"Mom, what do you mean?"

"Laura, no, there must be some mistake—"

"That’s crazy—"

Incredulous exclamations sounded, words tumbling over each other as all four of the newcomers protested Laura’s agitated words.

"What’s going on?" Frank’s voice was a low growl, and he stepped forward, toward Con Riley and the uniformed officers. "You know perfectly well my father is no murderer!"

"Frank!" Chief Collig moved to intercept the young man. "Keep out of this! I’m very sorry, but we have evidence and witnesses. Your father is the chief suspect in Hurd Applegate’s murder investigation; that’s all I have to say. If you attempt to interfere, you or Joe, you may end up in trouble too." He signaled to the officers, who began propelling Fenton towards the door.

"There’s some mistake!" Joe burst out. He gently handed Laura over to Vanessa’s care and took a step or two in Collig’s direction, but stopped at the police chief’s malevolent glare. "Chief Collig, you can’t possibly believe—"

"What I believe or don’t believe isn’t what’s important." the chief snarled. "Now I mean it; stay out of this! You’ll just make matters worse by meddling."

Joe cast an imploring look at Con Riley, hoping for support from that quarter. The lieutenant returned his gaze with sympathetic blue eyes, but remained silent. He was scribbling in a small notebook, evidently taking notes.

"Dad, we’ll be right down at the station—" Frank began, as the uniformed officers, both of whom the boys knew slightly, resumed escorting their father out of the room. Auburn-haired Officer Anderson and her partner, Officer Terry Bearden had both encountered the boys in the past, and had been relatively friendly to them; now they were averting their eyes; strictly attending to business.

"Fenton—" Laura stepped forward, her tears drying on her cheeks now, and her voice controlled. "I’ll call Ed Wilkins right away."

Frank bit his lip, he knew Ed Wilkins was the family’s attorney. This was serious.

Fenton nodded bleakly. "That’s a good idea, honey. Don’t worry, we’ll get this whole mess cleared up." He exited, still flanked by the police officers.

Chief Collig swept past them, following close on the heels of his officers. "I’m sorry, Laura," he muttered. "I’m just doing my job." The chief was red-faced and couldn’t meet the Hardys’ accusing eyes.

"You’ll be hearing from our attorney, Chief Collig," Laura informed him coldly as he went past. Her only reply was a muffled grunt.

Lieutenant Riley gazed sadly at them all as he prepared to follow his superior: Laura’s apprehensive, tear-streaked face; Joe’s blue eyes ablaze with fury; Vanessa’s scowl matching her boyfriend’s; Megan’s troubled frown; Frank’s lean features gone cold and forbidding.

"I’m really sorry about this; you know that." the lieutenant said awkwardly. He closed his notebook and returned it to his pocket, then walked toward the door. As he neared Frank, he extended a hand, glancing self-consciously at Collig’s retreating back as he did so. The elder Hardy boy stared at him icily, but finally relented and reluctantly returned the gesture. Frank’s eyes narrowed briefly, and his lips parted as if to say something; then he checked himself and remained silent, his expresssion unchanged and his unwavering stare ice-cold. Con left the room without another word. The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed hollowly through the silent room.

"How could Con do this?" Joe burst out, then. He had managed to keep his mouth shut until the officers were gone; now his ready temper erupted like a volcano. "I thought he was our friend! He didn’t even say anything to explain—he just acted like he’d never even met Dad before, like he was just some common criminal—"

"Joe, honey, don’t talk like that." Laura moved to hold Joe against her in a consoling hug, but his shoulders were stiff and unyielding to her embrace. "Lieutenant Riley is our friend, you know that. He was just being professional…." Her voice broke, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

"He’s no friend of mine, not any more!" Joe raged. He shrugged off the hand Vanessa laid on his arm. "He betrayed us!"

"Joe, hush a minute." Frank said quietly, his voice low, and uncharacteristically stern. "Stop going off half-cocked."

Joe’s eyes widened in confused disbelief. "Are you going to defend him?" he snapped furiously.

