I’m not lost! He kept repeating the words, reassuring himself with the litany. In truth, he wasn’t lost…exactly. He knew where he was – he just didn’t know quite how to get from where he was to Allison Lewis’ parents’ house. The directions he had received from the gas station attendant had been clear enough, but he was now getting the feeling that those directions were slightly out of date. They might have been straightforward once upon a time, when all the streets were straight and intersected at nice, 90-degree, four-way stops. Now, however, subdivisions had encroached on the older neighborhoods, and a multitude of Circles, Drives, Loops, and Ways wound their way through the area with maddening results.

I want Knightsbridge Road, Frank told himself, looking at the address. Knightsbridge Road. It’s supposed to intersect with 152^nd Street. Which comes off of Wyndham. I saw Wyndham. I saw 152^nd. So where did all this come from? He gazed at his surroundings with dismay. Knightsbridge Road might be there, but it was hidden in a myriad of other streets. He was standing on Knightsbridge Loop…but instead of turning into Knightsbridge Road, as expected, it had evolved into Stonehenge Court, which in turn intersected Knights Way, which meandered about and eventually turned into Camelot Loop and Camelot Drive and Camelot Circle.

I suppose I could call Joe and ask him…. But Frank dismissed this notion as soon as it surfaced. Possessed of as much stubborn pride as his younger brother, he would spend the rest of the afternoon wandering this place, rather than admit to Joe – whom he had lectured on becoming lost! – that he, himself had let himself get thoroughly turned around. I’d never live it down. All right, Hardy, work this out logically. Knightsbridge Road has to be here someplace!

Fortunately, before he could become completely frustrated, Frank found the street he sought, and thankfully trotted up the driveway of the beautiful, sprawling home of Darren and Julie Lewis. As he approached, Frank mentally compared it to the other Lewis home, where Rodney and his parents lived. It’s almost a complete antithesis, he mused. Where the former house had been old, this was modern, two stories with a split third story on top. Both edifices were alike in that they were immaculately clean and well-kept, though. The walk from the street to the front porch was lined with white latticework fencing which was twined with fragrant flowers in full bloom – sweet peas, Frank thought they were. The porch was clean and tidy, and held a bench on one side, and an inviting-looking porch swing on the other. Potted plants adorned the steps and some tree roses in large planter containers looked ready to burst into bloom in the warm June sunlight.

Frank pressed the doorbell, hearing a melodic cascade of chimes in response. Almost before the sound had died away, the door was opened – by Phil Cohen!

"Frank!?" Phil looked very surprised. "I was expecting Joe!" He motioned his friend into the house. "He left in a hurry, chasing someone—"

"I know, I know," Frank interposed. "He called me." He looked over Phil’s shoulder as Allison came into the entry hall. "Hi, Allison. Uh…sorry to just barge in, but I guess I’m sort of stranded here until Joe gets back."

"It’s okay, Frank; it’s fine. We have plenty of room!" Allison smiled. "You’re very welcome here."

She and Phil escorted Frank into the living room, which overlooked the street, and the three made themselves comfortable in the plushy overstuffed chairs. Then, Frank scowled at Phil with mock ferocity.

"Okay, I want to hear the excuses you’re going to come up with, Cohen!"

Phil looked at his friend sheepishly. "I’m sorry, Frank. Looking back, I know it was stupid, but I was sort of shook up." He sighed. "Joe called me a fuzz-brain!" he complained, aggrieved, and Frank burst into laughter.

"Serves you right. You were a fuzz-brain. Now, let’s hear all of it."

"Well, to begin with, Allison and I both went home late Friday night, after the concert. After we’d reported the theft of the violin to the police, I mean. We did that right after you guys left for Bayport. The next morning, I had an early, split shift. I worked from 7 to 10, and then again from 12 to 3.

"Saturday morning," Frank nodded his understanding. This was the same thing Brad Turnbuckle had told him, but it was nice to hear Phil confirm it.

