Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Chapter Six: AUNT GERTRUDE FINDS A CLUE

While working on a case, Fenton Hardy often stole away in the middle of the night in pursuit of nefarious villains who had managed to elude him beforehand. It was not unusual. But both Frank and Joe thought it was ironic, this time, considering the circumstances.

"Well, can you beat that?" Frank exclaimed, upon hearing the news. "He runs off to New York to look for Question Mark, and the very man himself breaks into our house!"

Aunt Gertrude sniffed indignantly. "What's this world coming to when grown men call themselves such imbecilic names like 'Question Mark', and gad about town dressed like wizards? Oh, why did Fenton ever have to become a detective? He could have done something more normal, like ... well, like raise goats!"

Mrs. Hardy chuckled. "Fenton is hardly cut out to be a farmer, although I admit it would certainly be safer than being a private investigator."

"Safer and boring," Joe croaked. "I am so glad Dad isn't a farmer!"

"Ditto on that," Frank agreed. "Because you bet we wouldn't want to follow in his footsteps if that were the case! Don't clean anything up yet," he added. "The police will want to check for fingerprints."

It was in the wee early morning hours by the time the Bayport police completed their investigation of the break-in. Detective Smuff and officer Con Riley were dispatched to the house and they spent quite a bit of time perusing every inch of the property. The men finally took the hint from Aunt Gertrude, who was ready to hit them over their heads with her mop, and took their leave. Little Bobby had slept soundly through the entire nocturnal episode.

Thus it was later in the morning than usual when the boys awoke, and they scrambled to get dressed and hurry downstairs to the enticing aroma of bacon and eggs. Bobby was sitting at the table with Mrs. Hardy, mopping up egg yolk with a crusty piece of toast.

"Hi, kiddo!" Frank greeted him, while Joe tossled the boy's curly blond hair.

"Hi, Frank and Joe," the lad said happily. "I like staying at your house. There's always lots of food!"

"There sure had better be!" said Joe, hopefully eyeing Aunt Gertrude, who was standing at the stove frying up more bacon and eggs.

She sniffed condescendingly and glared at him. "Don't worry, a fresh batch for you and Frank is on the way. Although I don't know why you boys would need any nourishment, since I've been having to do all your detective work for you."

"Uh oh." Frank looked at Joe as they sat down at the table, then at their mother. "What's she talking about now?"

Mrs. Hardy smiled. "Aunt Gertrude found a very important clue."

"She did?" the boys chorused.

Aunt Gertrude's face held a very smug _expression as she placed platters of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of the boys.

"Yes indeed, I did! While you boys were sleeping away the morning, I was hard at work on the case. Bobby's cap and coat and leggings need to go to the dry cleaners to get rid of the soot and smell. So I checked to see if there was a cleaner's name tag in them, like we put in our clothes. And there was!"

Aunt Gertrude picked up a piece of note paper from the telephone stand. "Here. I wrote it all down. We now know Bobby's name and where he lives."

The boys' eyes flew to the piece of paper as Frank took it from Aunt Gertrude. Their mouths dropped open as they read:

QUIGGLES DRY CLEANERS, HOUSTON STREET, NEW YORK. BOBBY JEFFERSON.

"Wow!" Frank exclaimed with a mouthful of toast. He managed to say, "Houston Street! That's near Greenwich Village, in the area where Dad believes the Mysterians' Inner Sanctum to be!"

Joe gaped at the youngster. "Do you live in New York, Bobby?"

The boy nodded his head. "That's what Aunty Gertrude says. I remember lots and lots of big buildings."

Frank swallowed. "And Jefferson! Joe, do you know what that means?"

Joe frowned, not understanding. Then his eyes widened as he suddenly got it. "Elroy Jefferson! Bobby has the same name."

Aunt Gertrude smiled smugly as she took her seat at the table. "Isn't that a coincidence, boys? You found Bobby on Cabin Island, and his last name is the same as the man who owns the place."

"There must be a connection," Mrs. Hardy concluded. "Bobby's father's last name is Jefferson, too, of course."

Bobby nodded at the boys. "I can remember that now. Everybody called my daddy 'Mr. Jefferson'."

Frank and Joe exchanged excited glances, both thinking the same thing, that the boy and his father might somehow be related to the man who owned Cabin Island.

"Elroy Jefferson had a son," Frank said, gulping down his food, "but he died some years ago."

"Perhaps Bobby's father is a more distant relation," Aunt Gertrude suggested, mixing a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. "Like a nephew or a second cousin."

Joe nodded eagerly. "Could be, Aunty. We're going out to Mr. Jefferson's house this morning to talk to him. And we'll sure let him know about this!"

"And thanks for the great clue," Frank commended her. "Boy, you're good! Next time we go out sleuthing, we're going to take you along."

Joe grinned. "Especially if we go looking for clues in caves."

"Caves?" their Aunt shrieked. "Heaven forfend! No thanks, you boys and your dad can solve all the mysteries around here. I'm happy enough just to keep the house clean and feed you to keep up your strength!"

Although Bobby was well-rested and in a happy mood, he didn't remember anything more than the fact that his last name was Jefferson and that he lived in a city with lots of big buildings. Yet this was important information and the boys were most grateful for it.

