Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

The house had a musty smell to it, Casi noted as she walked into through the front door. She set her one suitcase down and watched as three cats raced down the front stairs. Merlin, a solid black Bombay reached her first, twisting around her bare ankles. The other two younger felines stopped on the last stair. Salem was a beautiful sable-colored Havana Brown while Rusalka was a lovely Russian Blue, it's dense soft fur a rich gray blue. She pushed the door closed with her foot, sat right there down in the foyer and picked up Merlin, just holding him. The tears spilled down her cheeks and she had thought she was all cried out.

Kendra had brought her back to the hotel to gather her things. Then pulling some strings, she got her onto the next flight leaving Morocco. It had stopped in Lisbon on a two-hour layover where she switched planes to head to Boston's Logan Airport. Then she called her friend Jade Trask to pick her up. Casi held Merlin close and cried. She'd practically begged Jade not to tell anyone she was back. She didn't want Tam or Cal or Gail to come over. She didn't want to see anyone for a long time.

After awhile, she let go of Merlin, got to her feet. She made certain the door was shut and locked, then she started up the stairs with the three cats following. She knew that Gail had checked on them recently. There had been a Post-It note stuck to the front door. So she continued up the stairs and to her room with the cats right behind her. She kicked off her sandals, shed the walking shorts and blouse, then crawled into bed, not caring it was in the middle of the day. She felt the cats join her on the bed, then pulled the pillow close and let the tears come again....

***

It was the telephone's shrill ringing that broke through her dream-filled restless sleep. Casi groaned and pulled one of the pillows over her head. A second later, she realized first that she was starving, and second that the room was pitch dark. She reached out with one sure hand and switched on the lamp behind her bed. The warm golden glow showed her that it hadn't all been some nightmare. That she was home and safe....and alone.

Casi swallowed hard and got out of bed. She went to the bathroom due to an overfull bladder, then went on into the closet. She changed into pajamas and then headed back to her room. She navigated her room, the upstairs balcony and the back stairs with hardly any light, knowing where everything was. She didn't switch on a light until she reached the kitchen. A few seconds later, she realized all three cats had once again followed her. She fed them, then searched for something to eat herself just as the telephone rang again. She cringed at the idea of talking to anyone, so she decided to let the answering machine pick up.

A moment later, she heard a voice she really didn't want to hear. "Cassandra, where the bloody hell are you? Donovan told me you were off on some mini-vacation. I wish you would have told me your plans so I wouldn't be worried. I apologize again about the reception. I didn't want to miss it and Alexandra was quite put out with me for making her miss--" The beep cut him off.

Casi put the frozen dinner in the microwave and took a deep breath. Chad was worried about her. She knew Donovan and most of her family would rather she continue the relationship with Chad but there seemed no point to it. He wasn't the man she loved. "Damn it," she said as the tears started falling again. "I will not cry anymore."

The telephone rang again and she groaned. "Damn it, Jade, if you let slip one word to Tamara, I'll....I'll never fly in your plane again."

A different voice came over the answering machine's speaker. "Casi, it's Malcolm. I just got the strangest call from my eldest son. Jonathon very rarely calls home. He said you would probably want to be left alone for awhile. I know I'm probably bothering you, honey, but please call and tell me or Laura what's wrong. We love you, daughter. Take care."

Tears pricked her eyes and she ruthlessly dashed them away. "I will not cry."

The microwave beeped and she took the dinner out, then nearly dropped it. "Shit, that's hot." She sighed and sat down to eat as the phone rang again. "Damn it, who's psychic in this family," she muttered, then realized that was a stupid question as the answering machine clicked on again. "Cassandra, call me if you need to." Casi winced. It was her Aunt Lyra. Damn it all, the one person in the family who was psychic. She started to eat, then wondered if there were a lot of messages on her machine.

Using a pot holder, she carried the dinner to the foyer and glanced at her answering machine. She had over a dozen, counting the three who'd just called. She sat down at the small roll-top desk and punched the button to hear them.

"Hey, Casi, just wanted to let you know that the fundraiser was re-scheduled for next month. I'll call back with the details." Casi recognized the voice as belonging to a friend from church.

"Cassandra, where are you. God, I hate these bloody things, Call me." Chad, thought Casi with a sigh.

"Casi, this is Ann. I know you're probably groaning right now but I have a favor to ask. There's a writer's conference in Paris the second week in May. I hate to make you feel obligated, but since you don't do very many booksignings or tours, I thought this might be better. It would get you noticed and get your latest book a little more publicity. And it's in Paris. Didn't you tell me that you have family there. Call me."

