The Prime-Time Crime (2 page)

Just then the man with the headset spun around and faced Marcy. “Matt Freeman is in Studio B!” he cried. “He can be here in five minutes.”

“He'd better be here in one minute,” Marcy told the man. She raced toward the studio door.

Joe looked at his watch. “Freeman better get here soon. This is serious.”

A few seconds later, Marcy reappeared with a middle-aged man in tow.

“There he is,” Joe said to his friends. “That's Freeman.”

“Doesn't Freeman host that afternoon talk show, ‘Faces and Places'?” Iola asked.

“That's right,” Callie said. “You and Frank were on that show once, weren't you, Joe?”

Joe nodded. “Somebody set off a bomb in the studio while we were there.”

“Oh, great,” Chet said nervously. “I hope that doesn't happen today.”

Joe turned away from his friends and focused his attention on the set. Matt Freeman was a handsome man with a tanned face and black hair peppered with gray. He wore a dark suit with a blue tie that he was hastily tightening around his neck. Marcy pushed him behind the podium that stood between the two long tables.

“You've seen the show, right?” she asked him, thrusting a sheet of paper into his hands before he could answer. “Here are the questions. All you have to do is ask them. I'll signal you when it's time for a commercial break.”

As Matt clipped a microphone on his jacket, Marcy raced off the set, waving at the camera operators. “Set up the opening shot. Fast. We're on the air in fifteen seconds.”

The crew swung the cameras into position. One was aimed toward Matt Freeman, a second toward Frank and his two teammates, and a third pulled out for a full shot of the host and the two teams. Joe looked at a video monitor on one side of the set. An advertisement for a fast-food restaurant was just ending. It was replaced by a shot of “The Four O'Clock Scholar” set, with the name of the show superimposed over it in green letters.

Matt Freeman smiled at the camera while the theme song played. Joe noticed how comfortable Freeman appeared. It looked as though he had been hosting the show all his life.

“Good afternoon, everybody,” he said genially. “And welcome to ‘The Four O'Clock Scholar,' everyone's favorite Sunday afternoon quiz show. I'm afraid your old buddy Clarence couldn't be here today. I'm Matt Freeman, and I'll be standing in for Clarence. We've got two great high school teams for you today, from two of my favorite schools—” He darted a sidelong glance toward the banners that had been draped across the fronts of the tables. “Bayport High and Littonville High, of course.”

“This is going to be some show,” Chet whispered. “He doesn't even know the names of the schools.”

“Give him a break,” Joe whispered back. “He just got here.”

“Now let me introduce our young contestants,” Freeman said, walking toward the two teams. Reading the names off the nameplates in front of the three students, he said, “For Bayport High, we have Frank Hardy, Steve Burke, and Debbie Hertz-berg.”

The Bayport students in the audience clapped wildly at the mention of each name. Joe and his friends cheered loudly when Frank's name was mentioned. Freeman then read off the names of the three students from Littonville High, and the quiz began.

“I'm sure you all know the rules,” Freeman said. “I ask the question, and the first student to press the buzzer at his or her seat gets to answer. If the student who rings the buzzer doesn't know the answer, any other member of the team can respond. And if nobody on the team knows the answer, the point goes to the other team.

“Ready? Okay, let's begin.”

Frank sat up alertly in his chair. Freeman stepped back behind his podium and read the first question.

“Many people regard Albert Einstein as the greatest scientist of the twentieth century and perhaps the greatest scientist of all time,” read Freeman. “In his most famous equation,
E
equals
MC
squared, the
E
stands for ‘energy' and the C stands for the ‘speed of light.' What does the letter
M
stand for?”

Steve stabbed at his buzzer so hard that the table shook. “Matter!” he shouted loudly.

“Wrong,” Freeman replied. “Does anyone else on the Bayport team know the answer?”

Joe saw Debbie shoot Freeman a bored look, as if to say, “That's not my kind of question.”

Frank leaned forward and said, “Mass.”

“Correct,” Freeman said. “The complete equation says that ‘energy equals mass times the speed of light squared.' That's ten points to the Bayport team.”

