FANFARE FOR JUNE
by
Aspen & Evergreen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Chapters
From high above, they heard a string of obscenities, followed by a shout of "Watch out, you idiot!"
Running footsteps in the aisle announced the arrival of Mr. Dithers from the back of the auditorium, who glared about, and in a hostile voice demanded to know what was going on!
The disembodied voice from above informed him: "The damned speaker fell! It broke loose, because it wasn’t screwed down right the first time! It just fell! We’re getting everything adjusted to the new specs, though…" the voice continued in a milder tone.
Mr. Dithers rubbed his head and gazed heavenward. "What is going to go wrong NEXT?" he bellowed. It wasn’t plain if he was questioning a deity, or asking the installation tech, but it didn’t matter, because he received no reply from either. Grumbling to himself, he wandered off towards the back again, without even bothering to check on Frank’s and Matt’s welfare.
"Whoa, dude…" Matt whispered, slowly levering himself off the floor.
"You okay?" Frank sat up. A quick once-over told him he was unhurt, if slightly shaken. "Thanks for the save!"
"I – yeah, I’m okay. Just a bumped elbow, that’s all." Matt stared at the fallen speaker. "But…man, that was totally wild! I never moved that fast in my life, ya know?" He gulped. "That thing could’ve mashed you flat, Frank dude!"
Frank smiled tolerantly as he too looked at the smashed speaker. Now that he could see it up close, he realized that it wasn’t one of the really large speakers that were used by traveling bands in performance, but it was perhaps half his height, and heavy. If it had hit him, it definitely would have killed him!
Frank moved in to inspect it a little more closely. One of the support struts was bent almost beyond recognition, naturally enough, but the others appeared to be undamaged. Accident? I wonder….
He and Matt walked backstage again, to resume their interrupted search.
"Find anything?" he asked Phil, who had arrived onstage after the accident, too late to do much more than help Matt brush himself clean of dust.
"No," Phil admitted in disgust. "Everywhere I looked had just been cleaned and vacuumed!"
"Well, I found what I wanted to find," Frank told him. "That print with the sticky purple residue! It looks like grape candy – like one of those Jolly Rancher candies. It could be a clue. Unless one of the custodians is really into eating hard candy, of course," he added with a chuckle, but as he said the words, they became an all-too-likely reality. What if one of the custodians was his quarry! Or one of the sound techs, who might have loosed the speaker from high above…."Let’s get out of here for a little while."
The three boys went outside the hall, and sat down on the steps in the sunshine. Frank glanced at his watch, pondering just what his next move should be. For a few minutes, he had ceased to think about Joe, but now the worry came back with a rush. Sternly, he banished it to the back of his mind. He didn’t have leisure for thinking about Joe just now.
Phil was slumped forward, his face buried in his hands. As Frank watched, Phil yawned deeply and shuddered.
"You okay, dude?" Matt asked him.
"Yeah," Phil mumbled through his fingers. "Just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night."
Frank involuntarily glanced at Matt, and found the older man returning his look with a very knowing expression on his thin face. Both grinned in silent amusement. Frank took another look at his old friend, a candidly speculative look. Phil stayed at Allison’s last night. Allison’s parents aren’t home….Wow…I guess Phil’s changed in more ways than just acquiring aggressive driving habits since he’s moved to New York! And to think that he hardly even dated anyone, in high school! What do they say? It’s always those quiet ones…the ones you’d least expect it of.
Following that train of thought, Frank suddenly wondered if he, himself would be considered one of the ‘quiet ones,’ and recalled Joe’s speculations on what it might be like to share an apartment instead of living at home…Megan and Vanessa could visit…anytime they wanted to…stay over…. Stop it, Hardy, he admonished himself, with an inward chuckle. What would Aunt Gertrude say if she knew you considered things like that?
"What say we catch an early lunch?" Matt suggested. "I know you need to be back here when the JSO kids come, but we could chill, and relax a little while first."
"Sounds like a plan," Frank approved, getting to his feet. Suddenly, breakfast seemed a long time ago.
"Lead the way."
Matt did indeed lead the way – to Marrin’s, which he said was one of his favorite places to eat. It proved to be a buffet-style restaurant, and the three of them made full use of the ‘all you can eat’ setup. They made small talk as they ate, with Matt doing most of the talking.
