J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! The next chapter will be up tomorrow. God bless!
June 24 – Saturday
The next morning, the boys felt noticeably better. They still had mild headaches, but the weakness was much improved. They all thought that another day or so of rest and plenty of food and water would probably cure the last of the ill effects they were suffering.
In fact, they were all feeling so much better that as soon as breakfast was over, Joe stood up and stretched his arms. "You know, nobody think I'm not grateful that we wound up on an island with plenty of fruit and veggies, but I think we need something more substantial. I'm going to go fishing."
"That sounds fun," Biff said, jumping up himself. "Count me in!"
"Me, too!" Chet added.
"Why don't we all go?" Frank suggested. "We could all use some relaxation. And some different food."
Phil and Tony agreed that it sounded like the most fun they had had on the island yet. They gathered up the fishing supplies from the cabin. There were only two fishing poles, but the boys agreed that they could take turns. There were plenty of fishing line, hooks, and lures, but there was no tackle box, so the boys had to carry it all without one.
When they reached the shore, Tony commented, "You know, the lures are only going to last so long. Why don't we try to find some good, old-fashioned worms instead and see what we can catch with those?"
"Good idea," Chet agreed. "We need to make sure we can catch as many fish as possible."
There was a heavily-shaded area where the soil wasn't too sandy and the boys set to work digging into it to search for worms. Biff was the first to turn up any. That was when he realized they didn't have anything to put the worms into.
With a mischievous grin, he walked up behind Chet, who was still crouched on the ground, digging with his fingers. Surreptitiously, Biff took one of his worms and dropped it on Chet's head. Chet jumped straight in the air.
"Hey! What…" Chet protested, grabbing the worm off and throwing it away. He turned to Biff. "What was that for?"
"What was what for?" Biff asked as innocently as he could with his hands full of mud and worms.
Chet folded his arms and tried to put on a stern expression. "Yeah, like you didn't do anything."
"I think he's got you red-handed there, Biff," Joe put in.
That was the beginning of the worm antics. Chet and Biff kept trying to drop worms on each other when the other wasn't looking until Frank had to tell them not to waste all their bait. Frank didn't want to have to do it. He didn't want to look like he was exercising his authority as the elected "leader." Besides that, if his friends were feeling well enough to tease each other, he didn't want to discourage it. At the same time, wasting all the bait didn't make much sense.
The problem of where to put the worms was settled by Tony going back to the cabin and getting a bowl.
"So who gets the first turn with the fishing poles?" Phil asked as they reached the beach at last.
"There's only one fair way to decide," Joe declared. "Rock, Paper, Scissors."
It took a few rounds to narrow it down to just two winners. In the end, Phil and Chet got to take the first turn. They stood up on a rocky outcropping and cast the lines into the water. The other boys sat down to watch, but that quickly became boring.
"I wonder if we could make extra fishing poles," Joe said after about fifteen minutes. "There's plenty of line and plenty of branches around here."
Frank shrugged. "It wouldn't be hard to make just a pole. I don't know how you'd make a reel."
"You wouldn't have to have a reel," Biff said, leaning his chin on his hand. "A lot of fish have been caught over the years without a reel."
"Let's try it!" Joe replied.
Frank and Tony agreed that they might as well. They had to return to the cabin to get a knife and a little hatchet, both of which were in the tool chest. They then found a sapling growing right next to the cabin. It was straight and tall and sturdy enough that they thought it would make a promising pole. They cut it down with the hatchet and then lopped all the branches off. Then Joe carved a little furrow near the end and tied one end of the line to it so that it wouldn't slip off. He pulled it tight since he didn't want to take any more risk of losing line than was necessary.
Meanwhile, Phil and Chet were beginning to grow discouraged with their fishing. Chet's line had gotten one bite, but the fish had gotten away with the hook. Phil hadn't had anything bite at all.
"I sure hope we catch something soon," Chet grumbled as he reeled his line in to try another cast.
Phil nodded grimly. "I know. We're going to need fish as a staple if we're stuck here for any length of time."
Chet made his cast. "Do you think there's much chance that Eli had a boat and that we can find it?"
"No," Phil admitted bluntly. "I mean, he could have had a boat. If he was living here intentionally as a hermit, he probably did. But it's been years since he died. It's probably drifted away or rotted into nothing by now."
Chet let his cheeks puff out as he blew out a long breath. "How long do you think we going to be stuck here, then?"
Phil stared straight ahead at his line in the water. "It could be a long time."