"I’m going to give him a little consideration, which is more than you’re doing." his brother replied evenly. Leveling his eyes at Joe, Frank held up his right hand, showing a folded piece of paper. "Con slipped me this when he shook hands." he explained, and slowly set about unfolding the scrap.

Megan tipped her head to one side, trying to decipher the scrawled words. "Met—no, meet—meet me later. Will…something…."

"Exclaim?" puzzled Frank. "No, it’s not exclaim…explain!"

"What’s there to explain?" Joe demanded bitterly, and threw himself onto the couch. Moments later, Vanessa was gently seating herself next to him, sympathetically linking her arm with his.

Frank continued reading the note, squinting a bit as he translated the scribbles into legible words in his head. "He wants us to meet him at "Café Today" this evening after he gets off shift." he finally deciphered.

Mrs. Hardy, who had been speaking on the telephone, now finished her call and looked hopefully at her sons. "I just talked with Mr. Wilkins. He’s going to go to the police station right away and see about bail."

"For a murder suspect?" Megan’s soft voice was bleak. She had taken too many criminal law classes for the aspect of bail to be a comfort. She and Frank exchanged knowing looks, both deciding with that one glance, to keep silent on the subject.

Vanessa, who’d been looking around the room, suddenly noticed that its ordinarily tidy state was considerably changed. "What happened in here?" she asked. "Why is everything inside out and upside down?"

"The police had a search warrant," Laura explained, her tears flowing afresh as she surveyed her violated home. "They went through every drawer and closet and cupboard in the house."

"They searched the house?" Frank demanded. "Collig said they had evidence—did they find something incriminating here?"

"Not in here," his mother replied. "But I believe they found something in your dad’s car. At least, it was after they searched the vehicles that—that they—" She stopped, trying to get her voice under control, and the young people waited patiently for her to calm down again. "I don’t know what was found." she added after a moment.

"Let’s get things picked up and put back where they belong." Megan suggested. She beckoned to Frank. "Come on, dibs on the dining room; we can sort the silver." The little redhead put a staunch smile on her lips. "Come on Van, Joe; pitch in." she urged the others. "Laura will feel better when things at least look back to normal."

*****

"Joe, let’s go down to the precinct and see if we can find out exactly what’s going on." Frank suggested to his brother, a couple of hours later, from the family room doorway. The worst of the mess had been cleared up, and the rooms set to rights. Outwardly, the Hardy home looked as it always did.

Frank made sure he had Con’s note in his pocket, then crossed the room and wrapped his arms tightly about Megan. He laid his cheek against the top of her head as she returned his embrace; each of them attempting to console the other.

"Chief Collig told you not to interfere—" their mother began, from where she sat resting in one of the recliner chairs.

"We’re not going to interfere, Mom, but we have a right to know exactly what and why and how Dad’s a suspect." Joe, who had been sitting on the floor, replacing video tapes in their cabinet, got to his feet. "Sugar babe, you’ll stay here for a while, won’t you?" he asked Vanessa, who nodded emphatically.

"I’ll stay too." Megan disengaged herself from Frank’s arms and went over to hug Laura instead. "Come back as soon as you can, and tell us what you’ve found out, though—please?"

Both young men nodded, but didn’t speak as they exited the room. Joe was still simmering with barely-leashed and unspent anger. Frank was already deep in thought, trying to ascertain what possible links there might be to connect Fenton Hardy with murder—with anyone’s murder.

Upon their arrival at the main police station in downtown Bayport, Frank parked his car and he and Joe made their way into the lobby of the brick and concrete building. Already the warm April afternoon had become cool early evening, and Joe gave a small shiver as they pushed open the glass swinging doors and walked towards the front desk.

"Evening Frank, Joe." The desk sergeant nodded at them in a friendly manner. "What can I do for you two?"

They hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. Finally Frank replied.

