NOTE: As you saw in the last part, I have a soft spot for Edmund Gilbert who played Fenton and decided he needed some romance in his life. Now on with the show. (grr, page breaks are giving me trouble. Sorry)

The Hardy Boys: House of Cards: Chapter Two

"Frank, I'm sorry about what happened at the club," Joe said as they walked to the room that had been Frank's for the past three weeks. "If I hadn't gotten mad, I would have stayed and none of this would have happened."

"It's not your fault. I was pushing your buttons on purpose. I don't know why." And he really didn't. He and Joe were best friends, closer than any two people he'd ever met and yet, for some reason, little brother had been getting on his nerves lately.

Frank stripped off his shirt the moment he entered his room then tossed it on the bed. His shoes and socks came off next then he went into the bathroom and shut the door. On second thought he locked the door. Not a rational move, but he had bigger thoughts to ponder.

He started the shower then stripped off the rest of his clothes. That revealed a clump of bruises around his thigh and his right knee was swollen. He had a vague memory of smacking his knee hard when he was thrown down on the cement floor. Add Aspirin to the things he needed to consume at breakfast.

The shower, like everything at Villa Rivera, was large and luxurious. Back home, he showered standing in a tub from the 1950's. Here, he was standing on glazed tiles in a space that was the size of four phone booths. The water was hot and it rained down with needle sharpness that felt good on his sore muscles. Now, with his adrenaline waning, he could feel every ache. His back was particularly bad as was the slice around his left wrist. When the soap hit raw flesh it burned like the dickens but at least it proved one important thing. He was alive.

Lisa wasn't.

And he wasn't going to leave this town until he had his revenge on all three of the monsters who were responsible.

# # #

"Madre de dios, Fenton, forgive me, when my men called to say they'd found your son on the road, I had no idea."

They were sitting in the garden at the back of the house and Marguerite had just finished retelling Frank's tale. Fenton had listened quietly, offering additional details now and then but mostly minding his coffee. Hearing the story for the second time didn't lessen the blow and it actually seemed uglier when told amid the delicate roses and vibrant butterflies.

"He did not see any of assailants," Rivera said, thinking out loud, "but he heard them speak. English?"

That caught Fenton's full attention. "You know, you're right. Frank mentioned several things he heard them say, so they had to be speaking English, his Spanish isn't that good."

"Excellent. That will narrow the focus. Most of our homegrown thugs speak nothing but their native tongue." He picked up his coffee cup and then leaned back for a leisurely sip. It might seem to the world that he was relaxing, but both Fenton and Marguerite knew him well enough to know the gears were turning.

"Frank thought the whole incident was too well organized to be their first time. Have there been any other incidents like this, abductions and assaults that didn't end up in murder?"

"There was a case a few months ago. A tourist from London. His hotel reported him missing but he showed up a day later, checked out and flew home without making a complaint. Anything more than that, I'd have to look up. But first, we need to discover the identity of our victim. Lisa? A last name?"

"He didn't say." Fenton refilled his cup from a carafe that the cook had left on the table. "All he told us was Lisa and she was from Chicago."

"I don't know her last name." Frank came over to the table with Joe on his heels. "Captain Rivera."

"Frank. My niece has filled me in on the details of your ordeal. I can't tell you how much it pains me to know of such horrendous dealings in my city."

The boys took the empty seats across from their father as Marguerite stood and excused herself. "I'll see to breakfast."

Rivera poured coffee in a fresh cup then set it in front of Frank. "I'm sure right now, the whole evening is a jumble, but you're a very observant young man and I'd bet that you know more than you think you do."

"Probably." Frank added cream and sugar to the coffee but didn't take a sip. "I heard them talking a lot."

"In English," Rivera prompted. "Good English?"

"Yes!" Frank said, lighting up for the first time since he'd come home. "You're right. The one who killed Lisa, his English was perfect and his accent was American."

"Like yours?" Rivera tapped his finger against the side of Frank's cup.

"No, some other part of the country. I can't place it though." Frank lifted the cup to his lips but instead of drinking he let the steam and the earthy smell play across his face. "Southern maybe but not twangy. Not deep South."

"It will come to you. What about the others?"

"The one who helped me, his English was almost too perfect, like he'd learned it in school but it wasn't his first language."

"A very interesting observation and very telling. They might have been tourists themselves, or students who come for the party boats. We get many of them this time of year." Rivera shifted his gaze to the younger Hardy. "And what say you of all of this, Joseph?"

