Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Frank threw the car into park and jumped out. He raced up the steps and into the house as Callie switched the motor off and pulled her cell phone from where it was holstered at her hip.

Before she could complete her call, however, Frank came to the doorway. "False alarm!" he shouted, and waved for her to come inside. "What was the screaming about?" Callie asked as she joined Frank, Joe, and the Barleys.

"Joe was Tarzan," Jim informed Callie, causing Joe to blush. "And he was showing me and mom how to yell like him."

"Mmm, sounds like you guys were having fun," she said, shooting Joe a mischievous look. He blushed deeper, knowing he wouldn't live this down for quiet some time.

"How did the chat with the Lenins go?" Joe asked, deciding it would be better to change the subject.

Frank relayed what he and Callie had learned from the Lenins which wasn't much. Joe went quiet and looked at Callie, then glanced at Jim. Taking the hint, Callie asked Jim and Mrs. Barley to show her the flower garden in the back of the house.

Frank and Joe sat down on the sofa. "What is it?" Frank demanded, once Jim and his mother were out of earshot.

"I think we should check out Agent Patrick," Joe said.

"Because you don't like him?" Frank asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Joe frowned at his brother, then told him about what Mrs. Barley had said concerning Agent Patrick's absence during and after Jim's arrest. "Why would he not be the one who arrested Jim?" Joe asked. "And, he could have been the guy who clobbered me at church last night," he added.

"You think he followed you?" Frank asked.

"No," Joe said, firmly, shaking his head. "I was watching. But I did go outside while I was waiting on Jim to finish his session and if he was around, he could have seen me."

"But, why attack you?" Frank asked, his brow furrowing in thought. "If Jim's the target, why go after you? And for that matter, why didn't he kill you?"

"Maybe he meant to, but when Father Ramster came into the room, he took off before he could see if I was dead," Joe replied. "Look, I'm not accusing him," he continued. "I just want him checked out."

"Fair enough," Frank admitted. He didn't think Agent Patrick was guilty, but his behavior did warrant looking into. "What have you got planned for the day?"

"Mrs. Barley is having her hair done this afternoon, so Jim and I are going to hang out here," Joe said. "As for this morning, Jim is scheduled for his annual physical so we'll be at the doctor's office."

"You could come with me this morning," Frank suggested. "I can drop you off at the doctor's office after we visit Agent Patrick."

Joe shook his head. "No," he said. "Jim's still in danger and if anything were to happen..." his voice trailed off.

"I'll call you this afternoon and let you know about Patrick," Frank said, standing up and putting a hand on Joe's shoulder.

"Be careful," Joe cautioned, his face lined with worry as he looked up at his brother. He hated having Frank investigate alone, but he couldn't leave Jim unprotected.

"Hey, I'm the worrywart in this family," Frank told him, grinning and ruffling Joe's hair. "Come on, let's go rescue Callie and the Barleys from each other," he added, pulling Joe up and leading the way outside.

"Where to now?" Callie asked, once they were back in the car.

"Now, you go home," Frank told her.

"Forget that!" she declared. "I'm helping."

"You have helped," Frank said. "And I appreciate it, but you are sitting this one out."

"Why?" Callie demanded, her eyes ablaze.

"I'm going to run a background check on Agent Patrick and then I'm going to see him," Frank informed her.

"I've met him," she reminded Frank. "Why can't I go with you?"

"Joe thinks he might be the one who killed Devon," Frank explained.

"That's crazy!" Callie exclaimed.

"It wouldn't be the first time we have come across a crooked agent," Frank stated.

"I still think you ought to let me go," she argued. "I can be your back-up."

"No," Frank asserted.

"I could wait in the car," Callie pointed out.

"No!" Frank said firmly.

Callie fell silent and pouted for the rest of the trip to her house. When Frank came to a stop, she turned to him and made one last bid. "What if Agent Patrick is responsible?" she asked. "You'll need someone to call for help."

"No," Frank said again. "I'll be talking to him at the police station," he informed her. "He will be stationed there for a few more days whether or not anything new turns up on this case."

"How do you know how long he'll be there?" she demanded, a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Did you already think it might be him?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," admitted Frank. "But my dad was a cop, remember? He used to come home complaining about how the SBI had to remain a set number of days after a lead turned up or fizzled out."

Frank reached over and took one of her hands in his. "Don't worry," he told her, leaning over and kissing her forehead.

Callie leaned her head back and smiled up into Frank's deep brown eyes. "Be careful," she whispered as his lips enveloped hers.

Frank was still smiling as he pulled into his own driveway. He went inside, told his mom about his and Joe's plans, then went upstairs and logged on.

An hour later, all he had found out was Patrick's full name, address and employment history. Frank went downstairs and made his way to the kitchen.

"Sit down," Mrs. Hardy ordered. "Lunch is almost ready," she added, setting an empty plate in front of him and another near it.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"Pour some milk," she instructed, taking him up on his offer.

Frank did as ordered and then sat down as his mother placed a casserole on the table. "Mmm," he said, taking a deep whiff. "Smells good. What's this one called?" he asked, knowing his mother liked to experiment at least once a week with a new dish.

"Acorn Ham Bake," she replied, grinning at him. "I snuck a bite," she admitted. "You'll like it."

Frank put a serving on his plate and dished out another for his mother. He picked up his fork and took a small bite, his hand resting on his glass of milk. He had been the guneia pig for his mom's culinary experiments before.

"Hey! This is good," Frank said, digging in. Mrs. Hardy smiled, then asked how the investigation was going.

Frank brought her up to date and waited to hear if she had any suggestions.

"Who, exactly, are your suspects?" she asked.

