Shadows at Predator Reef by Franklin W. Dixon

Author:Franklin W. Dixon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

THE SECRET LAIR

10

FRANK

WE BOTH FIGURED A SURPRISE visit to Mr. V was in order. A half hour later we had changed into street clothes and hopped back aboard a water taxi headed to his mansion. When he moved to Bayport to start construction on Predator Reef, he’d bought himself a big old house right across the bay on a hill overlooking the harbor so he could see the aquarium from his back porch.

“There are only so many ways one of Mr. V’s handkerchiefs could have made its way into a four-hundred-year-old tunnel,” my brother said, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Yeah. And the most obvious one was that he dropped it there a lot more recently than four hundred years ago,” I replied.

Just then my phone buzzed with a text from Big Chuck.

“I’ve got news about the shark that attacked you,” I told Joe after reading it. “Big Chuck says that once they finally got Bruce back in the examination tank, they discovered the reason he went all Jaws on us.”

“Because private detectives taste good?” Joe cracked.

“No, because someone jabbed him in the side with enough force to break through the shark’s tough skin,” I said. “Someone wanted him angry. He’s usually a really calm shark; he never would have gone after you like that unless he was pretty incensed.”

“You think Mr. V had something to do with that, too?”

I was quiet for a second. I didn’t like the idea that Mr. V might be capable of harming an animal.

“I guess we’ll see.”

When we got to Mr. V’s and walked around to the front of the property, we could see news vans camped out in front of his house. I guess they didn’t think we were newsworthy, because they let us walk right past. I pressed the buzzer on the mansion’s big double doors. After a few minutes, the tuxedoed chauffeur who resembled Alfred from Batman opened the door. Like Alfred, I guess he was the butler as well as the chauffeur. He looked at us like we were a couple of unwelcome salesmen.

“Yes, how may I help you?” he said in the same strong New England accent as Mr. V and Ron. From the way they sounded, Mr. V must have recruited everyone on his staff from the same place.

“We’re here to see Mr. Valledor,” I said.

“I’m sure you are,” Alfred said. It was hard to tell if he was peering down his nose at us or if it was just the way his face looked. “Mr. Valledor is a very busy man. I don’t suppose you have an appointment?”

“No, but I think he’ll want to hear what we have to say,” Joe told him.

“We’ll see.” Alfred sounded unconvinced. “And who might Mr. Valledor have the, ahem, pleasure of meeting unannounced?”

“You can tell him it’s the Hardy boys,” I said. “He knows who we are.”

He replied by slamming the big door in our faces. He opened it again a couple of minutes later.

“Follow me,” he said.

We walked through the mansion’s grand entrance hall into a large study, where Mr.

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