“We’re not going on a stake-out?” Joe observed as his father drove. When Fenton glanced over at him, the teen elaborated, “This isn’t your stake-out car.”

The detective laughed.  “No, it isn’t.  And you’re right.  We aren’t going on a stake-out.  I want to take a closer look at each of the robbery sites. Take some pictures and see if there is some sort of pattern that wasn’t obvious from the police reports.”

Joe let out a quiet sigh of relief.  While he did love helping his father or his brother, on a case, he really did hate just sitting around, watching and waiting – it was contrary to his active nature; not exactly hyper, but definitely spirited, and not akin to slow motion.

Nodding, the teen turned towards the window and looked out.  He was debating over whether or not to tell his father about what had happened between him and the Hoopers today; he was sure that the older man would be disappointed in him for not being able to stop Biff from doing something so stupid.  Although short of physically restraining his friend, Joe wasn’t sure what else he could have done. And it was doubtful that would have worked anyway - Biff was muscular, not just big!

He frowned as he thought about Mr. Hooper.  His friend’s father had scared him more than he cared to admit.  And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for another lecture so soon, even if it was his own father giving it this time!  Even Fenton’s worst words had never left him as shaken as Ross’s few had, probably because Ross was not his dad and might not show the same kind of restraint a loving parent would have.

That thought sent a cold chill coursing through him and he couldn’t repress a small shiver.  He’d actually been afraid of Biff’s father for the first time in his life – and it was a new feeling, one that Joe was not very comfortable with.  He started to wonder just what would have happened if Frank had not come down when he did.  Mr. Hooper’s words rang in his ears…. I’d better leave before I say something or do something I might just regret…. He shivered again.

“Joe?”  His father’s voice broke through his musing.  “Is something wrong, son?” The detective glanced over as he spoke.  Joe looked spooked and it unsettled him.  Something was bothering the teen, and whatever it was, Fenton was sure it had nothing to do with Frank’s date.

For a few moments Joe didn’t say anything, and Fenton was beginning to think he’d have to start guessing, then he heard a heavy sigh and then his son’s soft voice:  “Dad, if a guy was with his friend, and his friend was going to do something stupid…and the guy tried to talk him out of it, but the friend still did it…. Would you blame the guy for not being able to stop his friend?”

“Well,” the detective started carefully, understanding that this was a loaded question, “it is our responsibility to try and make sure the people we care about, don’t do stupid things…”  He pulled the car over by the side of the road so he could give Joe his full attention.  He looked at his son and saw an anxiety in Joe’s blue eyes that he didn’t understand as he continued, “However, everyone…even the people we love the most…are individuals and will, no matter what, do what they want to do.”

Fenton saw a measure of relief cross Joe’s face and his concern grew; what was the teen referring to, that left him evasive enough to be running scenarios by him, instead of telling outright what the problem was?

Hoping his father would feel the same way in a few minutes, Joe just blurted out, “When we were on the way to the Mortons’ farm this morning, we stopped by a beer and wine store and Biff bought a case of beer!”  There, now it was out in the open.

* * *

Biff Hooper got out of the taxi and looked up at the big house.  He swallowed nervously and then walked towards the front door.

It was obvious that the Gettys had money; although that was not exactly news to the muscular youth, since Davis’ white Corvette basically screamed ‘well-to-do’ anyway.  But Biff had never understood just how much they might possess, until he stood on the threshold of the mansion.

Waiting for the door to be answered, he tried to ignore the nagging guilt that was chewing him up.  I’ll tell Dad everything tomorrow, he promised himself; I’ll clear it up with him, accept whatever punishment he’s going to give me, and then try to make it up to Joe.

But for tonight, all he just wanted to be was one of Getty’s gang….

So he plastered on a smile when Evan Pratt opened the front door, and allowed himself to be ushered inside.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” Davis Getty’s voice rang out as he came into the foyer to welcome his young guest.

“Hey Davis,” Biff said, trying to sound much calmer than he felt.  Inside, he warred with guilt and nervousness.  He wished he understood why it was so important to him to impress a guy like Davis, that he was willing to do something stupid like buying beer and risking a long time friendship. But he couldn’t, so he pushed all those thoughts to the back of his mind and concentrated on fitting in.

