Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank had made two phone calls while his father drove. First he called the Weisman Funeral Home, making an appointment with the director, Michael Weisman; he than called Ezra Collig to ask about Jill Shaw.

“I’m sure Chief Collig has an APB out on Jill as well as Joe,” Fenton responded. “Did he call Callie to get a description of that fellow Jill’s been meeting?”

“Grease, and yes, he did,” Frank answered. He opened his car door as soon as his father came to a stop in the parking lot of the Weisman Funeral Home.

They quietly entered the vestibule of the Victorian building and made their way to the office. Fenton rapped on the oak door.

A small man about fifty years old with thinning, dark hair and small glasses perched on his long nose, answered the door. He invited them into his office.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Hardy?” Michael Weisman asked in a surprisingly deep voice.

“My son is missing,” the detective stated, “and we believe he may have been kidnapped.”

“And we found a matchbook from your funeral home at the scene,” Frank added quickly.

Mr. Weisman peered thoughtfully at the two men in his office. He folded his hands on top of his desk and leaned forward.

“The police were able to lift fingerprints from the matchbook,” Fenton went on, “and we want to have all your employees fingerprinted to compare.”

“You honestly think that someone from my family owned and operated funeral home had something to do with your son’s…ah, disappearance?” Mr. Weisman questioned.

“It’s simply procedure, Mr. Weisman,” Fenton stated. Frank was on the edge of his chair, ready to add his own answer, but restrained himself as he felt his father’s cautious hand on his knee.

“I sympathize with you, Mr. Hardy,” Mr. Weisman said. “If my own son were missing…well, I’d be distraught. However, I cannot allow you to barge in here and treat my faithful employees like criminals.”

Frank could feel his neck getting hot as he listened to the funeral director. He couldn’t understand how his father was staying so calm.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Weisman,” Mr. Hardy said as he rose from his chair, “but I’m sure you’ll be more cooperative with the police.” Fenton touched Frank’s arm and led his son outside.

“Why did you do that?” Frank asked, furious that his father had given in so easily.

“Two reasons,” the elder Hardy replied calmly, giving his son a small smile. “First, we can’t demand anything without a court ordered warrant, which I’m sure Collig has already obtained. We’ll come back here with the police later.”

“And the second reason?” Frank asked, somewhat pacified.

“I noticed an ‘Employee of the Month’ bulletin on Weisman’s wall,” Fenton grinned, “and I recognized the man’s picture.”

“Who?” Frank queried.

“Mark Perry,” the detective answered. “He was a carpenter by trade, but got caught cutting down trees on private property several years ago. He had a habit of illegally obtaining his lumber. He served seven years in jail.”

“You think he had something to do with Joe’s disappearance?”

“I’d almost bet on it,” Fenton replied. “I’ve known through my contacts on the street that Perry’s for hire.”

* * *

“Ah, Master Joseph.”

Joe Hardy jumped at the sound of the voice behind him. He turned to find a man dressed in a black suit standing outside the walk-in closet.

“I thought perhaps you might be hungry,” the man continued, stepping aside to let Joe exit the closet. The blond teenager warily moved into the bedroom.

A tray sat on the bed. The aroma of bacon and eggs made Joe’s stomach rumble. Since he wasn’t sure what day it was, he had no idea when he had last eaten.

“Can you tell me where I am?” Joe asked the man in the suit. The man smiled and held his hand toward the food.

“Please,” the man said, “eat while the food is hot. My name is Saunders and someone will answer your questions in due time, Sir.” With those words, Saunders went out the door.

Joe walked to the door and tried the knob. He was surprised that the door opened easily. He peered out.

“Was there something you needed, Master Joseph?” Saunders asked, seeing Joe.

“Ah…no,” Joe replied, totally confused as to what was going on. “I’ll, ah…go eat now.” Saunders gave Joe a warm smile and a brief wave.

Joe closed the door and shook his head. He wanted to look around, but decided to eat first, both because he was hungry and because he knew he’d need to keep his strength up, no matter what was going on.

Joe finished the meal with gusto, and then decided to get cleaned up. He went into the small bathroom and removed the pajamas he was wearing. He showered and shaved.

Joe found a bathrobe behind the door. He donned the robe and went back to the closet. He quickly dressed in a yellow t-shirt and navy cargo shorts. He slipped on a pair of canvas deck shoes.

Joe made his way to the door and was about to open it when he heard someone talking. He put his ear to the door and focused on the voice.

‘No,’ the youngest Hardy thought as the voice came nearer.

‘It can’t be!’

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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.