Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Casidy turned as the door swung open. Joe MacKensey stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. He glared at Casi. "Amazing. You are up. Even thought it's past your bedtime."

"Working late."

"Would working late include eavesdropping?"

Casi snorted, tossed her hair back over one shoulder. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"Yeah. Being too curious for your own good." He glanced at Cassidy. "And you are?"

"Cassidy McConnaughhay."

Joe groaned. "Don't tell me. Jaime's...sister, wife, cousin?"

"Sister."

Joe sighed. "Casi, I swear---"

"Oh stuff it." Casi pushed herself off the divan and got to her feet. "I'm going to bed."

Joe didn't budge from the doorway. She moved to go past him and he grabbed her arm. "Don't do anything foolish, Cassandra."

Casi yanked her arm free and narrowed her eyes. "Same goes for you, pal."

"But I'm not the problem."

"You're saying I am?"

"You know as much as I do now." Joe jerked his head in Cassidy's direction. "I'd wager she does too. Don't get involved."

Casi stood there for a moment, studying him. Finally, she headed for the stairs. "I already am."

Joe turned to call after her, and then just shook his head. Cassidy stepped around him. Joe touched her shoulder. "Don't you get involved either."

She flinched as if he'd burned her and looked at him, eyes wide. "Don't believe everything you see. Or hear."

Joe watched her skip down the stairs, puzzled. What was that supposed to mean?

***

It was the sunlight that woke her up. She squinted at the window, and then rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head. She heaved a sigh. It had taken her a long time to finally fall asleep last night, fretting over why the name Hadad sounded so familiar. And it still hadn't clicked. With a grunt, Casi tossed off the covers and sat up. She was awake and since Kari's party was later this afternoon and Cat's bachelorette party was tonight, there was lots to do.

She took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a black cat on it. She wove her hair in a loose French braid, brushed her teeth and left the room, hurrying down the stairs two at a time in her bare feet, so used to the cool chill of the stone steps that it didn't bother her anymore.

Donovan came in the front door as she stepped off the last stair. "Late night last night?"

Casi arched an eyebrow at his tone. "You know how I like to stargaze on clear nights."

Donovan mimicked her expression. "Oh really."

"Oh, lay off it, brother. The time's long past when I had a curfew."

"A pity really. I do believe that's why Dad's got so much gray hair."

Casi snorted. "Or could it be the eldest one raised too much hell?"

"Ohh, grouchy, are we? Hadn't had your full eight hours of beauty sleep?"

"Ha. You know I only need seven."

Donovan sighed. "I picked up some stuff Mother ordered. I was told it was to be delivered to you."

"I'm sure she said after breakfast."

Donovan made a casual glance at his watch. "Wouldn't that be after lunch?"

"I didn't sleep that late. What'd Mom get?"

"I beg your pardon. It's after eleven. It's party supplies."

"Past noon is after lunch. What kind of party supplies?"

Donovan shrugged. "I haven't a clue. I've gotten out of interior decorating."

"Tired of being the punching bag? Or listening to Marc's orders?"

"Yes to the first. And as far as the second, I've been ignoring him."

"Which isn't always easy."

"God, I know it."

Casi laughed and continued toward the kitchen, Donovan trailing after her. "Donovan, have you ever heard of Khalil Hadad?"

"He was a drug smuggler if I'm not mistaken. Disappeared back in the late eighties. Why?"

"I---" Casi bit back what she was going to say, already regretting the question. "Just heard the name the other day."

"From who?"

"Donovan, don't start."

"Casi, you can't mess around with people like that. The man killed his father."

"I'm not going to mess around with anyone."

Donovan just stared at her. "Then what are you going to do?"

"Have fun planning parties. Vamoose and let me eat in peace."

He didn't move for a long moment. Finally, he said, " You 're not taking off right after the wedding, are you? Mother needs help cleaning up."

Casi narrowed her eyes, speculatively. "And I'm elected?"

"Britt and I have to go back to Florida Wednesday afternoon. Marc and them have to leave too."

"Oh really." Casi folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the counter and glared at him. "Tell the truth for once, Donovan. Joe talked to you, didn't he?"

"About what?"

"About me not following him to Morocco." She spun around and slapped her palms on the counter. "Shit!"

"Casi, damn it, it makes sense. It's too dangerous to blunder into whatever Joe's involved in."

Casi stiffened her shoulders, curled her hands into white-knuckled fists. "I am not a little girl anymore, big brother. I'm certain if you try," she added in a low hard voice, finally turning to face him, "you'll remember I can take care of myself."

Donovan looked away. "It's not that. I'm not grateful you helped---"

"But what, Donovan?" demanded Casi, her voice still low, hard. "I'm not a cop? I'm not a private investigator? Okay, fine. Would it have made any difference? Tell me where the hell you'd be right now if I'd just let those two cops do their job?"

Donovan focused on the empty coffeemaker to his sister's right, and wished suddenly, fervently that he had a cup of strong, black coffee. Anything to keep from remembering...."They would have figured it out..."he began, knowing it wasn't true.

"No." Casi shook her head, very tempted to pound some sense into her brother with her still clenched hands. "Damn it, you can really say that? You were set to be drawn, quartered and hung out to dry. The real killer would've been sitting pretty in Monaco or the Caribbean." She took a deep breath, forced herself to relax her fingers. "Remember, Donovan, you were the outsider, two years ago, in Orlando. Like any city, they protect their own first."

Donovan finally raised his head to look at her. "You're as cynical as Catherine."

"That's not a crime."

