Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

"The traditional food, the outfits." Frank shook his head again. "Never mind." He shifted gears and backed out of his parking space. A second later, there was a metallic crunch and both boys were jerked forward against their seatbelts.

Joe arched an eyebrow at his brother. "Not checking the mirrors would be something I'd do."

Frank grunted. "Not another word." He moved to open his door when a tall bulky figure appeared in the window. Frank pressed the button to lower the window. "Sorry about that."

"Why don't you look before rushing out of your space? What if somebody had been back there?"

Joe had an uneasy flashback to Annie Shea and her ex-boyfriend. He leaned forward. "He said he was sorry."

"Kids these days," muttered the man. "Insurance card."

Frank motioned to Joe to get out their proof of insurance. The sooner this was over, the sooner they could go home. The man glanced at the card and grunted. "So you're that detective's kids. Been warned about you."

Joe looked at his brother, then at the man. "Do what?"

The man shot him a glare. "Wasn't talking to you." The man studied the insurance card. "I'll be calling your insurance company tomorrow." He flicked the card back at Frank. "Have a nice life."

Joe waited until the man was out of earshot before saying, "Who was that bozo?"

Frank didn't answer him – he was staring in the side view mirror. "He's leaving."

Joe scowled. "Well, better he leave than stay and have me light into him."

"No, Joe. When there's an accident, we have to wait for the police. He—”

"That's against the law." Joe reached for the car phone. "I'm calling the police." Not even an entire minute later, Joe replaced the phone on its base. "The guy brushed me off."

Frank arched an eyebrow as he looked at his brother. "The dispatcher?"

"I didn't even get the dispatcher. I got the desk sergeant. He told me to go home and be a good little boy. Said to pass the order to you." Joe shook his head. "What's going on?"

"I don't know." Frank started to get out only to realize the parking area was too dark for him to see any damage. He sighed. "Let's go home. We'll figure this out."

Joe grunted, spared one last glance for the Bayport Fairgrounds and the heritage festival. "We'd better."

***

Monday, the first day of Thanksgiving break, dawned cold and wet. By the time Joe got out of bed breakfast was long over. Joe stumbled down the stairs, still clad in his flannel pajamas. He rubbed his face with both hands and peeked into the kitchen, which was empty and spotless. He groaned and made his way to the living room, but the front door swinging open, letting in freezing air, startled him.

Frank hurried inside and shut the door. He shed his rain poncho and hung it on the coat rack. "Hey, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep the day away."

"What are you doing outside? It's cold."

Frank just looked at his brother a moment and sighed. "I was checking the damage. It's not too bad. Back bumper's crumpled on the driver's side. You could probably knock the dent out yourself."

Joe shrugged. "Whatever. At least no bullet holes to fill up." He turned around and looked into the living room to find it empty. "What happened? Are we in The Twilight Zone? Where is everybody?"

"Dad had business. Mom went to the store." Frank rolled his eyes. "What, you hungry or something?"

Sensing Frank was mocking him, Joe grunted. "Or something. Can you fix some oatmeal?"

"Can't you just have some toast? It's nearly time for lunch."

"It's not that late." Joe automatically glanced at the clock hung in the living room. "Oh, it is that late."

Frank grinned. "Come on, I'll heat up some Pop Tarts. That should satisfy you till lunch." He started for the kitchen.

Joe spun on his heel. "How many are you heating up?" he asked, following Frank back into the kitchen.

Frank rolled his eyes but got out two packets of Pop Tarts. "I called the police this morning, asked to talk to Con."

"Yeah?" Joe sat down at the kitchen table and yawned. "What'd he say?"

"It's what he didn't say."

"I'm not awake yet, don't go cryptic on me."

Frank put two pastries in the toaster and pressed the lever down. He turned to look at Joe. "He told me not to bother him, he was busy."

"Con said that?"

"Then he told me he'd stop by the house later to get a statement." Frank sighed. He nodded to the front door. "That's the real reason I was out there. He just left."

Joe frowned. "Well?"

The toaster bell dinged and Frank took the warm pastries out and placed them on a plate. He handed the plate to Joe, and then warmed two more pastries. "Con says there's a new guy on the force. He's a detective, homicide division." Frank let the toaster ding again, got out his pastries and then joined Joe at the kitchen table.

Joe gave his brother a look. He started to ask a question but shook his head. He got up, got two glasses and the jug of milk out of the refrigerator. After he sat back down and poured two glasses of milk, Joe looked at his brother. "And?"

Frank swallowed hard. "The guy from last night, Joe, that was him."

Joe stared at him, stunned, food and drink forgotten. "Tell me you're kidding."

Frank sighed. "No. Unfortunately, I'm not."

Joe groaned. "Oh, man, he probably thinks we're nothing but punks."

"He knew who we were. Remember?"

Joe grunted. "Which means he'll blast us whenever he has the chance. Just great. Chief Collig had finally gotten used to us, now this guy's gonna cause all sorts of problems."

"Maybe we just got off on the wrong foot last night."

"Always said you were an optimist, Frank," Joe muttered, biting into his first pastry. "Now's not the time."

Frank just sighed, hating the fact that he knew without a doubt this time Joe was right.

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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.