HDA - Death on the Fourth of July by Sparks & Evergreen Chapter 4

"Back when I first started work with the New York police department," Fenton began. "there was a family in New York that had dealings in nearly everything illegal, immoral, or even slightly questionable. Antonio Scarpetti reportedly had his hand in just about every underhanded deal going down at that time. Nobody could ever catch him, though—"

"What sort of underhanded dealings?" Frank cut in.

"Anything you care to name…well, actually that’s not entirely true. I don’t think the Scarpettis messed in the drug trade. But other than that, if it was illegal and made money, you could bet a Scarpetti – either Antonio or his brother Carlo – had a hand in the cookie jar."

Fenton leaned back, crossed his legs and continued. "There was a judge in the city’s judiciary system then who had made it his life’s work to bring down the Scarpetti family and all its connections. His name was Whittier – Judge Logan Whittier.

"As luck would have it, I was on traffic duty one day, when I had the occasion to pull over a big, black Lincoln town car that was both exceeding the speed limit and had run a red light. When I asked for ID, the driver got very edgy. His passenger was a middle-aged man with dark hair and snappy black eyes, who seemed to be extremely irritated with his companion for being stopped, and with me for having done it. While I was waiting to see the driver’s license, I heard thumps coming from the trunk area, and I immediately called for backup – although the men in the Lincoln didn’t know that.

"I was lucky; there was another patrol car less than a block away, so my backup arrived very quickly. By that time, I’d gotten the license plate radioed in, and discovered the car belonged to no other than Carlo Scarpetti himself. When the other black-and-white got there, the officer driving it managed to block Scarpetti’s car so it couldn’t get away. We opened the trunk – and found a man, gagged and tied hand and foot."

"Pretty incriminating!" Frank, listening intently, had to speak at this point.

Joe emitted a snort of laughter. " ‘But officer, it was just a prank! Pay no attention to the gag in his mouth, or the cement block tied to his ankles!’" he quipped.

Frank shot his brother a poisonous look, wishing, not for the first time in his life, to strangle him. He realized that Joe was only attempting to ease the situation, but…Bad timing, Joe! was the general gist of his feelings. Fenton, however, actually smiled at his younger son’s attempt at humor.

"Joe’s not all that far off the mark," he commented. "At any rate, there was enough evidence to arrest Carlo Scarpetti and his driver for more than running a red light. And for once, even the Scarpetti cadre of lawyers couldn’t pop them out right away. So they were held for arraignment. Since I was the arresting officer, I had to go to court. After the court appearance, Judge Whittier asked if I would stop by his chambers for a moment before I went back to work."

Frank glanced quickly around at the others in the room, as he leaned over the back of the chair. Joe was sitting on the floor with his arm about Vanessa as they leaned against the couch, and her head rested against his shoulder. Frank found himself wondering irrelevantly whether her headache had gone away. Megan and Laura shared the couch, and Megan had gone into her "avidly listening" mode, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, and her chin resting upon her fists as she studied Fenton. Frank felt a pang as he remembered her sitting and gazing at him that way, on a day back in September when he talked over lunch of his and Joe’s work on cases. Laura was no longer crying, the elder Hardy boy noted with relief.

"When I went into the office," Fenton continued. "I didn’t know what to expect. I had no idea whether the judge was angry with me about something, or what. I was searching my mind frantically, trying to think of something I had done wrong; some mistake I had made in my deposition. But Judge Whittier was kindness itself – he congratulated me on busting Carlo Scarpetti, even though he realized it had been nothing more than a lucky set of circumstances.

"I was just about to leave, when the door burst open – and in came the prettiest girl I’d ever seen in my life!" Mr. Hardy smiled reminiscently. "Little blonde thing, with big blue eyes."

Instinctively, all the teens glanced at Laura Hardy. She looked as if she was trying not to smile, although there were tears in her blue eyes.

"The judge introduced her to me as his daughter. We chatted for a minute or two, and then she left. I went back to the courtroom, because I’d left a file folder there, and I needed to pick it up. After I did that, I decided to grab a cup of coffee before I left, and that errand took me down to the basement where the cafeteria was. I finally went back up to the main floor, and was heading for the door with my coffee…when I was bumped by someone in the hall. I stumbled, and the cup of coffee took off on its own…."

