Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
"I was still woozy." Callie's face tightened as the scene came back to her. "It was like a dream — a nightmare. I could tell I was in some kind of open space. Then I felt something hard jutting up against my back. A rock. I wiggled the cords against it until I cut through them and got my hands loose. The rest was easy."
"Where were you?" asked Frank, touching Callie's wrist tenderly. Besides the welts from the cords, he could see abrasions where the rock had rubbed against her skin.
"In a vacant lot a couple of blocks from here," Callie said. "I could see the light from this place when I finally made it to the sidewalk. Good thing Ernie's stays open late. I was still kind of out of it, and I just made it here when — well, you saw what happened."
Joe cleared his throat. "Uh, Callie, I didn't mean anything when I said — er—you know, about you fainting and all — "
"Sure, Joe," said Callie dryly. "You didn't say anything that I didn't expect from you."
"I'm glad to see you're back to normal, any-way," Joe said back, with a grin.
Frank interrupted them. "We know who to call now — the police. This is one time having Collig's private number will come in handy."
Ezra Collig was the Bayport police chief. The Hardys had helped him with some cases in the past, and he had given them his private phone number in case he was needed in a hurry.
"It's too late to get Collig now," Joe said. "We'll have to wait until tomorrow morning."
"Maybe Riley's on duty," said Frank. He was talking about Con Riley, one of Bayport's finest and the Hardys' best contact on the force.
Joe shook his head. "Huh - uh. Riley's on vacation."
"But we can't wait," Callie said, protesting. "We have to get on the trail while it's still hot."
Frank and Joe exchanged glances, then grins.
"Joe and I aren't thinking about waiting until tomorrow to do something," Frank said.
"Yeah," said Joe, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"So, if you could tell us where that empty lot is — " The same gleam lit Frank's eyes.
"Hey, wait a second, guys," Callie said. "I won't tell you where it is. But I'll show you. No way you're leaving me out of this investigation. Come on, let's go."
Just then the pizza arrived.
"Great," said Chet. "We'll polish this off and be on our way."
"No time for that," said Frank, getting up.
"Maybe we can have it packed up to go," Chet suggested, desperation in his voice.
"No time for that, either," said Joe. "We'll have to settle for a slice each, to eat as we walk." He grabbed a slice and stood up.
"None for me," said Callie, getting to her feet. "Chloroform is a great appetite killer."
"But that leaves five big slices — well, four, if I grabbed two," said Chet.
Finally Frank took pity on him. "Maybe you should stay here and finish it. If we all go, the counterman will get suspicious. We should keep this operation undercover for the time being."
Chet looked relieved. "Okay. Don't worry, I'll do my part. I'll finish this pizza as if I didn't have anything else on my mind."
"I knew I could count on you," Frank said, grabbing a slice for himself before he, Joe, and Callie headed out of Ernie's. As they passed the counterman, Frank thanked him for his help. "Callie's just got some kind of virus. We'll make sure she gets home okay."
The counterman grunted, then yawned. He looked at his watch, then at Chet attacking the pizza. At the rate Chet was devouring those slices, he'd be out of there on time.
The Hardys and Callie soon reached the vacant lot. Frank pulled a pen-size flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on. "Let's take a look."
Callie bent over, following the beam of light as it moved across the ground. "Yes, there's my calculus book," she called. "And my history book. And there's my notebook."
The books lay near one another on the ground. Callie picked them up and examined them.
"Hey, watch out. You're forgetting about fingerprints." Joe reached for the books.
"The guy was wearing gloves," said Callie, not bothering to look away from the book she was examining. "My books are all okay. But the way they're lying open makes me think the guy riffled through them. I wonder what he was looking for."
"Money, probably. Good thing you didn't have your shoulder bag with you."
"I have to hand it to you, you've got sharp eyes," Callie said. "I didn't realize I had forgotten it till I was almost at your place tonight. By then I didn't feel like going home to get it."
"Joe's sharp eyes have nothing to do with it," Frank said, earning a dirty look from his brother. "After you left, your mom called to say you had left the bag at home and she was leaving the front door key under the doormat."