Joe popped up like he'd been caught napping in class. "Me? I only know what Frank's told us."

"Not true. Marguerite said that you were at the club with your brother last night. It's likely this is where Frank and the young lady were chosen. Don't you think?"

"Maybe, but they couldn't have known they stop at that beach. More likely they were hanging around the cove waiting for someone to fall into the trap. Lisa knew that stretch was easily accessible but still secluded enough that they wouldn't be disturbed. . . well. . I'm sure other people have had the same thought."

"A sandy lover's lane." He threw a look at Frank who had his face hidden in his coffee cup. "There's no shame in wanting to share the moonlight with a beautiful young woman. She was beautiful?"

"Very," said Frank. "Long blonde hair, green eyes, except she had this crazy lipstick that made her lips look blue. She said it reminded her of when she was a kid and she'd play in the snow too long." He smiled at the memory then it quickly slipped away. "She was 22, 23, 5'5", 110, 120lbs." All facts and business now. "She was wearing a yellow dress with a black, printed, silk shawl. I didn't see that on the beach afterward, so they must have taken it."

"That's very good." Rivera gave Frank's arm a clap. "More details will come. You'll see. In the meantime, I have my people checking the hotels for anyone matching her description. If she's a tourist and she was here alone, it may be a few days before it's realized she's gone missing. Ah! I smell magdalenas."

"I'm surrounded by detectives." Marguerite put a plate of small, yellow muffins in the center of the table and Louise followed with plates of eggs and fruit. "And I don't want to hear one person say they're not hungry. It's no disrespect to anyone if you eat breakfast and you'll think better with full stomachs."

"Actually –" Frank caught the muffin that sailed his way. "I was going to say, I appreciate how well you've been taking care of us and I hope to find a way to repay your kindness one day."

"Start by eating everything on your plate and end by leaving the detective work to Uncle Victor and his men."

There was an awkward silence around the table.

"Ree," said Fenton. "I think Victor has already proven that Frank and Joe are an asset to the case."

"As witnesses, not as detectives. Those men are still out there and at least two of them wanted Frank dead. Do you think they'd hesitate to finish the job if they ran into him again?"

"They've taken down bigger bad guys than these punks."

"And yet here he sits battered and bruised."

"He wasn't expecting trouble yesterday," Fenton defended. "Now he's looking for it. He'll be fine."

Clearly she wasn't buying it. "Men," she muttered under her breath then got up and left the table.

Frank excused himself next after only eating a few bites of breakfast. Joe started to go after him but Fenton reached across the table to stop him.

"Finish your breakfast."

Joe continued to gaze at the path that led back to the house. "I just don't think he should be alone."

"He's not alone and he knows it. Give him a few minutes then you can go check on him."

Joe reluctantly gave in to his father's wishes by jabbing his fork into a slice of mango as if it were one of the men who had hurt his brother.

At that, Victor downed the last of his coffee then pushed back his seat. "As much as I'm loath to continue the trend, I should take my leave as well."

"Captain Rivera," said Joe. "You'll find Lisa, right? Her body, I mean? Even if they dumped her in the ocean?"

"Most likely. The sea has many secrets but she likes to give up the dead. Today we give thanks that it's only one body, yes?" He turned to Fenton and offered his hand. "I'll call you later this afternoon and let you know how the investigation is going." When Fenton started to rise, he waved him back down. "This used to be my home, too, so certainly, I can see myself out."

When he was gone, Joe picked up his fork, stabbed at his eggs then let it fall back on the plate. "I'm not really hungry, either. I guess I'll go upstairs and unpack. We are going to be staying awhile, aren't we?"

"A few more days at least."

With that, Joe went inside, too leaving Fenton on the patio with only the butterflies for company.

"Lisa!"

"Joe."

"Joe?" Frank turned his head and saw his brother sitting in the overstuffed reading chair that filled the East corner of the room. He brought his gaze back to center and stared up at the ceiling letting the feeling of soft and comforting slowly erase the feeling of cold, hard and damp.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Couple of hours."

Again Frank turned his head to look at his brother. "You been sitting there the whole time?"

Joe shrugged sheepishly. "If you forget the pool, the tennis courts, the skeet shooting range and the game room, there's really not much to do around here."

Frank laughed slightly and that made Joe's grin widen.

"Well, if you're bored then I guess you won't mind taking a ride with me."

The smile fell off Joe's face. "Where?"