They were both silent for a few minutes as they continued their fishing. Chet had been trying to ignore the fact that their chances of getting off the island in any short amount of time were very small, and it felt unreasonably like a betrayal that Phil wasn't doing the same thing. But Phil was probably right. He tended to think things through logically and could probably see that keeping up false hopes of a speedy rescue wasn't going to do anyone any good. It wouldn't make any difference if it happened and it would only make it harder if it didn't. Still, Chet couldn't bear the thought of abandoning the hope. It had been four days since anyone had heard from them. Everyone back home would be starting to worry by now. They might have already been worrying for several days now. When day after day, week after week passed and there was no word from any of the boys, everyone would probably assume the worst, especially once they heard from the Hawaii police that there was someone out there with a motive to want them all silenced. Chet wondered if the would-be murderers had been caught yet.
"Do you think if they catch that captain and Dain who dumped us off…Do you think they'll tell anyone that they don't know for sure that we're dead?" Chet asked. "I mean, if I was in their place, I would, because if they find us, then obviously, they can't charge those two with murder."
Phil shrugged. "They'd have to catch them first and have a pretty good case against them for them to admit that much. And we might not be the only people they ever tried to kill. If they were more successful another time, it wouldn't help them much for us to turn up alive. In fact, it might not help them much in any case, considering we're alive no thanks to them."
Chet's shoulders slumped. "You're sure encouraging this morning," he commented wryly.
A small, ironic smile crossed Phil's face. "Sorry. I'm not feeling very cheerful myself."
"I guess I can't blame you for that," Chet replied. "I know I'd like to get back right n…Hey! You've got a bite!"
Phil had already noticed this by the time Chet shouted. He had felt the tug on the line and his first reaction was to freeze. Then he began reeling it in, trying to restrain his eagerness from reeling too fast and losing it. Chet was eagerly coaching him on how best to land the fish. As the fish began to fight, the tip of the pole dipped down toward the water. This was clearly a big one.
"Slower, Phil!" Chet said. "You don't want to lose it! That's got to be a huge one! It could be lunch and supper! But don't go too slow!"
"I know, Chet!" Phil replied, continuing to reel at the same pace he had been using anyway.
Slowly but surely, the fish was brought up onto the shore. Chet got down on his stomach so he could grab it and pull it up onto land. For a few seconds, both boys were afraid they were going to lose it, but in the end, the fish was lying on the rocks.
Chet let out a whoop as he noted how long it was. "That's got to be twenty-four inches, easy! Are we going to eat today!"
"Let's see if we can catch another," Phil suggested. "One more like this, and we would be covered for both lunch and supper."
A few minutes later, the other boys returned with their homemade pole. Phil and Chet proudly showed them the fish, which the others were enthusiastic about. Phil and Chet surrendered their poles to Tony and Biff, while Joe experimented with the homemade pole. He discovered that there were quite a few disadvantages to not having a reel. He couldn't cast very well, for one thing.
"I don't know what you're going to do if you get a bite," Frank said. "You're not going to be able to reel it in, and if it's as big as the one Phil caught, good luck pulling the line in by hand."
"I'll manage," Joe declared with determination.
Despite his dismal words, Frank was more than eager to help Joe solve the difficulties he had pointed out. In fact, both Hardys were more interested in the homemade pole than in the other two poles, even though Tony managed to land two small fish and Biff reeled in another before Frank and Joe had satisfactorily learned how to get the hook in the water to any effect.
"This should do it for today," Phil commented. "We might as well clean these fish and make lunch."
"That sounds great to me," Chet replied. "I'm half-starved!"
"I wonder if there's any salt in the cabin," Tony said. "You know, we haven't looked through there as thoroughly as we could."
"If there is any, it might have gone flat by now," Phil replied. "We are surrounded by the ocean, though. I wouldn't know how to distil salt from the water, but there might be salt deposits somewhere around here."
Tony shook his head. "Cooking fish without salt, let alone any other spice. This is not going to be pretty."
"As long as it's edible, it sounds good to me!" Chet declared.
"Same here," Biff agreed. "Let's go. It's still going to take a long time to get it all ready."
"You guys go ahead," Joe called over his shoulder. "I'm staying right here until I catch a fish with this thing."
That took longer than even the most skeptical of them could have expected. Frank had decided to stay with Joe and see the outcome of the experiment, while the other four went back to the cabin to clean their fish and gather some fruit and vegetables to add to the meal.
