Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank shifted slightly as he came awake, groaning with various discomforts. He felt like a lead weight was stuffed in his head. And wasn’t that stupid, because how could anyone have a lead weight stuffed in their head, anyway?

His head ached dully, and he had the distinct impression that his mouth had been filled with cotton. He lay still, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the pounding in his head, and as he became more fully awake, he realized several things – several highly unpleasant things. Being the logical person he was, Frank grimly catalogued them.

One, his mouth was stuffed with cotton – or something along that line. Two, there was an all-too-familiar stickiness and pulling sensation on his face. Duct tape. Three, his hands were behind his back, and he could feel the metal of handcuffs on his wrists, holding them in place. Four, his legs were tied together. When he tried to open his eyes, he couldn’t; something was bound over them, a cloth of some kind. He could feel vibration beneath himself – movement. And a sort of roaring hum. Engine noise.

He’d been snatched. Kidnapped...and was now a captive, of...who?

Okay, somebody’s gone to a lot of trouble to truss me up like a Christmas goose! Frank couldn’t quite restrain a shiver. Wonder when my goose is gonna be cooked...and why?

Through the cloudy fog caused by his headache, Frank tried to remember what had happened, and to figure out what was going on. I was lying in a chair, he thought, on the beach. With Megan. And then...then.... It was no use; he couldn’t remember anything more. He’d evidently been knocked out, somehow. Chloroform? No, he didn’t think so...he didn’t feel sick enough for that. But something.

We don’t know anyone in Hawaii, he thought. We don’t have any enemies here. Mom and Dad aren’t exactly rich – so this can’t be for ransom, can it? What’s going on?

He shivered, uncomfortable and miserable, and tried to shift again. With his eyes covered it was impossible to be sure, but the motion and engine noise he could hear led him to believe he was in a vehicle of some sort. It didn’t quite feel like a car seat – and although it might be a car trunk, he wasn’t positive about that. The floor – or whatever it was he was lying on – felt too even – not enough lumps for a trunk. He felt queasy.

The movement finally stopped, and his stomach settled somewhat. He heard the sound of doors being opened, and hands grasped and pulled at him, sliding him across the flat surface. Okay, he decided, I must have been in the back of some sort of van. Suddenly the hands shifted their grip, and he felt himself going upside down – apparently draped over someone’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry! Oh, not good....

Frank struggled – or tried to. He could tell by the sounds, and by feeling himself being brushed against walls, or doors, or something, that he was being carried into a building. He wriggled frantically against the hands holding him.

“Shhh, be quiet. Accept your fate,” a low, male voice said.

My fate? WHAT fate? Frank wanted to demand, but with his mouth taped shut there was no way he could make himself understood. He struggled again, trying to lash out with his bound legs, to no avail. A few moments later he felt himself being unceremoniously dumped onto...something.

“Struggling isn’t going to help at all – it will only hurt you further,” the voice informed him, and then he heard footsteps moving away.

The surface beneath him was much softer than the van. Frank suspected that he’d been placed on a bed. Well, it certainly could have been worse – at least these kidnappers were marginally kind to him. He might well have been stuck in a cellar on chilly cement, after all!

He could hear voices murmuring nearby, speaking just too softly for him to catch more than a few words here and there. He tried to listen intently, hoping for some tidbit of information that might help him figure out what was going on, but the bits of disjointed conversation he could catch didn’t seem to make much sense. Package delivered....ready for....Bound for now...will prepare....

Unable to make heads or tails of the talk, Frank resorted to struggling again, trying to gain purchase on anything – the ropes around his legs, the tape over his mouth, the cloth covering his eyes – anything that would help him get free...or at least give him some idea of what was happening. He knew that normally, if a kidnap victim was blindfolded, then they had a better chance of being released when demands were met; they couldn’t identify their captors. Frank relaxed a little as he realized that. Maybe he’d get out of this mess still alive.

The bed dipped to one side as someone sat down next to him, and the next thing he knew was sharp pain as the duct tape was ripped from his face. Frank winced, and felt cool fingers pulling the cotton stuffing out of his mouth. Sighing with relief, Frank took a deep breath.

A soft hand touched his cheek, and those same fingers rubbed something slick and cool into his skin.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Frank stammered, turning his face away from the sensation.

“Shhh,” a soft voice told him, and whoever this person...woman...was, she continued to smooth some sort of cream into his cheeks. After a moment he relaxed, finding that it soothed the sting of having the duct tape removed.

