Hardy Boys Digests - 098 Spark Of Suspicion by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon [Dixon, Franklin W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 9

Stakeout

Frank blasted his way through traffic, desperate to find out what had happened to his brother. It meant flirting with the speed limit, but he neared the Bayport Inn just nine minutes after Joe’s radio had gone dead.

Two blocks from the hotel, he spotted Joe’s bike, lying on its side under a tree. Frank gripped his hand brakes, screeching to a stop. Joe’s helmet lay on the ground, a few yards from the bike.

“Hi, Frank,” Joe called from the shadows under the tree. He lay in tall grass, leaning against the trunk.

“Joe!” Frank said. “What happened?”

Joe shook his head and winced. “I just took the bad-driving award from Anna Siegel. Guess I was too busy watching where she and her boyfriend were going, instead of watching the road.” He pointed up. “That branch left me flat on my back.”

Frank saw how the low-hanging branch could sweep someone off a bike.

“I was hanging back, so they didn’t even see me go down.” He sighed. “And I didn’t see where they were headed.” Grunting, he got to his feet.

“Are you hurt?” Frank asked.

“Just my … pride.” Joe rubbed the seat of his jeans.

Frank checked out Joe’s cycle, while Joe tested out his arms and legs. “Find out anything about Siegel and our mystery man?” Frank asked.

“Just that he wasn’t Kevin Bailey,” Joe said, climbing onto his cycle. “I was sure that’s who she was meeting. But this was a guy I’ve never seen before.”

“Maybe Chet can identify him from your description. Let’s ask him about that - after we get home,” Frank said. “We’re not going to uncover anything else tonight.”

Frank eased his cycle into the light nighttime traffic. Joe followed him, and they headed home.

A half hour later, Fenton Hardy joined his two sons in the kitchen as they reheated some supper leftovers. “How’s that videotape coming, boys?” he asked.

Joe was about to speak, but Frank gave him a look. He wasn’t quite ready to go public with a wild-sounding note and no - or was that too many? - solid suspects.

“Just fine, Dad,” Frank jumped in. “We’re going to start editing soon.”

“Before the fireworks show?” Mr. Hardy asked.

“Well, yes,” Frank said. “We know the show will fill the last minutes of the tape. Our problem is to edit everything else down so we don’t go over seven minutes.”

“Will we get to see it before it airs?” Mrs. Hardy asked.

“You know the right people,” Joe said. “As soon as we’re ready, make a batch of popcorn, and we’ll have a private screening.”

When the boys had finished their late supper, they called Chet and asked him to come over. Frank promised him a hefty share of leftovers.

Chet arrived, dressed in his bus driver’s outfit. “Hello, Hardy family,” he said, strolling through the front door.

He planted himself firmly at the kitchen table. Joe put a heaping plate of cold meat loaf, lima beans, and warmed-up mashed potatoes in front of him.

“Chet,” Frank said, “we need a little more help. Joe saw a man come out of the Bayport Inn this evening - we hope you can identify him.

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