Joe hadn’t considered that. He thought about it for a bit, then elevated an eyebrow and nodded in agreement. "Couldn’t have come at a better time – both her, and her case."

"Case?" his mother inquired. "What case?."

"Well, just some preliminary snooping, anyway," Joe amended, mentally kicking himself for the slip of the tongue. "We’re going over to her place tonight; you knew that, right?"

"Yes," Laura replied. "and that’s fine. But for pity sake, Joe, be careful! With you two, snooping has a way of becoming total chaos!"

Joe grinned. "Always," he said enigmatically, bent to kiss her cheek, and went back to his telephoning. Vanessa…(Boy, was she mad! Doubt if Callie’ll ever get a civil word from her again! ), Chet…(shocked speechless), Biff, whose first reaction had been similar to Joe’s: to kick her teeth in…Tony…. Tony had sputtered and sworn in the fluent Italian he rarely used – (Joe had had a sudden mental image of Tony as a young Mafia Don, putting out a contract on Callie Shaw!) and then asked if there was anything he could do for Frank. Joe told him no, but he’d keep it in mind. Phil’s response was nearly identical: what could he do to help Frank? Joe realized yet again just how faithful these friends were, and wondered if Callie knew what she had done to herself with one e-mail message.

After a silent dinner which no one felt like eating, Frank flopped onto the couch in the family room and turned on the television, killing time until he and Joe could leave for Megan’s. He had thought briefly about calling her and confiding his troubles, but decided against it. She didn’t need anything else dumped on her shoulders. Joe, although he hated leaving Frank just then, had a date with Vanessa to go to a movie, and didn’t want to renege. Promising he would be home before 11:00, he left to pick her up. Laura sat curled in one of the recliners, reading a book and attempting to keep an eye on her oldest son at the same time.

Time passed. Phil and Tony both called, but Frank assured them he was okay, and didn’t really feel like getting together with anyone just then. They’re acting like I’ve just come down with some sort of terrible illness…pretty soon they’ll be bringing me casseroles and jello, or something! The bleak humor of his thought made him snicker suddenly, and a little of the ache eased inside.

Mrs. Hardy went to her bedroom around ten-thirty, kissing Frank fondly and repeating her admonition that the boys take care if they were doing anything for a case that night. Joe arrived home from his date. The brothers quietly went to their rooms and changed into dark clothing, then filled their pockets with various paraphernalia such as Joe’s lockpicks, miniature cameras, and their penlights. They got into the van and Joe eased it down the driveway and into the street.

Megan’s directions were easily followed, and soon they pulled up in front of a white, ranch-style house, and a tiny, dark-clad figure detached itself from the verandah and trotted down the drive toward the Hardys’ van.

"Hi!" she greeted them breathlessly, hopping into the middle seat and cautiously sliding the door shut, attempting to do so quietly. "I thought 11:30 would never come! Okay, you know where the industrial park is; head there, and I’ll direct you when we’re closer."

Once they reached the general area, Megan pointed out the building where her father had worked. Joe parked a fair distance away, and the three of them slipped from the van, trying to stay in the minimal shadows as they made their way to their destination. Bright halogen security lights turned the parking areas nearly daylight-bright, and concealment was difficult.

The parking lots were deserted. Apparently, no one worked late at Crowley Manufacturing, at least not on a Saturday night. The three teens walked as silently as possible, however; there was no sense in advertising their presence. Frank took his penlight from his pocket and shone it on the keypad beside the front door.

"Now we find out." Joe breathed, watching Megan as she confidently began tapping a sequence of keys. The boys held their breaths – and then the red lights blinked out, and turned green. They had passed the first hurdle! Quickly, they slipped inside the building, and Megan tapped another sequence on the board inside the door; one that would relock the door, but not set off an alarm when they moved about inside.

The entryway was mainly large glass windows. Light poured in from the parking lot, and they could see a reception desk, some chairs and a low table with magazines scattered across the top. A few soft security lights glowed dimly. Megan led the way with sure steps down a short hallway to a bank of elevators. She pushed the "up" button, and the door of one of the elevators slid silently open, lights automatically coming on inside. They stepped in, Megan punched for the third floor, and they were wafted upward.

When the elevator doors opened, Frank peered out cautiously, but the corridor was deserted. They walked quietly down the hall, Megan in the lead. She turned a corner, paused in front of a door, and pulled a key from the pocket of her jeans. Again, she touched the keypad mounted beside the door, while the boys watched tensely. The lights glowed green, Megan fitted the key to the door lock, and they were inside.

When the door was closed behind them, the three were in total darkness. "Inside office? No windows?" Frank whispered, and at Megan’s affirmation, carefully felt for a light switch. In a moment, a fluorescent panel came to life in the ceiling.

A standard office: desk, a swivel chair behind it, and a couple of straight chairs in front. Banks of filing cabinets. A computer setup. Frank nodded as he looked around. Basic setup. We should be able to work with this.

"Here," Joe said softly, reaching into his jacket. "Put these on. We were never here, okay?" He held out a soft wad of something that proved to be three pairs of latex gloves. Megan and Frank took a pair each, and all three donned them.

"Do you have any reason to think things are still in the same place as when your dad was here?" Frank asked Megan. "After all, this is someone else’s office now."

"Only apathy," she replied. "Why change a method if it works? I’m depending that whoever took his place is too lazy to change the filing system." She walked over to the filing cabinets and tugged on a drawer handle, but it was locked. "Oh, darn!"

"Let me try." Joe had his tiniest lockpick in hand. In a few moments, the cabinet was open. Megan riffled swiftly through the files, and found what she wanted. "Here’s the financial records starting just after Dad was killed. Let’s work backwards from there."

Frank was carefully clearing the desk, creating space to work. "You bring us the files, and we’ll photograph. Joe, don’t bother reading stuff now, just take pictures as quickly as you can. We have to work fast!"

"I know, I know, I’ve done this before, remember?" Joe grumbled. He pulled out his tiny camera as Megan set a manila file folder down in front of each of them.

***

Two hours later, Megan replaced the last file and slid the drawer closed. "That’s six months back. Is that enough?"

"It will have to be; I’m out of film." Frank told her. He patted his pockets experimentally. "Not a single cartridge left. And I thought I’d brought plenty! Anything left in yours, Joe?"

"Maybe one or two more shots, but that’s all." his brother replied. "And I’ve got a backache you wouldn’t believe. Let’s split."

Frank replaced items on the desk, trying to remember their arrangement. "Fine by me. Let’s get out of here."

They turned out the light and eased silently out of the door. Megan re-locked it and re-set the code, and the three began to make their way back to the elevators. Joe kept stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders, trying to ease the ache in his back as he walked.