Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Deputy Ronnie Benson’s routine patrol ended at 6 p.m. He left the sheriff’s office and walked down the main street of Silverthorne, stopping in front of a storefront restaurant.

Becky’s Diner was decorated with patchwork quilts hanging on the walls and matching placemats on each table. Oak shelves were hung on the walls over each side table, displaying a collection of teapots. On the center of each table, a hurricane oil lamp rested on a hand-crocheted doily.

Becky Watson liked Silverthorne. She’d lived in the small mountain town all of her life. Two years ago, Becky began renting the old storefront building on the main street. Known throughout the county as an excellent cook and baker, the diner was a success from the beginning and Becky thoroughly enjoyed providing good, home-cooked meals at reasonable prices for the people in her town.

Though she rarely left the kitchen, Becky left the cooking in the capable hands of her assistant, Rachel Jones, so she could greet and visit with her patrons. Her eyes fell on the lone figure of Ronnie Benson sitting at a corner table. This was unusual and Becky frowned, wondering where Collin Anderson was. The two deputies almost always had dinner together after their shift.

"Hey, Ronnie," Becky greeted the young officer, "Where’s your partner this evening?"

"Evening, Miss Becky," Ronnie responded with a grin, "Collin didn’t come in today. Called in sick or somethin’."

"That so?" the 30 year-old proprietor asked, That’s a bit peculiar since he was here for breakfast at his usual time. Seemed just fine, too."

"Maybe that was just your influence on him, Miss Becky," the deputy smiled slyly, knowing that his partner and Becky Watson often kept company. Becky blushed at Benson’s innuendo.

"Tell you what," Ronnie Benson offered, "I’ll swing by Collin’s place after I finish up some of your tasty cookin’."

"Thanks, Ronnie," Becky smiled, "And your order of pork chops and greens are on the house tonight!"

* * *

In their motel room, a smile played at the corner of Fenton Hardy’s mouth as he listened to his younger son exuberantly telling his brother about the time he had with Carl Whitefeather that afternoon.

"Carl told me all about the ranch the day Jimmy Mc Curdy died. He said they were watching the cowboys ride and something happened that made Ryan Wagner mad at Jimmy," Joe explained, "Ryan chased Jimmy behind the stable. When Ryan came out alone, Carl went to find Jimmy. He found him in one of the empty stalls with his head all bloody, just like Maddie told us."

Both Fenton and Frank listened with keen interest to Carl’s version of the story. Joe went on to explain how Carl told the ranch foreman, a man named Lance Mc Intyre, he was sorry. Mc Intyre and the other cowhands assumed Carl had accidentally killed Jimmy and was apologizing.

"But," Joe continued, "Carl was just saying how sorry he was that he found Jimmy too late. He was already dead and Carl couldn’t help him."

"So with no one there to interpret for Carl," Frank stated, "when the police came, the foreman and cowhands told them their speculations. No one bothered to investigate at all."

Joe smiled as he added, "Carl did give me some useful information. He gave me the names of all the people who were working at the ranch at that time and who their friends are in Silverthorne."

Frank noticed the sparkle in Joe’s eyes as he spoke. Ever since the plane crash, Joe had become somewhat subdued, not his usually zealous self. It made Frank feel good that Carl had helped bring the real Joe Hardy out again. ‘Welcome back, baby brother,’ Frank thought.

* * *

Deputy Ronnie Benson pulled into Collin Anderson’s gravel driveway, noting that his state issued SUV was missing. Ronnie glanced in the garage window, only to find it empty except for an old ‘John Deere’ tractor. Ronnie moved away from the garage toward the house.

Collin Anderson lived in a small, two-bedroom ranch with wood siding and a brick lined sidewalk. Sgt. Anderson shared his home with a golden retriever named ‘Lucy’.

Ronnie knocked on his friend’s door and frowned. Lucy barked wildly but there was no sign of Collin. Deputy Benson found the key hidden under the planter on the porch. He quickly unlocked the back door. Lucy bounded up to the familiar figure and greeted Ronnie with slobbery dog kisses.

Ronnie quickly looked through the house, but found no sign of Anderson or anything suspicious.

"Where’s your Master, girl?" he asked the retriever, affectionately scratching behind the dog’s ears. Ronnie filled Lucy’s water dish with fresh water and added more dry food to her bowl before exiting, feeling deep down in his bones that something wasn’t right.

* * *

Near a deserted barn on the outskirts of town, a gray-headed old man was searching for a place to bed down for the night. Homer Chotto entered the old building and was immediately assaulted by a pungent, coppery smell. He moved silently through the shadows and stopped near the old thresher. Assuming some animal must have gotten cut up by the blades, Chotto climbed up on the side of the machine and peered in.

The scream that escaped his lips was silent as he gagged and fell back to the floor. The old man scrambled to his feet and took off running faster than a man his age should be able to move.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency 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 original characters without express permission of the authors.