Joe attempted yet another unsuccessful cast, but the line had gotten tangled so he had to pull it right back in and try to undo the tangles. "You know what really burns me up?" he asked as he worked on the knots.
"That?" Frank guessed, nodding toward the tangled line.
"What?" Joe looked down at his hands. "Oh. No, I wasn't thinking about fishing, actually. I was thinking about how the guys who tried to kill us think they got away with it, and we can't even do anything about it."
"Dad will catch them," Frank said confidently.
"Dad will think he's looking for our murderers." Joe didn't look up.
Frank sighed but didn't answer. This was not something he wanted to put his parents through. Or his friends' parents, for that matter. But there wasn't anything he could do about it. At least, nothing that he didn't intend to do at the first opportunity. In the meantime, keeping everyone's morale up needed to be priority. Especially Joe. He would be the hardest of all for Frank to see give up hope. Moreover, if Joe could keep his spirits up, he would be the best at helping the others keep a positive outlook.
"Well, think how thrilled they'll be when we get back," he said.
"If we get back," was Joe's less than encouraging response.
Frank turned to look out at the ocean, spreading out as far as he could see. It looked endless from here. It might as well have been.
Joe was continuing to work at the knots in the line. "If we never get off the island and we wind up dying here, is it murder then?"
"Joe…"
"I know, I know. It's just…What you said yesterday. Nobody's going to be looking for us alive. Even if they catch the captain and Dain and they admit everything, there's no reason anyone's going to think we're alive. We shouldn't be. We were stuck in a little lifeboat with no supplies at all, not even water, and not particularly close to any land. That we survived and we actually got here to the island is…"
"A miracle," Frank finished for him.
Joe nodded. "Exactly. And for anyone find us or for us find a way to get out of here ourselves is going to take another one."
He finished undoing the knots in the line and dropped it back in the water, giving up on the idea of being able to cast it. He and Frank sat for a long time in silence, many thoughts going through both their heads. They were young, but they had traveled a lot and had plenty of adventures already. This wasn't the first adventure that there was no guarantee they were getting home. Still, they didn't like this helpless feeling or having so much time to think about it. It was appallingly easy to think of everything they stood to lose. They might never see their parents again, and they had no other siblings, so this would be especially devastating to their parents. Of course, they weren't so naïve as to think that their friends' parents having other children would be much consolation to them. And this way, there weren't more siblings to mourn for Frank and Joe. It was bad enough thinking about their parents and aunt.
As bad as that was, every little thing about their lives suddenly seemed so much dearer. Their house with the green trim around the roof and the windows and the squeaky back door that they had promised their mom they would fix and then hadn't gotten to. The oak tree in the backyard that used to have their old tire swing hanging from it. The tire itself was still in the garage. They had always thought their parents overly sentimental for not getting rid of it, but right now, that old tire seemed like one of the most precious things in the entire world. It was a part of a life that they were cut off from entirely. Well, it would never get thrown away now, Joe thought to himself.
It wasn't just things that occupied their thoughts and regrets, either. There were two girls who each figured largely in one or the other boy's thoughts. Those girls had put up with a lot through the last few years, with Frank and Joe always getting caught up in some mystery or other. No one could have taken it better than they did. And now…
"We've got to get off this island," Joe said.
HBNDHBNDHB
It was a lovely Saturday morning, exactly the sort of day that was meant for relaxing and sipping iced tea, but that wasn't how Laura Hardy was spending it. She was in her husband's home office, filing and straightening and whatever else looked like it needed to be done. She might have been doing some reading of the files on his current case. That was unusual for Laura. When she had married Fenton, he had been a detective with the NYPD. After a few years, he had retired from the police force to become a private detective and raise his family in the relatively small coastal town of Bayport. Laura had learned quickly that her husband's cases often needed to remain confidential, even from her, and so she didn't pry or ask questions. It wasn't easy, but she had eventually learned to let her curiosity take second place.
Today she was making an exception. She didn't know where Fenton was and he wasn't answering his phone. He had warned her that he would not always be able to take calls while he was away on this case, so Laura wasn't particularly worried about him. It was her sons, Frank and Joe, that had her worried. She hadn't heard a word from either of them since Monday. They were in Hawaii on a vacation with their friends. She couldn't—and didn't—expect them to be constantly checking in with their mother. They were both adults now, after all. Still, when they were away from home, there weren't many days that passed without one or the other at least sending her a text. She knew they did that to prevent exactly the situation that she was in right now. The boys were amateur detectives and they tended to get mixed up in mysteries, even when they hadn't specifically set out to solve one. They would make sure to let her know all was well so that she wouldn't worry. As it was, Laura had texted them several times in the last few days and neither one had answered.