“Welcome…” Davis hesitated and then grimaced as he said, “Biff.” He looked at the blond teen with a thoughtful look on his face before he just said, “Your birth name is Allan, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” now it was Biff’s turn to grimace.  He hated that name.

“Good. Then Allan it is.”  When Biff opened up his mouth to say something, Davis cut him off.  “Let me explain something to you, Allan.  Nicknames are cute and childish.  No one I know is cute or childish.  Allan is welcome to stay….Biff is not.”

Davis turned to leave as Evan opened the door and waited.  Biff hesitated for a moment and then hurried after the retreating teen.  “Allan’s staying.”

“Good,” said Davis, without looking back, “Come in and I’ll introduce you around.”

Evan shut the door and followed a bit more slowly.

* * *

Fenton looked at his son in shock.  Both his boys were very responsible and knew the dangers of underage drinking, or so he had thought…but then realizing he was getting ahead of himself, the investigator pursed his lips, and looked intently into the anxious blue eyes watching him.  He just asked quietly, “Who did Biff buy the beer for?”

“Some guys at school he’s trying to impress,” Joe said vaguely, and then he continued, winding himself up as he went, “I didn’t know what he was going to do and when I found out I tried to talk him out of it, Dad!  Honestly I did!  But he wouldn’t listen and—”

“Whoa Joe, take it easy, son,” Fenton said, trying to calm down the increasingly agitated teen. “I’m sure you did all you could.”

Joe looked at his father, a bit shocked.  “You do?”

“Of course I do,” Fenton assured him, reaching out to touch Joe’s cheek for a moment, mindful of his cuts.  “Son, both you and your brother have always been honest with me – even when the consequences for being such, might not have been too favorable.  Now…that’s not to say I think you boys tell me everything, I’d be a fool if I believed that!  However, when I ask you a question, I know you’ll give me a straight answer, and I trust your judgment about what you keep to yourself.”

“Really?” Joe’s voice was strangely timid, and Fenton smiled at him, warmly; his own voice calm and reassuring:

“If I didn’t have faith in your word, son, I would never consider allowing you to help on any cases.” He leaned across and looked deep into the sapphire blue eyes that were watching him so carefully.  “I have to trust my partners…unequivocally.”

Joe blushed under the compliment of hearing his father refer to him and Frank as ‘partners,’ but was staggered under the weight of his father’s belief in him; at the age of fifteen, he wasn’t sure if he could  live up to something like that – he did mess up from time to time…. Shifting uncomfortably, he glanced away from his father and then sighed, disconsolately. “Too bad, Mr. Hooper doesn’t.”

“Ross Hooper?  Biff’s dad?” Fenton asked, picking up that he was still missing something, and something significant, if the look on Joe’s face was any indication.

“Yeah, he came by our house earlier,” Joe said, his voice low and despondent sounding.  “He was looking for you.”  And then the teen looked back at his father, and the detective felt a tightening in his stomach at the look he saw on his son’s face, although he was sure he must be misreading it. “Mr. Hooper thinks the beer is mine!”

* * *

Frank was having the time of his life.  A fast car, a beautiful girl at his side – he was afraid to ask her to pinch him, in case he was dreaming!

“Where do you want to go?” he asked Lily after they had been driving around for a while.  He loved how this car handled, although he had to keep a strict eye on the speedometer or else he’d have speeding tickets to explain!

Lily laughed and tossed her black hair, she loved the joyful look on Frank’s face as he drove her car. It reminded her of a kid in a candy store.  “You’re the driver, you decide!”

“Well,” Frank thought, “we could still go to that movie and then maybe…I don’t know…Mr. Pizza’s afterwards?”

“Sure,” Lily said, dropping him a wide smile.  Inwardly she knew it was something else she was going to need to work on – Mr. Pizza’s….so not her scene.  And that car…. Hmmm, she was definitely going to need to talk to Davis about that.

Her boyfriend deserved better….

* * *

Fenton Hardy pulled up outside the Hooper house and parked the car.  He sat inside it for a few minutes, thinking of the best way to handle this. The last thing he wanted was for it to escalate out of control, and he was a bit concerned about that being a very distinct possibility.

