A/N: Thank you for the reviews, Leya and Virtute! And yes, Frank is the more perceptive one at the moment. He'll have his chance at befuddlement over a woman in a future story. LOL For now, we're back to the detective work. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 25

"Anybody home?" Fenton Hardy called as he stepped through the front door of his house that evening. "I've got take-out."

He walked into the kitchen, setting a cardboard tub of fried chicken and several containers of side dishes on the table as Frank, Joe and Emily appeared at the swinging door.

"Oh, there you are," Fenton said with a smile. "Is anyone hungry?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Joe said with a grin as he beckoned to Emily and pulled out a chair for her.

"Well, that's a given," Fenton said, grabbing some paper plates off the kitchen counter.

"Thank you, Mr. Hardy," Emily spoke up. "This is really nice of you."

"It's my pleasure." Fenton offered her the mashed potatoes. "And my name is Fenton."

"Okay. Then thank you, Fenton," she replied, passing the potatoes to Joe who spooned out a large helping on his plate.

"It's the least I can do after the wonderful breakfast you made for us this morning."

"And lunch," Joe piped up. "You missed her lunch, Dad. It was amazing."

"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't here for that." He took the coleslaw from Frank. "I have no doubt it was vastly superior to the two stale donuts and the six hour old cup of coffee I had in Collig's office."

Frank chuckled. "Did you learn anything down there, Dad?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I found out some more background information on Duncan. I don't know if it'll help you or not. I brought home some copies of his dossier from Scotland. I also found out that the museum security team working there now were all hired within the past year. The dean had some problems with the last security company and these guys are all relatively new."

"Did you check into the background of both the old and new teams?" Frank asked.

"Yes, the guys who used to work there have all been reassigned to other places. Some are still local and some have moved. I did a background check on Mitch, the new head of security. He has quite an impressive résumé. He's worked personal security detail for some famous names, as well as for some impressive institutions. The Smithsonian, for one."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "That's interesting. Maybe that's why he's been complaining about how lax things are around the Bayport museum."

"If he's worked for such important places then why take a job here?" Frank wondered.

"He moved back home to take care of his mother. She has dementia and arthritis and she's in a wheelchair. He's helping her out now so she doesn't have to go into a nursing home," Fenton explained.

"That makes sense." Frank reached for another piece of chicken.

"I haven't really had a chance to look over most of the papers I picked up. Collig just handed me a bunch of files. Do you guys want to tackle them tonight?"

"Definitely," Frank said. "We went over to Ayres' house this afternoon, Dad. It was ransacked."

Emily's eyes went wide. "What?"

Joe touched her gently on the arm. "It's okay, Em. Maybe the guy who did it is finally convinced you don't have what he wants, so he thinks someone else might."

Emily's hand shook as she reached for her glass. "Did it look the same as my house?"

"Yeah," Joe said. "He was clearly looking for paper at Ayres, too."

"I overheard Collig say he was sending a car out there. Your names didn't come up though." He looked pointedly at his sons.

"I think Collig avoids saying our names as much as possible," Joe said with a grin.

Fenton laughed heartily. "I'm sure that's true, but he does appreciate your help, boys. He told me that himself this afternoon."

Joe put one hand behind his ear. "Wow, did you hear that? It was the sound of hell freezing over."

Frank chuckled as he wiped his hands on his napkin. "Pretty close to it." He looked at his father. "Hey, Dad, if it's all right with you, I'd like to get started on those papers."

"Sure, son. They're in the living room on the table."

"Me, too." Joe stood then looked down at Emily. "You coming?"

"Um, I think I'll just stay here and clean up if that's okay."

"Are you all right?" Joe's voice was full of concern.

"I'm a little achy," she admitted with a smile. "I must have pulled more muscles than I thought fighting off Mr. Bad Guy last night."

Joe frowned. "Maybe we should have a doctor look at you again."

"No, really, I'm fine." She stood and began gathering up the paper plates. "I guess I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed by all of this."

"That's completely normal, Emily," Fenton assured her. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a hot bath. The guest bathroom has a big tub and my sister has it stocked with lots of things girls like."

"That does sound nice," she admitted. "I don't want to be any trouble though."