"Macey’s gonna be on Broadway, can you dig it? She got picked to sing the part of Eponine in Les Miserables and she starts in three weeks! I mean, I’ve always known she’s a really good singer, but Broadway! I can’t believe my girl’s gonna sing on Broadway!"
"That’s really great, Matt…." Frank made polite responses, but listened with only half an ear as Matt talked. He stared at his glass of Pepsi as he thought about the case – what he knew and had discovered about it. He knew, for instance, that the cuff link he’d found belonged to one of the Junior Symphony Orchestra members. He was fairly sure that the mansion was involved somehow – the mansion to which Joe had followed someone who had been spying on Allison. He knew for a fact that Allison’s house had been attacked with a brick through a window and a threatening message. He knew that Allison and Phil had received alarming phone calls, and there was the picture with the knife through it, at Phil’s apartment.
He himself had seen someone attempt to take Allison’s violin right from her very hands, and nearly succeed. He knew that he had nearly been run down by a car after the concert, although he was forced to admit that was a long stretch to add into the mix. And there was that incriminating fingerprint he had just found.This could be a really easy case to solve, if I could just find the one person that all these things add up to! The fingerprint, now – if Dad or Con Riley can do anything with it, that should help solve that little mystery, although lots of kids eat Jolly Ranchers. Of course, unless it’s someone who’s been picked up before, fingerprints might not be on file…wait. There’re all those things they started back when we were little, fingerprinting kids in case they were lost, or abducted. Lots and lots of kids had their fingerprints taken! Not necessarily on file with the police, but…
"Frank? Frank, you still on the same planet as us?" Phil’s voice filtered through Frank’s buzzing thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, sorry, Phil. Guess I wasn’t listening. What did you say?"
"It’s okay, pal. I just wondered what you were thinking about so hard." Phil gazed at his friend sympathetically. "Joe?"
"Partly – but partly the clues to the case, too." Frank chewed the corner of his lip reflectively. "Do you know very many members of the JSO well, Phil?"
Phil shrugged ruefully. "Not really. I know Angel Coussard, and Henri Bouchier, and Alexis Davenport. I know most of the others by sight; I’ve seen them around, and said ‘hi,’ but haven’t really talked to them much. So I can’t say I know them well. Sorry." He brightened. "Maybe we can both learn more about them when we go back to meet the orchestra later."
"Maybe," Frank murmured, and returned to contemplating his drink.
*****
A soft, tuneful melody echoed through Vanessa Bender’s mind, and she was dancing to that music, blissfully dancing with Joe, his arms warm and strong about her, his deep blue eyes tender as he looked at her. About them shimmered the gauzy glitter of the fairytale room at Miracles Can Happen. Vanessa noted that some enterprising soul had added the effect of dry ice, for knee-high mist shrouded the dance floor. She could hear Joe’s whisper beneath the music:
"I love you, babe…you’re so incredibly beautiful…."
"You’re pretty handsome yourself." Laughing, she stroked the back of his hair, smoothing the blonde waves. But to her surprise, he suddenly released her, and stepped backwards, out of her embrace. "Joe? Where are you going? Don’t leave!"
He smiled, but didn’t speak, and there was something strange and distant in that gentle smile. He gazed at her compellingly, but somehow he kept moving away, receding…further and further away.
"Joe?" Alarmed by his silence and distance, she reached out to him. Surely he hadn’t moved that far away – had he? Why couldn’t she touch him? Why did he seem to be fading – becoming part of the gauzy mist surrounding them? "Joe! Answer me! Don’t go!" Again, Vanessa reached, frantically clutching at Joe’s increasingly-transparent form, only to see her hands pass through. "JOE!"
"Vanessa?"
"Joe! Joe, don’t leave me!" Vanessa whimpered, extending her hands towards the fading figure. But there was no reply. As he disappeared, Vanessa’s eyes fell on her outreached hands, and to her horror, she saw the class ring Joe had given her suddenly slide from her finger. She made a frantic grab for it, but it eluded her clutch, and fell, disappearing into the fog. "NO!" She dropped to her knees, seeking it, feeling for it, patting blindly in the obscuring mist. "Joe, I dropped your ring! I can’t find it – Help me…!"
