Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Joe, who had just seated himself on his bed, looked at his brother a moment, disturbed at the news Frank had just laid on him. “Your wallet, huh,” was all he said, however, then got up and moved to join Frank. He picked up the small bag, and went through it carefully, searching all the pockets – just as Frank had done – to make sure the wallet hadn’t been overlooked.

“I already looked,” Frank reminded him.

“Just making sure.” Joe set down the bag and headed for the dresser. “Let’s look through these,” he suggested. “Maybe you just thought you took it with you, and actually stashed it somewhere in here.” Together, they searched the dresser drawers, the nightstand drawers, the shallow drawer where things like phone books and hotel directories were kept. No wallet appeared.

“I know I had it with me,” Frank insisted, even as they pawed through the contents of the drawers. “I remember, I grabbed it off the edge of the dresser and tossed it in that bag, right before we left for the luau. That’s where I saw it last, when I put it in. I didn’t take it out again; there was no reason to, down on the beach. Even the drinks were free, at the luau, and I didn’t tip the bartender,” he grinned. “Do you suppose it fell out somewhere, and someone might have turned it in?” he said hopefully.

“Maybe….” Joe didn’t sound too confident. “Someone might have found it – but that doesn’t mean it was turned in. And after all, it was just sitting there under the bushes when you left...anyone might have opened it and taken the wallet, without being noticed!”

“Yeah, but...my camera’s still here. Seems like if someone was going to take my wallet, they’d take the camera as well,” Frank sighed. He scrambled into shorts and a t-shirt and sandals. “I’ll be right back; I’m just going to check with the front desk,” he informed Joe, who nodded his understanding.

“Good luck,” the younger Hardy said, climbing into bed as Frank left the room.

The night clerk on duty in the lobby listened sympathetically to Frank’s tale, but shook his head doubtfully when Frank asked whether anyone had turned it in.

“I don’t think any were turned in tonight, but I’ll look.” He disappeared into a back room, evidently where the Lost and Found items were kept, returning a moment later with three men’s wallets. Two were completely dissimilar to Frank’s; one was close – but wasn’t the Hardy boy’s.

“Thanks for trying; I’ll check back tomorrow and see if it’s turned up.” Frank left the lobby, trying to think what might have happened to his wallet. Maybe it fell out of my stuff and Mom or Dad saw it, and picked it up…put it with their stuff for safe-keeping, and forgot to mention it to me. It didn’t seem all that likely, but it was worth asking, all the same. He and Joe had gone to play volleyball, after all, and while Frank had left the bag near his parents, he hadn’t given much extra thought to his wallet. Stupid, Hardy; you know WAY better than that!

Hoping that they were back from their walk on the beach, Frank tapped on his parents’ door. He heard muffled voices from inside the suite, but no one came to the door. He tapped a second time.

After a few more moments, the door was opened by Fenton, flushed and tying on a white hotel robe. “Frank! Something wrong, son?”

Frank flushed too, surmising that he’d interrupted something private. “I’m sorry to bother you, Dad – but I was wondering if you or Mom had picked up my wallet, down at the luau. I can’t seem to locate it.”

“No, I didn’t, and I don’t think your mother did—” Fenton turned his head, speaking back into the room. “Laura, did you see Frank’s wallet anywhere, down on the beach?”

“No, I didn’t,” Laura said.

Fenton turned back to his elder son. “Where did you have it last?”

“I put it in my little beach bag before I went down to the luau,” Frank explained, “but I left it under a bush when Megan and I went for a walk, and Joe brought it up to the room. I noticed it was gone when I emptied out the bag. I already checked with the clerk at the front desk, and he looked in Lost and Found….If it fell out on the beach, it may be totally gone, stolen or buried in the sand. And it’s too dark now, to check.”

“Very true,” his father agreed. “Well, I suggest you call hotel security tonight, and your credit card company, to report a lost card, but leave the rest until tomorrow morning. If the wallet is stolen, we can get everything replaced.” He smiled at Frank in commiseration. “Were you carrying much cash?”

Frank shook his head. “No, only about ten dollars. I have most of my traveler’s checks in the little safe in our room; I wasn’t intending on spending any money tonight.”

“That’s good. Hold on, I’ll get you the number for the credit card company.” Fenton disappeared into the hotel room, returning shortly with a small piece of paper with a 1-800 number on it. “Here’s the number to report lost or stolen cards.” He grinned a little. “You DO have the number of the card written down somewhere, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Dad, I do. You’ve taught us well. Thanks….Sorry to bother you. Goodnight.”

