Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).
Note: This story was originally co-written with another person, who is not currently available to ask for permission to post it. Therefore it is being posted under one author name. Also, it was written in the late 1990s, so technology is not at a 2017 level. Please pardon that fact.
Thank you to everyone who has left such kind feedback. I appreciate it very much.
September Song
By EvergreenDreamweaver
Chapter 8
Per their agreement, on Monday morning Joe got the van, while Frank rode his motorcycle to school. Since the weather was still nice, Frank didn't mind. An advantage was a special section of the parking lot designated for motorcycles; since there weren't all that many students that rode to school, he had plenty of parking spaces to choose from.
Introduction to Criminal Investigation was Frank's first class on Mondays. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, and entered the large classroom, where he found a seat in the middle section, several rows back. Settling into the lecture chair, he dug out the textbook, his pen, and a stack of notebook paper, and was turning to hang his backpack on the seat when a pair of hands suddenly covered his eyes.
"Guess who?" a soft, familiar voice whispered in his ear.
"Megan!" Frank exclaimed, yanking her hands down and whirling about in the chair. "What are you doing here?"
"Whipple teaches two sessions of this class. Identical sessions. I checked with him, and found out that it doesn't matter which one we go to; the lecture is the same. I just switched lecture times. It fits my schedule okay." She laughed in delight at the surprise and pleasure on Frank's lean features.
"Sit here, quick, before someone else gets it!" Frank indicated the seat immediately in front of his own. Megan obligingly wriggled through the tight rows of chairs and scooted into the seat just as the professor entered the classroom.
"Good morning, class. Today we are going to cover…."
#####
When class was over, Frank and Megan rose with the other students and went out into the noisy hall.
"Do you have anything now?" Frank asked her loudly.
"Uh-huh," she replied, almost shouting to be heard over the clamor. "Chemistry, over in the science building. What about you?"
"Nothing until 1:00. Are you free at lunch time?" He put a hand on her arm and steered her toward the wall, shielding her from the crowd as they walked.
"I have twelve to two-thirty off."
"Want to get together?" Frank abruptly lowered his voice as they exited the building and came out into the bright sunshine. "We could grab some lunch before my one o'clock."
"I'd like that," she smiled, as they hurried toward the science building. Despite Frank's long legs, he had to stretch a little to keep up with her rapid-fire steps; Megan was in a hurry!
"Where do you want to meet?"
"Why don't you meet me outside chem class – room 312. We can go over to the student center from there."
"Okay, will do." Feeling daring, he put an arm about her shoulders and gave her a brief hug. "See you at noon."
She nodded and dashed into the science building, quickly becoming swallowed up in the crowd of people streaming inside. Frank followed her with his eyes until she disappeared, then abruptly turned and headed for the library. Might as well put the time to good use, and do some homework. There probably won't be any time tonight.
#####
When Megan emerged from her chemistry class, she found Frank leaning casually against the wall directly opposite the door. He smiled happily when he saw her, and reached for her hand. They strolled slowly towards the student center, where the various cafeterias were located.
Deciding to have something they could take outside, both Frank and Megan chose hamburgers and fries. Frank also got a milkshake, and Megan chose a Diet 7-Up. They went back out into the open air and found a table in the shade where they could be relatively undisturbed.
"Is everything okay for this evening?" Frank asked, as they finally settled down to eat and have some uninterrupted conversation.
"Yes," Megan nodded. "My mom said she didn't know where we could look that hadn't already been searched, but we're welcome to try. She may not be home; sometimes she has to work late. She's in the personnel office at Bayport Electric, and occasionally they have late meetings." She took a bite of her hamburger. "Mmmm, I was starving! I overslept, and didn't have time for breakfast."
"Megan—" Frank hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "You haven't noticed anyone following you, or anything, have you?"
"Following me? I don't know; I've never thought to look!" she exclaimed. Her eyes grew round with alarm. "Why do you think someone might follow me?"
"Saturday night, when Joe and I were listening to Ted Crowley, he told someone to keep a tail on you," Frank told her. "He knows you've contacted us, so there may be one on us, too."
"Omigosh!" she whispered. "This is awful!"
"Hey, no big deal; we've been tailed before," Frank hastily assured her. He popped a few fries in his mouth, chewing while he tried frantically to think of something to allay the panic he'd managed to induce with two short sentences. "Actually, you may have been followed before now, if Crowley and his friends think there's something at your house that they want. And nothing happened to you."