Steve turned to Frank and mouthed the words, “I knew that.”

“Many of the short stories of Ernest Hemingway,” Freeman continued, reading from the paper in front of him, “including his famous story ‘The Killers,' were concerned with the adventures of a young man who literary critics believe represents Hemingway himself when he was growing up. What was the name of the young man?”

“I love Hemingway!” Debbie cried, pushing down on her buzzer. “I've read all his stories. The young man was named, uh, he was named—I know the answer, honest.”

“I'm sorry, but your five seconds are up,” Freeman announced. “Would anyone else like to try?”

“It was Nick Adams,” Frank offered.

“You're absolutely right, Frank,” Freeman said. “Another ten points for the Bayport team.”

The Bayport half of the audience clapped and cheered loudly.

“Wow,” Chet said, turning to Joe. “I didn't know Frank knew all this stuff.”

“My own brother,” Joe said, joking. “Hard to believe.”

“Frank really is very smart,” Callie said proudly. “He's got brains and he's a great athlete.”

“True,” said Joe with a sly grin. “Actually, he's not that great at baseball.”

Iola rolled her eyes. “Right, Joe,” she said with a chuckle. “We all know that you're the baseball king.”

“Sssh,” Callie whispered. “Freeman's going to ask the next question.”

“Every Memorial Day, millions of automobile racing fans stay home, glued to their television screens for the running of the classic Indianapolis Five Hundred race,” the emcee continued. “In what year was the first Indy Five Hundred held?”

This time it was Frank who rang his buzzer first. Steve and Debbie turned to him with slightly annoyed looks on their faces.

“In 1911?” Frank asked.

“That's right,” Freeman announced. “The Bay-port team does it again, and it looks like Frank Hardy is leading the way.”

“Way to go, Frank!” Joe shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Yay, Bayport!” came the cheers from the others in the Bayport half of the bleachers. “Yay, Frank!”

“This is so exciting,” Callie said. “I knew Frank could do it.”

“Hey, look,” Iola said, pointing at a studio monitor. “We're on TV.”

Joe turned and looked at the screen. Sure enough, the camera was aimed directly at them, and their beaming faces were filling the screen.

“Hi, Mom,” Joe said, waving at the camera. “Hi, Dad.”

“Send money,” Chet added. “And food.”

“And now for the next question,” Matt Freeman said. He rattled off several questions, many of which Frank was able to answer. The Littonville High team also managed a few answers, but Steve and Debbie sat glumly, rarely ringing their buzzers.

During the first commercial, Frank leaned back in his seat. His heart was racing. He was exhilarated over how well he had done in the first round, though he was also aware that Steve and Debbie were glaring at him from the other two seats.

Frank looked up to see Marcy Simons dart out onto the set. She ran around nervously, congratulating Matt Freeman on his performance, praising the two teams for their fast thinking, and handing Freeman the new set of questions for the second round.

When the commercial was over, Freeman fired off another series of questions. Although Steve and Debbie managed to score a few points, Frank still found himself giving most of the correct answers. By the end of the game, the Littonville team was hopelessly behind, and Frank's team scored an easy victory.

“Let's hear it for the Bayport team!” shouted Matt Freeman, but the Bayport half of the audience didn't need his encouragement. They were already on their feet, clapping, whistling, and shouting Frank's name. Joe and Chet were the loudest.

“And I want to remind all of you,” Freeman said when the cheering had died down, “that our championship tournament will begin this Tuesday on a special edition of ‘The Four O'Clock Scholar.' The Bayport High team will be back to square off against our current reigning champion, Newcastle High School. We'll all be looking forward to seeing Frank, Debbie, and Steve again on Tuesday night.”

Freeman waved at the camera, and the credits began to roll. As soon as the show was over, Frank joined his brother and his friends.

“Hey, Frank,” Chet said, slapping him on the back. “Good work. I didn't know you were
that
smart.”

“I did,” Joe said proudly.

“Me, too,” Callie said with a broad smile. Iola nodded and grinned.

