111 Competitive Edge by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hbfiles
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Before the Hardys could figure out what to do about the weapon lying on the floor, a voice bellowed in their ears, ‘Tut your hands in the air. Now!”

Frank and Joe shot their hands into the air.

“That’s good,” the voice said. “Now turn around slow, real slow, and keep those hands up.”

The Hardys turned to see two men—the Stonewall Lodge desk clerk and a county sheriff. The sheriff frisked them, then emptied their pockets, placing the contents on the dresser. He pulled Joe’s volunteer card from his shirt pocket and stared at it.

“Okay now, just what are y’all doing snooping around this nice lady’s cabin here?” the sheriff asked. “Looking for something in particular, or just having fun?”

“I’m Frank Hardy, Officer. This is my brother, Joe. We’re Olympic volunteers.”

“Didn’t you say these fellas were in transportation, come to give somebody a ride?” the sheriff asked the clerk.

“That’s right,” The clerk nodded. “They couldn’t remember who.”

The sheriff turned back to the Hardys. “Well, this card says Joe works on track-and-field events, not transportation. How about you?” he asked Frank.

“I work in the field events, too. Officer,” Frank said. “My card’s in my wallet. You can contact Detective Lyle Posten of the Atlanta police or Officer Joe Heiser of Olympic security. They’ll vouch for us.”

“Oh, really?” the sheriff said. “Well, we’re going to take a Httle ride down to the station house, and you can call them yourself.”

The sheriff started poking around the room and stopped at the open closet. “Now, isn’t this interesting?” he said, bending down to pick up the pistol crossbow.

“What’s going on?” a young woman’s voice said. Her accent sounded familiar to Joe. “What are you people doing in my cabin?”

Frank recognized her the minute she stepped into the room. The last time he’d seen her, she was driving a Jeep, dressed as a Venusian. Tonight, she was in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black nylon jacket.

“Are you Ms. Jordan?” the sheriff asked.

“I am,” the young woman answered, pulling out a passport and handing it to him.

“Well, you had some visitors while you were gone,” the sheriff said. “We caught them here.”

“These two?” the young woman said. “They are my friends, Frank and Joe Hardy.”

Frank nearly choked. He looked at Joe, then at the sheriff and the hotel clerk. They looked as shocked as he felt.

“I’ve been expecting Frank and Joe,” the woman went on. “Now, if you gentlemen will please leave us alone…”

“Just a minute. Miss,” the sheriff said. “I’m going to have to ask you a few questions. Starting with this.” He picked the pistol crossbow up off the dresser where he’d laid it down and held it up to her. “We found it in your closet.”

The woman’s face went pale. Then she said abruptly, “I have never seen it before. Someone must have put it here.”

“The door was open when we came in,” Joe said. “Maybe someone was here before us.”

“So, you see, this crossbow was planted,” the woman said.

“Hold on, everybody,” the sheriff said.

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