Chapter 23

Friday morning, the day of the fashion show. Nancy, Frank, and Joe were once again seated in the Sunrise Café. In between bites of scrambled eggs, Joe phoned the Chicago detectives working the Diana Collins case. He told them Chase Westin had been murdered. The detectives were stunned by the news, but equally intrigued by Nancy and Joe's theory regarding Chase Westin and Gwen Hughes Airedale. The fact the two murder victims might have been friends and possibly worked together at Frazer and Frazer Designs was a new angle for the detectives to explore. The detectives rang off and promised to call with any information they uncovered.

After breakfast the trio gathered in the Hardys' hotel room. Nancy sat at the glass table, Joe sat on the edge of the bed, and Frank stood. He was ready to unveil his plan.

"Last night I dug through the backgrounds and life histories of our suspects. Based on what I uncovered, I believe I know who our killer is. Of course, this is just a guess. I don't have any hard evidence. That's why we have to corner him and hopefully get him to confess."

Joe looked doubtful.

Frank continued, "Everything in his past indicates he has a high regard for honor and integrity. I think we can use that knowledge against him. If we confront him and appeal to his innate sense of honor, he might confess."

Joe shook his head. "You really think he'll come right out and confess?"

"He might," Frank said, but doubt had slipped into his voice. "Our killer's been a leader, he's earned people's respect. His whole career's been built on honor, duty, teamwork, and integrity. Those things are very important to him."

"But now he's murdered someone," Joe responded hotly. "In my opinion, he doesn't have any of that anymore. He's crossed a line."

Frank nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I can't argue with you there. But we have to remember, Chase Westin's murder was committed in a moment of blind rage. The killer wasn't thinking clearly. I'm betting the killer now regrets what he did. If forced to face what he did, he might confess."

Joe wasn't convinced. "He was thinking clear enough to crush Westin's throat and push him off a balcony."

Frank grimaced at the image Joe's words conjured up. "Like I said, he was in a blind rage. And we're running out of time. Once the fashion show ends today there's nothing keeping our killer here. Most people are leaving tomorrow. Today's our last chance to catch the killer. We have to act fast."

Well, that was certainly true, Joe thought.

Frank pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "Last night Nancy and I came up with a plan to confront the killer. We're going to need your help, Joe."

Joe got off the bed and took a seat at the table. "I'm all ears."

"Nancy's going to call the killer and invite him to her room," Frank said. "She'll say she knows what he did and she wants to help him."

Nancy said, "We figured the killer will be more likely to agree to meet me than either of you. Being a woman, I present less of a threat."

"Once she has him alone," Frank said, "she'll appeal to his honesty and remind him of his moral obligation."

Joe wasn't sure he liked what he was hearing. "This all sounds risky. Your so-called plan puts Nancy in a lot of danger. Don't forget our killer had no trouble taking down Westin."

"The element of surprise worked in the killer's favor," Frank said. "Westin had no clue he was walking into a trap."

Nancy smiled. "This time, the killer will be walking into our trap. And we're taking precautions. I'll be wearing a wire. Detective Kim dropped it off this morning. And Frank will be right outside my door."

"I'll be listening in on her conversation," Frank said. "The minute she gets the killer to confess, or if she encounters any trouble, I'll come in. If I sense anything wrong before that, I'll be inside in a flash." He pulled a keycard out of his shorts' pocket. "Gaulter's secretary gave me a key to Nancy's room this morning."

Joe still wasn't convinced. "I'm not sure I like this plan." He was astonished that for once, he was the one being cautious and reasonable. "A lot can go wrong."

"True," Frank admitted. "No plan survives contact with the enemy. But there is a little more to our plan." Frank spent the next ten minutes filling Joe in on the remaining details. He ended with, "We're counting on you for that extra backup."

"You got it," Joe said with a gleam in his eyes and got to his feet. "When's show time?"

Frank looked at his watch. It was nine a.m.

"Eleven o'clock," Frank said. "That gives us plenty of time to get ready." He grabbed his pocket knife and cell phone off the bedside table. His cell phone buzzed surprising him.

"It's Melinda Smith," he told the others and put the phone to his ear. "Frank Hardy here. Yes. We're in the middle of something. Yes. Okay. Be there in a few minutes."

He ended the call and looked at Joe and Nancy. "Melinda says they need Joe and me to help move some things for the fashion show. Apparently, they're short-handed. Melinda said a lot of the local help canceled this morning after hearing about the latest murder."

Joe was suspicious. "I find this a little weird, Melinda asking for our help. She and Lance know we're working on the case. Helping them will pull us away from the case."

Frank thought it over and said, "It does strike me as odd, too. I say we give them a hand. It shouldn't take long to move a few things. Melinda said they're running out of time and options." As are we, he thought and turned to Nancy. "I'll call you when we're finished. We're still set for eleven."

"I'll be ready," Nancy said.

# # # #

Frank and Joe met up with Melinda and Bess. The brothers, and their muscles, were put to work moving several large stage components and lighting equipment. Melinda had been right, it didn't take long. The brothers were finished in an hour. They were also hot and sweaty.

Frank wiped his forehead with a paper towel. "I need some water. How 'bout you?"