"Vanessa, honey!"
"Joe?" Despair turned to hope. He was answering her, at last! "Joe!" Her eyes flew open
"No, honey, it’s not Joe – it’s me, kiddo – Mom." Andrea Bender gently patted her daughter’s shoulder.
"M-mom?" Vanessa blinked in confusion. No longer was she on a dance floor, but lying in bed in her own room, with summer sunlight pouring warmly through the windows. "I thought – I thought I…I guess I was dreaming." She looked around, still attempting to reconcile two alternate realities. "I dreamed I’d lost Joe’s ring—" She held up her left hand to demonstrate, and gasped in shock. Her hand was bare! "My ring! Where’s my ring?"
"Vanessa, honey, calm down," Andrea remonstrated. "I’m sure it’s around, don’t worry."
"I’ve got to find it – I’ve got to find it now!" Ordinarily cool and self-possessed, Vanessa was uncharacteristically shrill as she hurled herself out of bed. "Mom, help me look!" I’ve lost his ring – and in the dream I lost it, and I lost Joe too! Is he slipping away – is he going to die? Is that what it meant?
"All right, Van, simmer down, it will turn up. Where did you have it last?"
"I don’t know – I don’t remember! I had it on at the hospital! I had it then!" As she talked, Vanessa was down on her knees, searching beneath the bed, frantically patting over the carpeting as she had patted the dance floor in her dream. Nothing. She leaped to her feet and yanked back the covers, tearing them from the bed.
"Vanessa, honey—" Andrea was becoming worried now, at her daughter’s erratic behavior.
Alerted by all the activity, a small furry bundle of energy trotted into the bedroom. An adolescent cat, with long fluffy white fur and golden eyes leaped gaily onto the bed and made a snatch at the billowing sheets which Vanessa was flapping so energetically.
"Thistle! Move!" Ordinarily delighted to play with the kitten, this morning Vanessa had no patience for Thistle’s antics. "Get out of my way, you stupid cat, or I’ll mangle you!" She swatted angrily at Thistle, who batted at her hands with playful intensity, showing all the claws which made his name so appropriate.
Andrea was searching now too, picking up articles of discarded clothing from the floor and shaking each one out carefully. "He thinks you’re playing with him, honey." To the kitten, she added, "Spike, you’d better watch it; she’s not kidding!"
Now near tears, Vanessa transferred her search to her dresser, muttering to herself. "I know I didn’t put it up here; I always wear it to bed, I never set it on the dresser, WHERE is it?"
Andrea thought hard. "Do you take it off when you wash your face, so the yarn doesn’t get wet?"
"Yes! The bathroom counter!" Vanessa darted into the bathroom, only to wail, "It’s not there either!" Her voice raised to a near-hysterical pitch. "Mom, where is it? I’ve got to find it!" Thistle, disgruntled at the lack of attention being paid to him, jumped down from the bed and trotted after Vanessa. "Thistle, go AWAY!"
Undaunted, Thistle insinuated himself beneath Vanessa’s arm as she knelt on the floor of the bathroom. He kept patting ecstatically at the girl’s hands as she moved them across the floor.
"It’s no use…it’s not here." Vanessa sat back, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I’ve lost it – I’ve lost Joe’s ring…I’ve lost Joe…."
"Honey, don’t cry. We’ll find it, and you haven’t lost Joe."
"But I have – it’s the dream—" Vanessa shook her head, as sobs choked her. Beside her, Thistle pounced on a dust mote floating in the sunshine, then suddenly darted away, to scramble behind the toilet. There came a soft clicking nose, and a bright, glittery object shot into view, immediately followed by a paw with claws extended to grip the yarn wound onto it!
Vanessa shrieked. "My ring! My ring! Thistle found it!" The snatch she made at the bauble nearly equaled Thistle’s in its swiftness. "Good kitty, good Thistle!" Tears still rolling down her cheeks, she stroked the little white cat, whose forgiving purr filled the bathroom.
"Well good for Thistle!" Andrea heaved a relieved sigh. "Although I suspect he may have had a hand – or a paw! – in misplacing it! If you left it in there, and he saw it, he probably decided it would make a dandy cat toy!"