Donovan stared down at his hands, remembering the humiliation of being in jail, of having people believe he was capable of murder. But most vividly he remembered that night at the office building, the gun shot. "You saved my life," he said quietly.

"That's not a crime either." Then she added, "Yet."

He paid no attention to her attempt at humor. "I saw the gun and froze, thinking the whole scene was so unreal, that I was too young to see my life such as it was flash before my eyes. Me, already accused of murder, facing the wrong end of a gun. And my little sister saves my life."

Casi blinked, told herself she was imagining that odd tone in her brother's voice, focused instead on his words. "No wonder you and Chad get along so well. You're two of a kind. He was rather peeved I saved his life."

Donovan glared at her. "I'm not peeved. It should've been the other way around."

Casi slapped a palm to her forehead. "Oh. The old man-woman thing. I get it."

Donovan groaned. "Casi---"

"No, no, no. I understand now. Every man I know is an M.C.P."

"A what?"

"Male chauvinist pig."

"I am not!"

"Oh?"

"I'm totally for equal rights."

"This isn't about equal rights. It's about me. Doing what I want to do."

Donovan sighed, folded his arms across his chest. "You do what you've always wanted. Write....get in trouble...get in more trouble."

"Not without obstacles." Casi tossed the end of her braid over her shoulder.

"One should have obstacles," Donovan replied, his tone suddenly patronizing. "It makes one--or her--stop and think, should I be doing this? Should I be getting involved or should I be going here? Should I be jumping in front of a loaded gun?"

"Oh shut the hell up."

"Touched a sore spot?"

Casi heaved a sigh. "You know, I've lost my appetite. Now thanks to you, I'll be grouchy until lunch."

"Which is only fifteen minutes away."

Casi shoved past him. "Keep it up, Donovan Kendall MacFairlaigne. Hell hath no fury like a sister pestered."

Donovan watched her leave and shook his head. Stubborn as hell. He left the kitchen and decided to unload the supplies himself. At least it would be quiet.

***

Joe MacKensey stared at the benchlike rock nestled up to the back wall of the homestead and frowned. From the loft, it was invisible. Cassandra was definitely a royal pain. It was Jaime's fault, too, for using her as the messanger. Surely Jaime would've known she'd pull a stunt like this, he'd known her longer.

"Last time I checked rocks don't talk."

"So why twenty years ago, were pet rocks all the rage?" Joe turned to see Cassidy give an elegant half-shrug as she walked up to him.

"That was before my time."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "Just how old are you?"

"Don't you know it's impolite to ask a woman's age?"

"Pardon my impoliteness but you look more like a girl than a woman."

She gave a tiny bow. "Thank you."

Joe arched his other eyebrow. "So how did Casi drag you into this?"

"Very easily."

Joe frowned and shook his head. "Hunh."

"Hey, I grew up on Charlie's Angels."

Joe just looked at her and folded his arms across his chest.

Cassidy cocked one hip and mimicked his stance and returned his stare. "First one who blinks loses."

Involuntarily, Joe blinked just then.

"Ha."

"Whoa. This isn't a contest."

"So what is it? An interrogation?"

"No." Joe looked around, not really seeing the landscape, and took a deep breath. "What did you mean last night?"

Cassidy sighed and sat down on the rock. She laced her fingers together and stared through the cracks at the green grass. "You have a bad habit of believing what you see."

Joe gave her a puzzled look. "Didn't realize that was a bad habit."

"It is when it blinds you to the truth."

Joe stood there, studying this slender girl, her long auburn hair cascading down her back and off one shoulder. "What do you mean," he asked quietly.

She focused on a clover patch by her foot. unlaced her fingers and using one hand, skimmed her fingers over the tiny heart-shaped leaves. "I can't explain it really. You're worried about something...a personal conflict..."

Despite the warm sun, a chill skittered down his spine. His college girlfriend had used that same tone when she'd read the cards. Yolanda Parker had been heavy into psychic auras and Tarot cards before it was the 'in' thing. Yolanda---or Yoda as he used to call her---had read for him several times and despite his flippant attitude at the time, it had come true. "That's true enough."

Cassidy raised her head, meeting his gaze for the first time. Her blue eyes widened. "You don't seem the type."

"What?"

"To believe the Tarot."

Joe frowned, not really sure he needed to know how she knew.

"That was a long time ago."

"So?"

Joe sat down on the rock next to her, gave her a long glance, and then focused on a hill some distance away. "What's that up there?"

"A hill. Just beyond it is the Lake of the Faeries."

"Lake of---"

"There you are. I thought I heard voices." Ethan gave Cassidy an appreciative glance, then punched Joe in the shoulder. "Phone."

Joe arched an eyebrow at him. "You know good and well I don't have a cell phone."

"No. Phone call. Rosie."

Joe got to his feet. "Shit, I hope she hasn't changed her mind."

Cassidy stood up and brushed off her jeans. "She just wants to know if you'll be wanting food for the party."

Ethan looked from Joe to Cassidy, then back to his partner, curious.

Joe shrugged, glanced at Cassidy. "Stay out of trouble now."

She bent down and plucked a clover, handed it to Joe. "I'll not be the one getting into it. Here's a shamrock for luck," she added and walked away.

"What was all that about?"

Joe didn't answer. He was counting the clover's leaves a third time. "Holy shit." He looked up to see if he could see the girl but she was gone.

"What?"

"It's a four-leaf clover."

Let the author know what you think of this story

Home Library Authors Rogue's Gallery Vehicles Chums Message Board Rap Sheet Links Contact

Disclaimer

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.