"Ohhhh!" An appalled feminine shriek cut the noise in the crowded hallway. "watch out! Just look what you’ve done!"

Officer Fenton Hardy stood and stared guiltily at the scene before him: a petite blonde girl stood glaring at him, while endeavoring to scrub coffee from her apricot-colored blouse with a tissue. She wasn’t getting very far with her removal attempts; the main result seemed to be a soggy wad of Kleenex.

"Why can’t you watch where you’re going, you big lummox!" the girl snapped. "You’ve ruined this blouse!"

Now Fenton realized why she looked so familiar. "Miss Whittier? I’m sorry, someone must have bumped me." He felt in his pocket for a handkerchief and held it out to her. "Maybe this will work better than that Kleenex."

She ignored the offering and continued to rub at the brown stain. "How did you know my name? Who are you?"

"Wh—Linda, I just met you upstairs, remember? Come on, I’m really sorry about the coffee. You must think I’m a complete klutz. Let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner tonight…okay?" The tall, dark-haired young man grinned engagingly, but his smile seemed to have no effect on the girl’s irritation. If anything, she looked even madder.

"Dinner with you? Now there’s an intriguing thought! Why would I want to have dinner with a man I’ve never seen before in my life? Let alone one who dumped coffee all over my best silk blouse! I’m sorry, Officer—" the girl glanced at Fenton’s name badge, pinned to his shirt pocket. "—Hardy. But I don’t think my wardrobe would take having a whole dinner spilled on it; coffee is bad enough."

"But – but – Linda! Don’t you remember me? Fenton Hardy?" the man stammered in his confusion.

"For…your…information…." The young woman spoke deliberately, carefully articulating each word. "I am not Linda Whittier. I am Laura Whittier. I have never seen you before. I wish I had not seen you now. And I’d like to keep it on that basis. Now…please excuse me." She swept away, her back ramrod-straight and her high heels tapping out a staccato accompaniment on the marble floor of the courthouse hallway.

Officer Hardy stared after her, confusion etched on his lean features and shadowing his warm brown eyes.

Fenton paused in his narrative and glanced around at his listeners. "I’ve seldom felt like such a fool." he added.

"That’s how you met Mom?" Joe breathed. "You never told us!" he said accusingly.

"It just – never came up in conversation!" his father defended himself. "We would have told you if you’d happened to ask."

"It’s incredible!" Megan murmured. She shared a look with Vanessa. "It’s like something out of a movie."

The younger girl nodded agreement. "Dislike at first sight," she smiled.

Frank scowled. "How does this explain why there’s a body on the kitchen floor?" he demanded crossly. He strode toward the door, paced back restlessly, then repeated the movements. His father waited patiently for him to settle.

"Don’t wear a path in the carpet," Joe sniped. Ordinarily, he would have been sympathetic with his brother’s feelings, but the events of the day had jangled even the ebullient Joe’s nerves considerably.

Fenton cleared his throat meaningfully. " I told you it was a long story," he reminded his sons.

"I’m sorry, Dad." Frank apologized, somewhat ashamed of himself. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the other side of Megan, reaching for her hand. "Go on, please."

"I think it’s someone else’s turn now." his father said. "Your mother needs to pick up the story from here."

Laura flushed a little, as five pairs of eyes riveted on her face. "I suppose I do, at that." she admitted. "Fenton, some of this may be new to you, too."

Laura Whittier marched into the small restaurant and scanned the tables rapidly, but did not see what she was looking for. "Where is she? She’s always late!" she muttered to herself in irritation. Laura didn’t make a habit of being irritated, but today seemed to be an exception.

"Miss Whittier? Over here." A deferential waiter caught her attention, and led her towards a small table at the side wall. Laura followed, still frowning.

"What kept you?" her luncheon companion asked, calmly glancing up from studying the menu.

At first glance, telling Laura Whittier from her twin sister Linda was totally dependent upon the clothes they wore, and their differing hairstyles. Otherwise, it was almost impossible. Both were petite in height, small-boned and finely-formed. Wide, sky-blue eyes were shaded by long lashes; identical cheekbones flushed pink at the same moments. Luxuriant blonde hair streamed past Linda’s shoulders, while Laura wore hers swept up and pinned into a French twist.

"I had a disgusting run-in – literally! – with a disgusting rookie cop. Who took me for you, I might add!" Laura snapped. "I hate it when people think I’m you – and vice versa!"