Frank went to his room, and found Joe had already fallen asleep, but had left the lights on so that Frank wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark. Frank, blessing the person who had installed phone jacks in the bathroom, took the phone in there, so as not to awaken his slumbering brother, and called hotel security. He reported the missing wallet, promised to fill out a report the next day, and agreed that he would talk to Chief Pauahi if it was necessary. Then he called the credit card company, and worked his way through the automated phone-options to make his report.

Finally, mission accomplished, and annoyed but sleepy, Frank settled into bed. He thought he would stay awake and worry about the situation…but only a few minutes later, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

Morning came all too early, for both Frank and Joe. Having agreed to take on the afternoon shift at the seminar, neither one of them had to be up early – that is, unless they wanted to eat breakfast with their girlfriends…and parents.

Since they both did wish to eat breakfast with said girlfriends – and parents, of course – they were up sooner than they’d really desired to be. Keeping conversation to a minimum, both boys showered, shaved and dressed, then descended to the hotel’s coffee shop for a ‘real’ breakfast, as opposed to the Continental breakfast they would have gotten at the seminar.

The six of them gathered companionably around a large, round table. Over the clatter and bustle of eating, Frank told Megan and Vanessa what had transpired with his wallet.

“Talk about annoying,” he grumbled, “now I don’t have any ID, so I can’t cash my traveler’s checks; I don’t have a way to carry money – Dad,” he broke off to ask, foreseeing a large problem ahead, “what am I going to do without my driver’s license, when it comes to flying back home?”

“I’ll take care of that,” Fenton assured him. “If necessary, I’ll call Sam Radley; he can go by the house and pick up your passport, and Fed-Ex it to us. I hope, though, that it doesn’t come to that,” the detective went on. “Maybe it will turn up, Frank – even if you lost the cash and the credit card, if someone stole it, they might toss it without taking or destroying the license.”

After he finished eating his breakfast, Frank yawned and stretched lazily. He reached for Megan’s hand and smiled at her as he ran a caressing thumb along the backs of her fingers…and then released it to lay his arm across the back of her chair, against her shoulders.

“So, what are you boys doing this morning, since you’re not going to be at the seminar,” Laura asked her sons curiously. “Anything fun?”

“Sleeping,” Joe said succinctly. “After last night, this is too early to be out of bed. I only got up so that I could have breakfast – and see you, babe,” he added to Vanessa. “After I have a nap…I may sleep some more. Then, for good measure, I shall rest up before I finally make my appearance into the world.”

Frank glanced around the coffee shop and raised an eyebrow. “And this isn’t part of the world?”

“No one else is awake yet either; I figure I’m safe,” Joe retorted.

Frank snorted, saying without words Oh, really? And they both grinned.

They filled their parents in on the occurrences of the day before: the theft of the car and the mysterious conversation Frank had overheard on the beach, with corroboration from Megan and Vanessa, who were more than willing to supply details the boys might have omitted. Fenton and Laura listened with interest, but when they finally finished, Fenton said, with a wink at his wife:

“This is a vacation, you remember….You don’t want to get too involved with a case while you’re over here. You’re supposed to be here to have fun, and relax…and work at the seminar, incidentally…not spend all your spare time trying to figure out who’s stealing cars.”

He paused to take a sip of coffee. “Still,” he resumed, “if it was me, and I was going to get involved in a case like this, I think I’d check out the docks – talk to some of the dock workers; see if anyone has noticed expensive cars coming and going. Maybe I’d act as though I was interested in how cars get to the island, where they come from – and ask if people ever send cars to the mainland…that sort of thing.”

“That’s where we were thinking of going with the investigation,” Joe said. “You know…if we were actually going to investigate anything, that is.” He grinned at Frank, who returned the smile. They’d gotten the message: Fenton couldn’t really condone them sticking their noses into a mystery, because of his current association with the Hawaiian police departments. At the same time, he was giving them tacit approval to do some snooping, if they were so inclined. Without words, they knew he was telling them to be both discreet and careful in their actions.

No longer tired when breakfast ended, Frank and Joe escorted Megan and Vanessa up to their room, so that the girls could dress for the seminar. Bidding them an affectionate goodbye, the boys descended to the lobby again, to request a taxi to take them to the shipping docks.

