Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

The following morning, Fenton Hardy was busy on the phone in his hotel room. He first contacted Cindy Kai, who was able to put him in contact with a real estate company in Season County.

By 10 o’clock, a realtor had called Mr. Hardy about a 2-bedroom, furnished ranch house that was immediately ready for occupancy. The ‘Fredricks’ family quickly packed up their belongings in the jeep and headed out of town.

Frank drove to the address given by the realtor, carefully following the agent’s directions. 15 minutes later, Frank was pulling into the driveway of the single-story brick ranch that would be their home for several weeks.

A green Neon was already at the house and a young, red-haired man walked toward the Hardys from across the neatly trimmed front lawn.

"Hello, Mr. Fredricks," greeted the real estate agent, "I’m Glen Brady." He extended his hand to Mr. Hardy, while Fenton introduced the man to Frank and Joe.

"I’ve already unlocked the door and took the liberty of opening a few windows to let the fresh air in," said Mr. Brady, leading the way toward the front porch.

The distinct sound of a dog barking could be heard from within the wood-sided house next door. All three Hardys heard the sound, but only Fenton and Frank paused outside on the porch, glancing at their neighbor’s house.

Joe had ignored the noise and dutifully followed the realtor inside. When Glen Brady glanced back and saw only Joe, he retraced his steps, abruptly brushing past the youngest Hardy.

"I’ve never known Lucy to bark like that," the man stated, seeing Fenton and Frank staring at the other house. "She’s a really nice dog. Collin must be away for her to be carrying on so much!"

Joe had followed Glen outside and joined the group on the porch. He curiously looked at his brother and signed, "What’s wrong?"

Frank smiled at Joe and quickly signed to him about the dog. Joe grinned and signed back that he liked dogs and maybe he could meet Lucy one day soon.

Glen Brady had watched the exchange between the two brothers and frowned in distain. He scowled in Joe’s direction, noticing the boy’s hearing aids for the first time.

"Guess he won’t be bothered by no barking dog," Mr. Brady muttered, moving away from Joe as if the younger boy had the plague.

All three Hardy men heard the comment and noticed the sudden change in the realtor’s attitude. None of them gave in to their impulse to deck the guy for his lack of compassion, feeling sorry instead, for the man’s ignorance.

Glen Brady led the family on a brisk tour of the house, keeping a distance from Joe. The house was more than adequate for their needs, and Mr. Hardy promptly signed a rental agreement. He then wrote a check from the special account he’d set up for this case, using the Fredricks name, to cover a months rent and a security deposit.

Frank and Joe set about getting their gear from the jeep when Joe stopped abruptly, gazing toward the neighbor’s house. Frank strode up to his brother and followed to where Joe’s eyes were looking. Stenciled neatly on the side of a metal mailbox was the name, C. ANDERSON.

* * *

Homer Chotto wandered into the town of Silverthorne, making his way down the sidewalk to the hardware store. Watson’s Hardware store was located on the main street and looked like a mercantile store from the old west. The old wooden porch in front was lined with cane rocking chairs and old whiskey barrels turned on their sides. Each barrel had a flat table top nailed on, painted with black and white checker squares.

Homer made his way to one of the rockers and plopped down, tired from the 3-mile walk he’d just completed. He dozed in the chair while the town barber, Wiley, a western version of Floyd the Barber from the old ‘Andy Griffith show’, and a customer named George played a lazy game of checkers nearby.

"Shame about that missin’ deputy, ain’t it George?" the barber said, moving his checker. "What ya suppose happen’d to ‘im?"

"No idea," stated George, "Don’t know if the sheriff has even officially reported him missin, yet. Williams thinks he jus’ went out fishin’ in the mountains."

"Well," Wiley continued, "Miss Becky sure be mighty upset. Heard her givin’ ole Williams a tongue lashin’ jus’ this mornin’. Said it ain’t like Collin to go gone fer so long without checkin’ in with someone."

"Sheriff don’t seem none too concerned," George smirked, "Guess he knows what he’s doin’."

Neither man saw the old timer in the other rocker turn green in his chair. Homer made a mad dash for the rear of the hardware store. After being sick beside the trash bin, Homer Chotto sat down wearily along the fence that ran the length of the alleyway.

‘No way can I talk to Williams about that dead cop,’ the old man thought, ‘Sure enough, I got a bad feelin’ about all of this.’

The old man buried his head in his hands, trying to figure out what to do. A few yards away, a door opened and Becky Watson tossed a bag of trash into the dumpster behind her diner. Homer glanced in her direction and smiled.

‘I trust Miss Becky,’ the man thought, ‘I’ll tell her!’

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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.