Steve Burke walked up to Frank and extended his hand. “Congratulations, Hardy,” he said glumly. “You had a run of luck back there.”

“Hey,” Joe said. “That wasn't luck, it was brilliance. My brother's a genius. It runs in the family.”

Frank gave Joe a funny look. “You've never called me that before.”

“Shut up, stupid,” Joe said, grinning. “I can call you a genius if I want to.”

Marcy Simons, who had been in a conversation with Matt Freeman, turned to the remaining members of the audience.

“I'm afraid you'll have to leave now,” she told them. “The show's over, and we need the studio for another program.”

“What happened to Clarence?” Chet asked. “Did you ever find him?”

“Not yet,” Marcy said. “But we're looking, believe me.” She started to turn away, then did a double take at the sight of Joe and Frank. “Hey, haven't I seen you two before?”

“We're Joe and Frank Hardy,” Joe said. “We've lived in Bayport all our lives.”

“I know,” Marcy said, snapping her fingers. “You're the detectives who helped catch the Masked Marauder a while back, the guy who was threatening to blow up the station.”

“Right,” Frank said. “In fact, he almost did blow up the studio, while we were appearing on the show ‘Faces and Places.' ”

Marcy looked at the Hardys thoughtfully. “That was an impressive piece of detective work,” she said. “I'd like to talk with you two—alone.”

“Well, we can take a hint,” Callie said. “Come on, Iola. Let's meet the rest of the gang over at Mr. Pizza.”

“Now you're talking,” Chet said, a big grin spreading across his face. “I haven't had a square meal in, oh, three or four hours.”

“What about the sandwich and those chips you ate before the show?” Joe asked.

“That was just a snack,” Chet answered.

“Do you two want to come along?” Iola asked Steve and Debbie.

“Not right now,” Debbie said. She was still a little upset over her poor performance on the show. “I'll catch up with you later.”

“Likewise,” Steve said.

When everyone had left the studio, Joe turned to Marcy Simons. “So what was it you wanted to talk to us about? Does it have something to do with Clarence?”

“Yes,” Marcy said. “I'd like you two to do a little detective work for us.”

“Sure,” Frank said. “We're always happy to help out.”

“Do you really think that something has happened to Clarence?” Joe asked. “Maybe he just had a flat tire.”

“I'm afraid there's a little more to it than that,” Marcy said, pulling a sheet of paper from the clipboard under her arm. “This was delivered by a messenger, just after the show started.”

Joe took the paper from Marcy. It was a sheet of white paper with a typewritten message on it. The paper was folded in two. Joe read it out loud.

“ ‘Marcy— Going away for a two-week vacation. Sorry I couldn't tell you in advance. Hope you can find somebody to fill in for me.' ” Looking up at
his brother, Joe said, “It's signed by Clarence Kellerman.”

“Is that Clarence's signature?” Frank asked.

“Yes, it is,” Marcy replied.

“Then what's the problem?” Joe asked. “It looks like Clarence just skipped town for a few days.”

“Open it up and look inside,” Marcy said.

Joe opened the folded sheet of paper. Inside, handwritten in large, jagged letters, was a single word: HELP.

“Wow!” Joe exclaimed, staring at the note. “This definitely changes things.”

“Did you talk to the messenger?” Frank asked. “Did he say where he got this?”

Marcy nodded. “The messenger service received a call telling them to pick up the message at a convenience store in the middle of town that recently went out of business. When the messenger got there, he found the message taped to the door, with the money for the delivery attached to it with a paper clip. He has no idea who put it there.”

“It looks like somebody typed the message, then forced Clarence to sign it,” Joe said. “The typist didn't notice that Clarence had written a message of his own on it.”

“Have you called the police?” Frank asked Marcy. “If this is a kidnapping, they should be involved.”

“The police are already investigating,” Marcy said. “I called them during the show, and I've got to go talk with them now. But I was impressed by the detective work you two did during the last case, and I'd like to buy a little insurance by having you two around.”

“We'd be glad to help,” Frank said.