As they traveled down Kalanianaole Avenue toward the harbor, Frank and Joe admired the beautiful Hilo coastline under the morning sunlight. A splash caught Frank’s attention, and watching closely, he saw a large fish leap from the water and plunge back in again. He nudged Joe and pointed, and they both chuckled when the fish – or another one – repeated the action, evidently having a morning romp.

Joe caught sight of some surfers already out on the water. “Hey, Frank – how do you match up to them?” he asked wickedly, jerking his thumb in their direction.

Frank glared half-heartedly. “One of these days I’ll be at least as good as they are,” he vowed, not really expecting Joe to believe him.

The taxi driver let them out – at their request – about half a mile from the harbor itself. They claimed they wanted a chance to walk and enjoy the scenery, and although the driver rolled his eyes discreetly at this – they could almost hear his thoughts regarding the strange haole tourists – he didn’t argue. They found a walkway that led to the harbor, and to the array of warehouses which were located nearby.

“It’s a little like Bayport,” Joe observed, “the docks and all, I mean. Of course, this is a lot prettier – the water’s prettier. And it’s warmer here!”

“It’s also a lot smaller,” Frank noted. “This is just a little bitty shipping point, compared to Bayport. Probably a lot of inter-island stuff, for the most part.”

They wandered along leisurely, taking in the unattractive warehouses in the area, buildings which contrasted dismally with the attractive and picturesque blue water of the harbor. Two large ships were in the harbor, tied up at docks and apparently waiting to be loaded with cargo. Both of them were busy and bustling with people.

“Those two ships are big enough to carry cargo like cars,” Frank murmured, indicating the cargo ships. “Wonder if they might be involved? There aren’t that many around that would be able to hold them. Maybe if a ship’s captain was getting a cut on the take after the cars are sold, he’d transport them for free, if he was already going to the mainland.”

“Dunno,” Joe shrugged. “I suppose the best bet would be to do what Dad suggested – and find some people to talk to.”

Frank turned from his survey of the harbor to gaze speculatively at the warehouses. “Let’s split up, okay? We can cover more ground that way. You can question some of the dockworkers, and I’ll do a little reconnaissance of some of the warehouses…see if I can find any trace of those missing cars.”

Joe frowned slightly, and hesitated, apparently weighing the pros and cons of that plan. He could see the merits of Frank’s idea, but he felt a little nervous about separating in this unfamiliar territory. Finally he decided that the plusses outnumbered the minuses. “Okay,” he agreed, “but meet me back here in 30 minutes. No longer, right? That ought to give you plenty of time for snooping.”

Frank looked like he was going to protest for a moment, but then nodded. “All right, 30 minutes,” he said, and immediately turned and strolled away towards the nearest warehouse.

Most of the buildings, judging by the names on the outside, were used for storage of food, or furniture, or other innocuous items like that. One warehouse definitely shipped out of the islands; there were a variety of crated tropical fruits, including huge boxes of fresh pineapples. The aroma of the fruit was heavy and sweet in the warm air.

Encountering a few workers in his walk, Frank talked to them, asking a few innocent-sounding questions about shipments to the mainland, and found himself given a wealth of information – more than he wanted, or needed – about times, distances, stops along the way, and even costs – or what the employees estimated the costs were!

He continued to saunter along, inspecting each warehouse as closely as he could while still trying to look merely casually curious…and then halted abruptly, realizing that he was actually seeing something he had been looking for! Glancing through a window, he saw a large, tarpaulin-covered shape on the floor…one that seemed suspiciously large. It’s not really car-shaped, he mused, but maybe the car thieves surrounded it with boxes first, before covering it, to disguise it!

Stealthily, he ducked inside the warehouse, moving carefully and quietly. He could hear conversation at the other end of the building; men talking in low tones, and the occasional clang! of metal striking metal. It could mean anything…or nothing.

Frank continued moving as silently as he could, staying close to the dirty floor of the warehouse and trying to keep in the shadows as much as possible. He jumped, once, and froze for a few, heart-stopping moments, when something loud clicked on and roared to life – and then as cooler air began to waft down on him, he relaxed, realizing that it had merely been the air system cycling on.

Blessing the loud noise of the air conditioner, since it obscured any sounds he might make, he neared the mysterious shrouded object and reached to lift an edge of the tarpaulin

The movement of the tarp caused a reaction – one of the stacked crates beside him began to rock unsteadily back and forth, and then the one beneath it. Frank had no time to move, and didn’t dare to scream, as the boxes swayed dangerously for a second or two – and then began to crumple sideways…

…to land directly on Frank Hardy.

Let the author know what you think of this story

Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact

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.