"Right. They were going to a surprise birthday party for an old friend," said Callie. "They won't be home until late." She turned to Joe. "I take back the compliment. Sharp eyes — hah!"
"They're sharp enough to see what happened here," said Joe. "The mugger desperately went through your books, hunting for cash. He must have been pretty mad, getting nothing for his trouble."
"He sure did go to a lot of trouble." Frank frowned. "Using chloroform for a simple mugging."
"It is unusual," Joe admitted. "But what could he have wanted besides her bag? There's no reason for anyone to attack Callie — she's no one special."
Callie glared at him. "Thanks a lot, Joe," she muttered.
"Oh, you know what I mean," Joe replied.
"At least you didn't get hurt, Callie." Frank took her hand. "We can be thankful for that."
"I'd be more thankful for some clues," Callie said. "This guy left no fingerprints, and I didn't see his face. Quite a challenge, huh?"
"Maybe an impossible one for the time being." Frank made one last sweep with his flashlight before giving up. "I don't think there's anything we can do until the mugger strikes again. Dad says that most crooks are basically unimaginative. They choose one method of operation and keep using it over and over. So maybe we'll be able to spot the pattern when this guy tries his next heist."
"We'll just keep on the lookout," said Joe, agreeing.
Callie yawned. "Well, if there's nothing more to do right now, I'm heading home to bed," she said. "Mugging or no mugging, I still have that exam tomorrow. And the one thing I can't afford to have stolen is sleep."
"We'll walk you home," said Frank, taking her arm. "You must still feel pretty shaken up."
But the way he took her arm, holding it as if she were made of fragile china, made Callie shake him off.
"Thanks, but, no thanks," she said. "I can make it by myself. You think lightning will strike twice in one night?" She turned away, about to head off. Then she turned back to Frank. "If you want any help hunting this guy, give me a call. Otherwise, I'll be pretty busy this week."
Frank watched her walk away from them with a determined stride.
"Still a little angry, I guess," Joe said. "Don't worry. It'll blow over."
"You don't know Callie," said Frank. "That was her I-hate-to-lose look. She gets it whenever I pull ahead of her in a game." Frank grinned. "The only person I know who's more competitive is you."
"Well, somebody beat her out," said Joe. "That mugger. But I doubt she'll learn from it."
Frank stopped walking. "Look, Joe, lay off!" He turned to face his brother. "I don't know what your problem is, but you've really been on Callie's case lately. She's into something dangerous—and it's up to us to help her out. If you keep going on at her, she'll go off on her own and take stupid risks, just to prove that she's not helpless. Why can't you just leave her alone?"
"Me leave her alone? Every time I turn around she's telling me I'm just a dumb jock with a football for a brain. Frank, we're supposed to be a team, remember? But Callie is turning us into a debating team!" Joe paused, trying to cool down a little. "Don't you care — "
Frank cut him off. "What I care about right now is Callie," he said. "And I'm going to make sure nothing else happens to her." Angrily, he turned and began to walk again, his strides long.
Joe stared after Frank for a minute. Then, muttering under his breath, he ran to catch up.
Callie was still seething as she walked home. Somehow, she had to cure Frank of his stupid idea that she was fragile and defenseless.
Then a thought struck her. If she could find the mugger before Frank and Joe did ... if she could track him down and identify him to the police.
That might be the exact lesson Frank needed. It would be nice if it taught Joe something, too, but she didn't expect that much. Joe was impossible.
She'd start the next day. Her friend Liz Webling could help. Liz's dad was editor of the Bayport rimes, and Liz had instant access to all the past editions and their crime reports. Besides, Liz wanted to be an investigative reporter and had great instincts at sniffing out news. Yes, she decided, Liz would be a definite asset.
But first things first, Callie reminded herself. She had to get a good night's sleep, then she had to take her calculus test. After that she could test her instincts and abilities as a detective.
When Callie arrived home the house was dark. Her parents still hadn't returned. She lifted the doormat and felt for the key.
It wasn't there.
Funny, she thought. Her mom forgot about it.
She was probably running late for the party. Maybe she left the door open, though. Callie turned the knob.