"Our father is here…being questioned." His voice was barely audible; inexplicably, he didn’t want anyone to overhear him. "We’d like to see him, if possible—"

"—And we want to know what evidence you’ve got against him!" Joe broke in, his temper flaring again and his voice raised. Unlike his brother, Joe didn’t really care who heard. Frank seized his arm in a cautionary grip.

The sergeant gazed at them both for a moment without answering, then turned to his computer and tapped a few keys, watching the monitor screen. Finally he turned back to face them. "He’s being questioned right now. His lawyer’s with him. You can’t see him, I’m afraid—not now. As for your question—" he addressed this to Joe. "—I can’t tell you things like that; you know better, Joe."

As they passed Con Riley’s cubicle, Joe glanced in and noticed the neatly-lined up paperwork on the lieutenant’s desk, and a copy of the day’s newspaper lying in the center of the blotter. He has time to sit around and read the paper! To him it’s just another day at work; no matter that he just arrested my dad for murder! Joe fumed silently. They walked by the copy room, and Joe saw Riley standing in front of a Xerox machine. Con didn’t return Joe’s glance, but his shoulders tensed as the Hardys passed by the open doorway.

They were in luck; they spotted Collig’s erect figure at the end of the hall, his arms folded across his chest. Evidently the desk sergeant had called ahead to warn the chief they were coming. Both increased their pace until they were nearly jogging down the corridor.

"Chief Collig!" Frank called out. "Could we speak to you for a few minutes, please?"

The older man didn’t look happy to see them. "I told you at the house not to meddle!" he growled.

"We aren’t interfering." Frank held grimly onto his temper. "But you can’t expect us not to try and find out what’s going on! The fact that we’re detectives makes no difference; you wouldn’t turn a member of the general public away if their father had been arrested."

Collig sighed and capitulated. "All right, sit down." He indicated a bench in the hallway, and waited until the boys had seated themselves. "As I told you at your house, your father was arrested for the murder of Hurd Applegate—that fact hasn’t changed. We have evidence to substantiate the claim and make the charge stick. I wish I could tell you more, but the FBI is involved in this, and it’s simply too hot a situation for me to let you two get involved."

"The FBI?" Frank repeated in amazement. "What has the FBI got to do with Mr. Applegate?" Collig merely scowled at the question, and didn’t answer. Both brothers received the distinct impression that Collig had revealed something he hadn’t meant to.

"You can’t expect us not to get involved!" Joe spluttered furiously. "It’s our father you’re charging with murder, for crying out loud!"

"Joe," Frank cautioned, and laid a soothing hand on Joe’s arm once more. Joe shook it off, impatiently.

"I’m sorry, Joe, really I am. Why don’t you and Frank go on home, and I’ll have someone call you when you’re able to see your father?" Collig turned away, dismissively.

Joe’s fists clenched tightly and he bounced to his feet, eluding Frank’s clutches. "You can’t do this!" he shouted. "You can’t just keep us in the dark like this—" He started after Collig, attempting to stop him.

"Better not, kid." A new voice cut across Joe’s angry cry. He whirled about and saw Terry Bearden, one of the officers who had taken Fenton into custody, standing a few feet away. "If I were you, I’d take the Chief’s advice and go home. You can’t do your father any good here." He paused as Collig made a somewhat hasty exit into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. "It looked like you were thinking about doing something that might get you in trouble, as well as your father."

Frank made a snap decision. "We’re leaving." He seized Joe’s arm again, this time in a steely grip that Joe couldn’t easily break. "Come on, Joe." Unwilling but realizing he had no choice, the younger Hardy accompanied his brother with dragging footsteps and many resentful backward looks.

Once in the relative safety of Frank’s Saturn, Joe’s frustration took the form of violent poundings against the padded dashboard and imprecations against the whole of Bayport’s police department—Chief Ezra Collig and Con Riley in particular. Frank waited patiently for Joe to calm down, knowing there wasn’t much use in trying to talk to him until his rage had spent itself a little.

Finally, Joe was silent, slumped in the passenger seat, his face in his hands. Frank laid a gentle hand on his brother’s knee.