Joe wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "I have a few things to take care of. I'll catch up with you later." He turned to go, then suddenly stopped and spun around. "Hey, be extra careful."

"I will." Frank's face was solemn and the brothers exchanged an unspoken message. Frank hadn't shown it earlier, but he was extremely concerned for Nancy and her safety.

Their plan to catch the killer had been made in haste and desperation. With only one day left, he and Nancy had figured it was the fastest way to solve this case and bring a killer to justice. Now that Frank had a moment to reflect, he hoped his intuition was right. He hoped the killer was a man of honor.

Frank remembered seeing a drinking fountain in a nearby hallway and headed that way.

After several gulps of icy water Frank made a quick stop in the Men's room and splashed water on his face. Finally, he stepped back into the hallway and phoned Nancy.

It was twenty to eleven.

When she answered, he said, "You still want to go through with the plan?"

"Yes, I'm all set." She sounded confident.

"Okay, we're on. I'll be in place in fifteen minutes."

He hung up and mentally prepared himself. It was show time. Do or die time.

"Hardy!"

Frank turned at the sound of his name. Two of the three new guards Melinda had hired were walking toward him. Bess had pointed them out at the luau.

Frank's brow settled into a menacing frown as they neared. What did these two want? "Yeah?"

The taller guard was about the same height as Frank and thirty pounds heavier. He looked like he could do a circuit on a pro-wrestling tour.

He walked up, got in Frank's personal space, and pointed. "You're Frank Hardy, right?"

"Yeah." Frank didn't like the way either guard was eyeing him.

The taller one had a big lumpy nose. Looked like it had been in a few too many fights. The barest hint of a smirk played at the corners of the man's lips and his eyes were locked on Frank with the intensity of laser beams.

The other guard was short and built like the Tasmanian Devil. All chest and shoulders. His hands were on his belt. He was scanning the hallway like he was on the lookout for guests.

This was a secluded hall, frequented by janitors and maids, not guests.

The tall guard rubbed his lumpy nose with a big, rough hand. "We have a message for you."

A sense of unease crept up Frank's spine and every nerve went on alert. His eyes narrowed to obsidian slits as he glanced from one guard to the other. The shorter guard had a strained expression and seemed jumpy, kind of like a kid about to rob a candy store.

Frank tensed and curled his hands into loose fists. "What's the message?"

"This!"

A fist plowed into Frank's stomach and drove the air out of his lungs.

Sucker-punched!

The sick feeling of nausea doubled him over and he struggled to catch a breath.

Two sets of hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him down the hall. The toes of his tennis shoes squeaked as he was pulled along the linoleum floor.

Frank fought the urge to vomit. The guard's blow had been well-placed and hard. A little higher and it would have broken a rib. Frank sucked in a deep breath and jerked free of his attackers. He fell on his hands and knees and scrambled to his feet.

The surprised guards turned to attack. Frank was ready. He brought his knee to his chest and kicked out like he was knocking down a door. The kick was rushed and lacked power. He kicked the tall guard in the upper thigh. Not the target Frank was aiming for. He wanted the groin. Still, the tall guard stumbled backwards.

Frank turned and snapped a left jab at the short guard. The blow caught Shorty in the side just above the liver. Jabs were great punches. No wind-up needed. Sharp delivery and sharp recovery.

Shorty went down, sucking air.

Frank turned back to the big guard. The big man was unfazed and ready for more. He launched a straight right at Frank's face. Frank dodged the massive paw and countered with a right hook that landed on the guard's shoulder. The guard let loose with a stream of rapid-fire jabs. This guy was no dummy. He was big and strong, and appeared to have some boxing experience. His jabs were fast and accurate.

Frank backed off. He'd gone from offense to defense. Not good. He dodged as many jabs as he could. A glancing blow sent his head reeling.

Shorty was up and rubbing his chest, ready to join the fray.

Now, it was two against one and these guys knew what they were doing. Frank held his own for a while. Got in a couple of good punches. Then the tall guard came to an epiphany, this fight had gone on far too long. With Herculean effort, he summoned all his strength, along with two-hundred-thirty pounds of weight, and landed a straight right square on Frank's jaw.

Frank literally saw stars before everything went black.

# # # #

Nancy paced her hotel room. The bedside clock told said it was exactly eleven o'clock. She stopped pacing, checked that the wire under her blouse was secure, and held up her phone. It was time to make the call. Frank should be in place and ready. She dialed and waited. The other phone was answered after three rings.

"Hello."

"This is Nancy Drew. We need to talk about Diana Collins' murder. Could you meet me in my room?"

A pause and then, "I'll be right there." Click.

Nancy stood there stunned. He hadn't even asked for her room number. She started to doubt herself and the plan. No, she thought, Frank and Joe were counting on her. They were in place and waiting. Frank would burst in if anything went wrong.

She went back to pacing. It settled her nerves.

A soft knock at the door sent a shiver down her spine. That was fast.

She let out a calming breath and pressed a tiny button on the wire. It started recording. She squared her shoulders, walked to the door, and opened it.

A/N: Another thank you to those who have left a review. I know you guys are going to yell at me for ending this chapter where I did. If I say I'm sorry will you believe me? No, didn't think so. Hope to post the next chapter soon! :)