“Oof!” Joe groaned as one of the dogs leapt on him and he fell onto the porch beneath the weight.

“Stop! Heel!” Frank shouted as he tried to keep his head away from the monster’s mouth.

Joe began laughing and gave up the fight as the dog slavered all over him. “At least....at least they’re friendly,” he gasped.

“Oh, dear,” came an amused voice. “Pooh! Tigger!” the man called out, coming closer. He latched onto the collar of the dog nearest him and tugged. “Come on, Pooh,” he begged. “Let the young man get up.”

“Pooh and Tigger?” Frank asked, rising to his feet and going to help Joe with the other shepherd.

“Their master owns a toy store,” the man explained as Joe managed to get to his feet. “He takes them to work with him everyday and lets them have the run of the place.”

“That would explain why they’re so friendly to strangers,” Frank said. “But how did you get them?”

“Their owner is my best friend,” the man explained. “He went on a vacation to Europe but didn’t want Pooh and Tigger to have to stay in a kennel while he was gone so I’m babysitting.”

“Cool,” Joe said, petting Tigger.

“Now, may I ask you a question?” the man said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Who are you?”

“Sorry,” Frank apologized. “My name is Frank Hardy and this is my brother, Joe,” he introduced himself and brother. “We were looking for Kyle Terrance.”

“You found him,” Terrance replied, looking at the two curiously.

“We understand you were interested in purchasing the Renoir from the Bayport Museum,” Frank began.

“How did you find out?” Terrance asked, tilting his copper topped head sideways as he narrowed his gaze at Frank.

“Mr. Benson mentioned you had made an offer,” Frank informed him.

“So you think you two can steal it and I’ll buy it from you?” Terrance demanded, his eyes growing as hard as his voice.

“No,” Joe quickly denied. “The Renoir was stolen Friday night,” he informed the collector. “Mr. Benson asked us to find it.”

“Why?” Terrance demanded. “You’re kids.”

“We are also experienced detectives,” Frank replied, smothering a sigh. He should be used to the prejudice held because of his and Joe’s ages but he wasn’t.

“And you came to me because?” Terrance demanded.

“We have to check out everyone who showed an interest,” Frank replied truthfully.

“Was anything else taken?” Terrance inquired curiously.

“No,” Frank answered. “May we ask you a few questions?”

“You may,” Terrance replied. “But perhaps I can save us all some time,” he continued. “For starters, the offer I made was not monetary. I proposed to trade a couple of pieces from my collection for the Renoir.”

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Joe asked, curiosity lighting his eyes.

“Only if you don’t get upset if I choose not to answer,” Terrance replied.

“Why do you have so much invested in art?” Joe asked.

“You have done your homework,” Terrance congratulated the youths with a smile. “Art appreciates in value,” he began. “I believe it is an infinitely safer investment than stocks.”

“So collecting art is merely an investment?” Frank queried.

Terrance gave an affirmative nod. “And stealing the painting wouldn’t do you any good because you wouldn’t be able to sell it?” Joe asked.

“There is the black market,” Terrance pointed out. “There are collectors who don’t care where their new acquisitions come from.”

“But you aren’t one of those,” Frank observed, respecting the man’s candor. He had liked the man on sight and after listening to him and reading his facial expressions as he spoke, Frank was sure Terrance had not stolen anything, let alone the Renoir.

“No, I am not,” agreed Terrance. “If you would care to view my collection, it could be arranged,” he offered.

“You keep it here?” Joe asked, an incredulous expression on his face.

“No,” Terrance denied. “It is actually kept at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. They get to use my collection as a drawing piece and I have the piece of mind knowing it is under one of the most advanced security systems in the country.”

“Don’t you keep any art at home?” Joe asked.

“Museum replicas only,” Terrance answered. “But you are welcome to come inside and see for yourself.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Frank declined. “But thank you for the offer and for taking time to talk with us,” he added, holding out his hand.

Terrance gave each boy a firm handshake and bid them goodbye. “I don’t think he’s involved,” Joe said as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the van.

“Me either,” Frank agreed, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Joe demanded.

“The black SUV,” Frank answered. “It’s parked across the street.”

“I’ll swing by so you can get the tag number,” Joe said as he started the motor. As he pulled onto the road, the SUV roared to life. As Joe passed it, Frank memorized the tag number.

“Let’s see if you can lose it,” Frank challenged.

