Boosting - Chapter 13

Fenton had been phoning Nancy from a restaurant in her home town of River Heights when she'd delivered the news about Frank's reference requests, almost, he considered, as an afterthought. It had shaken him so badly that he'd not known what to say, or how to react, so he'd simply said nothing until prompted. And even then it was with a weak: "Sorry…thanks for letting me know—" before he'd immediately cut the connection.

He stood up and threw a twenty-dollar bill down onto the table before stalking out. He knew it was possible that his oldest would be offered the job, but he'd not believed it would happen and certainly not for the first job he was interviewed for – it seemed so unlikely!

Fenton had barely set a foot outside when his phone started to ring. It was no surprise when he looked at the screen to find it was the office again. "Hi Con," he greeted, in a flat, monotone.

"You okay, Flash?"

"Why does my son have to be so darned GOOD at everything?" Fenton blurted out and kicked a stray stone. He belted it so hard that he nearly hit someone in the head. Luckily they had their back to him and didn't realise.

"A chip off the ol' block."

That made Fenton smile at least.

"Just because there's probably an offer on the table, doesn't mean Frank'll take it. Give Joe time to work on him. He might come back from this break with a different outlook on things. Don't assume the worst, okay? And besides, you still need to have that chat with Frank."

"Yeah—"

"Not 'yeah', just get on with it, stop being a coward!"

"I'm not being a coward, Con, it's just not the right time."

"Fen! This is me you're talking to remember?!"

"And I'm the boy's father remember?!" Fenton snapped back, and then instantly regretted getting spitty. He sighed and sat down on a bench. "Sorry Con. You're right. Of course, you're right, it's just…you know…"

"Yeah, I know. You gonna be alright?"

"Uh-huh. Get back to what you were doing Con. I'll see you in the next few days, following up on a lead. Nancy can fill you in."

"Right-o, see ya partner. Don't be a stranger now!"

"Con—"

"Yeah?"

"Write him a good reference."

"Already on it."

Fenton disconnected and dropped the phone into his inside pocket. He didn't feel any better, so on reflection, he extracted it again to make a call to the one person he knew had the power to make everything seem not so catastrophic = Laura Hardy.

*****

Although Nancy had been so excited by the three emails that Con had received, the messages had proven a great disappointment. Indeed, they had promised so much and delivered so little.

The first informed Con that he'd won several million on another country's national lottery. Or so they'd thought until Nancy had, for the fun of it, entered the total into a currency converter, the total immediately dropping to a less than impressive $13.14.

"Wow! I'll put it in the bank and live off the interest!" Con announced.

"And all you have to do is give your bank details to have the money transferred to your account. And you don't have any worries about security because they swear they're legitimate!"

"I'll do that later. What's the next email?"

Nancy deleted the message and opened the next. It was from a 'pharmaceutical' company. She turned to Con with her eyes theatrically wide. "Con, you know you can talk to me don't you…about anything? There's no shame in needing a little help at your age!"

"Watch your step—"

"They're offering such a good price, much cheaper than your usual supplier."

"Viagra is one area that is goin' to remain unexplored. Delete it and move on."

"You sure Con? I can always jot down the details for you—" she picked up her pen and went for the notepad.

"DREW!"

"Okay, okay, it's deleted, jeeze. Touchy much!"

"Oh boy. I'm in trouble if you end up working with us for any length of time and you and 'Joker-Joe' join forces!" Con muttered.

Nancy laughed. "Relax Con, unlikely...right…to the final email." She clicked her mouse. "This is more like it! Someone has a Fairlane for sale and…yep, it's a blue and white one. Doesn't say much more, other than it's in great condition."

Con leaned even further in. "Any contact details?"

"Just a cell number." Nancy automatically started jotting it down. "Don't read too much into that, most people aren't comfortable giving away information about themselves by email." She turned the pad to Con who already had a phone in hand.

"A name?"

"Ron."

Nancy watched as he dialled and waited for an answer, winking at her as he did so. His face suddenly became more animated and he forced his face into a wide grin to change the pitch of his voice to a softer friendlier tone as someone answered.

"Ah yes, hello. Am I speaking to Rob?…Oh, I apologise, Ron. My name is John, you answered an advertisement I left about purchasing a Ford Fairlane?…Yes, that's correct."