"Casi, damn it, you'd better be home. Don't you dare tell me you followed him over---"

Casi jabbed the end button on her answering machine and walked back to the kitchen. She did not need to hear Donovan rant and rave. She finished her dinner and tossed the packaging in the trash, then just stood at the island, her mind in a whirl. Her agent, Ann Carter, knew she despised public speaking. The woman also knew she had family in Paris. An errant thought passed through her mind. Maybe she should go. She needed her father right now, she thought. She wanted to hear him say everything's going to be okay, Kitten.

Just then, Rusalka hopped up to the counter to bump her smooth furry head against Casi's arm. She couldn't just leave the cats again, they wouldn't understand. She paused in petting Rusalka and the cat bumped her hand in protest. They were all up on their shots and papers. "You can come with me." Her parents' chateau had a fence, so they could go roaming with no danger.

She reached for the phone to call Ann, only to notice the time. It was too late to call her tonight. She would call her in the morning. Her gaze drifted to the fireplace in the family room and onto the room beyond it, the study and with sudden clarity, she remembered the painting, and having him in her house. She had to get away from here for awhile. Maybe Paris would be the perfect place to go....

***

May 2003

By the dim light of a twenty-five watt bulb, he laboriously printed the letters, paying attention to the size and shape of the English letters forming the words to be as uninformative as possible. Although, he had a word processor and a ink-jet printer, he avoided using them for fear they'd somehow reveal who he was. He sighed, shifted on the three-legged stood and unkinked his fingers. He'd thought about cutting letters out of magazines but had dismissed that for being too ridiculously American a ploy to implement. He wiggled his fingers to undo the stiffness, feeling the inner coating of powder lining the latex gloves stick like glue to his sweaty hands.

He'd never done anything like this before. But he'd planned down to the last detail. He knew what worked and what wouldn't. For a moment, he glanced over his shoulder at the figure stretched out on the cot. Even in the dim light, he could see the curls framing the oval face, the long natural lashes looking like black smudges against the pale skin. Heavily sedated, she was as still as death on the cot.

In the small stuffy room--the one narrow window was closed and locked, despite the heat--a faint sheen of sweat covered her bare arms and legs, making the rayon sundress stick to her slender body. A sadness filled her expression, even so deeply drugged. For a second, his eyes lingered at her throat where a perfectly round white pearl nestled in the hollow of her throat, moving with each heartbeat. The necklace alone would make him well off for years.

As he turned back to his task, he grinned. He wasn't nervous. He'd planned too well to be nervous. Avarice made his hazel eyes gleam. Simplest way to come into a fortune, short of a winning streak at the casino. The girl's father was so Godawful filthy rich, he wouldn't miss a a few measly million. The man finished the note and stuffed it in a manila envelope. Carefully, he addressed the envelope, knowing the business address by rote. Hell, he should considering he'd worked there five years before getting fired last month.

His grin widened. In a matter of days, he'd be three damn million dollars richer, free and clear after paying off his markers, then he'd vanish into anonyminity, no one the wiser. He dropped the envelope in his briefcase. He'd post it this afternoon. He tugged the latex glove off his left hand and scowled. The fine white powder was caked on his palm. A noise behind him made him freeze in the process of taking the other glove off.

No, he thought. She couldn't be coming to. The woman he'd gotten the sedative from claimed it would knock her out for days. His shoulders tightened with sudden tension. She couldn't be awake. The moan came again, ending in a half-sigh. He could see his perfect plan shatter into a trillion miniscule pieces. Damn, damn, damn....Already, he saw the riches sliding right through his fingers. No.

He got up quickly. He'd never done this sort of thing before. This had been an act of pure desperation. He had to get the money. He had to. The man, tall and lean, his hair black in the dim light, stared down at her, then quietly moved around to the other side of the cot. If she woke up, if she saw his face, he was a dead man. Sweat made his olive T-shirt stick to him.

She moved restlessly in her drugged sleep, keening softly, knocking one of the pillows to the concrete floor. Silently, he bent down and picked up the thin pillow, held it in both hands. He stared at the girl for a long moment, then looked at the pillow in his hands. It would be so simple. Just cover her face with the pillow. Still sedated, she wouldn't even be able to fight him. He could still send the ransom note, then as soon as he had the money, he could hightail it out of the city, out of the country. He took a step forward, then another.

The sharp crack of a lightning bolt made him jump. He blinked as if he'd dozed off. Had the heat scrambled his brain, he wondered. She was his insurance against the fve million dollars. She couldn't be killed....yet. As thunder rumbled ominously outside, he tossed the pillow into a dark corner. He took a deep breath of the stale humid air and sat back down. No, he wouldn't kill her--unless it became necessary....

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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.