"How is taking a bath trouble?" Joe asked her with a grin. "Come on, I'll take you up there."

"Now that might be trouble," Frank teased.

Joe shot him a look as he took Emily's hand to walk her to the stairs.

"Can I clean up first? After all, your dad did bring us dinner."

"Frank will take care of that," Joe returned, with another glare in his brother's direction as he exited the room.

Fenton chuckled and turned to his oldest son. "Something going on between Emily and Joe?"

"Yeah," Frank said. "Although I'm not sure she realizes it yet."

Fenton nodded then leaned back in his chair. "She will soon. Very few women are able to resist the Hardy charm."

Frank burst out laughing. "Dad, you sound like Joe."

"Where do you think he gets it from? The Hardy charm, I mean." Fenton grinned as he carried the paper plates to the kitchen trash. "And, speaking of women falling under the spell...have you talked to Nancy Drew lately?"

Frank stood hurriedly. "I think I'd better get working on those papers, Dad. We need a break in this case. Fast."

Fenton chuckled as he watched his son exit the room. "Fight it all you want son...it's only a matter of time," he said to himself.

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

"Is she okay?" Fenton asked Joe as he came downstairs and entered the living room.

"Yeah, she's just wiped out." Joe sat on the couch and reached for some of the papers Frank was shuffling though.

"Well, with all that's happened to her over the past couple of weeks I'm surprised she's functioning at all."

"She's terrified, Dad." Joe took the reports Frank handed him. "She's trying hard to hide it, but I can tell."

"Then let's find some answers so she doesn't need to worry anymore." Fenton looked at Frank. "Anything in that info from Scotland catch your eye?"

"Yeah," Frank said slowly. "Did you see the list of security team members for the museum where Ayres worked while he was a guest professor in Scotland?"

Joe leaned over his shoulder and read the list of names. "Mitchell Kincaid." He exchanged looks with Frank. "Who's now the head of security for the Bayport museum."

"That might not mean anything," Fenton cautioned.

"Or it could mean everything," Frank said. "Mitch would have known Ayres."

"Which means he could have known about the charmstones," Joe interjected.

"And he could be using them now to scare Duncan," Frank continued.

"Why would he do that?" Fenton asked, playing devil's advocate.

Frank stood and began to pace. "I don't know. But it gives us a place to start. A connection we didn't have before."

"He could have killed Ayres," Joe added. "He has the build and strength for it."

"Now that is leaping to a huge conclusion," Fenton cautioned. "You don't have one shred of evidence against this guy."

"Not yet," Joe said with a grin. "But we're going to find it if it's there. He may even have the two missing charmstones. That would be evidence."

"Not enough to convict him of murder, but you should definitely look at him more thoroughly." Fenton picked up the report Frank had been reading and skimmed it. "I'll do what I can from my end. Make some phone calls and try to dig into Mitch Kincaid's background a little more."

"I think we need to follow him." Joe looked at his watch. "His museum shift ends at eight tonight. We have just enough time to get over there and see where he goes afterwards."

"Sounds like a plan," Frank agreed.

"I hope it sounds like a break in the case," Joe said as he moved to leave the room. "Because we seriously need one."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank pulled the van quietly into the museum parking lot and turned off the engine and lights. Joe peered through binoculars out the passenger side window. "There it is. There's Mitch's car."

"I wish this parking lot was better lit," Frank grumbled. "I can hardly see a thing."

"Here he comes." Joe adjusted his binoculars. "Wow, we barely made it on time."

They watched as Mitch climbed into his sedan and exited the parking lot. Frank waited for thirty seconds then started his engine and began to follow him down the street. "He doesn't know what kind of car we drive, does he?"

Joe shook his head. "No way he could unless he followed us or checked with campus security to see if we have a permit. We've never parked in this lot before. It's only for 'A' stickers."

Frank squinted as he peered through the front window. "It looks like he's pulling into the Community Center."

"Yeah." Joe moved forward slightly. "What on earth would he be doing here at this time of night?"

"Exercising, maybe?"

They watched as Mitch entered through the main doors of the building.

"He wasn't carrying anything like a duffle bag for workout clothes," Joe commented.