Con arose from the table and began pacing as he pumped Ron for more information than he'd presumably ever intended on revealing to a complete stranger. Nancy was impressed, no very impressed – Con was more than good!

After another five minutes, Con eventually brought the conversation to an end with a thank you and a 'sort of' promise to phone him back.

"Well?" Nancy asked afterwards.

Con ruefully shook his head. "Lives in Oregon, so couldn't be living any further away from Bayport if he'd planned it. The car wouldn't have had time to be smuggled that far – and Ron was proud that he still has the original radio and it's in good working order. Besides which, Ron is 71 years old and has owned that car from when it first rolled off the production line."

"Thought it was too good to be true," Nancy said, and checked her watch. "We need to get a move on. It's nine-thirty." She began powering down Fenton's computer. "Let's go and have a look at this Corvette convertible."

*****

Fenton's chat with his adored wife, Laura, had given him plenty of food for thought and none of it stale or rotten. He realised that he'd been so singularly focused on the negative aspects of Frank leaving, that he'd discounted the possibility of any positives. So thank heavens for his darling Laura and her open mind!

He'd repeated the conversation he'd had with Con about the possibility of having to replace Frank, and voiced his fears that he would be shutting the door on their son with no hope of return. But his beloved Laura had offered a solution that was so simple and so obvious that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it himself.

She'd suggested they continue hiring extra temporary help, as required and leave Frank's job unfilled. Immediately, Fenton had been able to pinpoint several acquaintances who he suspected would be only too happy for the opportunity to provisionally fill that type of a role in such a well respected investigative practice, the plan was definitely a doer!

And then lovely Laura had given him further food for thought: the added advantage would be Joe flying solo – an experience he wouldn't otherwise get. One of Joe's weaknesses was that he found it difficult to work without his brother; he was like a lost soul when Frank wasn't at his shoulder and Fenton was convinced that his youngest had so much more to offer that was being dumbed down by Frank's big brother, alpha persona.

Yes, he was in a position of turning a disaster into an opportunity for quite a few people that he cared about.

His beautiful Laura urged him to consider why it would be so awful if Frank did decided to take the job? That surely their oldest's happiness was their greatest prerogative, not where he laid his pen every morning? Later, if the wind was blowing in the right direction and Frank's mental state was to improve sufficiently, he might begin looking back over his shoulder and realise what he'd abandoned, and there, waiting for him, would be that yellow brick road to draw him back to the agency and his dusty desk.

Fenton wanted to smack a big kiss right on her lips and swing her around in his arms, but Laura was on the other end of the line and across state, so he had to satisfy himself with uttering a few sweet nothings and promises which could be cashed in upon his return.

He loved his Laura – and to think they'd almost never got together. If it hadn't have been for that stupid accident, it would have been the age-old adage of 'ships that passed in the night'.

So it was a calm and serene Fenton Hardy who was pulling his rental car up into the driveway of Carson Drew's three-story, brick colonial home and exiting with his briefcase.

He stepped onto the porch, rang the bell and turned to look at the small blue sporty car that was parked up on the driveway. For some reason he knew it was Nancy's, but couldn't fathom why, and then he remembered. Con had done a trace on her car when Frank had done his disappearing act and he'd subconsciously remembered the license number. Clearly, his oldest wasn't the only person who enjoyed a fast ride!

"Frank Hardy, what are you doing here, young man?" asked a voice at his shoulder making him jump. He turned quickly to find an older woman standing in the doorway. She had obviously been a vivid redhead at one time, but now her hair was streaked with white, giving it a rich auburn color. Her eyes were a particularly startling green color.

The instant he'd spun, her face had taken on the same expression as his own – complete and utter surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't—" they both said at the same time, and started to laugh.

"You go first," Fenton insisted.

"I thought you were Frank, but I'm now guessing you're Fenton Hardy given those few grey hairs. Am I right?" she asked, her eyes lifting at the corners with mirth.

Fenton smoothed his hair down self-consciously. "Ten out of ten. And are you Hannah?"

"Yes I am – I should have been a detective, although there's no prizes for guessing who your son is."

"I know, fine-looking boy, isn't he?"

"Well Nancy's taste in male company has never failed her yet!" Hannah said jovially and slipped an arm into his. "Come inside, Fenton. You've got such good timing. I've just finished a batch of a new cookie recipe and I need a willing volunteer to give me an opinion. I'm making them for a fund-raiser and I'd rather poison you than them."

