Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

“I became a big fan of you and Joe while I was locked up, Frank,” Greg continued. “I’ve closely followed your exploits--football, baseball, helping your dad solve cases. You two are remarkable young men. But I took more of a liking to Joe, no offense. Must be the blond hair! He would be real popular with some of my friends!” Lewis let out with a chuckle that made Frank’s blood run cold. “Say, do you have a friend named Allen? You might want to check on him at the Speedmart. He might not be feeling too good right now!”

Frank choked back his rage and didn’t reply, fearing that anything he said might set Lewis off. “How would you like to talk with your kid brother, Frank? You may not get another chance.”

Lewis pulled the van over to the side of Shore Road, got out, and went to the back of the van. Placing the cell phone next to Joe’s ear, Lewis told him, “Your big brother wants to say goodbye to you.”

Frank tried to suppress the emotions racing through him as he began to speak to his brother. “Joe, are you all right? Listen, buddy, hang tight, and we’ll have you home in no time!” Joe, bound and gagged, could only glare at his captor.

“Go ahead, Blondie, say something,” Lewis taunted. Holding the phone with his left hand, Lewis slapped Joe hard across the face with his right. Joe let out a muffled grunt.

“Joe!” Frank shouted, unable to stand it any longer.

“Guess Joe’s not in a talking mood, Frank,” Lewis sneered. “Maybe you two aren’t as buddy buddy as I thought!”

“What do you want, Lewis?” Frank asked, his voice softening to a whisper.

“I already told you, Frank. I want Joe to suffer. I want you to suffer. I want Fenton Hardy to suffer. I want the great detective who put me away to know that his boy is going to suffer and die in sixteen days, and there is nothing he can do about it. I’ve seen a lot in prison, Frank. Now Joe is going to experience sixteen years of prison life squeezed into sixteen days. It will be a very interesting experience, Frank. So much so that I’m going to be sending you pictures and tape recordings so that you’ll know exactly what Joe is going through. Who knows--maybe you can sell the movie rights to Hollywood and make a big bundle of money! One thing for sure, though, Frank--Joe will never live to see any of it. I’ll be keeping in touch, Frank. Don’t bother to call this number. I’ll be calling you when I want to talk.” With that, the phone went dead.

Lewis ruffled Joe’s hair. “Blondie, it’s time to take you to where you’ll be spending your life sentence. Oh! I forgot to read you your rights when I took you into custody!” Lewis leaned close to the helpless Joe and whispered in his ear, “Joseph Hardy, you have no rights!” With another uproarious laugh, Lewis got back into the driver’s seat and started the van down the road again.

Frank slumped in his chair at home. “He didn’t ask to talk with Dad,” he mused. “Does he know that Mom and Dad are out of town on vacation? He didn’t instruct me not to call the police. He said he would send pictures and tapes. He may or may not call again. Well, I know the first thing I have to do.” Frank picked up the phone again and dialed 911. “Hello, this is Frank Hardy. I have an emergency. I’m calling to report a kidnapping.”

The Hardy van continued to roll down Shore Road until it reached the neighboring town of Oxford. Joe continued to lie in the back of the van, still bound and gagged. “I’ve got to be ready for anything,” he thought. “Any chance I have to get free, I’ve got to take it. I might not get another. This guy means business!”

The van pulled behind a deserted bowling alley in a run down section of Oxford. Greg Lewis parked in a secluded spot and got out. Opening the back door of the van, he tied a bandanna around Joe’s eyes and pulled him out. The powerfully built criminal slung Joe over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him into the abandoned building. He took into what had formerly been a lounge where burgers and snacks were served. He sat Joe on a chair, took a long piece of rope, and tied Joe’s elbows tightly together, then wound the rope around the chair and Joe’s chest. “So much for any chance to get free,” Joe thought.

“That ought to hold you, boy!” Lewis exclaimed with satisfaction. “Now for a little fun!”

“Con Riley here, Frank. What’s this about a kidnapping!”

“Con, I just got off the phone with Greg Lewis. He kidnapped Joe and stole our van. He said he was just at the Speedmart. Biff Hooper works there and he may be hurt.”

Con knew from long years of association with the Hardys that Frank would give him the essential facts quickly and concisely, in spite of any emotions he might be experiencing at the moment. “I’ll get over to the Speedmart right away, Frank,” he responded. “Are your folks still on vacation?”

“Yes, Con, my next call is going to be to them--if I can find them.”

“Fine, Frank. I’m sure you know to keep your phone line as free as possible.”

“I’ll be at the Speedmart as soon as I finish talking with Mom and Dad.”

“We’ll do everything we can, Frank. See you soon.”

Frank hung up and let out a deep sigh. “I know you will, Con, but what can you do?” he thought. “What can anybody do?”

Lewis took off Joe’s blindfold. Joe blinked as his vision adjusted to the dimly lit lounge of the bowling alley. Lewis took out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you smoke, boy?” Joe glared back at Lewis in silence. Lewis slapped Joe across the face again. “I asked you a question, boy. Do you smoke?” Joe shook his head. “I figured not--pretty boy athlete like you. Well, maybe it’s time you learned.”

Lewis took another piece of tape and cut a small hole in the middle. He removed the tape which sealed Joe’s mouth and replaced it with the new piece. He then lit a cigarette and forced it into the hole in the tape sealing Joe’s mouth. Joe coughed slightly and tried to breathe solely through his nose. “You know, boy, cigarettes are very important in prison--as important as money. You should really learn to appreciate them more.” He then walked behind the chair Joe was bound to and placed his fingers over Joe’s nostrils, pinching them shut. Joe gasped for air as all he could inhale was the cigarette smoke coming into his mouth. After several seconds, Lewis released his grip on Joe’s nose, allowing him to exhale and take in more air. Lewis chortled as he continued this process while the cigarette slowly burned its way down. Joe continued to cough and gasp, being allowed to breathe only when his captor wanted him to.

As the cigarette slowly burned down, Lewis stepped back in front of Joe and raised the disposable camera to his eyes. “These pictures are going to be wonderful souvenirs for your family for years to come, Blondie. And you photograph so well! We’re going to have a lot of fun together, boy. This is just the start.”