The door swung open.
"Thank goodness," Callie said out loud. Now she could go straight up to her room and get to bed.
But Callie didn't make it any farther than the threshold.
A man stood in front of her.
His black stocking mask kept her from seeing his face, and a heavy black sweater and baggy jeans masked his weight. But she recognized the black gloves on his hands. The black gloves that had clamped down over her mouth earlier that evening. The black gloves that were reaching for her again now.
She had found her mugger.
Or rather, he had found her.
And this time, she knew, he didn't plan on letting her go alive.
CALLIE HAD ONLY one weapon to defend herself with — her voice. And she used it. Her scream was earsplitting.
The mugger froze for just a second, then decided. He brushed past Callie, knocking her off balance, spinning her halfway around. By the time she recovered and tried to get another look at him, he had disappeared into the night.
She felt as if she would explode, so she stood motionless until she had calmed down enough to think clearly again.
Then she went inside, closed and locked the door, and moved to the phone.
She punched out a number and was relieved when Frank answered it on the first ring.
"Can you come over here now?" she asked.
"Callie, are you all right?" asked Frank. "What's up?"
"The mugger," said Callie. "He was wearing a mask, but I'm sure it was him. He was here when I got home. I screamed and scared him off. He must have been afraid of the neighbors arriving. Good thing he didn't know that the Joneses are away and Mrs. Cole is deaf."
"But why, I wonder?" Frank said.
"That's what I thought you might help me figure out," said Callie.
"I'll be right over," said Frank.
Ten minutes later Frank knocked gently on the door, Joe beside him.
"Relax, Callie," Joe said. "The Hardys are here. Your troubles are over."
"Cut it out, Joe. I figured two heads would be better than one," Frank said to Callie.
"You mean, three heads would be better than two," said Callie in an icy tone. "Or don't you count me as one?"
"Listen, there's no way I'm going to get cut out of a mystery," Joe said.
"Why not? You're always trying to cut me out." Callie shook her head. "Maybe you guys shouldn't have come over. I'd probably be better off by myself."
"Hey, I'm sorry. What I said didn't come out the way I meant it," Frank said. "But we're not going to get anything done if you keep flying off the handle." He looked at Joe. "Either of you."
Callie nodded. "Let's see if we can figure out what's going on."
"Start with what happened here," said Frank. "Where was the guy?"
"He was inside the house."
"So he was waiting for you when you arrived." Frank frowned.
"No, I don't think he was waiting for me," said Callie. "Otherwise he wouldn't have left the door unlocked behind him. He had to believe I was still tied up in that vacant lot. He must have made a lucky guess and found the key under the mat."
"I see you have this worked out already," said Frank with affectionate admiration.
"Yeah, your theory sounds good as far as it goes," Joe had to admit. "But now comes the hard part. Why would this guy first mug you, then come to burgle your house? There has to be a link."
"He probably got my address from my books," Callie said. "But I really am stumped. What does he want from me? Why'd he go to all the trouble of coming here after grabbing me on the street?"
"Did he do much damage?" asked Frank, glancing around the comfortable living room. "Nothing looks disturbed."
"That's another weird thing," said Callie. "He seems to have been careful not to leave any trace that he was here. Except for the downstairs hall closet, which was a real mess. Maybe he was in the middle of searching it when he heard me at the front door."
"Maybe he had only just arrived himself, and that was the first place he hit," said Joe. In spite of himself, he was interested.
"I thought that myself—until I spotted this," said Callie. She went to the magazine rack and pulled out a bunch of magazines. "My dad is a nut about keeping magazines in the rack in chronological order — he says it saves him time when he's looking for an article he wants to read. My mom and I go along with him. She says everyone is entitled to at least one mania. But the magazines are out of order now. Which means the mugger must have gone through them, then replaced them. Obviously he thought no one would know he had touched them."
"He didn't figure on you," said Frank.
"Yeah, you're good at spotting little details like that," said Joe. "But we have to worry about the big picture. What was the guy doing here? What was he looking for? That'll take brain power. Deduction. Fortunately, that's Frank's specialty."