133 Crime in the Kennel by Franklin W. Dixon

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

CHAPTER 9

Lowering the Boom

Joe reacted instantly. He slammed the brake pedal to the floor. The van immediately dropped back behind the red truck.

But not fast enough. Not before the masked man fired.

Splat!

The pickup truck disappeared in front of them, lost in a field of red. The windshield was completely covered with red liquid of some kind. Joe couldn't see a thing.

"I can't see the road!" Joe shouted.

He slammed hard on the brake again. He fought the wheel, trying desperately to keep the van on the road. He couldn't remember if the road ahead was straight. The loud thumping told him it wasn't.

"Hang on!" Joe told his brother.

Joe had to do something before he totaled the van. He turned the windshield wipers on high speed and hit the washer switch.

The rubber blades made a full swipe before clearing enough of an area in front of him that he could steer the van back onto firm pavement.

"Great driving," Frank said, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"But the guy in the red pickup got away," Joe complained. "We can't go after him with this red stuff all over the windshield." He pulled over to the shoulder and set the hand brake.

Frank jumped out of the van. He sniffed the heavy red fluid on the windshield. "Latex paint," he said. "The guy had some kind of paint gun."

Frank found some rags in the back of the van. He dipped one in a puddle of standing rain water and attacked the area on the driver's side. Together, they cleaned off as much as they could.

"It'll wash off if we use a pressure hose," said Joe.

"There's a car wash on Center Street," Frank said. While Joe drove, Frank put through the call to the number Dr. Skinner had given them.

"I got an answering machine," Frank said after a minute. "The place is called Bayport Scientific Supply." When he heard the beep, Frank began speaking: "I represent a new lab in Bayport," Frank said. "Our name is Chemical Analysis and Testing, but we're so new, all of our supplies haven't been ordered yet. That's why I'm calling. We're going to need twenty-five dogs for vitamin supplement tests. Can you help us?" Frank left the number of their dad's office machine and hung up.

"Chemical Analysis and Testing?" asked Joe, smiling. "The lab you've just made up that's doing make-believe tests on dogs is called CAT?"

"I thought Dynamic and Organic Guidance would be too obvious," his brother said with a laugh.

Joe turned the van into the car wash. He told the attendant to concentrate on the windows.

"We'll do our best," the man said as he directed Joe to the waiting area.

"Was that Mike Trent who gassed us last night?" Frank asked above the sound of spraying water.

"It was so dark, and it happened so fast, it could've been anyone," Joe said. "I couldn't even see if he had long hair. But it was his apartment, the same address he'd written on his application at Pet Provisions. "

"His hair might have been tied back," Frank said.

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