Franknjoe, Nightwatcher, chromde, Mebabs, Polaris, Miss Fenway, thanks again for enjoying the last chapter. Hope you like this one too.
Tukkie: Yeah, I cramp like 9 chapts into 2 - I just dont see the need to summarize everything from Right on Target to Pacific Conspiracy ;p By doing so, I miss out part of the closeness between brothers part, but than, that is a given. I'm sticking to action here, and I want to wrap it up in 20 chapts plus minus a couple rather than the almost 50 short chapts that I did some three years back. So, longer but fewer chapts here.
WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS
Chapter Three
-o-
Fenton Hardy stood up wearily after he finished a cursory examination of the body that was so casually left sprawled by one of the major storm canals. He nodded to the forensic team, who swiftly moved in to process the corpse.
"It was Andrew Kempton," he said to his friend, Bayport Police Chief Ezra Collig, in a low tight voice.
A part of him was very afraid for his son; yet another part of him could not help that sense of morbid relief. The helpless waiting over the last seven months, not knowing when and how Andrew would strike, had his nerves stretched unbearably tight, almost to the breaking point. At least he now had something to act on.
His partner and close friend, Sam Radley nodded grimly in agreement.
"Are you absolutely certain?" Collig asked. "The MO for both deaths appeared quite different..."
Fenton closed his eyes as an involuntary shudder moved through him. The first victim had both her legs broken. It was a clean break, just like his was four years ago. He was still waiting for the forensic team to work out the real cause of death, something that could explain that terrified expression that was her death mask. This second victim had his back totally and evenly flayed by a cat-o-nine just like…
"It was what he did to me. Andrew knows that I will remember…" Fenton answered curtly.
Collig threw him a sympathetic gaze.
"These two died because of me…" Fenton could not help the guilt that assaulted him; Kempton came to Bayport because his family was in Bayport. If only I had found the Kemptons earlier!
"No Fenton," Collig rebuked gently; he had been helping Fenton with the Kempton case on and off over the last four years. "A serial like Kempton would have picked on someone regardless. Don't let his mind games get to you. Not now…"
"Ezra's right, buddy," Sam stated. "Remember, you still have a family to protect…"
Collig nodded. "I will arrange for increased patrol around your home and Bayport High. But you do need to consider protective custody for Joe…"
All three men winced. They all remembered what happened the last few times they tried to put either sibling into protective custody.
Fenton glanced at his watch. It was quarter past seven in the morning. His family should be having breakfast right now. He reached for his cell phone. Given that Andrew Kempton had made his first move, it was time to tell Frank and Laura everything. At least Joe already knew…
His fingers fumbled as he tried to dial the home number. Something tiny but significant was nibbling away at the back of his mind. He could not put his finger on what exactly that was. His feeling of unease grew as he finally managed to punch in the correct numbers and heard the first ring on his home phone.
"Come on, pick up the phone," Fenton muttered impatiently even as his mind never stopped working on the two murder scenes he went through in the past hour.
The first victim was a cleaner whose shift finished at eleven every night. She was assaulted just before she left the parking lot of her workplace. The security guard found her body at five this morning as he was doing his rounds. The second victim was spotted by a patrol car on its usual rounds at about quarter past six. Those two bodies were meant to be found at those times. That meant that Andrew Kempton had been lurking in Bayport for at least weeks, if not months, Fenton realized with a sinking feeling in his guts.
No one picked up the home phone and his call went straight to the answering machine. Fenton could feel his guts tightening in dread. He turned to inform Ezra, who was currently on the police radio, that he was heading home… now.
"Fenton…" Ezra turned a grim eye on him. "There's a third victim. This one had all his nails ripped off…"
"Where? Where was he found?" Fenton was fighting hard to keep his fear under wraps this time.
"Glenmore Lane just beyond the railway tracks…"
Fenton ran for his car. His suspicions were confirmed. Each victim was found progressively further and further from his home.
"Andrew's going for Joe now…" he yelled at Ezra, not bothering to hide his fears for his family this time.
His partner, Sam Radley, hopped into the passenger side of his car as he gunned his engines. The door slammed close as Fenton threw his car into reverse, and sped off. Fenton drove like a maniac; Sam was holding on tightly to the dashboard even though he had his seat belts on.
Even then, Fenton had a terrible feeling that Andrew already won the first round.