Ring tightly enfolded in her hand, Vanessa made her way back to her bed and collapsed upon it.
"Honey, for goodness’ sake, why were you so upset about that ring? You must have known we’d find it, sooner or later!" Andrea sat down beside her daughter. "And what’s this about losing Joe? Isn’t he all right? Remember, I wasn’t awake when you came home. What time did you get home, anyway?"
Vanessa blinked back tears. "It was about 2:30, I guess." Dolefully, she told Andrea what the doctor had said about Joe not regaining consciousness and that they didn’t know what was causing it. "And then…and then I had this dream," she continued. Repeating the details to her mother, Vanessa began once more to cry. "And…and he – dis-disappeared," she choked. "And then the ring was g-gone….I’m sc-scared, Mom!"
"Ah, baby," Andrea enclosed her in her arms. "You’ve never been one to be superstitious! Do you believe in portents, now? It was just a dream, just your subconscious having a field day because you’re worried, not an evil omen. Have a little faith, kiddo! Joe’s strong, and he’s been through worse things and come out just fine. He will this time, too!" Gently, she rocked Vanessa, and patted her back. "Don’t worry so, honey – and don’t cry so hard…don’t cry."
Thistle, in a display of kittenish affection, had crawled into Vanessa’s lap, and was enthusiastically kneading her pajama-clad leg, which action probably was the reason Vanessa managed to stop sobbing, if only to admonish the little cat. "Ouch! St-stop it, Thistle!" She sniffled, and reached for a tissue to blow her nose. "Okay, I’m all right now, Mom." She sighed. "I’m sorry for making a scene."
Andrea gave her daughter a final pat and got to her feet. "You’re allowed a scene every now and then. Why don’t you put your bedroom back together, and get dressed," she advised, "while I make some breakfast."
Vanessa looked around at the chaos resulting from her frantic search for the ring, and sighed again. "All right." She removed Thistle from her lap and stood up. "Come on, kitty, let’s make the bed," she murmured disconsolately.
When Vanessa finally reached the kitchen, Thistle scampering at her heels, she found Andrea had poured juice and cold cereal for them both, and was making toast. The enticing aroma of fresh-brewed coffee hung in the air.
"Mmmm, that smells good!" Vanessa managed a watery smile. She sat down in her usual place, and the smile became more genuine as Andrea set a mug in front of her. Inscribed on the white ceramic in curvy blue letters were the words:
Instant Human: Just Add Coffee! This was Vanessa’s favorite coffee mug, which Andrea had found on a business trip and brought home to her the year before. "Thanks, Mom," she murmured, and took a grateful sip. "I’m not very hungry, though.""You need to eat something," Andrea admonished gently. "If you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll get sick."
Vanessa shrugged, and took another sip of coffee…and another.
They ate breakfast quietly, Vanessa still downcast and Andrea thoughtful. When the plates were cleared away and second cups of coffee poured, Vanessa looked at the clock.
"I meant to be at the hospital before now," she murmured.
"Maybe Joe’s awake now," Andrea suggested, hopefully, but Vanessa shook her head.
"No – someone would have called me. He’s not. Maybe he never will be…"
Andrea sighed sharply. "Kiddo, don’t give up like that! You’ve got to stay strong! Joe wouldn’t want you to give up. And graduation’s coming up, remember? He’d want you to be looking forward to that—"
Vanessa’s jaw set stubbornly. "I’ve thought about that," she said. "If Joe’s not there to march with me, then I’m not going to march either. They can mail me the darned diploma!"
Andrea’s eyes widened at this revelation, and Vanessa glared at her, as if daring her to protest. "Kiddo, you know perfectly well that Joe wouldn’t like it if you did that. You should think about this a little more – when you’re more wide awake!"
Vanessa didn’t reply. I’ve already thought about it, she thought, and there’s no way I’m graduating without Joe. No way! She got to her feet and picked up the coffee mug. "I’ve got to get to the hospital, Mom," she muttered, and walked out of the kitchen. Two minutes later she was behind the wheel of her Jeep Wrangler, her coffee resting in a cup holder beside her.