If anything, that made her look even more frightened. "But I don't have anything!" she wailed.
Hardy, how do you do it? She was fine until you brought up the subject of a tail. Now she's scared to death, you jerk!
"Actually you may, but you don't know what or where it is," Frank said aloud. "And we're going to find it tonight. But I wanted to warn you to be extra careful, and keep an eye out when you drive anywhere. As long as you don't do something they consider suspicious, you're probably not in any danger.
"But – what about you?" she asked in a small voice. She bent over her soda and took a long drink, keeping her eyes on the glass.
"Like I said, it isn't the first time. And I think the same holds true for us: if we don't look like we're going somewhere suspicious, we won't be bothered."
"Coming over to my house will look suspicious," Megan reminded him.
Frank smiled. "Not necessarily," he murmured, and traced a design on the back of her hand with his finger. Glancing up, he caught her eye, and held her blue-green gaze with his until she blushed and smiled in return.
"It will if you bring Joe – well, maybe not, if Vanessa is there too," she conceded.
"See how well it works out?" Frank remarked smugly. "To the average eye, we're getting together for a double date – which, by the way, is not all that bad an idea, once we've cleared up this problem with Ted Crowley."
"Better watch out, I may hold you to that." she threatened, eyelashes fluttering.
Frank was about to continue flirting in this fashion when he happened to glance at his wristwatch. "Oh, nuts, I've got to go to class!" He shoved the last few fries in his mouth, leaped to his feet and grabbed his backpack. "See you in Criminal Justice!"
Megan watched him go, smiling a little. She looked down at the hand he had been stroking, and touched it gently.
#####
At 2:25, Frank hurried into the Criminal Justice Survey classroom, looking about to try and find Megan. He spotted her red-gold hair near where they had been on Friday, and squeezed his way through the rows of chairs to the seat next to hers.
"Hi," he said, squirming into the chair and attempting to get his long legs completely beneath the desk. "I'm really sorry I dashed off like that, at lunch!"
"It's all right," she replied, although he noted dismally that she didn't look very happy. "I know you had to get to class."
"Are you okay?" he began, but Professor Gillette rapped on his podium at that moment, calling the class to order. Both Frank and Megan settled back in their chairs and began taking notes; personal problems were temporarily washed away in the tide of information being presented by their teacher.
When the buzzer sounded at 3:50, Frank felt as if he'd been running a race. He stared at the notebook pages covered with scribbles, and wondered if he would ever be able to make heads or tails of what was written there. The class was interesting – and Professor Gillette wasn't a bad teacher – but there was so much to learn!
He stood up, gathering his things together. Beside him, Megan was doing the same.
"Do you want to just come straight over to my house, or go home first?" she asked as she picked up her book bag and pulled the strap over her shoulder.
Frank slung his backpack on. "I'd rather go straight to your house," he admitted. "but I suppose I'd better go home and come a little later, with Joe. And Vanessa," he added.
She nodded acceptance, and they walked to the parking lot without further conversation. Frank accompanied her to her car, and stood watching attentively as she unlocked it and put her bag in the back seat.
"Megan, I'm really sorry I scared you, at lunch," he said, finally. "I only wanted to make sure you'd be careful. I was worried about you."
She finally met his gaze, and smiled. "I know you were – are. And I will be careful, Frank. But it works both ways. Now I'm worried about you, too."
"Want me to follow you home, then go back and get Joe?" he offered.
She laughed. "And spend an hour running back and forth across Bayport? No way!"
"It's okay," Frank persisted. "I want to be sure you get home all right—"
"Frank!" She tiptoed and reached to grasp his shoulders and shake them. "Go get on your motorcycle and go home! I'll see you in an hour. Goodbye!" She opened her door, slid into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition. "Goodbye, Frank!" The engine caught, she pulled the door closed, and began to back out of her parking space.
Frank quickly stepped back, frowning, and watched her swing the car out of the lot. Then he shook his head in defeat and headed for the motorcycle parking spaces.
#####
At five o'clock, Joe, Vanessa and Frank were gathered at Megan's home. Joe looked tired, and admitted practice had left him pretty beat, but he insisted he was perfectly capable of doing his share of the search.
"The family room seems the best place to start," he suggested. "The most likely place to conceal a tape would be with other tapes, right? Right? Tell me I'm right, people!"