She pulled him inside and he followed after her down a long hallway to the kitchen, the wonderful smell of fresh baking growing stronger as he got closer. He was taken aback by how warm and welcoming Hannah Gruen was and he'd not even been asked yet as to why he'd turned up unannounced on her doorstep – and then she was pouring him a coffee and plonking a plate of cookies in front of him. It was easy to see why Nancy was so fond of her.

"So—" Hannah began. "What brings the internationally renowned Private Investigator Fenton Hardy to our humble home?" she asked.

Having taken a bite of his first cookie, Fenton was forced to chew and swallow before he could answer, hearing himself making some very odd noises. Eventually, he was able to respond. "Hannah – I don't know what you've put in these cookies, but you ought to patent the recipe – these are the best I've ever tasted!"

"Really?"

"Seriously, I'm not kidding."

Hannah went pink. "Nonsense, they're just cookies."

"Don't be so modest. Anyway, the reason why I'm invading your privacy—"

"—It's not an invasion, Fenton. It's a thrill to meet you at last."

Fenton smiled grimly. "I'd save that statement until after I've shown you this." He lifted his briefcase onto his lap and pulled out the photo of Bobbie Shandley. "Do you recognise this girl?"

Accepting the picture from him, Hannah glanced at the image for a second, and then quickly raised her reading glasses from her neck. She didn't put them on, hovering them instead and using them like a magnifying glass. "Yes, I do. She came to see Nancy not so long ago, but of course, Nancy wasn't here." She lowered the glasses and tapped the photo with one of the arms. "I forget what her name is off-hand, but I seem to recall it was one of those names that can be used for either a boy or a girl."

"Bobbie?"

She pointed her spectacles at him. "Yes, that's it, Bobbie. May I ask why you're showing me this?"

"She's gone missing and I've been hired to try and track her down."

"Oh dear! Poor girl, did she run away, or—"

"It's an 'or' I'm afraid. Believe it or not, Bobbie was hired to look into a spate of cars being stolen. She was visiting Nancy, I assume, to seek her advice or guidance, but she's not been heard from since. She didn't give any indication to you as to where she was going afterwards, did she?"

"Our conversation was brief. She didn't dally when she found Nancy wasn't here. Said she'd come back another day…wait…I think she said she was staying at a hotel in town and would be in River Heights for a few days."

"Did she say which hotel?" Fenton asked.

"I knew you were going to ask me that. No, unfortunately she didn't. I actually got the impression that she was a friend of Nancy's from the way she spoke, it was like she knew her."

"Nancy has never met Bobbie, but Bobbie has researched Nancy, so that might be why you got that impression."

"Oh I see. If I had known that, I would have asked more questions. I'm afraid I rather gave too much away than I would have done otherwise. Like the fact Nancy is staying with your family in Bayport. Did I do wrong?"

Fenton smiled, "No, you didn't say anything wrong. In fact, if you said that, you might have prompted her to track down Nancy in Bayport. Who knows, perhaps she's on her way there right now."

He sat back in his chair and thought over what Hannah had told him. "I think I need to find out which hotel she was staying in. If, as you say, she was staying in town for a few days, perhaps her investigation brought her to River Heights for more reasons than to drop in on Nancy." Returning the photograph to his briefcase, Fenton began to stand up.

"Are you here overnight, Fenton?"

"I'm not sure, depends upon what I find out in town."

"In that case, why don't you stay here rather than worry about whether or not to book into a hotel. That way, you can go straight into town and get started on tracking down where Bobbie is, or was, staying."

Fenton paused. What Hannah said made sense. He would have to play it by ear otherwise and it would slow him down. However, he wasn't sure if he was comfortable staying at Carson Drew's home, it felt like he was taking advantage. "Well—"

"Good, that settles it," Hannah said and smiled shiftily. "Go and get your things and we'll take them upstairs, then you can head straight into town." Fenton opened his mouth to object, but Hannah jumped it again: "Actually, I'm glad you're staying. Carson is out of town on business, and this house is so big when you're the only one in it."

Fenton stared at her in consternation. "Hannah! You are a bad girl, stop lambasting me!"

"So what if I am? It makes sense, doesn't it? Save on expenses."

"My expenses are recouped through the government."

"Save on time?"

"What are another few hours in the scheme of things?"

"Home cooked dinner?"

"I graciously accept."