“You are very pale, Po maika'I,” the voice said, and then began humming. Frank felt himself being turned on his side and the handcuffs unlocked – but before he could make an attempt to get free, another set of restraints were placed about his wrists, he was returned to his back, and his arms were spread wide and shackled to something on each side of the bed. Then, his legs were released from the ropes which bound them together, and more cuffs were placed about his ankles. Now he was lying spread-eagled, totally helpless to resist.

To his consternation, he next felt his shirt being unbuttoned, and then a warm washcloth was smoothed over his chest. I can’t believe this...this isn’t happening. He was desperately afraid that whatever this was, it was leading to something...something he preferred not to think about. He hadn’t recognized the Hawaiian word the woman had used when she addressed him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know...it was too scary to think about.

“What are...you doing?” Frank rasped, his voice still rough.

“Shhh, just be quiet – stay calm,” the woman whispered.

Stay calm, huh? While I’m tied up and you’re undressing me? Riiiight, lady! He lay rigid, trying his best not to tremble.

Well, evidently she wasn’t going to tell him anything about what was going on. He was decidedly nervous – and worried. Were Megan and Joe and Vanessa and his parents okay? Had they been taken too? If not, had they even noticed that he was missing yet? Surely Megan would notice...where had she been, when he was taken? They’d been together on the beach. A cold chill went through him at that thought – was she somewhere in this place too, being...being....

He didn’t want to think about that possibility. What he wanted to do was go back to sleep, and wake up in his bed in the hotel. Or better yet, back in his bed at home in Bayport. Or on the couch at Megan’s house, waking up with his head cradled in her lap, to see her dimple flash as she smiled down at him. He could wake up to anything, other than...this nightmare.

The woman methodically went about her task of stripping and bathing the elder Hardy; he never had a chance to fight to free himself, for she was careful to release only one cuff at a time, and always carefully relocked that one before moving on to the next area. He felt himself flush crimson, totally embarrassed, as she washed him from head to toe, and was grateful that his eyes were still covered, so that he didn’t have to actually see what was happening.

He had been afraid that she would leave him cuffed and naked, but then he felt himself being dressed again, and relaxed a little. But the clothing was unfamiliar; it felt almost like...a skirt? A grass skirt! Frank tried to pull away from the hands that were dressing him, suddenly thankful that Joe wasn’t there to see this. He remembered seeing the men at the luau, the native dancers in their ti-leaf skirts, doing their sword and fire dances. But whereas those men had looked right in the costumes, Frank didn’t think he would look nearly so appealing. Did these kidnappers expect him to suddenly become a fire dancer, or something, for God’s sake?

If this is someone’s idea of a sick joke, I’m not going to be responsible for the consequences. I’ll cream them – especially if Joe’s behind it! Somehow, though, he didn’t really think Joe had had anything to do with it. This is too...strange. Even for Joe’s distorted sense of humor!

Something was dribbled across his bare chest, and Frank tensed. The hands that had washed him now began rubbing something into his skin, moving clockwise in a detached, clinical fashion. He frowned, wondering again what was happening.

“What’s that?” he asked, daring to speak.

“Oil, to keep your skin soft,” the voice said, for once answering a question.

There was something added to the oil, Frank noticed – something with a strong scent. He couldn’t recognize it by aroma, but it was strong – and not very pleasant. He wrinkled his nose in distaste as the stuff was spread over his body, on his arms and his legs – and he was glad that she didn’t put it on his face.

“Drink.”

Something was held to his lips, and thirsty as he was from the effects of the gag, Frank would have considered drinking almost anything. This seemed to be more of the sweet juice he had had before – how long before? How much time had he lost? At any rate, it quenched his thirst. He drank it all down – the woman gave him little choice in the matter, anyway.

“Sleep now, Ho'okupu, Mohai,” came the soft whisper in his ear. “Be blessed of Pelè...”

Frank wanted to fight the feeling of lassitude which swept over him, but he was powerless to resist it. Drugged...the juice, it was drugged, he realized. And with sudden clarity, he knew that the juice he’d been given at the end of the beach party had been drugged as well. That was why he and Joe had been unable to recall what went on, when they awoke the next morning!

“The ho`ailona is strong,” the voice continued to whisper in his ear. All was dark behind the blindfold, but Frank had the distinct impression that the room around him was beginning to tilt and spin, and he was whirling out of control along with it. “The ho`oma`ema`ana will begin again tomorrow and then you will be lifted up... Po maika`I – most blessed of men. Po maika`I...”

The room tilted and swirled – and unconsciousness claimed him again.

*****

“Help! Somebody help!” Joe called out as he went to the door of the women’s restroom and very carefully pushed it open. He used his arm, in case the police wanted to try to dust for prints, although he doubted that they would bother. There had to be a bunch of prints on the door and in the bathroom itself, since it was a public restroom. But no doubt they’d at least try.

