Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

‘I hope he didn’t wreck the van,’ Frank thought, a worried frown creasing his handsome face. He decided to call Benders, despite the late hour, to see what time Joe dropped Vanessa off. He reached for the phone, but then jumped back as it rang before he touched it.

Smiling as he imaged it was Joe, he picked up the receiver. “You better have a good excuse for being late, baby brother or Mom’s gonna have your hide!”

“Ah, Frank? This is Andrea Bender,” came the voice from the phone line.

“Oh! Mrs. Bender!” Frank was glad she couldn’t see how red his face had suddenly become, “I was just about to call you.”

“I hope it’s to tell me that Joe is home with you safe and sound,” Mrs. Bender said, her voice etched with concern.

“Actually,” Frank replied, worry now gnawing at his gut, “Joe isn’t here and we’re getting a little worried.”

“Frank, I just spent the past thirty minutes trying to calm Vanessa. She swears she saw…” Mrs. Bender’s voice faded.

“What? What did Vanessa see?” Frank frantically asked.

“She says that two men were hiding near the van,” Andrea explained, “Vanessa said she saw one of them…shoot Joe and throw his body in your van. But I went out to look. There’s nothing there and the van’s gone.”

Frank suddenly felt ice cold all over. He and Joe had often faced bad guys with guns. They were amateur detectives, following in the footsteps of their father. Fenton Hardy was known world-wide as a top rated private detective.

“Call the police,” Frank said in a voice much calmer than he was feeling. “I’m on my way.”

* * *

Minutes earlier on Mill Road …

“Seems like a lot of trouble,” Mark Perry commented as he carefully removed Joe Hardy’s coat and t-shirt. The boy was still unconscious as he replaced the t-shirt with a white dress shirt.

“There’s always a chance customs will want to check the body,” Raphael Jackson responded, standing just outside of the black van’s back doors. “Don’t forget the tie.”

Perry grumbled as he tied a red and blue print necktie under the collar of the stiff shirt Joe was now wearing.

“Here comes Davis with the hearse,” called Dan Pratt. He was leaning against the blue mini-van, pointing to a long back hearse that was driving down Mill Road .

The black station wagon stopped beside the Hardy van. A tall man with dark hair, dressed in a black suit stepped out and opened the rear door of the hearse.

“Any problems?” Roger Davis asked, glancing at the three men.

“None,” Jackson replied for them all. “The kid never saw us.”

“Whose van is this?” Davis asked.

“Hardy’s. It worked out better this way. We can just leave it here,” Perry replied.

“Fine,” Davis responded. “Now, where’s the boy?” The men moved aside so Davis could peer at the still form lying on the floor of the van.

“How long will he be out?” Davis asked.

“About four hours,” replied Jackson . He reached in his pocket and handed several syringes to Davis . “You’ll need to give him more doses along the way. It’ll be almost eighteen hours before you reach your destination.”

Davis nodded and pocketed the drugs, disguised as diabetic insulin. The four men carried Joe to the hearse, carefully placing him in an open gray casket.

“Won’t he suffocate in there?” Pratt asked, peering uneasily into the satin lined box.

“This coffin was made just for young Mr. Hardy,” Davis answered, “See these decorative end panels? They are made of a special porous material. They feel solid but really allow air to flow freely. As long as they aren’t blocked, the kid can breathe.”

“That’s good,” Jackson said with a grin, “We’re not getting paid to deliver a corpse!” The others chuckled at the implied grim humor. They made a few minor adjustments, folding Joe’s hands neatly on top of the satin covering, giving the illusion that Joe was indeed dead. Then the lid was lowered, locking in place.

The entire transaction had taken less than twenty minutes. The blue mini-van drove off toward Bayport, while the hearse headed for New Jersey.

* * *

Frank’s flashlight beam cut through the darkness on the Bender’s property, near the road. Frank had just arrived and was searching for anything that might give a clue to where Joe was or what had happened to him.

As the flashlight beam moved along the dirty snow and gravel on the edge of the road, Frank blinked the tears away to clear his vision. He refused to believe that Joe had been shot and could possibly be dead.

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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.