Frank stared at their guest, confusion filling his dark eyes. For a moment, he wondered if Matt was merely joking around – but the expression on the other man’s face told him otherwise. Matt wasn’t kidding – his eyes were wide with fear!

"Might want to listen to him, bro…" Joe’s voice was calm, but Frank could see his brother’s eyes were fastened on whatever it was that had scared the daylights out of Matt. Was this some kind of a joke? Something like a classroom of students suddenly staring at the ceiling, making the teacher look up? No…no, it wasn’t that. Frank felt again the tiny tickling sensation on his neck.

"What is it?" he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Dude," Matt breathed, "you got a humongous spider – the size of my thumb – on your neck. I’d swear it’s poisonous."

Frank inhaled slowly. "Matt, this is the Northeast, not the California desert," he murmured. "We don’t have poisonous spiders around – especially not this time of year!"

"Regardless of whether we do or not," Joe said casually – very casually, considering the intent, concentrated expression on his face, "you’ve got one on your neck right now. It’s a black widow, Frank – so if you don’t want to spend the next month in the hospital…stay put."

Frank glared at Joe, but didn’t move – just in case. "There’s no way you can tell if it’s a black widow," he hissed. "They have marks on their stomachs, not their backs. It’s probably just a regular spider that got lost, and didn’t know it shouldn’t be outside in this sort of weather. Spiders don’t belong outside here, in November."

"Black widows are a darker, shinier black than other spiders," Joe murmured, still not taking his eyes from Frank’s neck. "I did that report in the eighth grade, remember? This is no ordinary spider, bro; it’s BIG!"

"I’ve seen ‘em before too," Matt put in. "Frank, stay still, man!"

At that moment, Frank decided to take Matt’s advice and stay put. He could feel that infinitesimal tingling, tickling sensation again…and felt his heartbeat elevate just a bit in response. I could probably move quick enough to brush it off – shake it loose – without being bitten…but why take unnecessary chances if I don’t have to?

He kept his eyes on Joe, who had shifted slightly, and was digging into the pocket of his jeans; after a moment Joe pulled out his wallet.

"What’s that for…?" Frank began, then paused, watching his brother take out a credit card. "What the – are you going to offer it a shopping trip to get it to leave, or something?"

"Just don’t move, and it’ll all be over with before you know it," Joe muttered, leaning closer.

"I don’t think I like the sound of that too awfully much…." Frank gritted his teeth and concentrated on remaining still.

Slowly…cautiously…Joe flattened the card against Frank’s neck, and slid it toward the spider. "Okay…" he breathed, the word nearly soundless. Very, very carefully, he edged the card underneath the deadly arachnid’s body…

…and with a quick snap of his wrist, flipped the spider as hard and as far into the back yard as he could – just as Frank gave a sudden shout:

"Don’t fling it!"

Joe stared at him, open-mouthed. "For Pete’s sake, why not?! It’s too late now, anyway."

"It’s – we don’t want it out there loose in the yard." Frank rubbed gingerly at his neck, making sure there were no punctures in his skin. "What if it crawled into some kid’s bed, or something!"

Joe gave him a patient look. "Are you going to get over these paranoid delusions any time soon? Frank, it’s November – it’s supposed to get down to around 35 degrees tonight. That spider’s toast – or rather, just the opposite. They can’t survive temperatures like that. She should be down in the desert somewhere, eating her mates and having baby black widow spiders, not hanging out here in freezing-cold Bayport!"

Matt chuckled. "You two dudes are riots, you know? Makes me wish I had a brother."

Deadpan, without missing a beat, the Hardys replied as one: "No you don’t!" And then simultaneously burst into laughter.

"How did it get here?" Frank’s voice was still a little shaky, although the laugh had relieved most of his tension.

Joe grinned and gestured towards the street. "Remember Mr. Hamilton, down the street? He’s into spiders – has a whole collection of them, or did. I interviewed him for that old report. I’ll bet one of his escaped and roamed over here."

"People who keep poisonous spiders in their houses are sick…" Frank shuddered and swiped at his neck again, remembering the creepy sensation of tiny, tickling feet there.

"Come on, let’s go inside," Joe suggested. "It’s getting too cold for me, let alone the spiders."

