It took awhile, but the photos were finally taken, after the orchestra members were repositioned a time or two. First full orchestra, then section shots – the violinists, the cellists, the French horns, and so on, until all the sections of the ensemble were covered. The watching boys hoped that ended it, only to find out that now, there were to be single shots, of each member of the orchestra! It dragged on and on, but finally – after a small eternity! – it ended.

Phil led the way to the front, and hugged Allison and kissed her on the cheek. She greeted Frank and Matt, smiling.

"Where’d you get the strings?" Matt asked her, indicating the violin she was holding so carefully.

"It’s Angel’s second violin," Allison explained, turning her smile on the tall, slender boy standing near. "He’s letting me borrow it, and it’s as good as many peoples’ first violins!"

He returned the smile, and gave her a little bow. "It is my pleasure, Allison. You can keep it as long as you need to, until you either get a new one of your own, or until you get your Strad back. Which I hope happens soon." He nodded to the three boys. "Excuse me, please; I must go."

As they chatted with Allison, Frank was keeping an eye on Zacary Stein. He noticed that the boy did, indeed, seem extremely shy; he said very little, except when someone asked him a direct question, and for the most part, he kept his eyes downcast. Frank watched him put his cello away – and then watched as Zacary unwrapped another of the grape candies that he seemed to be so fond of, and popped it in his mouth.

Wish I could just walk up to him and fingerprint him! the elder Hardy mused. Then I’d know for sure!

"Frank, Dale Edwards is missing both cuff links," Phil muttered in his ear, a few minutes later. "He’s that big guy over there."

Frank frowned, somewhat peeved, and glanced over at the boy Phil indicated. He didn’t want two suspects, he admitted to himself. It just confused the issue. He wanted it to be Zacary Stein. "Allison, did you happen to notice Dale Edwards not having his cuff links?" he asked.

"He’s always missing his cuff links," she replied. "He never wears them. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him with them. It drives Mr. D’Vargas absolutely crazy!"

"Does Zacary Stein always eat those grape candies?" Frank pursued.

Allison nodded. "Now that I think about it, yeah. I remember, once he had one in his mouth during a concert, and he got in trouble for it. Mr. D’Vargas got really upset about that!"

Frank wasn’t sure if he thought Mr. D’Vargas was a fussbudget, or had a lot to put up with, from his highly talented and wildly unpredictable group. He dismissed the prickly conductor from his mind, and concentrated on more important things. Grape candy. Grape fingerprint. Only a person who was eating grape candy would have left that fingerprint on the wall by the back door. He was sure, now. Zacary had to be the man he sought.

"Matt, here." Frank handed his car keys over. "Go get my car, would you? Zacary doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry, but I can’t be sure."

"You got it, dude. I’ll be back ASAP," Matt pulled out his wallet and extracted his subway card, which he handed to Frank. "Here, man – just in case!"

A few minutes later, Frank was afraid his luck had run out. Zacary picked up his cello case and walked to the exit doors without a backward glance. With a hasty farewell to Phil and Allison, Frank followed him out of the building – and blinked in surprise when the boy headed directly towards the curb and got into a late-model navy blue SUV waiting there. Interesting! Frank thought, intrigued, and glanced around, looking for Matt.

The black Saturn pulled up perhaps 30 seconds later, and Frank gratefully slid into the driver’s seat. "Thanks, Matt – later!" he said, and took off after Zacary. He caught up to the SUV quickly, and managed to stay fairly close, hoping that the driver – and Zac – would think that his vehicle was merely a random black car which had ended up behind them. He knew that this was a long shot, and it might be a royal waste of time – but he wasn’t giving up yet.

Through the city streets they went, over the Triborough Toll Bridge onto Long Island. And now Frank was beginning to feel a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, he had the right guy. Grape candy – grape fingerprint – Long Island. Frank ticked the clues off in his head. Of course, Zac might live in Brooklyn – or Queens – but Frank hoped not. He hoped that Zac lived much further out…in a large mansion located on a back road somewhere.

Distracted by his vengeful thoughts, Frank nearly lost his quarry when the SUV made a turn off the main road. He slammed on the brakes, grateful that there was no one behind him at the moment, and his tires squealed as he forced the car into a fast turn and followed the other vehicle. He caught up quickly, then forced himself to drop back a little way. It was too risky to tail the SUV too closely.

Eventually, the signs indicated that they had reached Hill Point. Now Frank was surer than ever that he had the right person. Hill Point was where Joe was going; maybe where he got hurt – and drugged! He continued to follow the SUV, and a short time later he was sure his hunch had paid off – for it turned off the road, and pulled into the gated driveway of a lavish estate.

Frank pulled to the side of the road and parked outside the wall. He turned off the engine and sat there, debating with himself as to his best course of action. He could wait a couple of hours, and let it get darker – that would be the smartest thing to do, of course – but impatience was bubbling up within him. Face it, Hardy, you don’t want to do the wise thing, you want to find the people who drugged Joe and dumped him! He sat back and thought, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he looked at the wall beside him. I wonder how many people live inside that place? And are they all behind the theft, or just Zacary? If it’s just one or two people, then going in now might not be such a big deal….

Prudence demanded a backup plan. Frank took out his cell phone and called Phil.

"Phil? Frank. I’ve tailed Zacary out to an estate near Hill Point – yeah, funny coincidence, huh?" He looked for street signs, and house numbers, and told Phil his approximate location. "Listen, the reason I called…just in case something happens to me, I wanted you to know where I was. Now listen: if I don’t call back by, say, midnight, can you call the police and tell them to come look for me?"

"What are you going to do?" Phil demanded.

"I’m going to look for Allison’s violin, of course," Frank said coolly. "I’ll take pictures and then use them to convince the police to question Zac and whoever else. I want these people – whoever they are – to be arrested for what they did, both to Alli and Joe!"

"Frank, that sounds risky," Phil demurred. "Remember what happened when Joe tried to investigate that place!"

"Believe me, I remember," Frank grated. "I’ll call you when I’ve found what I need to find – or I’ll expect you to send in the cavalry, pal!"

He ended the call and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as he waited for dusk to arrive. He didn’t want to sleep, but he wanted to relax, and stay calm – so he used a technique he’d found very effective in the past. Smiling, he pictured Megan in his mind’s eye – the way she smiles…that dimple that appears and disappears like magic…her laugh. The way her eyes shine when she’s happy…the way she looked – not at the hospital, but when we went out Saturday night….

At last, twilight fell. Frank quietly exited the car and found a place where he could climb over the brick wall. He boosted himself up, then carefully jumped down on the other side, into the soft grass.

He walked toward the mansion, moving stealthily from tree to tree, taking time, when he neared the building, to peer through each of the windows within range. From what he could see, everything on the first floor was dark and deserted, save for a couple of entry lights.

I need to get up higher…. After some searching, Frank located a tree which he thought might serve his purpose. He was about to climb up when he noticed something peculiar. Two things. The first was a broken branch, lying askew next to the tree.

And the other – startlingly evident in the flashlight’s gleam on the velvety grass – was a small patch of dried blood.