At the hospital, Vanessa carried her half-empty coffee mug with her up to the Critical Care unit. Getting directions to Joe’s room, she hurried there, and discovered Laura Hardy sitting at her son’s bedside, reading a book. Laura looked up with a welcoming smile as Vanessa entered the room.
"Vanessa! How are you doing, honey?" Mrs. Hardy stood up and hugged the girl warmly, and then her gaze followed Vanessa’s towards Joe. "No change yet," she said, answering the unspoken question. "They said they needed to run more blood tests this morning," she continued, her tone scathing, "because for some reason or other, the lab results from last night got lost. I’m still waiting to hear the results."
Vanessa groaned. "How could they mess up like that?"
"I don’t know." Laura shook her head. "It’s a good thing Fenton had already gone home to get some sleep, before that little tidbit of information came out – he’d have thrown a fit!"
Vanessa looked wistfully at Joe, and sighed. "Would you like to go get something to eat, or drink?" she softly asked Mrs. Hardy. "I’ll stay here with Joe – just in case he wakes up!"
"All right, honey." Laura hadn’t missed the wistful glance, and knew Vanessa wanted a chance to be alone with Joe. "I could use another cup of coffee." She squeezed Vanessa’s hand, and went out of the room.
Vanessa walked to the bed and leaned against it, staring down at her boyfriend. Joe looked so peaceful – eyes shut, breathing evenly, although she saw with some surprise that he had scratches on his face and hands and arms. It looks like you’ve been playing with Thistle in one of his ‘attack cat’ moods! "You’re going to make it, darn you!" she said fiercely. "You are! There’s no way you’re not going to make it through this!"
She scooted the chair as close as she could, then sank into it and took Joe’s free hand in her own. She felt tears forming again. Please, Joe – please wake up! Please, just wake up right now! Bleak thoughts of her dream floated through her mind, and she thought about Joe, getting farther and farther away, growing dimmer. How far away was he from her, right now?
NO! That dream won’t come true! she berated herself, He has to come back! Still clutching Joe’s hand, she leaned forward and rested her head against the back of it, closing her eyes wearily. She could feel him now, he was there, real and solid. No obscuring mists, no transparency. He was with her, and he wasn’t going to leave! She relaxed, feeling the reassuring warmth of his natural body heat….
"Vanessa?" A hand touched her back, gently, and she started upright. Laura Hardy was standing beside her, smiling. "Are you all right, honey?"
"Yes." Vanessa watched her boyfriend’s mother seat herself in a second chair, balancing a mug of coffee. Laura held it up, showing the inscription, which stated
Mothers are Those Wonderful People Who Can Get Up Before the Smell of Coffee."Isn’t that a nice thought?" she said. "One of the nurses brought me coffee in this cup. They’re very sweet – although the sentiment doesn’t apply to me. Whoever wrote it never saw me trying to function with my eyes shut, at 6 a.m."
"Yes, it’s—" Vanessa began to agree, but a voice from the door interrupted her.
"Mrs. Hardy?"
Both Vanessa and Laura looked toward the door, and saw a dark-haired man in a lab coat, with a stethoscope hanging about his neck. He walked into the room as both women stood up.
"I’m Dr. Ingersoll," he introduced himself, shaking hands with Laura. "We’ve finally gotten results from the blood tests," he went on, "and we believe we now know why Joe hasn’t waked up the way we anticipated."
Vanessa and Laura exchanged glances. "Why?" Laura demanded.
"Besides the head injury," Dr. Ingersoll said, "it appears that he was given a pretty heavy dose of Rohypnol. That’s one of those drugs which cause unconsciousness—"
"I know what Rohypnol is," Laura cut him off. "How is it going to affect Joe’s recovery?"
Dr. Ingersoll looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It’s an unusual situation, Mrs. Hardy; not something that we encounter often. And of course, having the original blood work results misplaced…if we’d known last night, we….Well, anyway, a patient’s reaction to the combination of drugs and injury can vary greatly, depending on the person."
"Yes?" Laura was holding onto her temper with an effort. "And what do you predict will happen in this case?"
"We’ll just have to wait and see," the physician said. "He could wake up anytime, as soon as the drug works its way out of his system – which should be very soon." He paused. "Or – depending on his system’s reaction – he might not wake up at all."
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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 them without expressed permission of the authors.