"We can cross Ms. Moreau off the list," Joe announced. "She’s still in love with him, no matter what she says."

"I figured as much," Becka agreed. The others looked at her. "Call it woman’s intuition. She was singing those love songs like a woman in love!"

Vanessa nodded in agreement and told Frank and Becka about the pictures of Clancy in Olivia’s dressing room. The boys then compared interview notes.

"Mr. Coleman described the exact same symptoms Kurt did," Frank stated.

"So did Olivia!" Joe added, his excitement mounting. "And I think I know how Clancy was poisoned!"

"If he was poisoned," Frank pointed out. "Although at this point everything points in that direction. So what’s your theory?"

"Olivia said-"

Frank raised an eyebrow, his brown eyes dancing. "Olivia? A minute ago she was Ms. Moreau."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Olivia said that Clancy is, was, a Sprite addict, and drinks two or three a day. Wouldn’t that be the perfect method?"

Frank nodded, growing excited as his mind latched on to the idea. "There are a number of drugs and poisons that are completely tasteless when dissolved. And carbonation aids the dissolving process."

"This is no time for a science lesson, Frank!" Joe interrupted. "We have to find the poison!"

"First we need to find out if anyone has access to that kind of stuff. Which reminds me," Frank turned to Vanessa. "I caught your friend Evan Williams eavesdropping on us. Have you stayed in touch with him since you moved to Bayport?"

Vanessa shook her head. "No. The attraction was one-sided. I don’t know what he’s done."

Frank sighed. "Why would he be eavesdropping?"

"Here we go!" Joe moaned. "Can’t you just see the wheels turning?" The girls giggled as Joe mimicked his older brother. Frank, in deep concentration, was totally oblivious to his brother’s antics.

When Frank was thinking really hard, or totally engrossed in something, he had a tendency to lightly tap his foot and the set of his face took on a rather fierce look. Joe often teased him that he looked like a Viking when he was thinking too hard.

"Joe, I want you to get into Evan Williams’ employee locker," Frank said suddenly.

"Huh?" Joe asked. "Why?"

"Something’s not right about him. I can’t put my finger on it yet though."

Joe nodded in agreement, remembering the young man’s behavior when they had arrived at the theater. And how drastically it had changed when he found out they were detectives. "What are you going to do?" he asked Frank.

"Try to find Whittington. I haven’t seen him around."

Vanessa linked her arm though Joe’s. "I’ll play lookout."

"Thanks, babe. Let’s go." The two then headed even further backstage, in search of the lockers.

Becka turned to Frank. "You think he’s hiding something?"

"Most definitely. Now let’s find Whittington." Frank looked around, then the two headed in the opposite direction of Joe and Vanessa.

***

Joe banged on the locker with his fist. "Absolutely nothing!" He slammed the door closed as Vanessa laid a hand on his arm. "No notebook, no jacket, no subway pass, no nothing."

"That’s got to mean something," Vanessa said.

"At this point, I have no idea." He turned and leaned back against the lockers. "I hope Frank has better luck."

***

Frank however, wasn’t having better luck. After finally finding Whittington, he had basically told Frank and Becka to get lost. And that action automatically put Whittington at the top of Frank’s suspect list.

"Why don’t we follow him for a little while?" Becka suggested.

"Why didn’t I think of that?" Frank leaned over and kissed her. "Maybe we’ve scared him and he’ll do something foolish."

Becka felt a tingle go through her. He’d kissed her! I can’t wait to tell Ned! she thought excitedly. Then she noticed that Frank had moved off in pursuit of Whittington. She rushed to catch up and remembered something Callie had told her. When on a case, Frank could almost be mistaken for a bloodhound, relentlessly following the trail of clues until the culprit was captured.

They followed Whittington up to the dressing rooms, where he stopped in front of Clancy Barrett’s door. Frank and Becka ducked down behind a costume trunk and watched silently.

Whittington opened the door and slipped in, closing it behind him. "I have to find out if he comes out with anything," Frank hissed to himself, angry for not having been in Clancy’s room already.

"Leave it to me," Becka whispered. She moved out from behind the trunk and went down the hall a little ways. When the door opened a moment later, she began to walk towards Whittington. He was holding something under his jacket. Becka looked off to the side, and "bumped" into the conductor, hearing a satisfying thud as something hit the floor.

"Watch where you’re going, young lady!" Whittington said sternly.

"Oh! I am so sorry!" Becka gushed. "Are you OK?" Out of the corner of her eye she saw a bottle, and used her foot to send it rolling in Frank’s direction.

He took her cue and picked it up. "I believe you dropped something, sir." He handed it back, and Whittington’s eyes narrowed as he recognized Frank. Frank simply smiled.

"Thank you," he growled, then strode off.

Becka turned to Frank when Whittington had disappeared down the stairs. "What was it?"

Frank grinned triumphantly. "A half empty twenty ounce bottle of Sprite!"

 

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors 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 them without express permission of the authors.