The Test Case by Franklin W. Dixon

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

9 On Ice

* * *

Frank felt the van start to skid even before Joe’s shout. He clasped the armrests of his seat and tried to make his body go limp.

Joe was pumping the brake pedal, giving it short pushes, then letting up on it. At the same time he moved the steering wheel gently back and forth, feeling for any hint of traction.

Whether because of something Joe did or through some peculiar law of physics, the van slowly began to revolve in a clockwise direction. It kept on sliding down the driveway, but now Frank’s side was closer to the street than Joe’s.

The rear wheel on Joe’s side slid off the driveway onto the lawn. It gouged through the thin layer of snow and the grass into the dirt. The effect was like throwing out an anchor. That corner of the van stopped moving, while the rest spun dizzily around it. A moment later the van rocked to a stop. It was resting entirely on the lawn, with the front end facing the street. The men in the garbage truck stared at the van as they roared past.

Frank took a deep breath. “Give me some warning the next time you try that,” he said.

“Are you kidding?” Joe said indignantly. “Oh. Right. You are kidding.”

“What happened?” Frank asked.

Joe shook his head. “Beats me,” he said. He opened his door and climbed down. His feet shot out from under him. He clutched the van door just in time to avoid a nasty spill.

“Ice!” Joe said unbelievingly. “This whole part of the driveway is iced over.”

Frank got out and walked around the van. Joe was right. For the last stretch of driveway, clear across the sidewalk to the street, the concrete glittered with a thin layer of ice.

“Weird!” Frank exclaimed. “We haven’t had any snow or sleet for days. And I know the driveway was clear and dry yesterday.”

“Frank, hold it,” Joe said. “Something woke me in the middle of the night. When I looked out, I saw a car pull away. I didn’t think anything about it then. But now. . .”

“I think you’ve got it,” Frank said somberly. “What a perfect booby trap! All you’d need would be a couple of five-gallon jerricans of water and a nice cold night. And I don’t think our driveway got picked at random. Someone’s mad at us . . . someone with a really nasty imagination.”

“Sal Martin,” Joe said. “I just remembered that when I went up to his office, I gave him my real name. What a bonehead move!”

“You’ve been smarter,” Frank told him. “But from what you’ve told me about Martin, this isn’t his style. Too indirect. He sounds like the kind who’d send some of his muscle to break our knees.”

Frank walked beside the driveway to beyond the icy patch. Crossing the drive, he squatted down to get a more oblique view of the snow on that side. There were plenty of footprints, but they crossed and recrossed each other so much they were unreadable.

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