"Maybe he has a locker and keeps them in there."

Joe sighed. "That means we could be here awhile." He drummed his fingers on the dashboard and began singing. Frank turned and looked at him.

"Do you mind?"

Joe grinned. "Not at all. I take requests." He slapped out a staccato beat. "Anything you want to hear?"

"Yeah, how about something from Puccini?"

"Don't know them. Are they a new group?" Joe teased.

Frank shook his head and stared out the front window. "I think that's Mitch coming out. He has someone with him."

Joe held up the binoculars and watched as Mitch pushed an elderly woman in a wheel chair to his car. "Think that's his mother? And what would she be doing at the Community Center?"

"They have an adult daycare program here. I wonder if she's part of it. Here, let me see." Frank reached for the binoculars and Joe coughed.

"Do you mind? I'd rather not be choked." He pulled the strap over his head then handed them to his brother.

"Sorry." Frank held the glasses up to his eyes and adjusted the focus. "That must be her. Remember, Dad told us that Mitch came back to Bayport because she was sick and needed help."

Joe sighed. "Yeah."

"Well, it looks like that's what he's doing. Helping his mom."

Joe sank into his seat, dejected. "Not exactly what I was hoping for."

"Let's just see where he goes next." Frank pulled out slowly behind Mitch's car as it entered the main roadway.

They traveled in silence for the next couple of miles then watched as Mitch turned into a fast food restaurant. As he pulled his car into the drive-thru lane, Joe looked at his brother.

"I'm going in for a shake, you want something?"

"The hell you are," Frank protested as he parked the van on the other side of the building.

Joe gestured towards the drive-thru. "Frank, there are four cars ahead of him. I can get the shake and be back before he even gives them his order. He'll never see me."

"No."

"You are such a hard ass."

"I'm trying to be a professional. What if Mitch suddenly pulls out of the drive-thru and takes off? Did you ever think of that?"

Joe waved his hand dismissively. "He has his eighty year old mother in the car. He's going to burn rubber in that ancient Oldsmobile and peel out of here without getting her food? Yeah, right."

"A professional detective stays with the suspect and does not get distracted. Especially by something stupid like a milkshake."

Joe reached over and shoved his brother forward slightly in the driver's seat.

"What are you doing?" Frank demanded.

"Looking for the metal pole you must have rammed up your–"

"All right, that's enough," Frank interrupted. "Look, he's already giving his order.

"And I could have been back by now with mine," Joe grumbled.

"We have work to do."

"You're no fun."

Frank ignored him as he exited the parking space and followed Mitch along the main road again. After another few miles, Mitch turned onto a residential side street. Frank hung back and allowed him to gain some distance. "I wish there was more traffic here."

"I don't think he's noticed us."

Mitch made a right turn into a driveway of a small boxy home built during the post-war housing boom of the nineteen-fifties. Frank drove past him and circled the block, stopping the van several houses away from Mitch's, across the street and under a large overhanging willow tree.

Joe took the binoculars and held them up to his eyes again. "He's getting something out of the trunk. Never mind, it's the wheelchair."

They watched as the security guard opened the wheelchair, then lifted his mother from the passenger side of the car and sat her in it. He pushed her up the homemade wooden ramp to the front door and entered the home.

Joe put down the binoculars. "Well, I guess that's that."

"I wouldn't be so quick to take him off the suspect list just yet."

"Why not? He's doing what he said he came to Bayport to do. He has no idea he's being tailed." He gestured towards Mitch's car. "There's nothing remotely suspicious about his behavior."

"That doesn't mean anything. He could still have the charmstones. He could still be trying to scare Duncan. This doesn't prove anything."

"So basically we've done nothing but hit another brick wall."

"For now." Frank settled back in his seat. "Let's watch the house for another half hour or so just to make sure."

Joe turned to look at his brother. "You know what I wish?"

"What?"

"I wish I had a milkshake."

"I'm never going on another stake-out with you again."

Joe grinned. "Suits me fine. You stay on Mitch's tail for the next few days and I follow up on all the other leads."

Frank glared at him then held up his hands over his ears as Joe began banging his fingers on the dashboard again.

"So, tell me about this group Puccini. What do they sing?"