"Right. I’d talked to Joe earlier, and then during my off time, I met Alli for a late breakfast. When I got back to my apartment after that, I found that someone had been there, and that creepy picture with the knife was stuck on the wall. I thought it was blood at first, it nearly gave me heart failure!" Phil shivered. "And you know, I don’t even know where that picture came from! It wasn’t mine – I never saw it before! It’s…weird." He shook his head, dismissively. "And then I found a really nasty message left on the telephone answering machine, warning me that if I looked for the violin, or let anyone else get involved searching for it, Allison would be killed!" He looked apologetically at Frank. "That’s why I did what I did, calling Joe and telling you guys to back off. I got spooked, especially after I heard Alli’s story! I didn’t want anything to happen to her!"

"I know, I understand," Frank reassured him. "Go on, what did you do then?"

"I called him at work." Allison took up the story. "I’d gotten my own threat, also on my answering machine. It was essentially the same thing – don’t pursue the violin, or you’ll be killed. Not only was I afraid for me, I was afraid for Phil – and you and Joe!"

Frank nodded again. Whoever had done this was thorough and savvy, working all the angles to make sure everyone involved was frightened away.

"I tried to get the number off my Caller ID," Allison continued, causing Frank to give her an approving grin and a nod of approbation, "but it turned out to be a pay phone in downtown Manhattan. So when I talked to Phil, and heard what had happened in his apartment, we decided to get out of town and come here, to my parents’ house. I thought no one would be able to find us here." She smiled a little. "I didn’t count on the tenacity of the Hardy brothers!"

"I called Joe, and we left as soon as I finished up work. I’m sorry I didn’t answer all those messages you guys left on my cell phone," Phil apologized. "I just didn’t want to give either of you the chance to talk me into changing my mind. I should have known that you’d just come anyway – and that you’d look until you found me!"

"Yes, you should," Frank said in a reproving tone, although a grin was breaking through his attempt at solemnity. "Jeez, Phil, you know us better than that!"

"Yeah, yeah—" Phil ducked his head, chagrined but chuckling.

"We talked to your roommate, Matt – he was the one who helped us find you."

"Matt? That’s how you tracked us down?" Phil guffawed. "Isn’t he something? Good guy, though!"

"He was a lot of help. He was the one who remembered that you sometimes visited Allison’s parents, and where they lived – and that Allison’s cousin Rodney lives close by." Well, sort of close, Frank thought to himself, if you don’t get all turned around! "I went to talk to Rodney before I came here—"

"You talked to Rodney?" Allison was grinning now. "He’s a piece of work, that’s for sure – but he’s mostly harmless."

"I’m not so sure how harmless he is," Frank said somberly. "He insists he doesn’t have your violin, and doesn’t know anything about where it is – but he’s sure glad you don’t have it any more! What’s his financial situation, Allison, do you know?"

The girl shrugged. "Their family has some money. Uncle Collin – that’s Rodney’s father – is a surgeon. They aren’t overwhelmingly wealthy, but they’re considered upper-class by some people, certainly. Rodney shouldn’t be hurting for money; his dad doesn’t seem to mind supporting him, and he lives at home."

"According to what a police officer friend of mine discovered, Rodney is something like $40,000 in debt." Frank informed them.

Allison looked shocked. "$40,000! That’s unbelievable! I can’t imagine what Rodney would be doing, owing that kind of money! Uncle Collin is always generous enough about giving him whatever he needs…pretty much whatever he wants!"

Frank frowned as he thought that over. Gambling? Drugs? Rodney didn’t look like he’s a user….Nightclub scene? Wine, women and song? Nah, doesn’t look like the type. Hmmm, wonder what Rodney’s doing with all that money?

Frank’s ponderings were interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. "Hello? Joe! You still chasing people? How’s my car?"

"I want it back eventually, yes. Where are you?"

