Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Chris Bayer had cut away the ropes that held Joe Hardy bound as quickly as possible. As soon as Joe was free and able to move, the pair felt their way in the dark to where Chris thought the entrance of the cave was in the wall.

“I can’t even see my hand in front of my face!” Joe complained. His head was still throbbing, but he was feeling much better than when he’d first regained consciousness.

“Maybe it would be safer if we crawled,” Chris suggested. Joe agreed and they began the trek to the mouth of the passage.

* * *

Matoka Hrappowi made his way toward the Intensive Care Unit with ease. Dressed in native medicine man clothing, the staff of the hospital didn’t stop to question him.

Some of the patients were Native American and many of them still believed in the magic of their tribe’s medicine man over modern medical procedures. Thus, it wasn’t uncommon to see the strangely garbed medicine men walking in the halls.

For the most part, the hospital staff thought these men with their chants and potions were harmless and they were left to perform their magic, as long as they didn’t get in the way.

Once he was in the ICU, Hrappowi waited until the deputy posted to watch Moss was talking to the head nurse before slipping into Billy’s room. Billy Moss was attached to a breathing machine and an I.V. bag hung near the top of the bed. A monitor on the left side of the bed measured each heartbeat with a steady beeping.

Hrappowi moved close to the bed. “You will soon be one less problem, Mr. Moss,” the old man whispered. He reached into a small pouch hanging around his neck with a leather cord

Glancing toward the door to make sure no one was watching, he pulled out a little plastic bag. Inside was a fine, brown powder.

Hrappowi pinched a bit of powder between his finger and thumb. He forced the powder into the corner of Billy’s mouth past the respirator tube, and then he carefully wiped every trace away from Billy’s face and his own hand.

He was just putting the plastic bag away, when he heard a noise behind him.

“What are you doing in here?”

The old man recognized the young woman with the deputy. She was the county coroner, Evelyn Saunders, and he knew she could recognize him if given the chance. He charged into the two intruders, pushing them aside.

Before they could even try and figure out what had just happened, the heart monitor beside Billy Moss’s bed rang out an alarm: Billy was in cardiac arrest.

* * *

After searching the rest of the house, Sheriff Leroy Longtooth and his two deputies headed back to Durango. There was no other incriminating evidence in the house, but that was no surprise.

As much as he wanted this headache of a case to go away, he knew in his gut that the Hopi Manyteeth had probably been planted in David Kelhoyouma’s home. The question that gnawed at him was: who planted the knife?

He pulled his radio mic to his lips and called the two deputies that were following his jeep, “This is the sheriff, boys. I’m going to head over to Matoka Hrappowi’s place.”

“Roger, Sheriff,” responder Deputy Thayer. “You gonna need any backup?”

“Don’t expect so,” Longtooth answered, “but be ready.”

“Yes, Sir. Over and out.”

Sheriff Longtooth turned off the highway two miles before the Durango city limit sign. The road was paved for the first quarter of a mile, but then gave way to gravel.

Three miles further, the lawman pulled to a stop in front of an adobe ranch with a corral beside it. He exited his jeep and walked up to the fenced yard.

A chestnut mare and a young painted pony shared the grassy acre. He stroked the mare’s thick neck and frowned.

“Whoa there, girl,” Longtooth whispered to the animal. He rubbed her neck and pulled his gloved hand to his face. The odor of gasoline was definitely coming from the mare’s neck, near the saddle line on her broad back.

The fire at Campton’s house came to his mind. The fire chief had told him that the cabin fire had been intentionally set. A plastic melted gasoline can was found in the debris.

He walked up to the house and rapped sharply on the door. Noticing that Hrappowi’s only vehicle, an old, battered Ford Bronco was missing, he figured the man was out for the evening.

He peered through the window and saw no sign of the old man. Reluctantly, Longtooth walked back to his own jeep and climbed inside.

Again, questioning Matoka Hrappowi would have to wait.

* * *

David Kelhoyouma couldn’t believe his eyes at first, but even in the low evening light, he recognized his sister’s fiancé helping a kid to his feet.

“Bayer?” Dave called out, startling the two young men.

“Oh God,” Chris cried, “Dave, not you, too!” He staggered back a few feet and collapsed on the ground, pulling Joe Hardy down with him.

Dave leaped off his horse and ran to help Chris and the teenager with him.

“What are you doing down here, Bayer? Who is your friend? Where did you come from?” Dave questioned, pulling Chris up.

“You mean you’re not here with Stan to finish us off?” Chris asked, confused by Dave’s onslaught of questions.

“Dave? Is this Catherine’s brother?” Joe inquired, brushing himself off.

“Yes,” both Chris and Dave answered the Hardy boy.

Joe quickly introduced himself. Dave shook his hand, but then turned to face Chris again.

“So what is going on here, Bayer? What’s this about Stan?”

Chris looked at Joe, but the younger man just shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s your call Chris. You know him better than I do.”

“If he was with them,” Chris began, “he wouldn’t have been so surprised to see us here and he’d be hauling us back in that cave by now.”

He turned to face Dave and said, “Help us get to the sheriff and we’ll explain everything on the way.”

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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.