"I wonder if both guards are still here," Joe said.

"Judging by what Mr. Benson said, they should be," Frank replied. "Why don’t you look around in here and I’ll go and question the guards. Remember," he added as he was leaving the room, "this is a crime scene and the police will be here soon. Don’t bother anything."

"Remember this is a crime scene," Joe mimicked Frank after he had left. "I’ve been doing this as long as he has," he grumbled. "It would be nice if he wouldn’t treat me like a dunce." Immediately contrite, Joe bit his bottom lip as he looked around. Frank had never treated him like an idiot although there were times when he wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. No, Joe decided. Frank was nervous. Joe knew Frank was afraid that if Sorrel had taken the painting then their family and friends could be in danger. The mob was not above going after someone other than their prime target to get their message across. Joe didn’t blame Frank at all. He, himself, was terrified.

While Joe searched the scene, Frank went in search of the two security guards. He found them in the back of the museum inside of a room marked personnel only. The room was outfitted with monitors and it dawned on Frank that the theft must have been filmed.

"Hello, I’m Frank Hardy," Frank introduced himself to the two men. "Mr. Benson has asked my brother, Joe, and me, to find the missing painting."

"Yes," responded the taller of the two men. "Mr. Benson said he was going to call you."

"Was the Renoir monitored on tape?" Frank asked.

"We were just checking that," replied the shorter guard, his curly red hair poking out from beneath his cap. "I checked the room at six twenty three p.m. and the painting was there. We started there to look for the thief but at six twenty nine the camera is covered. When it is uncovered ten minutes later, the painting is missing." He stepped aside so Frank could see the video tape play on one of the screens.

"Six minutes?" Frank asked, amazed. "Who all was in the museum at that time?"

"Me, Mr. Benson, and Anthony and Sarah Hodges," was the answer.

"Who are the Hodges?" Frank inquired.

"They take care of the housekeeping," the guard answered.

Frank thanked the guards for their time then returned to where Joe was just finishing his inspection. "Find anything?" he asked.

"There’s a towel near the security camera," Joe answered. "I’m guessing the thief used it to cover the camera and protect his identity while he took the painting."

"You’re right," acknowledged Frank before telling him what he had learned from the guards.

"So whoever stole the painting had to have an intimate knowledge of the timing of the guards and the security system," Joe said. "Mr. Benson did say the alarm never went off. Seems like an inside job to me," he ended as the curator entered the room.

"The police are on their way," Benson told the two. "I didn’t tell them I had asked you two to find the painting before I called them," he added.

"Probably a good idea," Frank said. "They tend to get antsy when they don’t hear it first. We’ll clear out tonight and catch up with the police tomorrow."

"Thank you boys so much," Benson said gratefully. "This painting is a big loss for the museum."

"We’ll find it," Frank assured the man before leading Joe out of the room.

The two arrived home around ten-thirty and were met in the kitchen by a petite blond woman with blue eyes that matched Joe’s. "I’m glad you two are home early," Laura Hardy greeted her sons. "Joe, you need to call Marie. Her number is by the living room phone."

"Thanks," Joe replied, leaving the two alone.

"What’s wrong?" Laura asked Frank as Joe exited.

"A painting was taken from the Bayport Museum this evening," Frank informed his mother. "The curator has asked us to find it."

"Shouldn’t be a problem for you and your brother," she said, her voice full of pride. "Your father called," she said, changing the subject. "He’ll be home in a day or two."

"That’s good," Frank replied.

"I’m off to bed," Laura continued. "There’s apple pie in the refrigerator if you’re hungry."

"Mmm," Frank replied appreciatively. He kissed his mom goodnight and headed for the fridge as she left the room.

When Joe returned to the kitchen there were two glasses of milk and two saucers, each with a slice of apple pie on it, sitting on the table. Joe sat down and pulled one of the saucers close to him. "Marie wants me to stop by her place tomorrow for lunch," he told Frank as Frank replaced the milk in the refrigerator and took a seat. "Her dad wants to meet me before we go out tomorrow night."

"Yet, he let her go with you today?" Frank asked, his brown eyes reflecting his curiosity.

"Apparently, she didn’t tell him she was leaving with a guy," Joe said. "I guess she was afraid he wouldn’t let her go." Joe paused before taking a bite of pie. "If you need me tomorrow, I can cancel," he offered, feeling guilty because they had just started a new case.

"No," Frank quickly vetoed the idea. Joe was interested in going out again and he wasn’t going to ruin the progress Joe had made. "I’m just going to talk to the police and see what they came up with," he continued. "Maybe run a background search on the museum’s employees."

"You think it’s an inside job too," Joe commented, his eyes twinkling.

"Not really," Frank denied with a shake of his head. "But a good detective always covers all his bases."

"But we have no reason to believe Sorrel is behind the theft," Joe pointed out.

"Come off it, Joe," Frank snapped. "Remember what Dad taught us: in a mystery there is no such thing as a coincidence."

"There’s an exception to every rule," Joe argued.

"Why are you so sure he isn’t behind the theft?" Frank retorted.

"I’m not," Joe admitted. "But from the way the theft occurred, it seems more believable that someone on the inside took it."

"Maybe Sorrel had inside help," Frank theorized.

"Possible," Joe acknowledged. "Either way, be careful tomorrow?" Frank nodded. "If you need me, the number is 555-8584."

"Relax," Frank ordered him, smiling at the concern Joe was showing. "I won’t do anything dangerous on my own."

***

Joe arrived at Marie’s house at eleven-ten the next morning. It was a three-story mansion surrounded by a brick wall. As he pulled to a stop, he could see a tennis court in the distance and a stable with two horses grazing in the accompanying field.

Joe got out of the van and made his way up to the front door. He felt strangely underdressed in a pair of jeans and light blue cotton shirt. The door opened before he could knock and Marie stood there, grinning happily.

"I’m glad you could come," she said as he entered. "Dad’s been pitching a hissy fit since he found out I was out with you yesterday instead of a girl."

"That makes me feel so much better," Joe replied dryly.

"Relax. Dad doesn’t bite," Marie told him. "Hard," she couldn’t resist teasing. She took his hand and led him into a large sitting room filled with a variety of what Joe was sure was priceless art.