J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you for reading! Special thanks to everyone who has left reviews! The next chapter will be up tomorrow. God bless!
July 1 – Saturday
If Tony hadn't been keeping track of the days, the boys would have never been able to tell when June gave way to July. It was just as warm and sunny, the ocean and the sky were just as brilliant blue, the breeze blowing through the palms and other plants was just as sweet-smelling. The island would have been a paradise, if it hadn't also been a prison.
Those were Phil's reflections as he looked out over the water. He had gone down to the beach where they had first landed. Not to fish. It was Saturday, and the boys had agreed that they could relax about work on weekends. The other five were also perfectly willing to let Phil off any work at all on Saturdays. It was a little dull, especially since there wasn't much to do here that was entertaining in any way, but Phil reflected that his parents would be pleased if they knew he was keeping the Sabbath—as well as he could—even out here. Even if it did mean that now that he had an idea of how to make the hinges for the door, he would have to wait until tomorrow to try it.
The only other person on the beach was Frank, who was on fishing duty that day. They were far enough apart that they couldn't talk comfortably, and so they had both been doing more thinking than anything. A long sigh from Phil alerted Frank to the fact that his friend's musings hadn't been particularly uplifting.
"Something on your mind?" Frank asked as he reeled his line in to cast it again.
Phil shrugged and made a face. "Eh, it's pretty stupid, actually."
"What is?"
Phil rolled his eyes. "Well, do you ever have dreams where you do something that's just awful and disgusting and you still feel disgusted with yourself when you wake up? Even though you know it's not your fault that you dreamed about something like that, but you still just feel…bleh."
"Sometimes," Frank said. "Just give it some time. You'll stop thinking about it sooner or later."
"Oh, I know," Phil agreed. "It's just in the meantime."
Frank guessed that Phil was getting at that he wanted distracted, so he tried to think of something to say. "The Fourth of July is in three days. We need to figure out what we're going to do so we don't wind up just doing nothing."
"No fireworks, not enough people for a parade, no special food." Phil shook his head. "We couldn't even do a reading of the Declaration of Independence, unless someone happens to have it memorized."
"I used to. I'm not sure how much I could still remember." Frank closed his eyes and began to recite, "'When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are established…' No, that's not right. It's 'instituted,' not 'established.'"
"That's not bad," Phil said. "I wonder if anyone else has any of it memorized. We could have a contest to see who can get the farthest in it."
"I know Joe used to have it memorized, anyway," Frank replied. "Our parents had us memorize it. Grandma and Grandpa Hardy went to school long enough ago that they had to memorize it in school, and so they had Dad and Aunt Gertrude do it, too, even though they weren't required to. Then Mom and Dad handed the tradition on to Joe and me."
"We could have you and Joe compete against each other, then," Phil said. "That could be fun."
Frank grinned. "I'm game if Joe is. Maybe we could have some other competitions for the fun of it. Races, climbing, whatever. We could probably even find something to use for a discus throw."
"That's not a bad idea," Phil agreed. "Actually, it sounds like a lot of fun. It feels like I haven't done anything like that in a long time."
"Yeah. Somehow, it does." Frank finally cast his fishing line. Then he abruptly said, "We should name the island."
"We should. I guess the other guys would want some input on that, though."
"Right. We can talk about it later."
HBNDHBNDHB
Nancy woke up early that morning. The stake-out on Brock Garret had gotten nowhere the day before, and so she and Don had finally given it up. They couldn't waste any time getting started today, though. Brock probably hadn't come to Hawaii to sit around in a hotel room all day. Nancy's disguise took quite some time to put on, so that meant getting up as early as possible. She still had all the makeup spread out on the sink. She took one glance at all of it and then leaned against the sink, feeling no willpower whatsoever to put it on. She was tired, but not from waking up early.
She noticed her phone sitting on the sink and she picked it up. It would be later morning back home, and it was Saturday, so her dad wouldn't be working. Probably. She placed a call to him.
"Hi, Nancy," Carson Drew's cheery voice came over the phone. "How's everything going?"
"Okay, I guess. We might have picked up some clues yesterday. I don't know yet. I turned it over to Mr. Hardy and Mr. Radley, and they're following up on it. They still want Don and me to keep tailing Brock Garret."
"I take it that's not a very appealing task," Carson replied.
