HDA - Classified Secrets by Cherylann Rivers Introduction

The very next day, Joe, Frank, Iola and Callie arrived in Florida. If they could investigate this particular incident, and prove that this school, too, had a connection to the "Prince Charming" ads, then they knew that they had to contact the authorities to help them. Frank found himself desperately wanting to speak with his father. Not only did he want to make sure that he was safe, but he also knew that his dad might have some advice to offer on this kind of case. Like the one his father was working on, clearly these incidents appeared to be linked together. Also, in both cases, the terrorist group, or the sicknesses, in their case, both involved something left behind. Their father’s case had the terrorist group leaving strange Latin mottos behind, whereas here, a "shoe" cutout, made of some hard plastic substance, was left behind as well. Frank was growing very frustrated by this case.

Glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye, he was beginning to wish that Joe would take this case a little more seriously as well. Instead of helping him out and trying to actually get a look at the "shoe" design or to question the officials at the scene, Joe seemed more interested in amusing Iola. Actually, change that, he thought. He seemed more amused by Iola, who had become more talkative about everything and less enthusiastic about anything to do with investigations than he had remembered. Frank couldn’t help but to feel badly for Vanessa, and he didn’t quite understand Joe’s behavior. But, he resigned at last, it’s his love life. Let him handle it.

"Frank?"

Frank turned around when he heard Callie call his name. They were standing outside their car at a far distance from the high school that had recently been closed. From this vantage point, they, or he and Callie, as it was turning out, could see movement and keep an eye on what was happening before deciding on their next move. It was getting late—almost 5:30, and he knew that most of the people would be leaving for the day within the next hour. That would give him some time to decide what to do. Of course, it would be nice if Joe helped.

Suddenly, he remembered Callie. "Huh? Oh, sorry." He gave her a sheepish grin. "I was just thinking that we could check out the grounds. It’s too soon for the "shoe" cutout to have arrived but maybe we can see if there’s a way that it could get delivered without the authorities being aware of it."

"Good idea," she responded. "Don’t forget what we read this morning! At Elmwood, the cutout was delivered last night, and not by mail, either. Apparently, someone must have delivered it later. It’s a little different from the first few cases, but the same thing could happen here."

Frank smiled at his girlfriend. She was becoming quite the little detective, and she had been a big help thus far on their case. He told her so.

Callie returned the smile, and the looked in the direction of Joe and Iola, who were talking by themselves a distance away. "But…."

"But what? Did I say something?" Frank asked her.

"No, you didn’t," she replied. "But you’re thinking that as much as I’m trying to help out, you’d still prefer it if Joe could get his act together and rejoin your team, huh?"

Frank just stared at her. How did she know that?

Callie laughed at his expression. "Oh, come on, Frank. How long have we been together? I know you. And… I’m going to help you out, right now. Let me go and distract Iola so that you and Joe can get started on the investigation." With that, she turned and headed in the direction of the couple.

Frank couldn’t help to be thankful that he had such an incredible girl.

A few minutes later, Joe came bounding over to Frank with a goofy grin on his face. "Hey big brother!" he said.

"I was beginning to forget what you looked like," Frank grumbled.

Joe’s grin fell. "Look, Frank, you know I’m here to work. You know how I feel about standing around and doing nothing. I figured that when you wanted to move, you’d get me. In the meantime, I thought I’d hang out with Iola, okay?"

Frank looked at his brother steadily. "Joe, do whatever you want. I hope you know that I’m not standing around doing nothing. I’m trying to plan out next move. OUR next move, Joe. Not mine. I’d appreciate a little help."

Joe sighed. "All right, Frank. I don’t understand why you think about things so much. Why don’t you just kind of go up to one of the guys and get the info? This isn’t the world’s most difficult undercover investigation."

"Oh, really, Mike?" Frank replied sarcastically, referring to Joe’s near disaster at Elmwood.

Joe tried not to get angry. "Frank, we’re not seeing eye to eye lately. I got the info, didn’t I? No pun intended." He had to grin at his own joke.

Frank wasn’t amused. "Joke all you want, Joe, but the reason we’re not getting along is because we’re not seeing each other at all. We need to talk."

Joe sighed. He was getting impatient. "No, we don’t. Let me see what I can find out." With that, he took a jog down the road and approached one of the officers. Frank just stared in disbelief at him.

Joe thought he’d take the direct approach. Why was Frank always plan, plan, plan? His older brother would probably even have to plan how to be spontaneous. And, for all the times that Frank’s thinking had gotten them out of jams, his actions had saved them the other half. I’ll have to buy him a rocking chair, the old man, for his next birthday, Joe thought to himself.

