Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Frank guided the car to the curb and killed the engine. "We have an injured man," he told the trooper. "Can you help us get him to a medic?"
"What's wrong, burns or smoke inhalation?"
Joe opened the back door, slid out of the car and helped the still-dazed Dr. Winter out the door. "Somebody shot him," he explained.
The officer swung his flashlight beam on Joe and the doctor, then into the back seat of the car. "Who's still in there? Come out, please."
The boys' father obliged. "I'm Fenton Hardy," he said. "I imagine you have — "
"Up against the car," ordered the state cop. "Spread 'em."
"YOU'VE GOT THIS ALL WRONG," Frank said to the officer. "Our father was kidnapped, along with Jenny Bookman."
"Yeah, you two must be the Hardy brothers. Sergeant Hershfield in Seattle is anxious to find out where you are." The trooper finished searching their father. "You know, it's starting to look like those rumors about this being arson were right too. Did you boys start this?"
"It was arson, but they didn't do it," Dr. Winter suddenly spoke up. "It was—two men working for Ray Garner. They shot me too."
"Garner, was it?" The policeman shook his head, looking skeptical. "His helicopter happens to be over in the town square. We ordered him down until this fire's under control. He obliged and has been very helpful. That doesn't seem the way an arsonist would behave."
"You've got to hold Garner," said Fenton Hardy, "and the men with him."
"Nope, it's you I'm going to hold. You're wanted for murder, and maybe we can charge the rest of the family with arson."
"Listen, we can prove that Ray Garner is behind all this." Frank tapped his shirt, producing a thump. "I have written records of the earlier crimes, and we saw those hoods start some of the fires."
Jenny was out of the car by now. "My name is Jenny Bookman," she told the state policeman. "And I can add a few charges of my own. Mr. Garner and the men with him kidnapped me."
"All true," Dr. Winter gasped. "If you'll get your superior, I'll make a full confession."
"Confession to what?"
"To everything—" The doctor slumped suddenly, leaning hard against Joe.
"He's passed out again," said Joe, easing Winter back onto the car seat.
The trooper was looking at them, wrinkles forming on his forehead. "I think I'd better get somebody to talk to you," he said. "You wait right here."
"Garner may get away on foot while we're standing around," said Frank. "At least let us stop him from leaving town."
"I don't know about that."
"I'll stay here with you," promised Fenton Hardy. "Let Frank and Joe go round them up."
The state policeman thought about that for a moment. "Okay, but no rough stuff," he said, reaching for his two-way radio.
The Hardys found that a makeshift canteen had been set up in the town square. Basically it was a long trestle table with two coffee urns, two platters of doughnuts and one of sandwiches. A plump woman in a yellow slicker was in charge of it. And standing in front of the food were Ray Garner, Washburn, and Leon.
"I'll take Leon, you take Washburn," Joe suggested as the Hardys picked up their pace. "Whoever finishes first will settle Garner."
Heads ducked, the brothers came running across the street and onto the grass.
Washburn saw them first. He had a doughnut in his mouth, and spewed crumbs as he tried to warn the others. But Frank tackled him, and his warning came out as a howl. The rest of his doughnut dropped from his hand to roll over the dry grass.
Spinning, Leon turned to face the charging Joe. He reached under his black jacket for the automatic stashed there.
"Not this time," said Joe, throwing a shoulder block into him.
Leon grunted, making another try for his gun.
Joe gave him three jabs to the ribs, followed with a roundhouse right to the chin.
Leon shuffled, bit at the air, and staggered. His left leg went suddenly rubbery and he fell. He sprawled out on the grass and didn't move.
"That takes care of you, mate," said Joe, straightening up and looking around.
Garner hadn't remained to fight. Instead, he was trotting toward the helicopter.
But Frank was already sprinting after him.
He caught up with the lumber baron a dozen yards shy of the chopper. A hard flying tackle brought Garner down.
"I've got some very good attorneys," warned Garner as Frank sat on him. "You'll find yourself being sued for slander, among other things."
"Too late to bluff, Garner," Frank told him. "Dr. Winter didn't die. He's dictating a confession right now."
"Oh." Garner sagged under him.