"No. Not at all." Nancy let out a long sigh and sank down in the chair that was still in front of the mirror, looking at herself. Her hair was back to its natural strawberry-blonde,. Her face looked pale and drawn without all the makeup that had adorned it the day before, but it was her own face. She didn't want to make it into a stranger's face again. "No," she repeated.
"Did something happen yesterday?" Carson asked quickly.
"No, not really. It's just…You know how stakeouts are. They're long and boring and very uncomfortable when you're with someone you don't feel like you can talk to freely. You know, I've always thought that it wasn't very fair of Don to not even want to try to be just friends after we broke up, but I'm starting to think that maybe you can't go back to being just friends."
"It's not easy to do," Carson agreed. "Do you still care about him?"
"Not in that way. At least, I don't think so. I'm afraid maybe I could, a little bit. But I don't want to. I'm happy with Ned. And worse, I think Don still cares and I don't want to lead him on, but…I don't know how to be sure I'm not doing that accidentally."
"As for that, it's pretty simple, even if it's not very pleasant," Carson said. "Crushes happen, even when you're with someone you really care about. It's nothing to worry about or make into a big deal. Most of the time, if you ignore a crush, it will go away on its own,. If you don't think it will or you can't wait that long, the best thing to do is get some space between yourself and the other person. I think that's probably the best option in this case. You and him sitting in a car together with no one else around isn't such a great idea."
"You mean, you think I should beg off on the stakeout?" Nancy paused, savoring the idea that it maybe really could be that easy. Then she shook her head. "I can't do that, Dad. Frank and Joe and the others are more important than my feelings or Don's. If this stakeout is the best way we can help them, then that's what we need to do."
"If you're both distracted, you're not going to be much help, anyway. But if you still think that you need to do this, then you're going to have to tell Don frankly that you're not interested in dating him. It's going to hurt him a bit, but less than it would in the long run if you weren't frank with him. I think he's a decent enough guy that he'll respect it."
Nancy heaved a long sigh. "I've got a lot of great options, apparently. Isn't there any way I can just subtly discourage him without doing anything to make him out-and-out dislike me?"
"I'm afraid not. Honesty is the only way if you don't want to just wind up making things worse."
"Okay," Nancy agreed reluctantly. "I'm really wishing I would have taken Ned up on his offer to come out here with me."
"You'll be okay, Nancy."
There was a beep on Nancy's end of the line that signaled she was getting another call. She told this to her dad and added, "I'd better take it. It could be important. I love you."
"I love you, too, Nancy."
Nancy switched her phone to the new call, noticing with a sinking feeling that it was Don calling. She guessed he was probably just calling about something related to the case, but she wished there was a way this problem could just magically get solved.
"Hi, Don. Is something up?" she asked as casually as she could.
"Uh, Nancy?" From Don's voice, Nancy could immediately tell that something had happened to him. She tensed.
"Don? What is it? What happened?"
"When I went out to get my car this morning, someone had smashed the windshield," Don reported. "They left a note, too: 'You and Nancy Drew, mind your own business.' Evidently, they saw through our disguises."
"I'm sorry about your car, Don."
Don scoffed incredulously. "The car is the least of my worries. They know who you are, Nancy. I was worried that they had come after you. They still could!"
"Oh. I don't think they will. It's weird that they did this much. Have you called Mr. Hardy or the police yet?"
"No. I wanted to make sure you were all right first."
Nancy bit back a sigh. "Thanks for being worried, but I'm okay. Call Mr. Hardy, and I'll meet all of you over at your place. I don't think we'll be continuing the stakeout now."
If nothing else, at least there was that small consolation: that there would be no more need for the disguise or for the discomfort of the stakeout. Nancy changed her clothes, grabbed her purse, and headed on foot toward Don's apartment, which was only three blocks away from her hotel, a detail that had been arranged by design. She realized that her being on foot would probably worry Don and maybe the others all over again, but she didn't think there was anything to be concerned about. Whatever had happened to Frank and Joe and the others hadn't had any warning; the people behind that wanted them out of the way, and they weren't shy about making that happen. Don's car being vandalized was a warning. Someone thought Nancy and Don were a threat, but not as big a threat as the boys had been. These people might cause more trouble later on, if they saw that Nancy wasn't about to give up investigating, but in the meantime, they weren't going to go to the bother of issuing a warning and then not give enough time to tell whether Nancy had stopped investigating or not.