"You're probably right," Megan conceded. "But when the place was searched, before, they scattered all the video and audio tapes all over. If they didn't find anything, we probably won't."
"I'll start going through audio tapes, if you'll show me where they are, Megan," Vanessa interposed, hoping to head off an argument between her boyfriend and the little redhead. Megan nodded, and indicated a cabinet with several shallow drawers.
"There. I'll help in just a minute. And then we can do books."
"I guess going through the videos is our job," Frank said to Joe. "Let's get to work."
It was a slow task. The four opened each and every tape box, checked the contents to make sure the labels matched those on the boxes, pulled out every drawer and removed the contents of each cabinet. With family tapes, it was up to Megan to verify the accuracy, and it took a lot of trial-and-error work to do so.
An hour passed, then two. Mrs. Wright came home and was introduced to Vanessa and the Hardys. She looked like her daughter; her hair was a darker shade of Megan's red-gold, and her eyes were also aqua-blue in color, but they were filled with sadness. She was welcoming and gracious, however, and immediately went to the telephone to order pizza for them all when she realized no one had had any supper.
The pizza arrived, and the teens grabbed slices from the box and kept on working. Mrs. Wright was helping now, too, so checking each tape's content was going a little faster. Eight-thirty…nine…nine-thirty. Everyone was becoming tired and snappish; Joe had slumped down on the couch and was holding his head in his hands.
"Mom—" Megan said suddenly, her tone inquiring. "What's this?" She held up one of the 8mm camcorder tape boxes. "It says 'Jake's Bar Mitzvah.' Who's Jake?"
"Why, I have no idea," Mrs. Wright replied. "We never went to anybody's bar mitzvah, that I can remember. And I don't know anyone named Jake."
Joe sat up abruptly. "If there's a tape there that you can't identify, we should probably take a look at it," he said.
Megan took the tape from its box, inserted it into an adapter, and shoved it into the slot in the VCR. She switched on the television, picked up the remote control and hit "play." The five of them watched intently as about 30 seconds of static showed on the screen, followed by more flips and squiggles. The screen went dark for a few moments, and then a strange scene unfolded before their eyes.
Two men were visible. "The dark-haired man – that's Ted Crowley," murmured Mrs. Wright. The other's face was in shadow, and his features blurred. Whoever had been filming had been fairly close, but at an odd angle, as if shooting from behind something, or leaning around a corner. At first, there was no audio on the tape, merely "sound flutter" as the camera established its speed. Then, came voices:
"… you mean, you want more?" Ted Crowley barked. "We had a deal. You agreed. You can't come around now and whine for a bigger payoff."
"You didn't give me much choice!" snarled the other man. "And now I'm the one with blood on my hands. I'm doing your dirty work, Crowley, and if something happens, I'm the one who gets the murder rap!"
"Considering your job, you should be used to having blood on your hands, Waring," came the heated retort. "You agreed to do it, and you know why."
"I can't be tried again – that would be double jeopardy."
"You can't be tried for mercy killing again, maybe," Crowley sneered. "but you sure could be tried for murder."
"Those people were terminally ill!" cried Waring. "They would have died soon in any event! I just – just—"
"Just helped them along the road a little, right? A little extra morphine here – a little less oxygen there…." Crowley's voice was vicious. "And you're going to keep on doing it, whenever I say you will. Or else I just might happen to let something slip…"
"You hired me!" gasped the other man. "You're in this just as deep as I am! You and your damned insurance policies!"
The sound abruptly faded out, and static filled the room. For a few moments, only the video portion of the film showed; then the static cleared, and voices could be heard once more.
"If it wasn't for those new medications," Crowley was saying bitterly. "we wouldn't have had to do it. People died, right when they were expected to, and the insurance paid up. Now, I can't count on anything for sure. They just keep on living."
"Very inconsiderate of them, I know," Waring gibed. "I'm sure they don't do it just to annoy you, Crowley."
"Shut up!" Crowley snapped. "Have you got those latest death certificates made out?"
"Yes, they're done." Waring sounded defeated. "Two more deaths from natural causes…heart failure."
Abruptly, the film image shifted, and the intent watchers could see cars and the Crowley Manufacturing buildings. Footsteps and panting, a jiggling, jerking visual display…and then the screen went black.
For a brief space of time, there was silence in the room, and then Joe spoke quietly.
"Well – I guess we found what we were looking for."