"The neighbor, Tim Donalds, but Thompson said they were convinced he was innocent. Jancie Lenin, Devon's grandmother, but I don't think she is guilty," he added. "Devon's parents, but after having talked to Mr. Lenin, I doubt they are, and Agent Patrick," he ended the list.

"No one else?" Mrs. Hardy asked. Frank shook his head. "Who would Devon trust enough to sneak out in the middle of the night to see who would gain something from his death?" she asked.

"If we knew that, we would have our killer," Frank pointed out in frustration. "Of all the suspects, he would probably have trusted Agent Patrick, if he even knew the man. But what would he have to gain by killing Devon?"

"Maybe Devon saw something he shouldn't have," suggested Mrs. Hardy.

"Like a payoff?" Frank queried.

"Maybe," she replied.

"But if that were the case, then Devon wouldn't have trusted him," Frank disagreed. He shook his head and changed the subject. "Want some help with the dishes?" he asked.

"No, you run ahead," she told him. "The sooner you and Joe solve this case, the better everyone will feel."

"You miss having Joe here too?" he asked, a bit surprised.

"Yes," she admitted, her brow wrinkling in concern. "It's different when he's somewhere else when you two are working on a case."

"But we go away all the time on cases," Frank argued.

"But you always do so together," she explained. "And you look out for each other. Joe is..." she quit speaking, unable to think of how to phrase what she was thinking.

"Joe is emotional," Frank supplied. He grinned affectionately at the thought. "He always puts his heart before his brain."

"That isn't a bad thing," Mrs. Hardy said quickly. "It's just..."

"Dangerous," Frank finished for her. Frank leaned down and kissed his mom before going to the door. "Don't worry," he told her. "Joe's okay."

"I know," she said, smiling as she watched Frank leave.

*****

Frank arrived at the police station shortly after one o'clock. "What are you doing here?" asked Con, seeing Frank enter.

"I'm looking for Agent Patrick," Frank told a surprised Con.

"You are? Why?" Con inquired, his brown eyes narrowing on Frank.

"Why, indeed?" asked Agent Patrick, coming up behind them.

"Catch you later," Con said, going over to his desk and sitting down.

"Did you ever meet Devon?" Frank asked, bluntly.

"Why do you want to know?" Patrick countered.

"Why did you let someone else place Jim under arrest?" Frank asked, ignoring the man's question.

Patrick's eyes narrowed thoughtfully on Frank. "Let's take this conversation elsewhere, shall we?" he suggested, turning and walking away, leaving Frank to follow.

Frank followed him outside and they sat down on a bench near the street. "Well?" Frank demanded, when Agent Patrick remained quiet.

"I have never met Devon," he said, his eyes locking onto Frank's. "But I wish I had. He sounded like a special young man."

"And Jim?" prompted Frank.

"I..." Agent Patrick paused, considering how much to tell the inquisitive boy. "I couldn't arrest him," he finally admitted. "My son is mentally retarded, and I just couldn't do it knowing how my son would have reacted had he been the one in Jim's place."

"But you did think Jim was guilty?" Frank demanded. The agent nodded. "There was more than the diary, wasn't there?" Frank guessed, knowing intuitively he was right.

Agent Patrick nodded again. "I spoke with Father Ramster," he informed Frank. "He told me that he had seen Jim turn violent on two separate occasions."

"But the diary?" Frank asked. "That would have been pre-meditated. Did you honestly think Jim was capable of that?"

"No," he admitted. "But Fredricks and Davidson did. To be honest, I was relieved when Joe proved Jim couldn't have killed Devon."

"Do you have any idea why someone would try to frame Jim?" Frank asked.

"None," was the reply. "What have you and your brother turned up?"

"Nothing," Frank said, frowning. "You were our best bet."

"Me?" Agent Patrick demanded in surprise.

Frank shrugged. "Long shot," he admitted. "Thanks for your time," he said, standing up and walking away.

"Frank," Agent Patrick's voice halted him.

"Yes?" Frank asked, turning around to look at him.

"Be careful and let me know if you need any help, or if you find out anything."

Frank nodded and walked away, deep in thought. He climbed back into the car and drove aimlessly around, his thoughts on the mystery at hand. He knew there was something he was missing. He just hadn't figured out what that might be.

He pulled to a stop at the red light and sat tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He gazed down the road and saw the familiar bell tower of St. Francis. The light switched to green and he drove down the street, coming to a stop in the church's parking lot.

He got out and went inside. "Father Ramster," Frank said, seeing the man kneeling at the altar.

Father Ramster raised his head, made the sign of the cross, and rose to his feet. "Frank, what brings you to this side of town?" he asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Frank replied. "I just left Agent Patrick and the next thing I knew, I was close by, so I thought I'd stop. Would you mind if I asked you a couple more questions?" he continued, remembering what Patrick had said about Father Ramster's seeing Jim get violent.

'Maybe,' Frank thought, 'Jim really did kill Devon.'

"Of course not," Father Ramster agreed. "Let's retire to the rectory, shall we?"

Frank followed the priest and took the seat offered him on their arrival. "You wait right there and I'll get us a cup of tea," Father Ramster said.

"Thank you, Sir," Frank said, taking the tea a few minutes later and taking a tentative sip. He wasn't fond of the stuff.

Father Ramster told Frank how thoughtful Joe had been to finish painting over the graffiti outside. "I would have thanked him, but I did not realize he had done so until after he and the Barleys had left.

Frank took another sip of tea and set his cup down. "I wanted to ask you about Jim," he said. "Agent Patrick said you..." he broke off, yawning. "Excuse me," Frank said, yawning again.

"Agent Patrick said you had seen Jim get violent a couple of..." Again, Frank had to break off due to a yawn. His vision began to blur and he found it harder to speak.

"Goodnight, my son," Frank heard Father Ramster say as his eyes closed and he slumped in his chair.

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Disclaimer

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.