When she reached Don's apartment, he was outside by his car, having just finished making his phone calls. He was still upset and he did comment on Nancy's decision to walk, clearly not thinking it was a wise choice. Nancy was glad when Fenton arrived a few minutes later. Lieutenant Hikialani arrived shortly after him.
Fenton read the note over with a grim expression. "You two did something yesterday that made someone nervous."
"You'll need to fill me in on what it was," Hikialani said.
Nancy gave a recap of what had happened the day before, and the police officer nodded.
"I'll have to see those names and phone numbers you turned up," Hikialani said. "If you want to make copies first, that's fine with me."
"Thanks," Fenton said. "Sam, Mark, and I have already been looking into them. So far, none of them have gone anywhere. Most of them seem to be people who gave their numbers to Brock, hoping he'd call them. A few seem to think he could help get them into show business. Some of them say it was a year or more ago that they gave the number to him. Apparently, Brock doesn't clean his car out often."
"There's one thing I don't quite understand," Nancy said. "Brock doesn't live here in Hawaii, but he has a car here?"
"It's one of his quirks," Fenton replied. "He doesn't like renting cars. However, the car isn't actually registered to him. It's registered to Devin Reynolds, his agent. From your description, I'd say he was the man with Brock yesterday."
"Does he live in Hawaii?" Nancy asked.
"Part-time." Fenton smiled slightly. "I can guess your next question. I don't know why they're in a hotel when Reynolds owns a house here."
"But in any case, we still don't have any proof that Brock Garret is involved with your sons' disappearance, Mr. Hardy," Hikialani pointed out. "All we have is a suspicion that he's involved in Dylan and Annie Larson's murders. The good part about that is that there's no reason why we can't cooperate while looking into this, at least until a definite connection can be made. However, we're going to have to tread lightly. With Garret involved, this could quickly turn into a media circus. Not only that, but I wouldn't put it past him to try to press charges against Nancy and Don for burglarizing his car."
"So you're not the one opposed to working with us, officially?" Nancy asked him.
Hikialani shrugged. "That's coming from the FBI, and my superiors told me I have to play by their rules. So I am, officially."
"So what are you suggesting we do?" Don asked. "I don't really want to get arrested."
"I would say that you should proceed as you have been, as far as checking the names and numbers," Hikialani said. "As for following Garret around, I would strongly advise against it. However, since there is probable cause that he or his agent was involved in vandalizing your car, Don, I'll put one of my detectives on tailing them. I might have a hard time explaining it to my captain, but I think it's worth a shot."
"Better one of your detectives than me," Don replied with a faint grin.
"I'll second that," Nancy added. "About me, that is."
"All right, then, if you two still want to help, you and Jack can help us run down our list of names and phone numbers," Fenton said. "With six of us working on it, we should be able to get through all of them in a couple of hours."
HBNDHBNDHB
"You know, it never occurred to me until now what a perfect metaphor the 'salt of the earth' really is," Joe commented as the castaways ate supper. It was only fish and potatoes and fruit, like the majority of their meals on the island had been, but with the added benefit of salt, it tasted like a rare delicacy.
"I'll never take salt for granted again," Chet agreed with a contented sigh.
Frank grinned. "You know, I thought it was a little weird how excited you guys were about salt, but I've got to admit, you've got a point."
It wasn't their first meal with salt, of course, but the novelty was still there. They were just finishing, some of them taking longer to savor it than others. Tony had already finished and was continuing with his project with the string and the beads that he had found. Biff was already starting on the dishes—at least, he was heating the water that he would use to wash them.
"Frank and I were talking earlier," Phil said. "We should name the island."
"We totally should!" Biff agreed. "I've got the perfect name, too: Hooper Island."
"Hooper Island?" Joe repeated incredulously. "Why would we name it after you?"
"Well, it makes sense to name it after the most prominent citizen," Biff said innocently.
"In that case, we should name it Morton Island," Chet interjected.
"Okay, but consider: there are two Hardys on the island," Joe pointed out.
"Hold on," Frank broke in. "We're not naming it after any of us, okay? We'll just have to come up with some other idea."
"We could do like the guy who named New York and call it New Bayport," Biff suggested.
"That wouldn't make any sense," Tony interjected. "There's no bay and there's no port. Besides 'Bayport' sounds too much like the name of a town."
"Well, New Massachusetts isn't much better," Biff pointed out.