Frank sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "To find the place where they took me. If I can find the beach where we stopped I can probably figure it out from there. We were only in the van for maybe ten minutes and it had to be someplace secluded. Can't be too many buildings around the beach that fit what I remember."

"Are we going to tell Dad what we're doing?"

"You don't have to come," said Frank, which was the same as a no answer.

"Are you kidding? I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again."

"That could be a problem. Since I'm about to go to the bathroom."

Joe laughed. "Okay, we'll make that the one exception."

Frank disappeared into the bathroom which was larger than his whole bedroom back home, while Joe fought with himself to stay seated. Part of him wanted to go right to Fenton to tell him what they were about to do. Another part of him wanted to keep it a secret. He was pretty sure Fenton would object. Even though he'd defended their inclusion in front of Marguerite at the breakfast table, he suspected it would be a different story one-on-one. He'd probably insist on going along and that was something Joe didn't want. He wanted the time alone with Frank. Wanted to be the one to help him through this terrible time. It was ridiculously selfish, but after last night's argument, he really needed to know that he was back in his brother's favor.

No. This was one case where ask forgiveness, not permission was the best option. He only hoped he wouldn't regret that decision later on.

Marguerite knocked once on the door to Fenton's bedroom then let herself in. He was on the phone but waved for her to stay.

"I'm not sure how much longer well be here, but I'm sure I won't make it back I time for the Rowley deposition. Can you manage without me? Great. I'll let you know, and Henry, keep this to yourself please? Okay. Goodbye." He hung up with a heavy sigh. "Postponing our return once was bad enough but now a second time?" He sat down on the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I keep thinking that this wouldn't have happened had we left last week like we were supposed to."

"You can't think like that. Our lives change with every decision. If you'd gone back last week you might have crashed in a hurricane or got hit by a car as soon as you left the airport."

He looked up at her quizzically. "I know you're trying to make me feel better but. . ."

She sat down on the bed beside him close enough for him to take her hand and pull it into his lap.

"Did you know that the boys went out? Carlos just told me. He met them in the garage, offered to drive them but they said no and took the rental."

"I didn't know, but I'm not surprised. It's too early to talk to anyone at the club so I imagine Frank is trying to find the cove where it happened."

"And this honestly doesn't concern you? What if they find the location and the bad guys are still there?"

"They'd have to be pretty stupid to hang around a crime scene."

"Darling, they kidnapped and assaulted two innocent people for sport. I'd say they're not the brightest cows in the barn."

True enough. He lifted the back of her fingers to his lips. "Don't worry. Joe's with him. They'll be fine." She started to protest but he cut her words off with a kiss. "Please Ree, don't fight me on this."

"I just hate that from now on Frank's memory of this place will be something so awful. He'll never want to return and I don't know what that means for us . . . which reminds me. You were going to leave on that plane today without telling them the truth about us. Why? I'm sure they want you to be happy and if this is what makes you happy-"

Fenton stood up with a groan. "They won't understand. I'm old enough to be your father."

"Barely!"

"Still. . . I can't take this on right now. We need to find the men who did this and then we can move on." He picked up the phone receiver and dialed.

"Now who are you calling?"

"Victor. He has to have -" he turned away from her and said into the phone. "Captain Rivera, please. Fenton Hardy." He listened a moment then 'uh huh'd' a few times, said thank you in Spanish, then hung up. "Tell me something. You're a girl."

"Glad you noticed."

He made a face at her. "Would you come to this town on your own? Lisa did ask Frank for a ride home from the club, so she must have gone to the club alone."

"Not necessarily. If she had eyes for Frank, playing stranded damsel is an excellent way to get some alone time on a moonlit night."

"So no qualms about getting into a car with a stranger?"

"He said he met her on the beach last week, so not a complete stranger, and if she was there with friends they'd know who she left with if there was trouble. They'd know where to look."

"But they didn't look. The officer I just spoke to said that no one's been reported missing and they haven't found a single Lisa registered at any of the hotels here in town. "

"Not a tourist then. She lives here. She led Frank to that beach remember, so maybe she goes there often, say with a variety of young men and one of them didn't like it?"

"Which would mean this wasn't random. She was targeted and Frank just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time." Fenton thought that through a moment then shook his head. "Only one thing wrong with that theory. Frank sounded sure these guys had done this before. That doesn't fit with a jealous boyfriend out for revenge."

"Personally, I like our version of the crime better than Frank's. If Lisa was the target, then this is over. If it was random, then these guys are getting ready to do it again and now that they've killed it'll be much easier to kill a second time."