Laura hadn't spent over half her life with a detective without learning a few investigative tactics herself, and so she had put these into practice to try to determine whether her concerns were warranted or not. Neither of her boys used social media, except to investigate suspects—it tended to cause them trouble if too much personal information was available for anyone to see. But some of their friends had accounts, so she had checked those. None of them had posted anything in the last several days. That wasn't so unusual. Being close connections of the Hardys, they had learned that putting their current location out on the Internet wasn't the greatest of ideas. Still, the timing was concerning. Phil and Biff had each posted some generic things on Monday that didn't reveal their location. Monday again. It was starting to look like all the boys' activity had stopped on Monday.
Laura had next tried asking some discreet questions of the parents of the boys' friends, to see if any of them had heard anything since Monday. She didn't want to alarm anyone unnecessarily, and so she couldn't ask anything too specific. As a result, the answers she got were vague, but the upshot of it all was that it didn't sound like anyone had had any contact from the boys since Monday.
Now Laura was beginning to panic. She needed to talk to Fenton and ask him what he thought she should do. It could be that even now, she was overreacting and Fenton would tell her that. Or maybe she wasn't. Either way, she needed to talk to him, and so she was currently snooping through his files to try to find a way to contact him.
While she was searching, she heard the doorbell ring. She ignored it for the moment. Her sister-in-law, Gertrude Hardy, lived with the family and she would answer the door. Laura hadn't yet confided her fears to Gertrude, since Gertrude had a tendency to expect the worst, and that would hardly be comforting in a situation like this.
The doorbell stopped ringing and Laura heard the indistinct sound of voices downstairs. Then there were footsteps on the stairs and finally, the door to the office opened. Laura jumped as if she had just been caught in the middle of doing something she shouldn't, but then she saw that the new arrival was Sam Radley.
"Oh, thank goodness," Laura breathed, leaning against the desk.
Sam Radley was Fenton's partner in his detective work. If there was anyone who knew where Fenton was or how to contact him, it would be Sam.
Sam noted Laura's anxious expression immediately. "Is something wrong, Laura?"
"Yes. Maybe. I'm not sure." Laura shook her head as she tried to get a grip on herself. "I need to talk to Fenton right away, and he won't answer his phone. Do you know where he's at?"
"Not exactly," Sam replied. "What happened?"
"It's Frank and Joe. No one's heard from them or their friends since Monday. This isn't like them."
Sam took in a long breath. "They're on vacation, right?"
"Right. In Hawaii."
"Where in Hawaii?"
Laura shrugged helplessly. "All over. I don't know exactly what their plans are, but I think they wanted to see as much as they could of the islands."
"Okay. Where's their hotel?"
"A little town called Moku Pohihihi, I think."
"Moku Pohihihi," Sam repeated under his breath as he took his phone out and made an Internet search. A moment later, he was calling a number. He turned it on speaker so that Laura could hear.
"Moku Pohihihi Police Department. How can I help you?"
Laura glanced sharply at Sam. She would have almost preferred if he hadn't believed her so readily that something was wrong.
"I'd like to speak with a detective, please. Missing persons."
"Just one moment."
The hold music played for a few secondsand then a man's voice said, "Sergeant Curran, Missing Persons."
"My name is Sam Radley. I'm a private investigator from Bayport, Massachusetts. I'm trying to locate some young men who are vacationing in Hawaii. I believe they're in staying in Moku Pohihihi."
"What are their names?"
"Frank and Joe Hardy, Phil…"
"Did you say 'Hardy'?" Curran cut him off.
Laura felt her heart skip a beat. Her sons' names meaning something to a detective who worked in Missing Persons didn't seem like a good sign to her.
"Yes, that's right," Sam confirmed.
"Let me have you talk to the lieutenant. He has more information about that than I do," Curran said.
Once again, Sam was put on hold. It was a much shorter wait this time before a different man said, "Lieutenant Hikialani speaking. The sergeant said that you're asking about Frank and Joe Hardy and their friends."
"That's right." Sam repeated his credentials.
"What are their friends' names?" Hikialani asked, and Sam told him. "Why are you asking about them, Mr. Radley?" Hikialani then asked.
"I work with Frank and Joe's father, Fenton Hardy. You've probably heard of him."
"Yes, I've been trying to contact him. Can you tell me how to do so?"