-o-
"Close that door!"
Shocked, Frank Hardy did exactly as he was told. For a moment, he simply stood and stared at his bathroom door. His brains were still in la-la-land; was that really his brother? His never-get-out-of-bed-until-he-had-to kid brother? Frank shook his head furiously, shaking the cobwebs of sleep from his still befuddled mind. He sneaked another peak and quickly slammed the door shut.
"Perv!" Joe's voice followed closely after the loud 'bang'.
Nope, he was not dreaming. Joe was actually taking his shower singing 'Hey Deannie', one of those songs that he composed with his little band when he was sixteen.
His kid brother was actually quite a good composer and singer. One of the major labels actually wanted to sign up the whole band, Frank recalled. He was so nervous during those few weeks when Joe was trying to decide whether or not to take up that contract. He remembered with more than a twinge of guilt how glad and relieved he was when Joe told him he turned down the offer.
"Why? Didn't you always want to be a pop star?" Frank asked, hiding his relief.
"I admit it was tempting," Joe shrugged. "But I remembered our dreams of opening a detective agency together…"
"Joe…"
"Hey! Brothers, partners and best friends forever, remember?" Joe reminded him laughingly. "And while being part of the band is something I enjoy, it is really not what I want to spend my whole life doing. What I want is to become a detective like Dad, and being a teen idol is not a necessary part of that resume."
It sounded reasonable, but Frank knew Joe made that decision for them. So that they could both continue on the time line that he set up towards opening their own agency by the time they hit their mid-twenties.
His brother was actually singing in the showers again! Joe stopped singing since the day Iola died. Slowly, a smile appeared on Frank's face. Joe and Dad must have worked out their differences somehow last night. Mom was right when she held him back, saying that the two of them needed some private father and son time to work things out.
"Your turn Frank!"
He opened the door. His brother was already back in his own room, leaving behind a wet and foggy bathroom. Frank hesitated for a moment before walking through into Joe's room. He spent the next few minutes watching his kid brother was still whistling and toweling dry his hair.
"Have I grown two heads or something?" Joe asked in an amused tone.
"Everything must have gone well last night," Frank commented.
The expression on Joe's face softened. "Yeah…"
"Joe?"
"Yes?"
"I just want you to be first to know of my decision…"
He could see Joe's back stiffening just slightly; he rushed to finish what he meant to say.
"… to take up the partial academic scholarship for Bayport University."
To his surprise, Joe simply stared at him for a long moment. And when his brother finally spoke, his voice was gentle but firm.
"You should take up that full scholarship to Stanford."
"But if I do, I won't be able to help out with Dad's case part time," Frank countered. "I know what you're thinking, bro. But being a Stanford graduate is not a necessary part of my resume."
"Hey! That's my line!"
Frank tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment before heading back into the bathroom to freshen up. This was one of the rare occasions when he was actually taking Joe's advice. It was usually the other way round, simply because he was the more cool-headed and reasonable brother in the relationship.
"I still think you should consider Stanford, bro. It's a great opportunity…" Joe said quietly.
"Bayport U has good lecturers too. And Dad and Sam are the best teachers for what I really want to learn," Frank replied. "I won't get that in Stanford."
"Mom will be disappointed…"
Frank disagreed. "I think Mom will be happy that I'm practically going to be just next door. She can drop in anytime."
"Are you sure that's what you want, big brother?"
"Yes!" Frank answered with his mouth still full of toothpaste.
"Oh man, I can't wait to tell Mom that you're looking forward to her dropping in on you 'anytime'," Joe laughed. "See you at the breakfast table!"
What! Frank choked on his mouthwash. He tried to correct that misunderstanding, but his brother was already halfway towards the dining room. Frank cursed as he threw on his shirt and jeans, grabbed his school bag and raced after this brother.
"Morning Mom… where's Dad?" he heard Joe asked rather eagerly.
That was true. His Dad was usually the first at the breakfast table reading the papers. Must be another new case… Frank decided. "Morning Mom…"
"He got a call early this morning and went rushing off," Laura confirmed placing another plate of toasts on the table. "I see you're late today, Frank."
"Mom, I'm later than Joe today, but still on time," Frank protested, though he noted from the corner of his eye that Joe seemed a little disappointed that Dad was not around.
"And oh, your father did say that we will be having a family discussion tonight, so you two make sure you be back home by six," Laura added.