"Oh Laura!" Linda frowned prettily. "People don’t mix us up nearly so much now as they used to." She laid down her menu. "What rookie cop? You don’t mean Fenton Hardy, do you? He’s delicious!"

"Delicious? He’s uncouth. And clumsy. He dumped coffee all over me!" Laura indicated her stained blouse with indignation. "And then he had the audacity to ask me to dinner, to make up for it! Thinking I was you, of course! What a Neanderthal."

Joe choked with laughter. "Mom, did you really call Dad a Neanderthal?"

"I did indeed," his mother replied. She glanced at her husband, who looked somewhat taken aback. "You didn’t make a very good impression, Fenton, if you’ll recall."

He smiled ruefully. "And I tried so hard, too."

Over lunch, Laura told Linda in painstaking detail of her encounter with Officer Fenton Hardy; Linda returned the favor by relating her meeting with the young man.

"I think Daddy introduces me to good-looking young men on purpose," Linda fussed. "He’s still trying to get me uninvolved with Marco."

"Marco Scarpetti is bad news, Linda, and you know it." Laura stirred her coffee thoughtfully. "Daddy’s got it in for the whole Scarpetti family, Marco included."

"It’s not fair!" Linda wailed. "Marco’s got nothing to do with the rest of his family and their business! He’s a chef at Romano’s and one day, he’s even going to open his own restaurant."

"Legitimate or not; white sheep or not, he’s part of the Scarpetti family, and that’s enough for Judge Daddy." Laura’s blue eyes twinkled at her twin’s forlorn face.

"Judge Daddy?" Now it was Frank’s turn to laugh. "You called your father ‘Judge Daddy’?"

Laura smiled. "Not where he could hear us."

Linda leaned across the table and lowered her voice confidentially. "Laura…what did you think of Officer Hardy? Didn’t you think he was cute? Those eyes!"

"Cute? That clumsy oaf…cute? He’s tall, that much I’ll say for him. Tall is good."

"Listen – Daddy thinks Fenton Hardy is the next best thing since the invention of handcuffs, because he managed to arrest Carlo Scarpetti."

"He arrested Carlo Scarpetti for a traffic violation! He just got lucky!" Laura’s voice rose fractionally, dripping sarcasm. She glanced about, self-consciously, and dropped the volume. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I want you to do something for me. Go out with him, Laur – just a couple of times. And while you are out with him, casually mention that you’re concerned about me because of the connection with the Scarpetti family. If you make him think that I’m in danger, and that maybe you’re in danger, he’d turn heaven and earth to find out if Marco is crooked!"

Laura stared at her sister in confusion. "Lin, you’ve been telling everyone who will listen for months now that Marco is pure as the driven snow. Why should I date that arrogant barbarian to prove that he’s not?"

Linda rolled her eyes. "Because, sister dear, he won’t find anything about Marco, and when he tells you that, he can also tell Daddy. And Daddy will believe him. Judge Daddy thinks he a shining star!"

"What makes you think Fenton Hardy could find his way out of a paper bag, much less find proof to make Daddy believe Marco can be trusted? The guy couldn’t even hold onto his coffee, for Pete’s sake!" Laura scoffed. "I am not going to go out with that ‘I’m a cop, hear me roar’ Fenton Hardy just because you want Daddy to lay off your boyfriend!"

"Please, Laura…we’re twins, remember? If we don’t back each other up, who will? I need you on this! What harm could a couple of dates do…if it means I can see Marco without being afraid that Daddy is going to shoot him. Besides…you might like him – Officer Hardy, I mean."

Laura snorted disdainfully. "Yes, like I’d like a root canal!" She stared at her sister a moment. "If I do this – and I’m not saying I will! – you owe me. Big time!"

"I knew you’d do it!" Linda exulted. "thank you, thank you, thank you!" She bounced in triumph for a moment, then settled into her chair again. "Now…when could you see him?"

"Linda! Stop being so ridiculous! I am absolutely not going out of my way to see Fenton-Clumsy Oaf-Hardy again…but if the opportunity presents itself, I won’t automatically dismiss the idea. And that is as far as I go – understand?"

"I understand." Linda’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile.

"She understood, all right." Mrs. Hardy said softly. "And she immediately made sure that the opportunity presented itself. That’s one thing about Linda – she left nothing to chance!"