After breakfast they went down to the Bayport police station. The snow was too deep to allow using their motorcycles, so they walked bundled up in their winter outdoor clothes. They discussed the break-in with Chief Collig and made arrangements for him to come out to the house later in the day to interview Bobby.

"I hope the kid begins to remember more," Joe said, as they headed out of the station. "Man, don't you wish we could go to New York and look for clues?"

"You bet. We could go to that dry cleaners on Houston Street. Someone there sure ought to be able to tell us about Bobby and his dad!"

"At least Dad is there in New York," Joe conceded. "Hopefully he'll call home and we'll be able to pass the information on to him."

The boys set out for the Jefferson home on the Shore Road. The place was not too far out of town and the walk in the wintry cold was invigorating. They arrived there in a short time. It was a large lonely-looking mansion set back a distance from the road. A fancy black touring car was parked in front of it by the ditch.

"Looks like Mr. Jefferson has a visitor," Joe commented.

"Maybe an insurance man, or perhaps a reporter from the newspaper," Frank suggested. "He'll probably have many callers within the next few days because of the fire."

They went up the walk to the front entrance and, after ringing the bell, the prim and matronly housekeeper opened the door.

"We'd like to see Mr. Jefferson," Frank told her. "It's about the fire at Cabin Island. We were out there yesterday when the cabin was burning."

"Tsk! Tsk!" the housekeeper clucked, opening wide the door. "Such a terrible thing to happen! Come in, boys. Mr. Jefferson is busy right now but I'm sure it won't take long. He'll be with you shortly."

She led them into the reception room where they had once before waited to see Mr. Jefferson and, as they took seats, they could hear voices coming from the nearby living room. The boys looked at each other as the woman walked away, her skirts swishing.

"Sounds like an argument," Joe said in low tones. "I hope Mr. Jefferson is not being given a hard time by his insurance company."

But what they heard next caused them to dismiss that idea immediately.

"I don't care if the cabin has burned down!" Elroy Jefferson's voice was raised in consternation. "I will not sell Cabin Island for any reason. It simply is not for sale."

"But, sir," came another voice, just as loud, "my client is prepared to pay any price you ask. They will make you an offer you simply cannot refuse."

"Bosh! I can and will refuse any offer. The cabin will be rebuilt. Tell your client that I am not interested, and that is my final word on the matter. Good day!"

The living room door opened and the two men stepped out into the hall. One was Elroy Jefferson. The other, an arrogant looking fellow in a dark suit and overcoat, walked down the hall with a pouting put-out _expression, his nose in the air. The front door could be heard as it closed behind him. Elroy Jefferson saw the boys waiting for him and he advanced into the room, his scowl turning to a smile.

"What a pleasant surprise, my boys!" He glanced back toward the front door and shook his head. "That was another fool who won't take no for an answer. He is a real estate agent from New York who wants to buy Cabin Island for a client. He thinks I have no use for it now that the cabin has burned down."

Frank and Joe shared a look, neither one of them very surprised at the news.

"We were out at the island yesterday during the fire," Frank told him.

Mr. Jefferson nodded. "Yes, your friends stopped by to tell me about it yesterday afternoon."

"And we immediately suspected," Joe went on, "that the person who set the fire might be someone else who wants to own the island. Find that man's client, and you may catch the culprit."

Intensely curious, Elroy Jefferson took a seat by them and urged them to tell him more. The boys eagerly related what they knew about the fire, little Bobby and his missing father, and the strange wizard-looking man seen on the island yesterday and again by Aunt Gertrude last night in their house.

Joe ended the tale by saying, "And we think it is very curious that the youngster and his father have the same surname as you do."

The man sighed deeply and rested his hands on his knees. The boys could see that he was trembling.

"These are quite unexpected developments," he muttered, more to himself than to the boys.

Then he addressed them directly. "My son's name was Robert and we called him Bobby. He was fair and blond, like you Joe, and like this lost little boy you've told me about. He disappeared some years ago after the Great War. He was in New York attending college, and the last we heard of him he had gotten involved with a strange cult."

Mr. Jefferson sighed again, deeply, and went on. "My wife and I spent a great deal of time and money trying to find him, but not a trace was ever uncovered. He was a good lad, but easily led by those who like to exert undue influence over others. I tell people he is dead but, truth is, he disappeared and was never seen or heard from again."

Frank's mouth had dropped open in astonishment. "It is possible, then, that Bobby's father is your son, and that Bobby himself is your grandson!"

Joe's eyes shone with excitement. "They live in New York, and the boy's father is obviously involved somehow with a very strange cult that specializes in mind-control."

Frank's head bobbed up and down in an energetic nod. "Gosh, Mr. Jefferson, you're son may not be dead after all."

Hope burned in the elderly man's eyes. "There was never the slightest clue before," he said in whispering tones. "But this ... this is all so fantastic. Especially that he and the boy were on Cabin Island. My son loved Cabin Island. He and I went out there as often as possible."

Frank's brows knitted in thought. "Perhaps the cult has been controlling his mind, and now they want to buy Cabin Island as part of their real estate scheming. They may have set the fire purposely, thinking that it might induce you to sell."

"But I will never sell it!" the man exploded. "It is the only link left to my boy. My dear wife passed away not long after his disappearance, she was so heartbroken. If he is alive, we must find him!"

"We'll help you in every way we can," Frank said with determination. "If Bobby's dad is your son, we'll find him. You can bet your life on it!"

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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.