Frank stopped his car in front of the Lewis home once again. He noticed that a couple of workmen were already busy with the task of repairing the shattered front window. He got out of the Saturn and went up the walk, stopping when he reached a temporary barrier of plywood which the repairmen had erected to keep away casual gawkers.

Frank looked through the window opening, and saw Allison and Phil Cohen standing inside, gazing out. Phil gestured imperatively, pointing Frank towards the attached garage. Frank walked towards it, and in a few moments the door slid upwards, allowing him admittance.

Phil and Allison were waiting inside.

"How’s Joe?" Phil demanded, as soon as Frank entered.

Frank gave him a bleak look. "He hasn’t woken up – they don’t know why. The doctors seem hopeful—" He dropped his gaze. "But I’m awfully worried…."

Phil put a reassuring hand on the other’s shoulder. "He’ll be okay, Frank; just give it a little time." Allison echoed his sympathetic words with her own murmurs of encouragement.

"Yeah—" Frank attempted a wan smile at them both.

"The workmen got here early this morning, and they say they’ll be done with the new window before noon," Phil went on. "Alli’s got to stay here until they finish, since her folks aren’t supposed to be home until this evening, but she’ll be in New York this afternoon for the photo session with the Junior Symphony."

"Okay." Frank managed a more genuine smile at Allison. "You ready to go, then, Cohen?"

"Yep, just let me grab this—" Phil swooped to pick up a small bag from the garage floor. "and this—" He caught Allison in one arm and kissed her soundly. "Okay, I’m set. See you this afternoon, Alli!"

Once settled in the Saturn, Phil leaned back and looked around admiringly. He had seen it Friday night, of course, but hadn’t had a chance to ride in it then. "Man, I love this car! You really picked a nice one, Frank. I wish I could afford to get something like it, but right now all my dough goes into rent and school – although working full-time this summer at Computer Wizardry ought to help."

"Yeah…I like it okay." Frank could scarcely believe what he heard himself saying; a few days before, he would have been bubbling over with enthusiasm about his new car. But now, everything seemed to have lost its luster and appeal, even his precious new Saturn; all muted in comparison to the ever-present worry over Joe. Joe would kick my tail if he knew I wasn’t appreciating my new car! he thought with an inward smile, and managed to put a little more spirit into his voice. "It gets great gas mileage, that’s for sure. Big change from the old van."

"Mmm, really nice interior." Phil ran an approving hand over the upholstery. "Well, okay, down to business – Alli made the arrangements you wanted – although it wasn’t easy, as early in the morning as it was! We can get into the orchestra hall to look around before noon, but after noon it’s going to be busy, because the JSO is having photos taken, in full battle regalia!"

"That’s fine. We have plenty of time to get there, and I want to get started," Frank responded. As he considered Phil’s words, a thrill ran through him. ‘Full battle regalia!’ That means that I can look for the missing cuff link again! This was unexpected luck!

Frank negotiated the streets of downtown Manhattan through the Monday-morning traffic. Avoiding the numerous taxicabs was the worst; the drivers didn’t seem to care in the least if someone was already in the spot they wanted, when they decided to change lanes! He wondered how many of them actually possessed driver’s licenses, and voiced his comment to Phil.

Phil chuckled. "I have no idea, but I know what you mean. They don’t seem too safety-conscious, do they?" He paused a beat, then reverted to the subject on both their minds. "Frank, Allison’s willing to give up the Strad. She and I both agree that it’s much more important for you to figure out who hurt Joe than to hunt for a missing violin."

"I think that if I find out the one, I’ll know the answer to the other," Frank answered. "The two things almost have to be connected in some way. But I don’t think it’s Allison’s cousin Rodney. Joe was positive it was, but I really don’t agree with that, unless Rodney had an accomplice. He couldn’t be in two places at the same time. And I was talking to him when someone else was watching Allison’s house."

"He could have someone working for him," Phil countered. "Maybe that’s the reason for all the money he owes!"

Frank was caught unprepared for that theory. He considered it a moment, admitting to himself that Phil could be on target, then shrugged. "I don’t know. It’s possible, of course, but I’m not sure." Silently, he continued the discussion in his head. Rodney doesn’t seem like he’d be that well organized. He’s more the impulsive type – the kind of guy who reacts to things, but doesn’t plan them out in advance. But how can I judge? I only met the guy once! I could be totally off base.

For a while, they were quiet; the only interruptions to the silence were Phil’s occasional directions to guide Frank to the concert hall.

Frank had given up thinking about the mystery of the missing violin, and was thinking only of Joe. Where could he have gone to, last night? Where’s the mansion – or whatever it was that he went to? Did he ever get in there, or was he waylaid and hurt before he ever staked the place out? Why did I let him go alone? I could have insisted that he wait—

Grimly, the elder Hardy forced himself to break off that line of thought. It wasn’t productive…and it was damned repetitive!