He didn't say anything else.
***
Joe was whistling, enjoying the late-morning sun as he walked across the campus of Farber University. There was considerable bounce to his step.
Now and then a student, usually a young woman, would recognize him and smile or nudge a companion. His picture—along with Frank's and that of his father—had been all over the newspapers the day before.
Joe grinned when he saw Jenny Bookman waiting by one of the benches near the campus bell tower.
She was wearing jeans and a striped shirt. "I'm glad you took me up on my invitation for lunch, Joe," she said. "Where'd you like to go?"
"Is there a good Chinese place around?"
"Yes, just off campus."
"That'll be fine." Joe glanced at her. "That is, if you like Chinese food."
She grinned. "I do."
They started walking along one of the tree-lined streets of the campus.
"It turns out those notebooks of Dr. Winter's were even more valuable than we first thought," he said.
"Yes, I was just over at the biotech lab, talking to some researchers who were friends of my father's," said Jenny. "Winter had just worked out a cure for the flu-like illness the new bug caused."
"So they'll be able to use it to help the people in Crosscut, right?"
"They're already getting medical help," she answered. "And this new cure will be ready to test very soon."
"I heard on the news this morning that all the fires are finally out."
"Yes, and Ray Garner and his goons have been indicted for murder," said Jenny, looking at the ground. "My friend Beth Fawcette is upset. Her dad's been asked to resign for trying to cover things up." She paused, sighing. "Somehow, everything hasn't worked out just fine."
Joe took her hand. "I know how you feel," he said. "Your father's dead. That's something a dozen arrests and convictions can't change."
"Yes, there's nothing that can be done about that," she said. "I have to accept it as fact. The thing is — well, I don't know. It still makes me mad, that's all."
"Sure, because your father was honest and tried to stop something that was crooked. He got killed, but a guy like Dr. Winter survived."
"That's part of it," Jenny said. "I can't help thinking that if he'd just kept quiet and let them go on with what they were doing ... " Her voice trailed off.
"Some people can't keep quiet. They're usually the best kind of people, Jenny."
"I know, and he was one of those."
They walked on without speaking. The tower bell began to strike noon.
Later that afternoon, Joe was whistling as he entered his hotel room. There was even more bounce to his step.
"That you?" called Frank from the bathroom.
"It is." Joe frowned at the twin beds. His suitcase was sitting open on top of his bed. Frank's neatly packed one was on his bed. "Are we going somewhere?"
"Were you planning to take up permanent residence in Seattle?" Frank came into the room with his shaving kit under his arm.
"We're supposed to fly out of here the middle of next week," said Joe. "Dad's going to rest up. We were even talking about going fishing."
"Change of plans." Frank arranged the kit in his suitcase. "So get packing. We're on a seven P. M. flight."
"Seven P.M. tonight?"
"Tonight." Frank glanced around the room, spotted his pen on the desk, and picked it up. "Do you want me to help shovel your clothes into your suitcase?"
"I can't go home just yet," Joe said.
"Why?"
"For one thing, I have certain social obligations."
"Jenny?"
"Yeah, we're having dinner at eight."
"Something's come up in Bayport," said Frank. "Dad didn't give me all the details, but he says we all have to get back home quick."
"Some kind of case, you mean?"
"That's right. Dad will brief us on the flight home."
Joe bent and plucked a single sock off the floor. He carried it at arm's length to his open suitcase and dropped it in. "Is that a smug smile I see on your face?" he asked.
"Not at all, Joe. I sympathize with you," Frank assured him. "It's not easy to find a girl who's been blinded by smoke and wants to go out with you. And here's one willing to go out with you twice in one day — that's a real rarity."
Joe found another sock and deposited it. "Okay, I won't go against Dad's orders," he said. "So I guess I'll phone Jenny and explain that my family is tearing me away from her."
"Joe, this is Seattle, not Mars. You can come back sometime."
"Sure, sure." Sighing, Joe sat on his bed and scowled at the phone on the nightstand.
"Give her my best wishes," said Frank.
Shaking his head, Joe reached for the telephone. "And I thought this was going to be a case with a happy ending."
The End.