But Fenton needed to talk to the senior Hooper about the apparent misunderstanding over the beer, and even more importantly to him, about what happened between Joe and Ross. The detective frowned as he thought about how upset his son had become while relating that part of the story.  Joe, the emotional whirlwind of the family, was often upset, but seldom so close to tears; and it bothered Fenton to no end to see his son struggling to keep from ‘embarrassing’ himself. Not that he thought his son’s tears were embarrassing, but Joe did…

No matter how upset Ross had been, it was not his place to say anything to Joe – that was up to Fenton and Laura.  And especially not his place to scare him!  And that was what he had seen on his son’s face when he thought he was mistaken – fear.

He still heard Joe’s anguished words:  Dad, he was so…so mad….If Frank hadn’t been there….It had taken Fenton some time to calm the boy down, and then he decided to take the teen home while he went to see Mr. Hooper.  Collig’s B&E case could wait for a little bit; he had to deal with this first.

Finally, he got out of the car and approached the house.

Ross Hooper answered the door and seemed a bit shocked to see Fenton standing there.  He recovered quickly, realizing Joe must have told his father what happened, so stepping away from the door, he beckoned the other man to come in.

“We can talk in the rec room,” Ross said, leading the way downstairs. He’d converted the basement into a rec room/weight training room a couple of years ago, and both he and Biff spent a lot of time down there.

Fenton nodded and then sat down across from Ross in an overstuffed chair, but before he could say anything the burly man started.

“I guess Joe told you about my visit,” the senior Hooper stated, cutting right to the chase, and the detective nodded.

“He’s quite shaken by it, actually,” Fenton admitted.  He appraised the muscular man as he spoke.  At 6’2” the detective was no slouch himself in size, but still he was nothing compared to the other man. And he could easily imagine the uncertainty his young son felt when confronted by an angry version of Ross; especially since Joe felt it had come close to getting out of hand.

He said he’d better leave before he said or did something he might regret…. Joe’s blue eyes were wide and he flinched slightly when Fenton had reached out to comfort him….

“Good,” Ross said, surprising the other man; “maybe he’ll take what I said to heart then.  I was only doing what I thought best—”

The twitch in Fenton’s jaw was the only outward indication of the anger he felt about this.  He considered himself a fair man, and would have never considered talking to Biff like Ross had spoken to his son. If nothing else, he would have made sure he’d had the whole story first.  And the idea that Ross was not bothered by it, didn’t sit well with Fenton at all.

Mr. Hooper continued talking, obviously trying to counter whatever he thought Fenton was going to say before he said it.  “I know it wasn’t my place to say anything to him, but I care about Joe and I just couldn’t believe he’d do something so stupid—”

“He didn’t,” Fenton cut Ross off.

“What?” Ross asked.  “He didn’t what?”

“He didn’t do anything stupid,” Fenton repeated, and then sat forward to make sure he had the blond man’s complete attention.  “Ross, it wasn’t Joe’s beer.”

There was silence and then Ross sat back heavily in his seat and looked at the detective; he spoke curtly, all friendliness gone.  “Well then, it would appear we have a problem.  My son says the beer wasn’t his, either.”

“We don’t have a problem,” Fenton countered, staring Ross right in the eye even as he felt himself tense under the other man’s tone.  “Get Biff down here, I’m sure he can clear this whole thing up for you, right now.”

The big man hesitated and the investigator pressed, although he had already figured out the boy wasn’t home, “Ross, where is Biff?”

“He’s gone out,” the senior Hooper finally replied, as he glanced away from Fenton for a moment.

“To the party that he had originally bought the beer to take with him…” Fenton concluded, grimly.

“Biff said he bought the case for Joe,” Ross refuted, stubbornly; not liking what he was hearing.  He looked back at the investigator as Fenton continued:

“Did Biff actually say it was Joe’s, or did he just say it wasn’t his?” Fenton pressed, amazing himself by how calm he sounded.

“He said…” and then Ross trailed off before admitting, “No, he didn’t actually say it was Joe’s.  Not in so many words, anyway.”

“Then what made you think it belonged to my son?”

“He was there!  He was in the car when Biff bought the damn case!” Ross rose from his chair, increasingly agitated.  “Who else could it have been for??”