Accordingly, they returned to the house and went upstairs, shedding their coats in the hall closet.

"Matt, if you want to take a look at what I’ve pulled off the Internet about lighthouses…" Joe tilted his head towards his room and lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.

Matt nodded and followed the younger Hardy; Frank detoured towards his own room. "Be there in a bit; I need to talk to Megan," he explained. A few minutes later, her soft voice was filling his head, making him warm all over, and dispelling the remaining spider-jitters…something Frank had absolutely NO intention of sharing with his girlfriend! After a time of conversation which Frank suspected Joe would disparage as total mush, he brought up the subject of the lighthouse.

"Would you be interested in going out there on Saturday afternoon?" he asked. "It’ll probably be cold, but it might be fairly interesting."

"I might be," Megan conceded. "Given the right incentives, of course. Are cuddling, hot cocoa and cozy fires involved anywhere in this expedition?" She was giggling, but there was a hopeful lilt in her voice, all the same.

Frank laughed. "Baby, this is a trip to a lighthouse, not a sleigh ride! I can’t make any promises…I don’t think there are any cozy fires, but I’ll see what I can do to provide the hot cocoa and the cuddling, at least – okay?"

"I have every confidence in you," she purred – and then sighed and added, regretfully, "Unfortunately, I have to cut this short; I have studying to do."

"Ah, darn it, baby…" Frank sighed too, with disappointment. "Well, okay. Study hard – I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Love you lots." He hung up, smiling, and made his way into Joe’s room to join him and Matt. The smile widened. Cozy fires and cuddling with Megan were enough incentive to convince him that a trip to Stone Point lighthouse was a good idea…provided, of course, that the aforementioned fires were ones they were allowed to set after they got there!

*****

Rain was still falling steadily as Joe and Vanessa, in Van’s jeep, drove to the old restored mansion which was the home of the Bayport Historical Society, the next afternoon. Joe stared glumly out the window at the rain and grimaced. Is it ever gonna stop? Football practice earlier that day had been dismal; they’d slipped and skidded their way across the football field, trying and failing to run the new plays Coach Blankenship had devised. Joe wasn’t looking forward to the next day’s game. It’s supposed to rain clear through Monday….sheesh, that makes for a really swell weekend!

"Joe—" Vanessa laughed softly as she took a look at the sullen, disgusted look on her boyfriend’s face. "Stop pouting!"

Instead, he shoved his lower lip out further, exaggerating the sulk as Vanessa continued to giggle.

"You looked like a drowned rat after practice," she commented, a wicked, teasing light in her blue-gray eyes. "A muddy drowned rat!"

"I felt like a muddy drowned rat," he admitted. "And lucky me, I get to do it all over again tomorrow, too!" He sighed, his face a total mask of discontent.

"Ah, Baby, it’ll be all right," Vanessa stopped giggling and gently rubbed his shoulder in an attempt at comfort, then patted it and returned her attention to her driving.

"Why are we taking your jeep, anyway?" Joe asked, determined to find fault with anything and everything he could.

"Because," Vanessa shuddered with distaste, "the Aztek needs to get cleaned out before I’m riding in it again! It’s a complete disaster area inside!"

"Hey, that’s good clean dirt!" Joe protested, grinning in spite of himself. "The product of today’s labor – healthy mud!"

"Fine, fine – but you can keep your healthy mud to yourself!" she shot back, and chuckled again.

Vanessa parked the Wrangler as close as she could to the historical society headquarters, a hundred-year-old but completely refurbished mansion located in the old downtown district of Bayport. She smiled, staring up through the rain-spattered windshield at the old Victorian-styled house. Built straight up, with odd-angled facades jutting out, a curved tower echoed by a curving porch below, and tons of gingerbread ornamentation, the house looked as if it had recently been painted – a mossy green shade.

"That green color’s probably pretty when the sun is shining," she commented, "but right now, with the rain, it’s just a muddy green."

"You have got an obsession with mud today," Joe snorted. He shrugged. "Whatever worked for them is fine with me. Right now, all I want to do is get inside without getting wet…again."

"Lucky we brought umbrellas." Vanessa twisted to grab her umbrella from the small back seat, and waited for Joe to get his, before the two of them flung open the Jeep doors, popped the umbrellas open, and simultaneously sprinted for the front door of the Historical Society, through the downpour.

