“Okay,” Laura said quickly, moving towards the man, desperate to make sure that he didn’t hurt Joe any further. “We’ll go with you!” She felt her husband’s gaze on her and gave him a reassuring nod, trusting in him to somehow get them out of this – eventually. Wordlessly Fenton followed.

Satisfied, Rigado moved out of the way to let the detective and wife go first but as Laura opened the door, she stepped back in surprise as Cecil and Gertrude stood there – Cecil’s hand poised to knock. He blinked in shock when he saw the man now standing behind Fenton!

Quickly the gunman stepped back to the small bed and aimed the gun at the unconscious child. “In here NOW! One wrong move and it’ll be bye-bye Joey!”

“JR!” Cecil said, his face pale and disbelieving as he hurriedly followed the desperate man’s instruction, Gertrude right behind him. “What are you doing? Haven’t you caused this family enough grief?”

“Grief?” Rigado cried, “What the hell do they know about grief? Or even you, old man! The world is handed to you on a silver platter while guys like me are left hanging, begging for a handout!”

“What are you talking about?” the older man asked – genuinely confused – as he held his young friend’s gaze. Behind them, Gertrude reached out and grabbed Laura’s hand, as the younger woman could not tear her eyes from the gun threatening her little boy’s fragile hold on life; Fenton stood poised beside them, just waiting for his chance. Rigado would slip up and when he did the detective would be ready!

“All I wanted was enough money to pay Fat Eddy the money I owed him – but no, you had to go and make things complicated,” Rigado sneered at Fenton. “You should have just given me the money and then none of this would have ever happened!”

“Money?” Cecil actually scoffed, “This is about money?”

“What the hell did you think it was about?” JR demanded. “A prime parking spot?”

“Well no,” the older man admitted, “But – I…” he paused and his face hardened, “How much?”

“How much what?”  The gunman played dumb as he pressed the gun against Joe’s head and enjoyed the horror that filtered across the faces of the boy’s family.

“Money, JR. How much money do you owe?” Cecil clarified, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart in his chest. If Rigado pulled that trigger…

“Ten thousand,” Rigado admitted, his gaze shifting nervously towards Fenton and then back to Cecil. The hand holding the gun was steady, though.

“I’ll give you the money,” Cecil immediately offered, ignoring the shocked gasps from behind him.

“What?”  Now it was the thug’s turn to be shocked. “You got to be kidding, old man!”

“I don’t kid when it comes to money,” the bingo caller stated. “Now put that gun down and step away from that poor child—”

“Oh no,” Rigado growled, “I’m on to you. Offer me the money knowing you won’t have to pay it because I’ll be in jail? I don’t think so!”

“You silly child,” Cecil snapped in an uncustomary show of anger, “if I offered the money then I fully intend to see you have it! This way there won’t be any fatal ‘accidents’ while you’re behind bars. Now give up this charade and move away from that boy!”

“Why?” Rigado demanded, stuck between belief and disbelief, “Why would you do this?”

“Because your mother was a dear friend of mine and I would do her memory a huge injustice if I let something happen to you that I had the power to stop—”  Cecil admitted, moving slowly towards the gunman. “And because I know money is exactly that – just money. Painted paper. It can’t buy you the truly important things in life but if it will keep you alive JR, you can have it.”

“I don’t understand.”  The man let his gun hand fall. He was still holding the gun but it was no longer pointed at Joe. “You have everything—”

“No I don’t,” Cecil admitted, stopping right in front of the younger man. “I don’t have the same privileges in life that you do, my young misguided friend.”

Rigado snorted but before he could say anything the older man continued, “I won’t live to be an old man JR—”  he paused and then continued, his stomach twisting as he knew how much it hurt Gertrude to be reminded so bluntly about all this. “Look at me. Take a good look at me and tell me what you see.”

“I see you,” JR said, shrugging his shoulders and not understanding what Cecil was getting at.

“You see a tall man – too tall maybe. Long arms. Long legs. Narrow face. Rather average, if not older looking than my years suggest….But what you don’t see is that I have a condition, an inherited condition – Marfan Syndrome. And because of that, I see a cardiologist more frequently than any man my age should; I suffer stomach problems, vision problems; chronic pain  – and each time I go see a doctor I’m terrified that he’s going to tell me my time is near….My body is sick, JR, and all the money in the world won’t give me what you take for granted. Your life…and your immortality…” He glanced at Joe, his face sad and remorseful. “You say I have the world handed to me on a silver platter but you are mistaken, my young friend. It is you that has had such opportunity and withered it away by not seeing what was right in front of your face….What I have is hereditary, born with me, and as I would not wish it upon my own children, it will die with me…” He held out his hand.  “Give me the gun JR, and I will give you the money.” He snorted. ”For all the use it’s been to me… It can’t save my life but just maybe it can save yours.”

A tense silence radiated in the room as Fenton, Laura and Gertrude watched the drama unfold. Laura’s fingers tightened around Gertrude’s hand as she heard Cecil’s candid admission about himself and his health. And suddenly it made so much sense it hurt, as to why, after all these years, this proud woman had finally let herself fall in love with him…his decision to never have children must have been as painful as her decision to never risk her heart. And yet in the end, they had found solace in each other; a consolation to the fates that life had so cruelly cast at them….

Laura glanced at her husband and saw him swallow hard and knew he was just as affected by the words. And suddenly they were no longer Cecil and Gertrude but Romeo and Juliet; star-crossed lovers. Theirs was a love that would end alone, but until then…until then they could have their happily ever after. If they got out of this room alive.

And then Joe Rigado let the gun drop harmlessly to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, as a wave of dizziness overcame him and the world swam sickeningly.  “Oh God I’m so sorry.” Collapsing, he was surprised when Cecil moved to catch him.

“I know,” the older man simply said, “I know.”

 

Meanwhile…back at the house…

Agnes helped Francis adjust a sleeping Frank into a comfortable position on the couch before the man stood up and stretched, groaning lightly as he worked the kinks out of his back.

“You okay?” Agnes asked as they moved into the kitchen so they could talk without disturbing the child.

“No,” Francis said as he rubbed his neck. He had fallen asleep with Frank for a while and his body was now reminding him that it didn’t particularly like the position the old man had been sitting in.

“What’s wrong?” his wife asked, looking at him with concern on her face.

“I’m old,” the ex-cop grumbled, “useless…worn out…run down—”

“Cantankerous? Outdated? Past your expiry date?” Agnes offered helpfully, smiling at the look her husband shot her.

“Enough helping,” he scolded as he sat down at the table and accepted the cup of coffee she offered.

“So what’s the plan?” Agnes asked, sitting down across from him.

“What plan?” Francis feigned innocence.

“Oh please,” the woman scoffed, “you can’t tell me you haven’t figured out a way yet to get Frankie in to see Joey—”

“That would be against hospital rules!” the old man protested, “And you know how I am about rules—”

“Yes I do,” Agnes interrupted, “and that’s why I’m asking you what you’re planning. I figure I should know ahead of time in case I have to make bail or something for the two of you.”

“Aggie!” Francis cried out in indignation, “I’m insulted! Whenever have—”

“1972.  Miami. It was hot night on the boardwalk—” his wife promptly stated, and the ex-cop held up his hands in mock horror.

“One time! One time, I say, and it’s held against a guy for the rest of his life!”

“You asked, “ his wife reminded him, taking a sip of her coffee, “Now spill, Francis – what are you going to do?”

Sighing in defeat, the ex-cop let a crafty little smile steal across his face. “I’m going to arrest him.”

“Arrest who?” Agnes was afraid she already knew the answer…. And she did.

“Frankie.”

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.