Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

This time it was Frank nudging Joe all the way upstairs. Sheridan passed them going down, a smirk on his face and his green eyes hard. Before Joe could growl at him again, for messing with his room, Frank pushed his brother into his own bedroom and closed the door. "Go pack before Dad gets onto us again."

"What did Dad mean when he said that about logic, Frank, that sounded like something I've heard.”

"It was a movie. Science-fiction movie. This guy's trying to find his son, thinking his son's closest friend knew, but realized he was wrong. He tells the man, 'My logic is uncertain where my son is concerned.' "

Joe snapped his fingers. "I remember that one now." He went on through the bathroom and into his room.

A tap on the door made Frank turn around. He opened the door and saw his father standing there, holding an oversized scrapbook in his hand. "Dad."

"I didn't mean to imply this was ever your fault, Frank." Fenton sighed. "It's probably my fault in the long run. When I saw the bullet, it made me flash back..." He took a deep breath. "It had happened before, in Manhattan. I was still a police detective."

"Hey, Frank, have you seen my favorite pajamas. I know I had them—” Joe's voice trailed off as he walked in on his father and older brother. He looked from one to the other. "What's up?"

Fenton cleared his throat. "I was telling Frank about the time someone shot through the living room window of our brownstone in Manhattan."

Joe involuntarily glanced in the direction of his room and then looked back at his father. "Who was it?"

"It was never proven but Sam Peterson, my partner, and I had been investigating a series of robberies at gun-point. All the leads pointed to a young man who knew he could get away with anything. His father was a wealthy man..." Again, Fenton's own voice trailed off. "Here. This may help." He handed Frank the scrapbook.

Frank took the scrapbook and placed it on his bed. He opened it to the first page to find his father in full dress uniform. With Joe leaning over one shoulder and his father over the other shoulder, he slowly turned the pages.

"There," said Fenton, quietly, pointing to one newspaper clipping.

It held a picture of a young man; dark curly hair, and an impeccable suit. The newsprint announced: Like Father, Like Son – Felix Corsini, son of Mafia don Dominic Corsini, seems to be following in father's footsteps...

Joe looked at his brother and checked the date. "It's dated April 11, 1977."

Frank leaned forward and read out loud: "Twenty-five-year-old Felix Corsini seems to have it all, including a Mafia don for a father. Reckless and headstrong, the young Corsini has already had numerous run-ins with local police, claiming he can't be touched. With Don Dominic falling ill, this does not bode well for the citizens..." Frank's voice trailed off and he looked over at his father. "I don't understand. You think he's responsible? Why?"

Fenton sighed and gestured to the scrapbook. "Just keep going."

Frank kept turning pages slowly. There were more newspaper clippings, including an obituary for Dominic Corsini, dated October 21, 1981.

Joe grabbed Frank's arm. "Look."

The headline read: Court Proceedings Derailed.

Frank read out loud: "Court proceedings against Mafia don Felix Corsini have been derailed today due to lack of evidence. An internal investigation proves Police Detectives Fenton Hardy and Samuel Peterson followed every procedure, including going through proper channels to get a search warrant for the Corsini mansion."

Joe looked over at his father. "You investigated this Mafia guy?"

"I was something of a thorn in Corsini's side back then. Sam Peterson and I tried all sorts of ways – mostly legal – to catch the man. But he kept himself clean."

Fenton took a deep breath. "Right before I decided to retire from the force, Sam Peterson and I had one last case. Felix Corsini's son Dominic was arrested for assault and battery to a young woman. She testified against him and he was put in prison. He died a week later." Fenton sighed. "Corsini blamed Sam and me personally for his son's death."

He shook his head. "In December of 2004, Felix Corsini was seen murdering a young man. Two witnesses agreed to testify. One is Victor Langstrom, a bigwig from Canada who moved to Barbados several years ago. The other was Harry Leiker, a cat burglar. Langstrom was placed in protective custody almost immediately, but Leiker just vanished."

Fenton shook his head again. "It wasn't a big deal. Leiker had promised he'd testify. We let him tend to his own safety. But Corsini thinks he'll get off scot-free. I know there was a murder attempt by a Mafia hit man in Barbados earlier this year. Since the government had the real man under wraps, it's rumored that it was a sting operation to catch Corsini's hit man and use it as evidence against the man."

Frank cleared his throat. "What happened?"

"The sting backfired, I'm not sure of all the details. I do know local police got involved but the hit man escaped in the end." Fenton sighed. "While all that was happening, Corsini's lawyer decided to plead a different case – to somehow get the murder one down to manslaughter. And he thought using Corsini's past deeds would get the man off on an easier sentence. The Assistant D.A. approached me and I—” Fenton took a deep breath. "I saw this as my chance to nail the man's dirty hide to the wall."

Frank and Joe shared a long look as things that had happened nearly a month ago began to click into place. "But what about Sheridan. Who is he?"

As if conjured up by Joe's question, Sheridan walked into the room. He held up a badge. "Barbados' Finest," he said with that customary smirk. He nodded to Frank and Joe. "We never actually met when you two were down there. But I heard all about it from Lieutenant Wrenn back in Bridgetown."

Sheridan shrugged. "Anyway, Corsini's ace is that his daughter will do anything for Daddy. I think she helped the hit man, Anthony Morales, escape down there and she may have followed him back up here."

"Morales is the hit man?" asked Frank.

"Deadly son of a—” Sheridan broke off, glanced at their mother and cleared his throat. "Leiker's lady friend was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up in the ocean in a tarp. Morales went after someone else, thinking it was Leiker. Anyway, Drake and I got him, thanks to some civilians, and we were sure the bas— the man would stay in jail."

Joe looked at everyone in the room. "So...this hit man, he's after us?"

"Morales wasn't Corsini's first choice." Sheridan's voice had a grim tone to it now. "Corsini's first choice is a contract killer most call the Shadow. He's good, he never gets caught." Sheridan grunted. "I'm sure you two are pretty proud of yourselves, eh?"

Laura frowned and looked at Sheridan and then turned to her sons. "What?"

Fenton looked puzzled. "I'm not sure I understand."

Frank took a deep breath. "We didn't tell you everything that happened Halloween night, Dad."

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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.