“Biff’s at a party; Joe’s home.”  Fenton let Ross draw his own conclusions to the question as he also stood up.  “Whose beer do you really think it was?”

“Look,” Ross shot back, “underage drinking killed my kid brother when he wasn’t any older than our boys….My son knows this!  He knows the danger of doing something like this.  He would never—”

“Don’t,” Fenton cut him off, his brown eyes narrowed sharply.  “If you want the truth, talk to your son first.  Biff bought the beer, I’m sure he knows who he bought it for.  Either way, that’s between you and him…and not what I’m here to discuss.”

Ross glared at him as Fenton continued, “You were out of line, Ross. You took a liberty with my child that I would never consider taking with yours. To be blunt: what happened this afternoon should never have happened… and you know that.”

Mr. Hooper didn’t say anything for a few moments before he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. “I don’t know what came over me,” he admitted, “I didn’t mean to say anything to Joe at all.”

“But you did,” the detective said, not ready to let him off so easily, “and then you went one further.  You threatened him.”

“What?” Ross looked at Fenton in shock, “I never—”

“Yes you did,” Fenton said, “when you told him you had to leave before you did something you might regret.  Joe felt threatened and he’s pretty upset about it.”  The detective shook his head.  “I’m sure you never meant to frighten him so badly, but the bottom line is, you did.  Joe had a lot of respect for you and took your words a lot harder than if they had been coming from someone else.”

Ross shifted uncomfortably on his feet – he had meant to put a fright in Joe about the danger, not about himself.  “I guess I owe him an apology.”

Fenton nodded, relieved that the other man accepted the responsibility for what had happened, and recognized its inappropriateness.  “Yes, you do.”

“I owe you an apology as well…” Ross continued, sitting back down heavily.  “Joe is your son and I should have spoken to you directly, not him…and especially not when I was so upset to begin with.”  He sighed.  “I probably did come off a lot harsher than I even realized.”

Fenton nodded in agreement, thinking that was all, but before he could say anything, Ross looked him in the face and confessed, “And I made some pretty mean remarks about you, and that wasn’t fair to you or him, either.”

“Excuse me?” Joe hadn’t told him that part.  Fenton sat back down as well.

“I told Joe that if you were around more instead of off somewhere trying to solve other people’s problems, then maybe things would have been different.”  Fenton was pleased that Ross was realizing Joe was innocent in this, but disturbed that he would say such a thing.

Ross continued, his face pale and weary, “I guess it’s because I’ve always been jealous of you, and when I got a chance to blemish you a bit in front of your son…well, I took it.”

Fenton was shocked but recovered quickly.  “Jealous of me?  I don’t understand, Ross. You just said that I’m not around enough, and in a way you’re right.  I haven’t had the same opportunities with my sons that you’ve had with Biff by your just being here every day.”

“But that’s why I’m jealous,” Ross admitted sheepishly.  “Fenton, you have good boys.  Whatever you and Laura have done, you’ve done it right, regardless of how little time you’ve had with them.  I knew, deep down, that Joe had nothing to do with the alcohol, but I just didn’t want to face it, because then I’d have to look at myself and wonder what I did wrong.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Fenton argued, “Biff is a good kid.  He did something stupid but he is only sixteen, and according to Joe he did it to impress some older kids.  Peer pressure can bend even the best kid—”

“I’m no fool, Fenton,” Ross cut in.  “Biff is a good kid because of your boys, Joe particularly.  He’s been a good influence…before he and Joe became friends, Biff was a bully, and I was worried, ‘cause I didn’t know how to teach him...what a few days playing with your kids did – empathy, and that because of his size, he had a responsibility to make sure smaller kids weren’t bullied….”

Fenton stared at the other man for a few long moments and then shook his head.  “Ross, we do the best we can to set our children’s feet on proper paths, but in the end, our children are individuals, and it will be their choice which path they choose.”

Ross looked at him in mild shock and then he just shook his head.  “You are a wise man, Fenton Hardy.”

“Nah,” the detective said, brushing off the praise.  “No wiser than you, I just travel a lot and have big ears.”

The other man looked at him for a moment and then burst out laughing.  Within moments Fenton joined in, even as he wondered if a simple apology could repair the damage that might have been done…