154-The Caribbean Cruise Caper by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-08-07T15:15:12+00:00

Chapter 9

In the Bag

The instant he realized that he was under attack, Joe tucked his chin into his chest and dropped into a crouch. Reaching up, he closed both hands around one of his attacker's wrists. Then he did a half spin on the ball of one foot. His opponent's extended arm was now trapped against the fulcrum of his right shoulder. He took a deep breath and prepared to use the power of his thigh muscles to execute a full shoulder throw. Even as he did, he wondered why the other guy was hanging limp instead of resisting. "Joe, hold on, it's me!" a familiar voice said in his ear. At the same time a hand grabbed the waistband of his pajamas at the back. This was a standard counter to his move. If he went ahead with the throw, he would find himself being pulled along with his opponent.

"Frank? What are you doing here?" Joe asked softly. He released his brother's wrist and straightened up.

"I heard a suspicious noise and got up to check it out," Frank replied, keeping his voice pitched low. "I saw a flickering light up on the main deck, near the head of the stairs. I went to see who it was, but by the time I got there the person had disappeared. What about you?"

"Same as you," Joe said. "But in my case the suspicious noise was you. Did you turn out the hall light?"

"No, it was like that when I came out of our room," Frank said. "I tried the switch. No go. The bulb must be unscrewed."

"So we're not dealing with somebody who just decided to get a midnight snack," Joe remarked.

"No way," Frank told him. "Do you remember where we put the flashlight? I want a closer look at the area near the head of the stairs."

The Hardys found their flashlight and climbed up to the main deck. They searched the foyer and the passage that led to the salon and dining area. They checked the washroom where Boris had found the ipecac bottle. They peered into the galley. Nothing seemed out of place anywhere.

They returned to the head of the companionway.

"Maybe it was just an insomniac after all," Joe said, disgusted.

"An insomniac with a phobia about lightbulbs?" Frank replied. "I don't think so."

"Well, whatever he or she was up to, no traces were left," Joe said. "Let's take another look in the morning."

"I guess you're right," Frank said. He waved the flashlight around for one last look. His voice changed. "Joe—look!"

He had stopped the circle of light on the bulletin board. Crudely painted in black on the white cork surface was a skull and crossbones.

A superstitious thrill touched the back of Joe's neck and ran down his spine. After a moment he recovered his cool. He stepped forward and touched a fingertip to the bulletin board. It felt dry, but when he sniffed his finger there was a faint odor of paint solvent.

"It's pretty fresh," he reported.

"It has to be," Frank replied.

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