"Whew!" Joe shook himself off a little, and pushed against the door, which glided smoothly ajar at his touch. The two stepped into a beautifully decorated foyer, where they shook out their umbrellas and set them in the large, gold umbrella stand in the corner. "I feel guilty getting things wet," he muttered in Vanessa’s ear.

"Hi there!" The welcoming feminine voice was warm and interesting, a voice that people would like to listen to.

Joe ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to smooth out the rumpled waves, and smiled as he watched the woman approach. Young woman, he amended silently, as she drew nearer. Older than us, but not much. Dani’s age, maybe. Appreciatively, he took in her appearance: dark brown hair and tip-tilted, intense brown eyes – similar to Frank’s. She’s not quite what I was expecting – thought a historical society rep would be…well…old!

"Welcome to the Bayport Historical Society. Are you Vanessa and Joe?"

Vanessa nodded and held out her hand. "We spoke on the phone, I believe. I’m Vanessa Bender, and this is my boyfriend, Joe Hardy."

"Cherise LeGault; nice to meet you." Cherise shook hands with them both, and her smile warmed up an already intriguing face. She was dressed appropriately for the day: a long-sleeved, autumn-gold sweater, worn with a long dark-gold skirt, and brown boots beneath. "I’m going to be the one helping you out. I’m an assistant here at the historical society. I’m working on my doctorate in Northeast History from the University of New York-Bayport, and I practically grew up in that old lighthouse!"

Cherise turned, motioning Joe and Vanessa to follow her. She led them through the foyer and further into the building, to a small room set to one side, which contained a desk and several shelves on the back wall behind it, as well as chairs and a small table. She gestured to the chairs, inviting them to sit, and seated herself behind the table.

"You say you know a lot about the lighthouse?" Vanessa queried, sitting down. She reached for one of Joe’s hands, almost without realizing what she was doing. It wasn’t a possessive gesture, it was more that she wanted to touch him…she loved touching him. She felt his strong fingers interlace with hers, and smiled softly to herself.

"I do." Cherise nodded. "My parents took me there when I was about five – and I’ve been obsessed with it ever since! I went there at every opportunity – I’m sure I made an absolute pest of myself. I thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world. I’ve done several reports on it, over the years, and I’ve made it a point to learn everything I can about Stone Point."

"It sounded intriguing," Joe commented. "My mom says she remembers going to a Fourth of July celebration there, when I and my brother were little. Fifteen years ago, or so."

Cherise nodded again. "Yes, they used to have them there; they shot off fireworks over the Bay. It was beautiful!" She smiled. "Okay, let’s get down to business. I’ve been given permission to loan you keys to the lighthouse and the light keeper’s cottage, so that you can come and go as you need to – trusting you to always lock up and reset the alarm system when you do, of course! There have been some problems lately with break-ins out there, so we’re being very cautious about that right now."

Vanessa raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What would someone want to steal from a lighthouse? It’s not like there’s anything valuable, is there?"

"Yes and no." Cherise chuckled, then cleared her throat. "Sorry – we’re not worried about theft so much as vandalism, actually – unfortunately, people seem to take great pleasure in ‘tagging’ places like that. But there is something else, of course – the actual lens that lights it. The lens at the top of a lighthouse can be worth millions of dollars. The one at Stone Point is worth about 3.5 million!"

Both teens’ eyes grew wide, and Joe and Vanessa looked at each other in shared amazement, then back at Cherise. They were totally shocked by her statement.

"Why so much?" Vanessa breathed, incredulously.

"You really want to know?" Cherise asked in her turn.

"Yes!" Vanessa reached for her bag. "Could I record this, please? It sounds like something important!"

"Of course, but I will be giving you copies of documents from when the lighthouse was built, that will give you basically the same information." Cherise smiled as she watched Vanessa pull out the small tape recorder and turn it on. "Okay, well the thing about the lens is—"

"Cherise!" The interruption came from the doorway, where another woman, older, with gray hair and rimless glasses, stood, her eyes wide with shock. "Something horrible’s happened! Someone’s broken into the Stone Point lighthouse! We have to get out there right away!"

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.