Joe stood too, but picked up his nearly-full latte cup and carried it with him to the car. He sipped thoughtfully as Frank got into the driver’s seat, opened his jacket, and handed him the envelope. Joe slipped it into the door pocket, repressing the urge to open it immediately, then continued drinking his latte.

Frank drove them toward the Hardy house, going over the things Con had told them in his mind.

"It was bad enough when Mr. Applegate’s death was caused by ‘person or persons unknown.’" Joe finally broke his silence about halfway home. "But accusing Dad? That’s so ridiculous! They were friends!"

"You know the rule of thumb," Frank reminded him. "people are most likely to be killed by friends, acquaintances or family members – people they trusted."

"That fits in with the idea of private detectives offing their clients." Joe said wryly. "Usually people have a fair amount of trust in an investigator they hire."

"That’s right – thank heavens we have Con on our side. If it wasn’t for him, we’d be up a creek without a paddle."

When they reached their house, Frank and Joe found it quiet and dimly lit. Their mother and Megan occupied the family room, but Laura was curled on the couch, sound asleep, while Megan was watching television with the volume turned low. When the boys entered the room, she rose and kissed Frank warmly, then hugged Joe. The manila envelope he carried crackled between them as she did so, and Megan looked at it curiously, wondering what was inside.

"What did you find out?" she whispered, glancing at Laura to make sure she did not awaken.

"Let’s go into the kitchen where we can talk." Frank suggested, and led the way, with the others quietly following him. He had known Megan would want to know – and had arbitrarily decided that she was to be trusted with the information, no matter what they had told Con.

Once they were seated at the kitchen table, Frank opened the envelope Con had given them and began removing items. First came a typed list, with the names of the various private investigators that were accused of murdering their former clients. He laid it on the table, angling it so that Joe and Megan could read too. There were also black-and-white copies of poor-quality photos with each entry, about the size of a passport or driver’s license picture.

"Con gave us this stuff," he explained to Megan. "There may be connections in all these cases, but the cops aren’t sure."

Megan’s piquant face registered surprise that Riley had divulged so much to them, but neither brother offered further details, so she decided not to push them. They were obviously anxious to examine the documents.

"Reginald Lemon, Kansas City, Kansas." Joe murmured, reading the first entry aloud. "Talon Investigations." He snorted a little, surveying the picture of the detective. "He’s not much to look at, is he?"

"Not everyone can look like Pierce Brosnan, Joe," Megan reproved gently, with a teasing smile. "Or like you and Frank, or your dad. Go on."

"Victim: Chase Jackson." Joe continued reading. "Lemon was acting as a bodyguard for Jackson, who was a witness in a much-publicized case against the Mafia. There is some conjecture that Lemon was paid by the Mob to bump off Jackson, but it couldn’t be proved. He was convicted of the murder without needing that connection."

"Second entry: P. Vidocq, Paris, France." Joe went on. "Grande Service….Victim, Renee Landier. Case: tracking down a shady character who conned his client out of a sizeable amount of money in investments, and then subsequently disappeared. Evidence shows that Vidocq found the guy, got the money, murdered the client, and pocketed the cash!"

Frank whistled disapprovingly. "These guys give private investigators a bad name!" he muttered.

"Who’s next?" Megan inquired. She gazed thoughtfully at the photograph of the French detective.

"L. Petersen, from Nuremberg, Germany." Joe read. "The agency name is A.T.L.A.S. Detektive—GmbH. Victim: Maria Becker. According to this, he was doing a consultation for her jewelry shop, giving advice on security measures and theft prevention. She was found dead, and a sizeable quantity of jewels was missing, which were later found at Petersen’s home."

"Next is someone named Peter Donald, from Arromark Investigations of Inverness, Scotland." he went on. "He was supposed to be locating the runaway daughter of a wealthy businessman….same old story, money and stocks and bonds belonging to the client – name of Ross Hendry – discovered in his car during the murder investigation."

Silence fell over the group for a moment, as they considered the information.

"I wonder if any of these guys are innocent of the charges," Frank mused. "We know that Dad is, but—"

"Next we have Danny Sadler, from London, England." Joe took up reading again. "LRI Research is the agency….let’s see….the victim was named Cathy Hayes. She was being sued by a former employee, who claimed to have received a crippling back injury while at work. Mr. Sadler was hired by Ms. Hayes to follow the employee and keep him under surveillance – apparently trying to catch him walking about normally, instead of being in a wheelchair. And, as usual, goods found in Sadler’s apartment after the murder."

Megan sighed and picked up the next entry. "D. Barton, Melbourne, Australia. Real Investigations. He isn’t in custody, by the way – it says he possibly fled from Melbourne, and may have left the country. Victim: Linda Gyles. The case involved following her husband, to ascertain if he was cheating on her – how sordid some of these cases are!" She wrinkled her nose expressively and glanced at the photograph.