"Any idea what Dad wanted to talk about?" Frank asked curiously.
Joe was digging into his breakfast with gusto; perhaps too much gusto, Frank thought.
Laura frowned. "Actually, I am curious too. Fenton sounded really serious, but refused to tell me anything else."
Two pairs of eyes turned to Joe, and focused on him with growing intensity until Joe finally lifted both hands in a placating gesture.
"Hey, if Dad said tonight, then tonight it is," Joe declared defensively. "My lips are sealed."
Something about the way Joe talk had his alarm bells ringing. Actually, it was that plus the fact that his Dad rushed off so early in the morning and yet still insisted on a family discussion. And Joe did sound concerned...
"Joe…"
There were three soft popping sounds; two followed by a third. Frank swiveled around just in time to see the dark outlines of two hands each holding a gun. At the same time he felt a sharp twinge of pain in his right arm that was rapidly growing numb. He could see a small tranquilizer dart embedded in his arm. By then, he was already falling towards the hard floor. The glass pitcher of milk landed on the linoleum floor with a crash, littering the floor with milk and shards of broken glass. He knew his Mom was hit too. From the corner of his eye, he saw Joe slipping off the chair towards the ground. And when he landed face down on the floor with a loud bang and yet felt nothing, he knew how effective whatever paralyzing drug that was used on them was. Even his vocal cords were paralyzed.
A short while later, he was lifted up and shoved onto the dining table. From there, he could see his Mom slumped on another chair with her head supported by the wall behind her. She was bleeding, no doubt from the broken glass on the floor. His brother was propped on another chair right next to him, his head held up by a hand that was gripping tightly to his hair.
"Good morning Joseph. Do you know who I am?" The voice was low and surprisingly… friendly.
Frank could only see the graying hair and a muscular back from his position. But Joe's eyes were spitting defiance; it was clear Joe knew who his assailant was.
The man with graying hair laughed delightfully. "Oh dear, I see your father told you, but not your brother or mother…"
Another figure moved into his line of sight. This one looked in his mid twenties; Frank noted that the second and younger assailant had the exact same haircut as him. When that young man started to remove his clothes, Frank knew how those two were planning their escape.
"Let me introduce myself. My name is Andrew Kempton, and this is my son, William. We are here today to collect an old debt," Andrew introduced himself with flair while patting Joe lightly on the head like a pet dog. "I am telling you this, Frank, so you can tell your father not to worry, that I will make sure my replacement son will have the best possible care from me."
"I'm done Dad," William said as he finished dressing up and putting on that last bit of makeup.
"Well done, son," Andrew complimented.
Frank noted with a sinking feeling that William could easily pass for him from a distance. None of their neighbors were going to suspect when William drove their van out of the garage later.
"Now, Will, get Frank secured in the back of the van. I will be over with Joe after we settle some small issues here…"
Several minutes later, Frank was dump unceremoniously into the back of the van he shared with Joe. William then proceeded to tie and gag him with a roll of duct tape before reaching into his pocket for a small face towel and a little bottle. Frank recognized the sickly sweet scent of chloroform. And as those fumes dragged him into the darkness of sleep, he wondered exactly what issues Andrew was referring to that he wanted to settle with Joe.
-o-
The house felt unnaturally quiet by the time Fenton's car screeched to a stop on the front lawn. He raced towards his home, only to be stopped by Sam just before he could open the door.
"You're not going to be of any help if you just barged in and get yourself killed," Sam reminded in a soft firm whisper.
That got him back to his senses. He withdrew his handgun and gave Sam a quick nod before moving in. He could trust Sam to cover for him. The front door was close but not locked. His family should be having breakfast in the dining area, so that was where he was headed. It was unnaturally quiet.
Fenton could see light spilling from the dining room into the hallway. He sped up just a little and stilled. The chairs were overturned and there were bloodstains and broken glass all over the floor. And on that chair propped against the wall…
Fenton squeezed his eyes tightly shut before opening them again in vain hope that the scene would change. But reality was cruel.
Laura was seated on the chair, her face so serene but pale it appeared like she was just sleeping. But there was an ugly truth of a hole in her chest, no a hole through her heart and a pool of blood at her feet…
Tears flowed down his cheeks; his feet were glued to where he stood. Fenton knew he still had to find his sons, but somehow, something in him just shut down…