He saw Kachina Malari lying in a pool of blood, at the back of the bathroom.

He backed out and pulled a still-stunned Vanessa into his arms. She leaned against him, shaking. Joe hugged her tightly as Megan, Chief Pauahi, the hotel security people, Fenton and Laura and Lt. McCullough all converged on them.

“Vanessa found – Kachina Malari’s in there,” he jerked out. “She’s dead.”

The two police officers both headed for the bathroom door and McCullough pushed it open with his shoulder. They peered inside for a moment, then backed up, letting the door swing shut again. Chief Pauahi pulled a cell phone from his pocket and made a quick call.

Joe turned to his parents, still keeping his arms wrapped about Vanessa. “It looks like she was shot,” he said in a low tone. “Since no one heard anything, it must have been silenced.” He stroked Vanessa’s back soothingly. “I’m so sorry you had to find her, babe.”

“She was the only one who saw Frank being taken...” Laura whispered, her face pale.

“And obviously someone knew what she’d seen,” Fenton said grimly, “and killed her because of it. Whoever took Frank evidently means business!”

“Do you think – do you think that whoever took Frank...they’re going to...kill him?” Megan asked in a shaken voice. Like Laura, she had gone so pale that her scattering of freckles stood out like a spatter painting on white paper.

“I don’t know, honey.” Fenton’s voice was dour, but despite his gloom he patted the girl in an effort to soothe her. “We just have to keep a positive outlook. And find Frank before anything can happen to him!” he added.

Dylan McCullough, who had returned to the murder scene, now exited the bathroom once more, his face bleak. He beckoned to Joe. “Can I talk to you – and the girls?”

“Sure, Lieutenant.” The three teens followed the tall police officer, who led them into a back office behind the front desk.

McCullough closed the door behind them and motioned to the chairs. “Sit down,” he invited brusquely. They obeyed silently, Vanessa and Joe sitting on the love seat; Megan sinking into a nearby chair. Dylan leaned against the desk and crossed his ankles, and took out a pen and little notebook.

“So—” he began, “what happened, exactly? How did you find Ms. Malari?” He looked from one young face to the other, expectantly.

Joe was the first to speak. “We’d been helping Dad talk to the guests and people around the hotel,” he said somberly. “We were on the beach just outside for awhile, as well as here inside. We met back here on the mezzanine, and Vanessa said she needed to use the restroom. She went in; Megan and I were going to wait for her.” He squeezed his girlfriend’s hand.

“Miss Bender? What happened then?” The lieutenant smiled encouragingly. “Take your time,” he added gently.

Vanessa’s voice was calmer now. “I went in – and I was barely inside before I saw the body,” she said. “I knew who it was – I was here when she told about Frank being shoved into the gray van – and I knew she had to be either dead or badly hurt. All the blood....” She shivered a little, and Joe released her hand to slide his arm about her shoulders. “I screamed, I guess...and then I got out of there and yelled for Joe.”

“Anything to add to that, Miss Wright?”

Megan smiled a little and shook her head. Lt. McCullough was being so formal – they’d been Vanessa and Megan, just a few hours ago. “No, I didn’t go in.”

“Did any of you see anyone else in the bathroom or coming out of it?”

“No, no one at all.” “No, didn’t see anyone.” “We’d just gotten to the mezzanine, but I didn’t see anyone except Vanessa.” Three voices answered at once.

McCullough frowned and looked at Joe. “This is turning very nasty very fast, kids. Kidnapping was one thing, but now we’ve got murder. I think it would be a better idea if you stayed—”

“Not a CHANCE!” Joe interjected, knowing exactly what the police officer was about to say. “Frank’s still missing, Lieutenant! Dangerous or not, I’m not backing off looking for him now!” His fists clenched unconsciously; Vanessa gently rubbed his arm.

“Neither am I,” Megan spat defiantly, her eyes flashing fire, and no dimples whatsoever in evidence.

“Nor me,” Vanessa added quietly.

Dylan scowled. “I could have you all three put in protective custody,” he warned, “or put on a plane...”

“I’d like to see you try it,” Joe muttered, very low. Aloud, doing his best to emulate his brother’s most reasonable, logical tone, he said “I’m not a child, Lieutenant, and neither are Vanessa or Megan. I’ve – we’ve – had more experience than you might think, with murders and danger.” Both girls made assenting noises, and McCullough’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Besides, my dad is here. You’re not responsible for us, he is!”

“We’re not going home until we can take Frank back with us,” Vanessa stated with conviction, and Megan nodded emphatically, her red-gold curls bouncing jerkily with the motion.