"Not all detective work involves international smuggling or something exciting like that." Frank observed. "Lots of it is just plain paper-trail work or – as in that case – investigating things you might rather not know about."

"Same MO – jewelry found in the suspect’s car." Megan was reading the report again.

"Lastly," Joe went on in a very sad tone. "Fenton Hardy, Bayport, U.S.A. Hardy Investigations—" His voice broke.

Megan reached to cover his hand with her own. "Joe, it will be all right." she said softly.

Frank pushed aside the list of accused investigators, and pulled out another typed sheet. "Here’s the synopsis of the case against Dad." he said somberly, and set it down where they could all see it.

"I’ve been reading the newspaper articles about Mr. Applegate’s death." Megan commented. "And about his general history here in Bayport. Remember, I’m a relative newcomer here, I didn’t grow up knowing about him, like you two did. So I was interested in the background – he was quite the eccentric!"

Frank grinned. "Our very first case!" he said, and winked at Joe. "It’s all due to Mr. Applegate that we’re detectives."

"In that case," Megan’s voice was slightly tart. "It might be nice for you to solve his murder, even if it wasn’t necessary to clear your dad of the charge!"

Joe looked down at the tabletop, feeling a little guilty at that remark. Should we have been trying to solve his murder? We weren’t asked to…. He looked across the table at his brother, and had a feeling that Frank’s thoughts might be paralleling his own. He shook off the feelings of guilt. They might want to help solve Hurd Applegate’s murder, but the truth was, they had not been consulted, and they could hardly jump in merely because Mr. Applegate had been their first client.

"Go ahead and recap it, Meggie." Joe said aloud. "I haven’t paid much attention to Mr. Applegate’s recent history, I’ll admit."

"Well," she continued, in a milder tone, "I learned that Mr. Applegate’s sister died a year or so ago, and that he fell and broke his hip last January. After that, he moved out of the old Applegate house and into a residence in a new housing development near the bay; single-story; that’s because of the broken hip. He was still recuperating from the injury at the time of his death, which is given as a reason he was unable to fight off his attacker."

Frank nodded in agreement and took up the narrative, reading from the typed paper. "He had a housekeeper who came in during the day, but she didn’t live there. She found him when she came to work in the morning – he had been strangled,"

"Where does Dad fit into all this?" Joe demanded, scowling.

"According to this, Dad was working for him, trying to locate an extremely rare, extremely valuable stamp." Frank replied, still reading from the paper. "Ordinarily, Hurd would have tracked down something like this on his own, but he was slowed down because of the hip injury. Dad went to Mr. Applegate’s house the evening of his murder, and according to what Dad says, he delivered the stamp to him!"

"He’d found the stamp?" Megan smiled. "He doesn’t do that sort of thing much, does he?"

"Not usually, not any more." Joe affirmed. "But he probably agreed to do it for Mr. Applegate because they were old friends."

"The housekeeper had already left for the evening when Dad got there—" Frank went on reading. "—but Dad admits being there; there’s no question about that. He said he and Mr. Applegate shared a drink – Hurd had tea, Dad had coffee – and discussed where the stamp had been located. He turned it over to him and left….The cups were still there, with Dad’s fingerprints on one."

"So why would they think Dad murdered him?" Joe demanded once again. "When he left, Mr. Applegate was still alive!"

"No witnesses to corroborate that," Frank reminded him. "The housekeeper had already left." He skimmed rapidly down the page. "The police were willing to accept Dad’s story when they originally interviewed him, apparently. But another witness – doesn’t give a name; I guess it’s someone who doesn’t want to be identified – came forward and swore that Dad left the house at a certain time….and that time coincides with when Hurd Applegate was killed, according to the coroner’s findings."

"It’s still completely circumstantial," Joe protested. "And what possible motive would Dad have for murdering Hurd Applegate?"

"The valuable stamp—" Megan said somberly. "According to what I’ve read, that stamp was worth a lot of money."

Joe made a disparaging noise. "That’s stupid!"

"I’m not finished," Frank interposed. He waited for the angry impatience to fade from his younger brother’s face, then went on. "When the police were searching, they didn’t find that stamp anywhere, despite all Dad’s assurances that he had given it to Mr. Applegate. Evidently the murderer was after the stamp, and took it with him or her."

"Okay – so?"

Frank was silent for so long that Joe repeated his question. Finally he replied, his voice low and his eyes fastened on the paper in front of him.

"When the police came back with their search warrant and searched the house and cars…they found the stamp, in Dad’s car."

"What?" Joe exploded. Megan gasped, disbelievingly.

"It’s right here in black and white." Frank dismally tapped the paper. "It was found under the passenger seat.