"No, but his wife, Laura, is here right now. She hasn't heard from the boys since Monday, and neither has anyone else as far as she can ascertain."
There was a pause of a few seconds. "Please put Mrs. Hardy on."
"She is on." Sam nodded to Laura.
"Hello, Lieutenant?" Laura said.
Hikialani greeted her and then asked whether she had heard everything. When she replied that she had, he went on, "I'm afraid I don't have particularly good news for you, ma'am, although I hadn't realized that until now. On Monday night, at nearly midnight, your sons and their friends reported that they had witnessed a murder at their motel."
"What?" Laura asked in horror.
"I'm afraid so. They said that the suspects had seen them and fired at them, as well. When officers reached the scene, they found no evidence that any of this had taken place. The officers' first impulse was to think that it was hoax, but they investigated anyway, as is policy. The only evidence they could find was a car which the boys said the victim arrived in a few moments before he was allegedly killed. The only other clues the boys could offer were descriptions of the people involved and that the victim's name seemed to be Reese. The car, however, turned out to be a rental car and was not rented, at any point, to anyone named Reese. The renter was staying at the same motel and we can find no evidence of a connection between him and anyone named Reese."
"What happened to the boys after this?" Sam asked.
"The officers advised them to stay in a different hotel and to let us know which one. Because of how late it was, they had to get rooms at two separate hotels. The boys say that they're still registered there."
"You mean, you've talked to them?" Laura asked hopefully.
"Not exactly. We've exchanged text messages. I asked the boys to keep in touch with me in case they see or hear anything more. I've gotten texts from the numbers that your sons gave the officers as contacts. I haven't had any reason to try to call them or see them in person."
"But you mentioned you've been trying to contact Fenton," Sam reminded him.
"That's right," Hikialani affirmed. "Your sons have hinted that they believe what happened here may have something to do with Mr. Hardy's current case, but they don't know how because they don't know what the case is. I wanted to discuss the possibility with Mr. Hardy."
There was a brief pause and then Sam asked, "Do you think it's Frank and Joe that you have been communicating with?"
"I thought so, but I'm not so sure now. I'll try to contact them immediately."
"Let me know if you do or not," Sam requested, giving his contact information. "I'll do my best to contact Fenton."
There were a few more details to work out, including the contact information for the other boys' families. It was agreed that Hikialani would contact the Bayport police and ask for their assistance with notifying the other families and asking them more direct questions.
Sam was just ending the call when Gertrude came into the room.
"I thought you said you were only here to pick up some documents, Sam. Can't you find them?" she asked. She glanced from one face to the other. "Something's happened. What is it?"
Sam looked at Laura, but he could see that the woman preferred him to give the news. He did it as gently as he could.
Gertrude threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "Can't those boys even go on vacation without getting caught up some kind of crime? The nerve of that lieutenant! The boys have been missing almost a week, and he hasn't done anything about it?"
"He didn't realize they were missing," Sam pointed out. "They might not be. They might have found a lead on the murder—if there was a murder—and are following it."
Laura looked down at the floor. She couldn't harbor any such hopes herself. If the boys were on such a dangerous case, they certainly wouldn't have cut off communications. In fact, they would have contacted either their father or Sam and explained the situation. They would have set up an arrangement where they would check in periodically and if they failed to check in, Fenton or Sam would call the police. Sam knew this as well as Laura did. He was just trying to keep Gertrude from panicking.
Unfortunately, Gertrude knew it, too. "If the boys were investigating a murder, they would let somebody know."
"Sam, what are we going to do?" Laura asked.
Sam thought for a moment. "Keep trying to get hold of Fenton. I've got another phone call to make."
He turned around and rushed down the stairs and outside to his car, where he could make the calls he needed to without being overheard. He thought briefly about the documents he had come to pick up. That client would just have to wait for now. He climbed into the car and made his first call. It was picked up on the second ring.
"This is Jack Wayne."
"Jack, this is Sam. Are you in Bayport?"
"No, New York."
"Even better. How fast can you rent a plane that can get across the ocean?"
He heard Jack let out a long breath. "Maybe by tomorrow, if it's an emergency."
"Can you make it later today?"
"What's wrong?"
"It's Frank and Joe and their friends. Apparently, they witnessed a murder five days ago. They've been missing ever since."
There was a momentary pause. "I'll do my best on the plane. Where do I file the flight plan to?"
"I don't know yet. If I can narrow down where Fenton is to a few hundred square miles, we'll go and try to pick him up first. Otherwise, we'll go straight to Hawaii."