Joe grinned and headed back to Bayport. Three exits before their normal turn, Joe pulled over two lanes, cutting a white Subaru and a green Toyota off to take the turn.

“Are you crazy?” Frank demanded when Joe finally pulled to a stop behind a closed gas station.

“We lost them, didn’t we?” Joe retorted.

“Out!” Frank ordered. “I’m driving.”

“Fine,” Joe agreed. “You can drop me off at Marie’s.”

“How will you get home?” Frank asked.

“Pick me up at 9:30?” Joe asked. Frank nodded his agreement and drove Joe to Sunset Drive. After Joe had gone inside, Frank headed to the museum where he found Benson on his way out.

“How is the investigation coming along?” Benson asked.

“We’ve narrowed it down,” Frank answered.

“To?” Benson wanted to know.

“Cooper Sorrel or Steve Langley,“ Frank said. “How well do you know Langley?”

“Not very,” Benson replied, frowning. “He owns the painting. Why ever would he steal it?” he asked, confused.

“The insurance, maybe,” Frank said. “We’re looking into it now.”

“Where’s Joe?” Benson asked, looking about.

“At Sorrel’s,” Frank answered without elaborating. He glanced at his watch. “I’d better run,” he said. “I have to run by the police station before I go home.”

“Take care,” Benson said with a smile as Frank waved and walked back to the van.

Frank arrived at the station twenty minutes later. “Hi,” Officer Riker greeted Frank as he approached. “Anything new?”

Frank shook his head. “Well, a little,” he confessed. “Can you see who owns a black SUV with the tag NPH-4113? It’s been following us.”

Riker picked up the phone as Frank took a seat. Five minutes later, Riker hung up. “Is Joe still hanging out with Sorrel’s daughter?”

“Unfortunately,” Frank replied sourly. “Why?”

“The car is owned by Wyatt Import/Export,” Riker informed Frank. “The company is owned by Cooper Sorrel.”

Frank drove home not really paying attention to his surroundings. Sorrel was behind the theft and Joe was in his lair. It made sense. Sorrel wanted Joe around so he could keep tabs on the investigation. Frank knew Joe wouldn’t willingly give any info on the case but Sorrel could have tricked Joe into revealing what was going on. Frank looked at his watch: 8:30. He knew the next hour would be one of the longest in his life.

***

Marie met Joe in the hallway. “Happy birthday,” he told her in a husky whisper before she put her lips to his.

The two broke apart three minutes later at the sound of a throat clearing. “Mm, sorry,” Joe mumbled, blushing a little.

“Nothing wrong with a birthday kiss,” Nelson said, smiling at the two. “But Cooper sent me to find Marie so perhaps we should all go into the living room?” he ended with a raised brow.

“Oh, here,” Joe said as he and Marie followed Nelson at a slow pace. He handed Marie the gift he had bought her.

She stopped walking and began to open her package. “Don’t you want to wait?” Joe asked with some amusement. She obviously liked getting gifts as much as he did.

“Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. She finished unwrapping it and gave the paper to Joe. Both were unaware Nelson had reached the living room alone and Sorrel had decided to find the two teens.

Sorrel came to a stop as Marie opened the jewelry box. Marie’s eyes widened and she gave a faint gasp of delight. “Oh Joe,” she said, her eyes capturing his. “It’s beautiful.”

Joe smiled as she removed the necklace from its box. “Put it on for me?” she asked, handing it to him and turning around.

Joe shoved the paper into his pocket and took the necklace. He lifted it over her neck then waited while she tilted her head and moved her hair to one side. “Done,” he said letting the chain go. His fingers brushed her neck as he dropped his hands.

“An hourglass,” she said, looking at it. “You do know what this particular necklace stands for, don’t you?” she asked.

“Eternity,” Joe answered. “That’s how long you’re going to possess my heart,” he added, leaning down to kiss her as Sorrel slipped away unnoticed.

***

“I’m going to get Joe now,” Frank told his mom at five after nine.

“Okay dear,” she said, heading for the phone which had started to ring as Frank exited the door.

Frank pulled the driver’s door open but froze before getting inside when he heard his mother open the door. “Your father’s on the phone!” she yelled at him. Frank headed back to the house, shoving the van’s door to as he moved.

As the door connected to the van, there was an explosion and Frank was lifted off his feet and propelled against the steps. As the van burned bright, Frank lay unmoving.

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 original characters without express permission of the authors.