Present Day:

Eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy was humming to himself as he pulled into the driveway of his family’s two-story Victorian style house.  He wasn’t overly surprised not to see his father’s car in the driveway, although it was Saturday.  World-renowned investigator Fenton Hardy didn’t keep normal business hours.

His father had been home when Frank left earlier, though, and the dark-haired teen assumed something must have come up, since the sleuth’s plans for today ran more along the lines of hedge trimming than anything else.  Very few people knew that Fenton enjoyed gardening and found it very relaxing.

Still humming as he parked the van and got out, Frank wondered if his brother, Joe, was home.  He certainly hoped so.

Although Joe was a year younger than Frank, the brothers got along very well and the older boy was hoping to tell Joe his great news, first. It was just something they did…and had done since they were kids.  Whenever something happened, they always talked about it between themselves, before telling anyone else – their folks included!

Frank smiled to himself, as he knew that that sometimes drove his parents – particularly his mother – crazy!

“Hey Mom!” Frank greeted as he came in through the kitchen door instead of using the front one.  “Is Joe home?”

“Hey yourself!” pretty, blond-haired Laura Hardy smiled at her older son as she looked up from a magazine she was leafing through.   “Actually no, he’s next door at Mr. Fitzpatrick’s.”

“What’s he doing there?” Frank asked as he opened up the fridge and poured himself a glass of cold water.

“Changing the oil on Wilson’s car,” Laura said absently as she returned to her magazine.

“What’cha reading?” Frank wondered, his curiosity aroused.  While his mother was an avid reader, she didn’t usually read magazines.

His mother watched him with a warm look on her face.  “Horse and Rider.  There’s an article in here written by someone I used to know.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Frank said sincerely. That was a side of his mother that neither brother knew very well.  Before she had met and married their father – then an up-and-coming New York police detective – their mother was a rising star on the equestrian circuit.

Until a horrific riding accident cost Laura her mount and left her in traction for three months.

“Not really,” his mother commented, and then a frown marred her beautiful face as she glanced back down at the magazine.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked, coming to peer over his mother’s shoulder to see the article she was reading.  He saw it was written by a woman named Gwynne Smart.

“Nothing,” Laura said quickly, closing the magazine and smiling, but Frank saw right through her.

“Mom?” he pressed, giving her the same look that was more commonly seen on his father’s face,  “What’s wrong?”

Laura sighed. The problem with living with detectives is that they were too darned intuitive!  So dropping the smile, she shrugged.  “I just didn’t like some of the stuff she wrote in her article. You’d think that after all this time I wouldn’t be so overly sensitive.”

“Is what she’s saying wrong?” Frank asked, making a mental note to get a copy of the magazine himself and see what had gotten his mother upset.

“No, not really,” Laura said, shaking her head slightly, “But it’s just how she writes it. There’s so much more to the story but she doesn’t elaborate, and the reader is left with the wrong impression.”

Her face took on a strangely determined look that Frank had never seen before, and then his mother stood up.  “Your father got a call from Chief Collig about an hour ago, and I don’t know when he’s going to be home.  But I really have something important to take care of, so can you tell him I’ll call him when I get to Gertrude’s?  And please, Frank, try to keep your brother out of trouble…for a few days, anyway?”

Frank was speechless as he watched his mother pick up the phone and then place a phone call.  She called Jack Wayne, Fenton’s personal pilot and long time friend, and asked him if he could meet her at the airport – she needed to go to New York…immediately.

This was a definite switch – Laura Hardy going out of town on a moment’s notice??

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy’s lower half could be seen sticking out from under their neighbour’s old pickup truck, and Frank fought a strong urge to pull on his legs. His brother was lying on a small trolley that rolled easily back and forth on the ground, and Frank knew that he’d come sliding out.

But he decided not to, realizing that if he pulled something that was considered a more ‘Joe-type’ move, then his younger brother would think there was something wrong with him.  Besides that, if Joe instinctively sat up when he felt someone grab his leg…Frank winced just thinking about it, and chose to call out to him instead.

“Hey Joe, you under there?” He squatted down next to the pickup, knowing full well his brother was.

“Actually no,” came the saucy reply.  “The bottom half that you see sticking out is merely a figment of your imagination, big brother.”  And then a second later, Joe rolled himself out and grinned at Frank.

The younger boy’s face was smudged with grease and oil, and the older Hardy tossed a rag to him and then indicated where the dirt was.

“Hey, I’m not considered an up-and-coming sleuth for nothing,” Frank jibed good-naturedly.  He was in a fantastic mood.

Joe sat up, wiping the dirt off his face, and then looked at his brother. He knew right away Frank had something he wanted to tell him.  “Okay, old man – spill.  What’s got such a rosy look on them there cheeks of yours…or have you been smooching with Callie again?”

Frank blushed, thinking of his long-time girlfriend, and he stood up, extending a hand to help his brother up.  “As a matter of fact, I did run into Callie at the track this morning, but that’s not it.”

“Callie? At the track?” Joe cried out incredulously. The petite blond was known for many things, but running was not one of them.  “What was she doing, checking out the lineup for her next potential boyfriend?”

“Oh boy, you are a funny man today,” Frank quipped, not taking Joe’s teasing to heart.

“Ah…Frankie.”  The voice of an old man stopped whatever Frank was going to say next as their elderly neighbor came out of his house with two tall glasses of lemonade.  “I thought I heard your voice.  I made lemonade.” His faithful companion Rufus, a young border collie, trotted at his side.

Frank took one and passed the other to his brother, and they both thanked the old man.

“How are you doing today?” Mr. Fitzpatrick asked Frank, having already grilled Joe about his morning… his health… his love life…  Neither boy minded, though, as they were quite fond of the old man who had lived next door to them since the Hardys moved in almost seventeen years ago.

“Not bad—” Frank started, when his mother’s voice cut him off.

“Frank, honey, can you drive me to the airport now?”

“Where’s Mom going?” Joe asked, surprised by the request.  Like Frank, he wasn’t used to his mother taking off on the spur of the moment.

“New York,” Frank said, drinking down the lemonade quickly and then heading back to his house.  “I’ll explain later!  If I figure it out myself, that is…” he finished with a mutter.

* * *

Joe waved to his mother as she and Frank left, and then smiled back at the old man.  “Okay, now where was I?”  Within moments he had slid back under the truck to finish the oil change.

* * *

Fenton Hardy wasn’t overly surprised when his long time friend, police chief Ezra Collig, requested his presence on a crime scene. 

The top detective often worked in correspondence with the Bayport police department and it was not unusual for him to be called in.

But he was surprised to see the other man who was standing next to Ezra.

Short, plump, wearing a checkered sports coat and an old felt hat, Fenton looked at him and groaned.  It was Oscar Smuff!

“Could this day get any worse?” he grumbled to himself as he plastered a smile on his face and went to talk to the two men. Although he hadn’t seen Smuff in years, the guy still managed to rub him the wrong way – with just a smile…