He went up to a police officer on duty, who had just been helping the health officials. "Hi!" Joe began, flashing a bright smile.

"Can I help you?" he responded, appearing perturbed at having to deal with a teenager.

What is it with me and grumpy cops?, Joe had to think. "Look, officer, I need a favor. I realize that this case is still under investigation, and that I’m probably not supposed to be here.

"Yes, you’re right about that."

Joe persisted. "However, my father, Fenton Hardy, the detective, is working on this case, and he’d like me to get some quick info for him. It’s nothing much."

Joe hoped his lie would work. He hated using his dad’s name, but once in a while, he had to do it. It was simply the quickest way to get responses sometimes.

"Hardy? I never heard of him."

Joe sighed. This wasn’t Bayport, and although his father was internationally known, his fame ran in the circles of those who needed to know. Suddenly, he had a great idea.

"Listen, we’re from Bayport, in New York. If I can get one of the chief detectives in the department there to speak to you, would you let me know what I need to? You can verify his badge number and everything."

The officer still looked dubious. "What do you want to know anyway?"

Finally! Joe continued, in his best appreciative voice. "Thank you, officer. All I want to know is if you have a picture of what this "shoe" cutout looks like, since it obviously didn’t come here yet. I then want to know the name of the first person who died here. That’s it."

"Hold on a minute." The officer left, but returned a few minutes later with what appeared to be his commanding officer. He then related his story to him as Joe listened. At the mention of Fenton Hardy’s name, the commanding officer perked up. "Hardy! I know that name! You his boy?"

Joe nodded, hoping for some insight.

"Sure, sure," he chuckled. "I transferred down from New York about five years ago. I never knew your dad, but he helped with a fair number of cases. I also ran into—what’s his name? O’ Ryan? Reily?"

"Sure!" Joe said, finally recognizing the name. "Con Riley!" Thank goodness, Joe thought, that he’s our one ally on the force.

"Yeah- good guy!" Joe politely continued the small talk with this officer, making up lie upon lie about why he was down there in the first place. Twenty minutes later, however, he was done, and five minutes after that, he was back at the car.

"What took you so long?!" Frank asked, worried, "I could see you with those cops, but I didn’t know if you were in trouble or not."

Joe simply smiled, resisting the urge to be smug. "Listen, Frank. I told you I could get the info. You were right. It was a girl who died first; he name was Deanna Ortiz. Check that out on your laptop. I think you know what the result will be anyway. Also, I got a look at a picture of that shoe cutout, and I found out that officers will be circling the building tonight in case there are any suspicious deliveries."

"Did the shoe have any distinguishing characteristics?" Frank prodded, eager for any new information that he might be able to attain.

"Well…" Joe blushed. "Frank, you might think I’m crazy, but it looked like… well, it looked hollow and pointy and sort of old-fashioned, the design I mean."

"Yeah? And? Why did you give me that weird look?" Frank knew Joe had discovered something.

"Well, um… it sort of looked like a woman’s shoe."

Callie, who had been listening , chimed in. "So what’s so weird about that? I mean, was it a dress shoe, a sneaker, an evening shoe, a slipper—I mean, what?"

"Yeah! That’s it! It kind of looked like a hollow slipper. Weird, huh?"

All of a sudden, Callie gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Callie? What’s wrong?" asked Frank.

She ignored him and turned to Joe. "Joe, you said it looked like a hollow slipper?"

"Yup," he answered. Where was Callie going with this?

"Joe!" she cried. "Don’t you get it? What are the personal ads being referred to?"

Joe stopped for a moment. "Prince Charming," I think."

"Yeah, and what fairy tale do you see that in?"

"What? Snow White?" Joe wished Callie would get to the point.

"No, silly, Cinderella," Iola chimed in, happy to get one response. Joe smiled at her. "Great job!" he said.

"No!" Frank and Callie said together. They looked at each other. "Go ahead," Callie said to Frank.

"Joe," Frank chimed in, suddenly understanding where Callie was going with this. "We already knew it was Cinderella. It says so right in the ads. There’s got to be a connection!" Frank was excited now.

"Why?" Joe asked.

"Because!" Frank and Callie said together, again.

Now Joe saw the light.

"Because the "shoe" is the glass slipper!" Joe couldn’t believe he had missed that!

"Yes!" Callie smiled.

"Huh?" Iola asked. Joe turned to her. How could she not get that? Patiently, he explained it to her. "Oh!" she said, finally understanding. "That’s nice."

"Now, we’ve got to act!" Joe said, happy to get a lead in the case.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation, The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow them without express permission of the authors.