"Where?" Joe demanded, jumping to his feet and looking around.

"Where?" echoed Mr. Hardy, lowering the paper and starting to rise.

"On the front of the paper," Frank told them and pointed to it.

Mr. Hardy sank back into his chair and closed the paper. Looking at a man in his mid-fifties with graying hair, Mr. Hardy's eyes roved down the paper to the accompanying article. "It seems your Mr. Kurtz was found near the airport."

"He was in hiding?" Frank asked.

"No," Mr. Hardy replied, shaking his head and handing Frank the paper. "His car was found off a side road on Friday night. It had been covered with branches to hide it. A jogger found it with Kurtz inside."

"The police think the incident started out as a ransom theft with Kurtz being killed in the heat of the moment," Frank told Joe as he read the article.

"Heat of the moment?" Joe asked, bewildered.

"First class homicide," Mr. Hardy informed him. "It means it started out as something less major but something happened to escalate the crime."

"What else does it say?" Joe asked, taking the paper from his brother.

"That's it," Frank said, reaching for the phone. "Hi Con," Frank said into the receiver a minute later. Con Riley was a sergeant with the Bayport Police Department and a good friend of the Hardys.

"Hello Frank," Con answered. "No you can't."

"Can't what?" Frank asked, surprised.

"Whatever it is you want to do," was the good humored reply. "Whenever you call, you always want something that's going to get me in trouble with the Chief."

"Not this time," Frank quickly assured him. "Actually, we might be able to help you out," he continued.

"I'm going to hate myself for asking, but how?"

"You found the body of Samuel Kurtz, right?" Frank began.

"Very good!" commended Con sarcastically. "You can read the paper."

"Look," Frank said, growing agitated. "Kurtz is the guy Joe talked to the day he was kidnapped."

"Go on," Con urged.

"Kurtz was scheduled to leave town Friday night."

"But he was waylaid en route," Con interrupted. "We know."

"No!" Frank practically screamed in frustration. "Joe talked to him Saturday morning near the plant," he said, speaking each word distinctly to make his point.

"Is he positive it was Kurtz?" Con demanded.

"Yes," affirmed Frank.

"You two come downtown so Joe can do a positive I.D., then we'll talk," Con promised.

While Joe went for his jacket, Frank pulled his father aside and whispered a request. Mr. hardy smiled and nodded his consent. On Joe's return to the room, Mr. Hardy bid the boys farewell and good luck on their case as he would be leaving again in the morning to begin preparations for the prince's visit.

"That could be the guy I talked to," Joe said, mystified after seeing the body. "But that's not really possible if he died on Friday." He shook his head. "It's too hard to identify him with those cuts and bruises on his face. It's almost as if his face was messed up on purpose," he added quietly so only his brother could hear.

Con nodded his head at the morgue attendant who began zipping the body bag as the Hardys followed Con from the room.

"Why do you think the man you spoke with was Kurtz?" Con asked Joe.

"I saw him," Joe reminded Con. "Could he have a twin brother?"

"Not possible," Con told him, opening the door of his office and ushering them inside. Sitting down at his desk, he looked Joe right in the eyes. "I want to know when you saw Kurtz, what you talked about and anything else you can tell me about him."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Frank. "We want to know a few things first."

"I knew it," Con said with a wry grin. "Shoot."

"How long had Kurtz worked at Dawson Chemical?" Frank asked.

"Almost eight years."

"Does he have any family?" Joe asked.

"He was married when he was twenty, but his wife died three years later. They never had any children. He had one sister, Erma, who never married. They lived together on Cornhue Hills road."

"Did he have any enemies?" Frank asked.

"We couldn't find any," Con answered with a shake of his head. "That's why we classified it as a random theft. There seemed to be no other motive."

"Frank, didn't Liz say my captors mentioned something about a body?" Joe asked, looking over at his brother.

"What's this about a body?" Con asked in surprise.

"Liz overheard the men who grabbed Joe mention something about having gotten rid of a body," Frank told him.

"And this Kurtz is the only corpse on hand," Joe added.

"It's too much of a coincidence Kurtz worked at Dawson Chemical and the man Joe spoke with looked like him," Frank put in. "But they had all ready found this guy when you were kidnapped on Saturday," he added, looking at Joe.

"So?" Joe asked, not understanding what his brother was getting at.

"The police said they didn't have any corpses on hand when dad mentioned it," Frank said.

"Actually," Con corrected Frank, "we said we didn't have any unexplained bodies on hand."

"You thought you had Kurtz figured out," Joe said, understanding. "So you didn't think this could be the body being referred to at my abduction."

"Right," acknowledged Con a bit ruefully. "And we still can't be positive it is," he hurriedly reminded them, although he nor the Hardys believed otherwise.

"What have you done on this case to date?" Frank asked Con.

"We questioned his colleagues but came up empty," Con informed them. "But since he may be involved with Joe’s kidnapping, we'll be questioning them again," he added.

"What did you think of Charles Dawson?" Frank asked, curiously.

Con's eyes narrowed on Frank. "Why?" he demanded.

"We were wondering if he could be involved, or if he might have a reason to get Kurtz out of the way," Frank replied.

"He was very helpful," Con stated. "He showed us the plant, let us examine Kurtz' office, question staff, and even provided us with a copy of Kurtz' itinerary."

"When did you examine Kurtz' office?" Joe queried.

"This afternoon," Con answered. "Erma Kurtz couldn't give us a positive make until today. We hadn't been able to reach her."

'That would explain why they had been plannin on painting the place,' Joe thought. 'They still thought Kurtz was away on business.'

"What about Dawson's background?" Frank asked.

"He was a pharmacist in California when his brother, Larry, died. Larry was the owner and CEO of Dawson Chemical, but he died in an auto accident. Charles had jut returned to California from visiting Larry when the accident happened."

"How long had Charles been back in California before Larry's accident?" Joe wanted to know.

"Charles was at work when he was contacted about Larry's accident the day after it happened. That was on a Monday." Con looked through his notes before continuing, "His plane left two days previously and yes," he added, anticipating their next question, "his ticket was used."

Sitting forward and cupping his hands on the desk, Con looked at Joe. "Now it's my turn," he said. "Let's start with the first thing you did when you left home Saturday morning."

Soon they were finished and left the building. "Let's go pay a visit to Erma Kurtz," Frank suggested. "It's not too late," he added, glancing at his watch.

"Let's go then," Joe agreed. "Dad only got us excused from school for a week or until we solve this mystery, whichever comes first, and so far we've hit a lot of dead ends."

"Impressive," Joe said, giving an appreciative whistle as Frank pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex on Cornhue Hills.

"Yeah," Frank agreed. "They designed this to resemble the French chalets that were..." he broke off as Joe grabbed his arm and pointed toward one of the windows. A figure was struggling halfway through a window on the side of the building.

The boys quietly climbed out of the van and made their way toward the intruder. Frank motioned for Joe to advance from the right. Nodding, Joe moved off. After giving Joe time to position himself, Frank closed in on the left.

"Can I help you?" he drawled, as he approached.

The intruder looked up, his mis-matched eyes freezing in recognition as he leaned out of the window and took a step towards Frank. Frank took a defensive stance he had learned in his karate class and waited.

As the thug advanced on him, Frank's concentration was disrupted by a cry for help from his brother. The distraction allowed Conner the time to whip out his pistol and bring it crashing onto the side of Frank's head. He fell to the ground unconscious.