Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

The Prime-Time Crime (14 page)

“Yeah,” Joe said. “You spent most of the last week trying to bite each other's heads off. Did you call a truce or what?”

“Oh, we never really disliked each other,” Debbie said with a smile.

“Nah,” Steve said, shrugging. “That's just how we act. You know.”

“After we caught those crooks who kidnapped Clarence,” Debbie said, “Steve asked me to the dance at school this weekend. I thought that was sweet.”

“Uh-huh,” Frank said. “Does this mean you're not going to keep trying to prove which of you is the greatest detective any more?”

“Of course not,” Debbie said. “We're both great.”

“Which is why we're thinking of opening our own detective agency,” Steve said. “As soon as we get out of school, of course.”

“Uh, there are a few requirements for becoming a detective,” Joe said. “Like a license, for one.”

“Oh, I'm sure that won't be a problem for a brilliant pair like us,” Steve said, grinning. “We'll pass the licensing test with flying colors.”

“We're going to call the agency Hertzberg and Burke, Private Detectives,” Debbie stated.

“Uh, I thought that was going to be Burke and Hertzberg, Private Detectives,” Steve said, looking sideways at Debbie.

“No,” she answered, with a firm shake of her
head. “We agreed, remember? Hertzberg and Burke. That has a much nicer ring to it.”

“That may be so,” Steve said. “But Burke and Hertzberg is alphabetically correct.”

“We decided that it was going to be Hertzberg and Burke and that's the way it stays,” Debbie retorted.

“You know I'd never dream of contradicting a thing you say,” Steve said, “but I will never agree to the name Hertzberg and Burke even if you drive flaming bamboo shoots underneath my fingernails.” He began to walk down the hall.

“That's not a bad idea,” Debbie said, following him, “and if I were you, I wouldn't put such delightful ideas in my lovely head.”

“I couldn't get an idea into your head,” Steve said over his shoulder, “if I wedged it in with an ice pick.”

Frank and Joe looked at each other. “You know,” Frank said, “this could be the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, as he watched Steve and Debbie wander down the hall, bickering all the way. “Or a bad nightmare.”

“By the way, we promised to tell Callie and Iola all about this case as soon as it was over,” Frank reminded Joe, as they headed for the lobby.

“True,” Joe said. “But they've probably read all about it in the newspapers today. There was a big story in the
Bayport Times
this morning.”

“Let's call them up, anyway,” Frank said. “It's a good excuse to get together, maybe go out to eat. Chet might want to come along, too.”

“Chet doesn't
need
an excuse to go out to eat,” Joe said.

“Neither do we,” Frank said. “I think we've earned a night on the town. Let's get dressed up and do it right.”

“Dressed up?” Joe said, looking back toward Studio A. “Hang on a minute. I know where I can get a great deal on some gold chains!”

“Forget it, old buddy,” Frank said with a laugh as he grabbed his brother and pulled him out into the parking lot, where they had left their van.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.