At last Frank parked the car in one of the parking garages, and he and Phil walked through the bright, sunny June morning to the symphony concert hall where Allison had played the night her violin disappeared. Slung over Frank’s shoulder was a small equipment bag, in which he carried the tricks of his trade: small camera, magnifying glass, plastic zipped bags of various sizes, lock picks, fingerprint kit, a little knife, pen and paper…he was determined to make a thorough search, this time, and he had come prepared!

As they neared the doors to the Symphony Hall, a familiar figure detached itself from a stone column. Frank was astonished to see Matt Eckersley, Phil’s roommate, who came forward with an unabashed grin and an extended hand.

"Hey, Frank dude!"

"Uh – hi, Matt." Frank couldn’t help smiling in response to the other’s evident pleasure.

"Phil called me last night." Matt’s grin faded. "Man, I am like really sorry about what happened to Joe! How’s he doing now?"

"He’s still unconscious," Frank admitted. "But the doctors keep saying he could wake up at any time." If I keep repeating it, maybe it will seem like more of a reality…he’ll wake up any time…any minute now, he’ll wake up.

"That’s good." Matt shoved back a dangling lock of hair and began grinning again. "Phil said maybe I could help you guys look around here. The more eyes the better – right?"

Frank nodded.

"All right!" Matt’s greenish-hazel eyes sparkled with anticipation and his smile widened. "Great! What first?"

Frank smiled. "First," he suggested, "let’s go inside."

Inside the building, the three boys met Mr. Dithers, the gray-haired head custodian.

"I got a call telling me to let you search the hall," the short, chunky man said, somewhat grumpily, "but you’re to stay out of the sound control areas, and out of the upper levels as well. They’re doing work on the sound systems and speakers this morning. You can look in the back rooms all you want, until noon. Then you have to get out." He stared challengingly at them with faded blue eyes, ready to assert his authority over these interlopers.

Frank thanked him politely, and said they’d try to stay out of his way during their search. Mr. Dithers grumbled a bit more, but finally took himself off to supervise the work going on upstairs.

"Dude!" Matt was grinning like a delighted hyena as he marched after Frank and Phil, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He followed them to the back room where the orchestra had gathered on Friday night, following the concert.

"Okay, let’s split up," Frank instructed his assistants. "I know that a lot of what we might have found Friday will be gone now. The place has been used by the Senior Orchestra since then, from what Allison said, but you never can tell what you might find, even several days afterwards."

The three spread out, searching. Phil and Frank were silent; they’d done this sort of thing before. Matt, however, was entranced by the whole thing, and kept up a soft-spoken running commentary as he looked around. "Dude….Man, oh man….Whoa, baby…."

While Phil and Matt concentrated their efforts on going over the main room inch by inch, Frank headed down the hallway towards the back doorway he and Joe had found…the doorway where the cuff link had been discovered. It was closed now, naturally enough, and bore a large padlock to make sure it wasn’t accidentally opened again.

Frank knelt down in front of it, to take a closer look at the floor, grimacing a little at the dust he was getting smeared on his jeans. Obviously this area didn’t get cleaned very often, but then why should it? It wasn’t used very often! He could still make out footprints in the gathered dust; probably his and Joe’s, from Friday night, as well as…Robert’s? And perhaps someone else’s? Frank sighed and shook his head. No way to tell.

He got to his feet and turned, gazing at the wall. Reaching into his bag, he took out the magnifying glass, and began carefully examining the surface…and stopped.

It was a very clear thumbprint. Visible even without magnification, with the glass it leaped out at him like a beacon. The print had a considerable amount of sticky, purple residue, what looked like grape candy of some kind.

Grinning wolfishly, Frank set down the magnifying glass and reached again into his bag. This time he brought out the camera, set it on zoom, and snapped some close-up shots of the print. Then he used the fingerprint kit and dusted it and made a slide – for later close examination and checking.

Matt had noticed Frank’s activity, and stopped his part of the search to watch Frank work. He hovered, fascinated and impressed, full of questions.

"Whoa, dude, that is something else…what next?"

"Dust it with this," Frank murmured, flicking the soft little brush from his kit over the print.

"Dude…." Matt held his breath, watching. "Now what?"

"Lift it," was the reply.

"Wow." Matt watched, mesmerized. "And then?"

"Put it on this little glass slide," Frank fitted his actions to his words.

"Whoa, dude, I am like totally in awe of you!" Matt’s eyes were round with wonder as Frank put away his equipment.

He couldn’t help laughing at Matt’s commentary. It was like the old days, when anything he and Joe did in the detective line was a source of constant amazement for Chet, or Tony, or Biff. Now, of course, they were accustomed to it. But it was new to Matt, and fascinating.

"I’m done now, Matt; let’s get back to work," he advised, and Matt resumed his scrutiny of the walls and flooring backstage.

Taking a moment to stretch his back, Frank stepped out onto the stage. He rubbed the back of his neck, pondering his next step. Finding the print had been great, but….

"Frank, look out!" The sharp cry interrupted his musings, and looking up, Frank beheld a large speaker just above him, dropping towards his head at an alarming rate!