Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Joe Hardy sighed as he leaned back in the seat of the borrowed car and used the camera they bought that day to zoom in to the house across and down the street, making sure that nobody – he hoped, could see what he was doing. While he agreed that staking out residences and places of business and things like that were important to detective work, meant nothing.

I loathe stake-outs with a passion.

Joe liked the idea of staking out much better than Frank's grand plan and Joe knew he was the best man for the job. Despite his blonde hair and blue eyes, Ras-Alman didn't know him that well, despite the one meeting just a short time ago. Joe had agreed to let Nancy dye his blonde hair to a sandy brown, using temporary hair color and he was wearing brown contacts.

Strange. I look more like Frank this way, Joe thought. Or, no, I look more like dad this way. How cool. Never thought I’d see the day I actually looked like dad.

Nancy had watched him for a moment when he toweled his hair dry that morning and smiled, shaking her head.

"You never quite realize it because your coloring is so different," Nancy said when Joe asked her why she was staring at him. "But you two really do look a lot alike. Same bone structure, same skin coloring, slightly different builds of course. You have your dad's build, Joe. Frank has more your mom's build, slender. You both have your dad's height."

Joe grinned. "And we're both roguishly handsome to boot," he agreed. “Of course, I’m more roguishly handsome than he is. You can see that part, right, Nan?”

Nancy rolled her eyes and Joe grinned impishly at her.

Joe shook his head, drawing himself out of the memory and back to the task at hand. He did spare a quick glance in the mirror, shaking his head at the man who sat there. Familiar and unfamiliar both.

I'll be glad when I get my own hair and eyes back, Joe thought.

Joe turned his attention back to Ras-Alman's large Victorian style house located in the St. Louis suburb of Frontenac. Located north of Interstate 64, Frontenac was both woodsy and urban, sporting some of the largest homes Joe had ever seen – with the exception of some of the richer areas of his home of Bayport. Obviously a very well-to-do neighborhood, it also had its own very high-priced looking mall, which, Joe noticed when he drove by that morning, had a Neiman Marcus on one end and a Saks Fifth Avenue on the other end.

Probably couldn't buy a t-shirt in the place, Joe sighed as he shifted position. Probably ole Marcius' favorite place to shop.

Joe saw movement in front of Ras-Alman's house, finally, and he turned to see Marcius' very posh Red Mercedes pulling out from in front of the house. Joe hit the speed dial on his phone.

"Nancy, we're on the move," he said to his friend. "We're moving out. The subject is in his Daisy."

"Got it," Nancy came back. "Stay in touch."

Joe started the car and backed into a neighbor's driveway before starting out about a block and a half behind Ras-Alman. He supposed the other man was heading to work but didn't know for sure. He kept Nancy on the phone as he gave her directions where they were going – part of their security plan in case something went wrong during their stake-outs.

"Don't get too close!" Nancy admonished Joe. "Don't let him see you."

"Oh, I won't," Joe said. "I'm not an amateur, Nan."

Nancy's snort was quite audible over the phone and Joe made a face which, fortunately, she couldn't see. He smiled as he leaned back for the drive, staying several car-lengths behind Ras-Alman before he turned onto Manchester Road and headed toward the red-brick building that Joe remembered all too well from his last visit.

Ras-Alman parked the car in an indoor garage on one side of the building and Joe found a parking place across the street near an apartment building and settled back to wait.

Again.

"Too bad we can't get in there to find out what's going on," Joe said. "Got any ideas for that?"

"Not yet," Nancy said. "Give it time, Joe."

Give it time. Great. Fantastic. Three more words I hate.

Joe leaned back and crossed his arms to wait.

And wait.

It was too bad he couldn't turn the radio on, but that would both distract him and draw attention to him. He was glad the windows were partially darkened but it was awkward when he saw people walking by on the street. It was much harder to do a good stake-out on a busy street than in a quiet suburb.

Joe frowned as he shifted and he looked toward the passenger window.

His eyes widened when he saw two large men standing there, both of them holding large guns on him.

Uh oh, Joe thought.

This was not in the plan…

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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.