062-The Apeman's Secret by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-08-07T15:12:02+00:00

Chapter 12

A Ghostly Figure

The Hardy boys' detective instinct was immediately stirred upon hearing of the burglary.

"What was taken?" Joe asked.

"Nothing, that's the odd part about it. Yet there were valuables in plain sight, like an expensive camera and a new TV and a video cassette recorder in the living room, not to mention all the silverware in the dining room, or a cut-glass punchbowl that's worth several hundred dollars. But the robber passed it all up!"

"How did you find out about the burglary?" Frank inquired.

"Dad told me about it. It happened shortly before he died."

"No, ma'am, I mean how did he find out there had been a burglary if nothing was taken?"

"Oh, because Rory chased the robber away. He'd been snoozing alongside Dad's bed, the way he always did, but I guess he finally heard some noises and woke up and went galloping downstairs to see what was going on. Then his growls and the commotion woke Dad. Apparently the robber just had time to make it out the front door before Rory took off an arm or a leg."

"Maybe the thief had no time to steal anything," Joe suggested.

Mrs. Elver looked doubtful. "I don't know. Dad said there were signs that he must've been searching the downstairs rooms quite thoroughly before Rory got after him. There was even Dad's gold wristwatch lying out in plain view on the drawing board in his studio. The thief could have slipped that in his pocket, but he didn't."

The Hardys could offer no solution to the mysterious burglary. But they promised to let Mrs. Elver know if it proved to have any connection with the Apeman case.

When the boys returned to their car, Joe studied a road map briefly. "Look," he pointed out, "the place where that other muscle-man suspect works is about ten miles from here. Why don't we detour there and talk to him?"

"Suits me," said Frank, and Chet made no objection.

The man in question was a mechanic named Vic Cardiff. He was employed at a highway gas station and proved to be a sullen-looking, belligerent type with beetling black brows and a heavy jaw.

"I know all about you guys," Cardiff said, brushing aside Frank's attempted introduction. "You're those two punks who think they're smart detectives just because their old man's a private eye. Right now you're mixed up with this nut who goes around posing as the Apeman and smashing things up.

"We're not mixed up with him," Joe said. "We're trying to find out who he is."

"And you think maybe I'm the guy, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

"It's what you meant, though," the muscular mechanic growled. "Why else would you be looking me up? Well, you're barking up the wrong tree, so beat it!"

"All we want to do is ask you a few questions," said Frank, standing his ground. "If you've got nothing to hide, what's wrong with talking to us?"

"You heard me! I've got nothing to say to you guys, so scram outa here! I got work to do." Without another word, Cardiff turned away and went back to greasing a car that was up on a hoist.

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