Joe looked out over the blue-green ocean and groaned, "That could take all day. And what if you're wrong? What if there's no weapon to be found?"

"Nancy and I saw the man throw something. What else could it be? Why would anyone wait until midnight to throw something in the ocean? It's the murder weapon. It's the only explanation that makes sense."

Joe chuckled. "I'm surprised you saw anything. If I was on this beach at night with an attractive woman … the woman of my dreams," he cooed and skillfully dodged Frank's attempted punch, "I wouldn't be watching murderers throw things in the ocean. I might be doing other things, if you know what I mean."

"And who says we weren't doing other things?" A smug smile betrayed Frank.

Joe laughed. "I thought so." He knew better than to ask what other things. Besides, he had a good imagination and he didn't mind using it.

He reached for his wetsuit and unzipped the zipper. "Still, bro, what if we don't find the weapon?"

"Let's just get going." Frank didn't want to think about that possibility. He stepped into his wetsuit and zipped it up.

A few minutes later the brothers were decked out in BC jackets and air tanks. The BC, or buoyancy compensator jackets, had valves for releasing air which would allow the brothers to sink slowly. Sinking too fast could disturb the reef's fragile habitat or cause the brothers to kick up sand and obscure the diving site.

Frank and Joe followed basic scuba diving procedures and methodically tested their air hoses and pressure gauges and found everything in working order. Diving goggles circled their heads, mouthpieces hung over their shoulders and a set of fins were in their hands as they headed to the ocean. Joe carried a magnetometer for detecting metallic objects. Frank carried a net bag containing a water-proof measuring tape and ten white metal squares. The squares had black numbers printed on their sides. The squares would be used to mark the areas the brothers searched. This way, the brothers would not search an area twice.

Frank and Joe carefully made their way over the treacherous volcanic rock and down to the ocean. Their rubber soled water shoes did a good job of gripping the slippery rocks. When they got to the water they pulled down their goggles, slipped on their fins, and adjusted their mouthpieces. After giving each other a 'thumbs up,' they gently slid into the ocean.

# # # #

Forty-two year old Detective Lau sat in his office and read through the report on his desk. He was waiting for the private eye hired by Lance Airedale. Lau was a twenty year veteran of the Big Island's police force. He'd joined right after graduating college and had seen his fair share of crime in twenty years. Murder was nothing new to him. The fact that this murder took place in one of the Big Island's newest and most expensive hotels was new though.

Lau had short, cropped, jet-black hair. Well-earned touches of gray graced the sides and top of his head.

A knock at the door drew his attention. His secretary entered and said, "The private investigator is here."

Lau rose and a young woman with strawberry-blonde hair stepped into his office.

The young woman approached his desk and stuck out a hand. "I'm Nancy Drew, one of the detectives working for Lance Airedale. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice."

Lau shook her hand. She appeared young, but he admired her professionalism. He had checked her background and that of the Hardy brothers. The reports indicated that, in spite of their ages (twenty-four and twenty-three), they had more investigative and criminal experience than some of his seasoned detectives. The brothers were the sons of the famous Fenton Hardy, a name synonymous with success. Lau had also contacted police detectives in River Heights, Nancy's hometown. Lau had heard nothing but praise for Nancy and the Hardys. Apparently the trio had recently solved a case in that small town. Rivera, the lead detective, gave much of the credit for catching a serial killer to Nancy and the Hardys. That was all Lau needed to hear. Lance Airedale had hired a worthy team.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Detective Lau. Please, have a seat."

Nancy sat her handbag on the floor and eased into a comfortable chair in front of Lau's desk. Lau returned to his desk. Nancy noticed that his desk was rather cluttered. Nancy liked order and things to be tidy.

Lau was the opposite. His desk may be cluttered, but his mind never was. He worked cases with a fierce tenacity and never gave up. Like Nancy, he followed even the most insignificant lead if he thought it might solve the case. Those who worked for him were held to a high standard which meant he could be a demanding boss. Failure was not an option, not on his watch. It was the motto he lived by and expected others to do the same.

Lau folded his hands together and rested them on the desk. "So, how can I help you Miss Drew?"

"First, I want to make it clear that the Hardys and I intend to work with the police and not against them. Any evidence we find will be brought to your attention immediately and in the spirit of full cooperation we're hoping you'll return the favor."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I checked your backgrounds and I admit your experience is impressive."

"Thank you. I suspected you would do as much." Nancy crossed her legs and leaned forward. "I know you're very busy, Detective Lau, and I don't want to waste your time so, I'll get right to my questions. Do you know what type of weapon was used to murder Mrs. Airedale?"

Lau leaned back in his chair. "I was just reviewing the report. The coroner removed a 9mm slug from Mrs. Airedale's chest. We haven't narrowed down the specific type of weapon yet. No shell casings were found at the scene."

"Pretty standard ammo," Nancy mused more to herself than to Lau. "Was Mrs. Airedale shot only once?"

"Yes. At fairly close range. The bullet nicked her heart. According to the coroner she died instantly."

"Any fingerprints, hair, or fiber evidence?"

"Nothing yet. But it's early still."

Nancy asked a few more questions, but Detective Lau had no further information. He told her the police were looking into the Airedales' backgrounds, particularly Gwen's. Nancy said the Hardys were doing the same via the Hardy Detective Agency in New York. She reiterated her promise that she and the Hardys would share any information they uncovered.

Lau said he and his department would do the same.

Nancy grabbed her handbag and rose. "Before I go, there is one more thing. The Hardys are searching the ocean right now hoping to find the murder weapon."

Lau was skeptical. "The ocean?"

Nancy explained about the late night stroll she and Frank had taken. She told of the man and how he'd thrown something into the ocean. She included the fact that she and Frank tried to pursue him, but to no avail.

Lau met this information with an expression of mild interest. His response was noncommittal, "I'm curious to see if the Hardy brothers discover anything."

# # # #

He wandered into the bar and slid onto a stool. A bartender promptly appeared and placed a napkin on the counter in front of him.

"What can I get you, sir?"

"A whiskey sour." The relaxed smile on his face matched his mood. Time for some celebrating. Gwen was finally out of the way, he'd disposed of the murder weapon, and his wife was off with 'the wives' club' as they called themselves. Yesterday they'd had facials, today it was hula dancing demos.

If he'd realized the importance of the wives' club sooner he could have saved himself a lot of time and trouble. His wife, like the other two wives, had their own design labels and used the Airedale Fashions runways to promote their fashion lines. Airedale Fashions certainly didn't mind, actually it welcomed them and the hefty fees the wives paid to be part of the show.

If he'd gone to one of these fashion shows sooner maybe he would have found Gwen four or five years ago. How ironic, he'd been searching far and wide for her never realizing she'd married Lance Airedale and had been living in Chicago right under his nose the whole time.

The only reason he'd come on this trip was because it was in Hawaii. An opportunity he couldn't pass up. He'd never been to the islands and his wife had been ecstatic when he announced he would join her. The other husbands had always joined their wives for the fashion shows. He never had and it hadn't put him in the best light with the others.

The bartender returned. "Your drink, sir."

He took out a money clip, peeled off a twenty, and tossed it on the counter. The bartender collected the bill and left.

The whiskey went down hot and smooth. Lemon and lime juice added the sour note he liked so well. Whiskey sours were one of his favorites. They always made him feel like a million bucks. Well, his latest marriage had certainly put him closer to that mark and if things went according to plan … well, he'd have all the money and no wife.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, folks. They are always appreciated. :)

To Smithy: I also think Frank, Joe, and Fenton are Mets fans. I know I'm one! ;)