Dylan sighed heavily, stuck his notebook in his pocket and seated himself in the desk chair. He leaned back and ruefully rubbed a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he grumbled, “but okay – you can stay. And you can help. Within REASON!” he added hastily. “No running off on some harebrained whim....You promised to follow orders, remember? And not to do anything stupid!”

“Do I look like I’d do anything stupid?” Joe retorted, and then suddenly grinned. “Don’t answer that!”

McCullough gave him a sour look. “Now I’m reduced to losing arguments with adolescents,” he growled.

“We’re not adolescents,” Joe reminded him. “But as far as that goes, I’m obviously younger and more virile than you, Lieutenant.”

Megan choked back a snicker, and then smiled blandly at McCullough.

Dylan’s eyebrows climbed his forehead and he opened his mouth for a crushing reply – and then he caught the teasing twinkle in Joe’s eyes. He cleared his throat meaningfully. “Younger, anyway. All right, you can go now. Stick with your dad, please? Unless he says otherwise? Shoo, shoo.” He waved them out of the office.

Fenton was not in sight when they emerged, but Laura was, waiting patiently on a nearby sofa.

“Where’s Dad?” Joe asked, looking around for any sign of his father.

“In there,” Laura indicated the bathroom with a tilt of her blonde head. “He’s helping with the crime scene until the 5-0 forensics team gets here.”

Joe wished he could go in and help, but when he considered what he’d seen of Kachina Malari’s blood-drenched body, he decided maybe he didn’t want that quite so much after all!

“I think we should keep on talking to people,” he suggested. “Me and Vanessa and Red. It’s even more important now; someone might have seen someone go into the bathroom when Kachina was in there....”

“I suppose,” Laura agreed reluctantly. “Please be careful, though.” She got to her feet. “I might wander and do a little questioning myself.”

“In that case, you be careful too!” Joe admonished, and Megan and Vanessa both nodded their heads in agreement.

Laura smiled at them. “I will if you will.”

Dylan McCullough exited the back office and approached them, inquiring for Fenton. After being informed of the detective’s whereabouts, he said “I’m going to check out the security cameras for the lanai. That may tell us more than anything else.” He turned on his heel and returned to the back offices.

“Let’s try the beach again,” Megan suggested, even though it was getting late for the warm sands to be busy with tourists, and it was becoming even more doubtful that anyone who might have noticed anything amiss would still be there. Most people had left to have dinner, or to watch the last of the football games.

“Red, do you remember any people from when you and Frank were here?” Joe asked, once they’d gained the beach again.

Megan looked around, a frown creasing her piquant features. “Maybe,” she said slowly. “I can’t be positive. I looked at people...but we were doing other things too, and I wasn’t really trying to remember faces, after all. I do remember the kids building the big sand castle, though – and they’re still here!” she exclaimed in surprise. “I’ll go talk to them!” She hurried off, moving towards the water’s edge, where several children were still frolicking in the waves.

“I’m going to check with the lifeguards,” Joe told Vanessa, pointing toward a brightly-colored booth about 50 yards down the beach.

“Okay, I’ll stay here and nab people as they go past,” she suggested, and took up a position near where the sidewalk started. No one would get by her without being queried!

Joe questioned the two young men in the lifeguard tower, with disappointing results. They said that there had been a lot of people on the beach all afternoon, and as long as there was no trouble, they didn’t notice specifics all that much.

“Except for the kids,” one of the lifeguards added. “We always keep a special watch on kids on the beach. You never know what might happen!”

Thinking sourly that they ought to extend that theory to everyone, not just little kids, Joe thanked them for their time and retreated. Maybe I should have let Vanessa interrogate them; she might have gotten a lot more out of it than I did!

Megan was standing with Vanessa when Joe reached them. “Any luck?” he inquired.

“Maybe a little,” Megan replied. “One of the older boys said he did remember something sort of strange. He saw two guys – by his description, ‘just two guys wearin’ swim trunks and white shirts’ – and one was carrying something over his shoulder into the trees at the edge of the beach.” She indicated a spot on the shoreline. “At first he thought it was a surfboard, but then he noticed that it was draped, not stiff – and it moved!”

“Faces? Could he identify them?” Joe demanded, his heart speeding up with hopeful excitement.

“No, I’m sorry.” The little redhead’s face was downcast, her voice filled with disappointment. “No one saw them – if it was them – close up.”

“It’s okay, Red; we’ll just find them another way.” Joe was about to ask another question when out of the corner of his eye, he saw something – a small, round, hard something – speeding directly at his head!

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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.