"How about Barmet Island?" Chet suggested.
"Barmet Island," Phil repeated. "I like that. What do the rest of you think?"
The others agreed that it was a fitting name, so the decision was unanimous.
"We'll have to have a ceremony to make it official," Biff said. "How do you officially name an island, anyhow? I know with a ship, you have to break a bottle of champagne against it, so hopefully islands aren't the same protocol, since we don't have any champagne."
"I don't think there's any specific ceremony," Frank replied with a grin. "We'll think of something."
"I think you're supposed to plant a flag on the beach and declare that you're claiming the island and what you're naming it," Joe said.
"We don't have a flag, either," Chet reminded him.
"Well, then, in that case, I'm out of ideas," Joe said.
"Hopefully, not completely," Frank replied. "We've also got to talk about what we're doing for the Fourth of July. Phil and I both think we should celebrate."
"I do, too," Chet agreed. "I've got a great idea what we can do. We should have a reenactment of the signing of the Declaration of Independence."
Frank, Phil, and Tony were all a bit skeptical of the idea of a reenactment, but Joe and Biff eagerly agreed that it would be fun. Their enthusiasm soon won over the others, and the only thing left was to sort out the details of how they were going to do it. The revelation that the Hardys had at least part of the Declaration of Independence memorized was a particularly welcome one.
"One of you guys will have to play Thomas Jefferson," Chet directed. "Because, obviously, whoever plays Jefferson is going to have to 'read' the Declaration. We can only have six Founding Fathers. Who are the other five we should have?"
"I don't suppose you guys having it memorized means you've got the list of signers memorized?" Biff asked the Hardys.
"Uh, no," Joe admitted. "We were supposed to, but I never got around to it."
"Me, neither," Frank also admitted. "But I can tell you two names that you'd expect to be there but aren't. Neither George Washington nor Alexander Hamilton signed the Declaration of Independence."
"Aw, man," Chet pretended to complain. "And here I have the entire soundtrack for Hamilton memorized, since Iola's always listening to it. I would have been perfect for the role of Hamilton."
"Sorry, you'll have to save that for another time," Biff teased him.
"So who all was there?" Chet asked.
"Let's see." Frank started counting them off on his fingers. "Ben Franklin, John Adams, Sam Adams…"
"Charles Carroll," Tony interjected.
"Right," Joe agreed. "There was also Wiliam Williams. I could always remember him. And then there was John Morton from Pennsylvania and William Hooper from…one of the Carolinas, I think. I thought Chet and Biff might want to hear about them."
"Hey, do you think John Morton could be an ancestor of mine?" Chet asked. "That would be pretty awesome, to be able to go around talking about how my ancestor was one of the Founding Fathers."
"An important one, too," Frank put in. "If I remember right, he was the swing vote that caused Pennsylvania to vote in favor of the Declaration, and Pennsylvania's vote was needed to come to the decision to sign the Declaration."
"Okay, that's it," Chet said. "I'm going to be him."
"We can't have the Declaration of Independence without Samuel Adams," Joe put in. "Frank can be Thomas Jefferson, and I'll be Samuel Adams, and since Phil is the most opposite of me, I vote for him for John Adams."
"I could be the second president," Phil agreed. "Since the first president is out of the running."
"That only leaves me and Tony to be casted." Biff folded his arms. "Well, we definitely need a Ben Franklin, so I'll volunteer."
"I'll be Charles Carroll," Tony offered.
"Okay, perfect," Chet said. "Now we just have to work out a script. Too bad we don't have any way to build a convincing set."
"We'll just have to make do with our imaginations for that and for the costumes," Biff replied.
HBNDHBNDHB
Most of the phone numbers were a dead end for Fenton and the other investigators. Those that answered were no help and didn't seem suspicious. Several didn't answer. One of those in particular somehow caught Fenton's attention. There was no name written on the note, only a hastily scrawled phone number. There was no message when the call wasn't answered, but the number still seemed somehow familiar to Fenton.
He didn't want to mention it until he was sure. It might just be his imagination playing tricks on him. Quietly, he went to the folder of suspect records that Hikialani had given him. He started thumbing through them, comparing the phone numbers. On the sixth one, he came up with a match.
*John Morton is buried in Chester, Pennsylvania—a fact that Chet would probably like to know but I don't think it would be reasonable for Frank and Joe to happen to remember it!
