"No way!" Joe told him, raising his left hand and stroking the stubble on his face. "I want to grow a beard." He looked in the mirror and grinned at his reflection. "It'll look great!"

"No, it won't!" Frank denied forcefully.

"You're just jealous because it will make me look older and you like calling me your baby brother," Joe teased him.

Frank shook his head, causing a lock of his wavy hair to fall across his forehead. "You'll still be my baby brother," he said. "I'll call you that forever," he promised. "A beard is just too much trouble to take care of," Frank explained. "And besides, how much of a disguise can you use when you've got a beard to deal with?" he added, his brown eyes twinkling as he used his trump card.

"I could dye my beard," Joe suggested doubtfully. Frank snorted. "Okay, you win," Joe admitted defeat. "I'll go and shave."

"Wait!" ordered their father, an older version of Frank, walking into the room.

"You like it?" Frank demanded in disbelief.

"Not really," Fenton Hardy said with a smile, looking at the growth on his youngest son's face. "But I have someone in my office I would like you to meet. You can shave later," he added to Joe.

Frank and Joe followed their father down the hall to the bedroom he had converted into an office for his detective agency. Fenton Hardy, formerly of the New York City Police Department, had become world famous as a private investigator since starting his own practice in Bayport. He was proud his sons had decided to follow in his footsteps and become detectives themselves.

As the threesome entered the office, the man who had been standing and staring out the window turned around. His brown eyes widened in shock and his mouth dropped open. Seconds later, he raced across the room and grabbed Joe in a bear hug.

"Jonny," he rasped in strained relief, pulling back and looking Joe in the face. "I've been worried out of my mind," he added.

"Mr. Harrison," Mr. Hardy interrupted, stepping behind Joe and placing a hand on Joe's shoulder. "This is my youngest son, Joe," he introduced the two. "And this is my eldest, Frank," he added, inclining his head toward Frank who stood, looking on, with a quizzical expression on his face.

"But...but that's impossible!" Mr. Harrison stammered, staring at Joe.

"Sorry," muttered Joe, embarrassed, as Mr. Harrison finally released him. "Who's Jonny?" Joe asked, going over to a chair and sitting down, followed by Frank.

"Jonny's my son," Mr. Harrison answered. "My name is Jonathan Michael Harrison the second, and my son is the third. He disappeared a couple of weeks ago."

"Have you contacted the police?" Frank asked.

"No," was the response. "I don't know if Jonny disappeared on his own or if he was kidnaped. But there has been no ransom demand," he added.

"Why would he go away without telling you?" Joe asked.

"Jonny has an independent streak," Mr. Harrison explained. "I'm a very rich man but Jonny wants to make it on his own. He got a job at the Southport Sanitation Department and a room at some boarding house there. He wanted to be a normal person for a change. At least, that's what he told me before he left," he added.

"Why do you think he wanted that?" asked Mr. Hardy.

"We had a quarrel," admitted Mr. Harrison. "I wanted him to work for my company. I own J.M. Exports. I offered to start him with his own office and an excellent salary. He told me I couldn't buy him." Mr. Harrison paused before continuing. "I've never spent much time with him. I worked hard to build J.M. Exports into the business it has become and as a result I never had time for much else."

"So you gave him things to compensate," guessed Frank. "But he wanted you."

"Now it may be too late," Mr. Harrison said in agreement.

"When was the last time you saw Jonny?" Mr. Hardy asked the man.

"About two months ago," he answered. "A friend of his, Craig Daniels, has kept in touch with me. He's been worried about Jonny too."

"Is Craig, Sommer Daniels' son?" Joe wanted to know.

"Yes," came the reply. "Do you know him?"

"I met Sommer Daniels last fall at a race here in Bayport," Joe told him.

"Sommer loves race cars. He always has. He and I were roommates in college and I remember him heading to the racetrack almost every weekend," Mr. Harrison said, smiling fondly. "Anyway, I've spoken with Craig," he added, getting back to the point at hand. "He's willing to help in any way he can."

Mr. Harrison pulled out his wallet and removed a picture. "This is a picture Craig sent me of Jonny. It was taken the day before he disappeared." He handed the photograph to Joe.

"Except for the beard, we're identical!" Joe exclaimed, looking at the picture.

"You don't have a beard. You have stubble," Frank kidded Joe.

"But Jonny has a beard," Joe informed him, handing over the picture.

"Maybe you shouldn't shave after all," Mr. Hardy said to Joe, gazing at the picture Frank passed to him. "You could take Jonny's place."

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, a little alarmed.

"If Jonny's hiding somewhere, he will probably confront Joe to find out why he's impersonating him," Mr. Hardy explained.

"And if Jonny's in trouble then whoever took Jonny might come after Joe," Frank argued. "I don't like it."

"But I'll have backup," Joe consoled Frank. "You." Frank shook his head. "You can be my roommate or take a room next to Jonny's," Joe coaxed. Frank shook his head again.

"What if it were me missing instead of Jonny?" Joe tried using logic. "Wouldn't you try anything to find me?"

Frank sighed in defeat. "Fine," he agreed. "But you've got a shadow," he added.

"Deal," Joe said and grinned. "How do we get in contact with Craig?" Joe asked, turning back to Mr. Harrison.

Mr. Harrison wrote down a phone number. "This is Craig's," he said, giving it to Frank. "Just tell him you've agreed to find Jonny."

Mr. Hardy showed Mr. Harrison out and then returned to discuss the case with Frank and Joe.

"Joe, I know caution isn't a word in your vocabulary, but I want you to be extremely careful," Mr. Hardy said to his youngest son.

"Sure," Joe agreed. "But why?" he asked, cocking his head to one side and looking at his father quizzically.

"Because Jonny may not be in hiding," answered Frank for his dad. "And since there was no ransom demand, Jonny may be dead."

"So if someone did kill him and I show up, they might think they failed and try to kill me," Joe said, catching on to what they were saying.

"Frank, call Craig and see if he can come over here," Mr. Hardy ordered his son. "It would be a good idea if as few people as possible knew about the impersonation."

A few minutes later, Frank hung up the phone. "He'll be here tomorrow afternoon, around three," Frank told them. "He has classes in the morning and can't make it until then."

At ten till three the next afternoon, the doorbell rang. "Looks like Craig is here," Joe said, rising from the sofa so he could go answer the door.

"Wait Joe," Frank ordered, jumping up and snagging Joe's arm, bringing him to a halt. "Remember Mr. Harrison's reaction to you? You'd better let me get it." Nodding, Joe sat back down.

"Hello, I'm Craig Daniels," said a black-headed, brown-eyed, young man when Frank opened the door. "Is this the Hardy residence?"

"Yes," acknowledged Frank. "I'm Frank Hardy. Come on in." He waited until Craig came into the hallway, then closed the door. "When was the last time you saw Jonny?" he asked Craig. He knew Joe could hear them from the living room.

"A little over two weeks ago," Craig told him.

"Was he in some kind of trouble?" was Frank's next question.

"Not that I'm aware of," was the response. "Jonny's my best friend," Craig continued. "It's not like him to just disappear without telling someone."

"Had you two quarreled?" Frank asked.

"No way!" Craig denied with a shake of his head. "I'm not saying we never fight, but it was never anything serious."

"Come on in," Frank invited, leading the way into the living room where Joe was now standing, ready to greet their guest. "Craig, I'd like you to meet..."

"What is this?" Craig interrupted angrily. "You've got some nerve!" he shouted at Joe. Crossing the room quickly, he drew back his arm and let fly with a right uppercut to Joe's jaw.