Frank turned around and rode back to town. When he reached home he hurried inside and told his father about the new mailbox next to the empty field.

“This isn’t necessarily bad,” Fenton told Frank who was looking dejected as he slumped unceremoniously on the living room sofa.

“It isn’t?” Frank demanded, his face still sporting a scowl. He failed to see how it could be a good thing!

“You said a new mailbox?” inquired Fenton. Frank nodded. “We need to find out who has purchased a new mailbox in the last twenty-four hours,” Fenton said.

“Huh?”

“Obviously the mailbox doesn’t belong there,” Fenton explained. “And since we were only informed about the coin yesterday then they couldn’t have had much time to set it up. It had to have been purchased recently.”

“Or stolen,” Frank pointed out dryly.

“Possibly,” Fenton acknowledged. “But I don’t think so. If it had been stolen then someone would have reported it and the police would have been informed which means they would be looking for the box.”

“And since it is on the side of the road where the police patrol then Joe’s kidnappers would risk losing the coin if we put it in there,” Frank said, finally catching on to what his father was saying. “I’ll hit every hardware store in town,” Frank said, standing up.

“I’ll go too,” Fenton said. “I doubt Joe’s captors will call again this morning and as long as I stay away from the police station my movements shouldn’t cause alarm if I’m being watched.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll take the west side of town and you take the east and we will meet at Barney’s Burgers at ten.”

Frank had no luck at the first two stores he stopped at but at the third one, less than two miles from the exit to Bowman Drive, Frank did learn something. A man purchased a plastic mailbox only that morning. “Did you get the name?” Frank asked the clerk.

“John Smith,” the clerk said with a grimace. “Could you get any more phony?”

“Not really,” Frank agreed frowning. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

“ Brown hair and green eyes,” was the reply. “He had a birthmark shaped like an hourglass near his left eye.”

“Thanks!” Frank said, his brown eyes lightening in excitement. He left the hardware store and hurried to Barney’s Burgers where he sat down and waited impatiently for his father to arrive.

“You found something?” Fenton asked as he approached Frank about twenty minutes later. He had seen Frank through the window tapping his fingers impatiently against the table as his eyes watched the door.

“The guy who bought the mailbox, a John Smith, is the guy I saw at The Excelsior back when Joe was hanging out with Axemeyer.” Frank said.

“And Mr. Shaw was working there just before he disappeared,” Fenton said. “We need to tell Chief Collig.”

“I will,” Frank said. “You need to get home and get that coin ready just in case we can’t find Joe in time.”

Frank left Barney’s Burgers and went to the police station. There, he was ushered into the chief’s office. “We have an address for the number,” Collig said and gave it to Frank. “But no one was home. We think the house was broken into for the express purpose of using the phone.”

“Figures,” Frank said a bit bitterly but brightened as he revealed what he had learned.

“I’ll send someone to the Excelsior to keep watch,” Collig promised. “Keep me updated,” he instructed. Frank nodded in agreement then left. Getting an idea he pulled out his cell phone and called Biff Hooper. He outlined his plan and was rewarded with immediate acceptance of the plan and a promise to call Phil Cohen and Tony Prito, two other friends who lived nearby, to help out.

Frank was already at the address Chief Collig had given him when he saw blond and beefy Biff Hooper come sauntering over followed by blond and chubby Chet Morton, dark and wiry Tony Prito and slim and sandy haired Phil Cohen. All four boys had helped out on mysteries before and Frank felt comfortable having them help him locate his missing brother.

“Chet was at Tony’s and wanted to help,” Biff informed Frank as they neared.

“This is where we start?” Phil asked.

Frank nodded. “We only have the description of one of the men,” Frank continued and described the man who worked at the Excelsior in town. “But if you see him or anyone who looks suspicious, call me on my cell.”

The five boys split up and began looking around the neighborhood. It was Frank’s theory that the caller had known which house was available to use because he was in close proximity and he figured it was worth a shot to search the immediate neighbors.

Frank’s hunch paid off. It wasn’t twenty minutes later that Frank’s cell jingled and Phil was informing him of having seen the man Frank had described leaving a place on the very next block. Phil alerted Biff and Tony and Frank called Chet and the five met at the corner.

“We have to get inside,” Frank said. “If ‘Smith’ has gone to wait for the coin we have to make sure Joe’s in here or else dad will have to make the delivery.”

“I looked the place over while I was waiting,” Phil said. “There are two more guys inside. They were in the living room watching television.”

“Biff, you and Phil take the back door. Tony, you and Chet come with me to the front.” Frank said and looked at his watch. “It’s eleven ten now. At eleven fourteen let’s bust in.”

The boys moved into position. Frank picked the lock on the front door and Biff tackled the back door. At eleven fourteen exactly, all four boys entered the house and met up near the living room where the two men were still engrossed in their show.

Before the men even had a chance to get to their feet, the five youths had taken them captive. “Where’s Joe?” Frank demanded.

The men kept their mouths shut but looked at him belligerently. “Phil, let’s search the place while Tony, Chet and Biff tie them up.”

Phil began a search of the upstairs while Frank checked the rooms on the main floor. “No one up there,” Phil said, coming down the steps and meeting Frank in the halfway.

“Nor here,” Frank said with a grim expression. “But there is one door I haven’t checked.”

Phil followed Frank to the last door that opened up to a pair of steps. “The basement,” observed Phil. “Always a good place to keep a prisoner.”

Frank turned on the light and led the way downstairs stopping in his tracks when he saw the familiar, albeit badly bruised, face of Robert Shaw!

“Mr. Shaw?” Frank gasped in surprise.

Mr. Shaw looked up at the voice. “Frank,” he said, his brown eyes filled with fear. “They had Joe here,” he said. “But they took him away a little over an hour ago.”

 

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.