Joe explained that he was somewhere in the vicinity of Hill Point – he thought – and had trailed the mysterious watcher to a mansion in the area. He also explained that he needed to stay there, to wait for darkness to cover his sleuthing expedition into the estate grounds. After exchanging wisecracks with his anxious brother, Joe disconnected the call, assuring Frank that he’d be fine.

Frank felt disquieted despite Joe’s assurances that he’d be careful, he wouldn’t get lost, he’d be just fine. He really did not like not knowing exactly where Joe was. Things could happen fast, especially when his younger brother was involved, and the uncertainty of how to quickly find Joe bothered Frank. He hoped Joe would continue to check in frequently – even while admitting that he would consider it ‘mother-henning’ on Frank’s part. He decided to try a new avenue of investigation while he waited.

He turned to Allison. "Could I ask you a few questions about your great-grandfather and the quintet he was in? Do you know anything about it?"

"Yes, I know a little," Allison nodded. "My great-grandfather used to tell me stories about those days, before he died – when I was tiny. I loved hearing them, he was a good story-teller, and made it all sound so fascinating! They played all over Europe, and even went to Asia once, and played in Japan and China and India!" Her green eyes sparkled with delight. "I’d love to do that!"

"You’ll probably get to," Phil quietly observed, and Allison smiled at him gratefully.

"Do you know anything about the other men who were part of the quintet?" Frank asked. "What happened to them, who they were?"

"A little," Allison replied. "I know that three of them have passed on already, my great-grandfather being one of those. The man who played the cello – Lesimik, his name was – died recently, maybe three or four months ago. My grandfather mentioned it to me. The other two…let’s see, I believe one still lives in Austria. The other one – I think he lives somewhere on the East coast, but I don’t know where, not exactly."

"Where are you heading with all this, Frank?" Phil asked curiously.

"I’m not sure," Frank admitted. "I was just wondering what happened to the other four prize instruments. Were they all passed down to descendants, or did something happen to them, too? Might they have been stolen like yours, Allison?"

Allison shrugged eloquently. "I have no idea. I was never interested enough to ask, and my grandfather never mentioned it." She pursed her lips in thought. "I suppose if something like that had happened, and he knew about it, he’d have said something. It would make a good story!"

Phil glanced at his watch. "I hate to interrupt this discussion, but it’s nearly three o’clock and I’m staaaarving! Alli, can’t we make some lunch?" he asked plaintively. Frank gave him a startled glance; Phil had sounded eerily like Joe Hardy just then!

She laughed and got to her feet. "Yes, we can make some lunch. Are tuna fish sandwiches okay with both of you?" She glanced from one boy to the other, and received nods from each. "Fine, come along and help; it will go faster."

Tuna fish sandwiches, potato chips, and cut-up apples and oranges constituted lunch, along with soft drinks and bottled iced tea. All three teens ate hungrily, but by the time they were finished, Frank found himself getting antsy again, about not having his car, and not knowing exactly where Joe was. Trying to ignore the uneasiness in his gut, he requested the use of a computer, and accessed maps of the area, attempting to locate Joe’s whereabouts in that way. A large mansion near Hill Point. Or South Point. Or Hillside. Sighing with frustration, Frank gave up his search. He was still impatient and uneasy, jittery with nerves. He knew that Joe wouldn’t even go near the mansion until it was dark, and his brother was savvy enough to stay out of sight until then, even if he did despise stakeouts and surveillance duty. I’m probably driving Phil and Allison nuts, too! Frank exited out of the maps site and turned away from the computer.

"Frank—" It was Phil, standing there with a very understanding expression on his thin face. "Would you like to go out and try to find where Joe is?"

Frank’s look combined gratitude and embarrassment. "Thanks, Phil," he muttered, "but no. It’s okay. If I was really nervous, I’d just call Joe back and tell him to call off the whole deal. I’m sure he’s fine. I’m sorry…I know I’m acting weird. I just need to DO SOMETHING!"

At that moment, there was a crashing, splintering noise. Something broke through the wide living room window, sending glass fragments flying everywhere!