As Frank fought desperately to keep his kart under control, Joe, who had seen his brother’s dangerous predicament, moved in on the other side of the masked driver. He pushed into the rear right tire of the attacker’s vehicle, hitting it at an angle which forced the driver to lose his strategic resting spot against Frank’s kart. Now the stranger was trapped as much as Frank!

The pressure Joe put on their adversary’s kart caused it to abruptly lose contact with Frank’s kart, and spin in a circle. Frank shot ahead, and Joe pulled away to the right, to avoid colliding with the rapidly rotating vehicle. Then he braked to a stop, noting that everyone else on the track was doing the same.

By the time the stranger’s vehicle came to a complete halt, Joe and Frank were both out of their karts and sprinting towards it, hoping to apprehend the driver, but before they could reach it, the driver gunned the engine and took off once more, heading for the end of the track. On foot, the boys had no chance of keeping up, and they watched, infuriated, as the driver leaped out of the kart and took off at a dead run.

The boys gave chase, with Rich and Perry following, but the attacker had too large a lead. When they reached the end of the track, they saw their quarry leap into a red truck and accelerate into busy traffic.

"That creep!" Joe expostulated, skidding to a stop. "He could have killed you!"

"I’d swear that’s one of the guys from this morning!" Frank said. "But how did he know we were here? We didn’t tell anyone we were coming, and I watched, while we were driving here, to make sure we weren’t being followed!"

Rich and Perry panted up in time to hear his last words.

"Maybe it’s whoever’s been after you guys." Rich offered. Joe and Frank stared at him in shock.

"What do you mean? Who’s after them?" Perry demanded.

"Sergeant Fogle asked me to keep tabs on you guys; he said someone’s trying to hurt you!" Rich told them proudly. "So I have been – first Joe, and then Frank, too. I told him you were coming here this afternoon, so he could watch out for you."

"WHAT?" Joe shouted incredulously. "Rich, you moron! You nearly got Frank killed!"

"Wh-what’s wrong?" Rich backed away hastily from the enraged younger Hardy. "He said you were in trouble—"

"Joe – Joe!" Frank caught his brother’s arm and held him immobile. "Rich didn’t mean to do any harm; he didn’t know about Fogle. Now calm down!"

"Know what about Fogle?" Sutton asked. "He’s a cop, isn’t he?"

"He’s a cop, but not a good one." Frank informed him. "Chill, Joe." he added, to his still-furious brother.

Simmering, Joe continued to glare at the penitent redhead. "You idiot!" he muttered under his breath.

"I’m sorry, Joe – how was I supposed to know?" Rich said humbly. "I was only trying to help!"

"Come on, let’s get our karts off the track." Frank suggested pacifically. He tugged Joe toward their vehicles, and Rich and Perry followed. When they pulled into the area where the karts were parked, the manager of Wheels hurried up to them.

"What was the meaning of that little stunt, out there?" he spluttered. "Where did that other kart come from?"

"It came from the side," Frank told him. "We don’t know how it got on the track to begin with."

"And the little ‘stunt’ wasn’t our idea!" Joe said hotly.

Still irritated and suspicious, the manager made the boys wait while he checked out the mysterious Go-Kart. Upon returning from his inspection, he shook his head ruefully. "It’s one of ours, all right," he admitted. "That one was parked behind the maintenance shed. The driver must have swiped it from there. I guess I’d better call the police and report this; even though it wasn’t stolen from the park, it’s still—"

"No point in calling the police." Joe broke in.

"But maybe the guy could be identified and apprehended." the manager persisted.

"Not too likely." Frank observed. "He was wearing a mask, and probably had gloves on, too. No description, and no fingerprints. You’d be wasting the police’s time. No real damage was done, anyway."

Reluctantly, the manager conceded Frank’s point, and the four boys walked towards their cars, intent on leaving Wheels with all due speed.

"I’m sorry," Rich Sutton apologized once again. "I really wanted to help you two."

"I still feel bad," Rich insisted. "Isn’t there anything I can do to help make up for it?"

"I want to help too." Perry chimed in. "Can we?"

Frank and Joe exchanged glances, and Frank gave a slight nod. Joe shrugged, accepting Frank’s decision, looked at Rich and Perry, and made a suggestion:

"Let’s go over to that Burger King," he said, pointing to the fast-food place visible about a block away. "I’m thirsty, and we can sit down there and talk this over."

A few minutes later, they were sliding into a rear booth with their super-sized drinks. For a moment, they concentrated on getting settled and slaking their thirst. Finally, Frank broke the silence.

"Rich, Sgt. Fogle played you for a chump!" he said bluntly. "He may be a cop, but we’re pretty sure he’s behind all the things that have been happening to us since we came to Nashville."

Between them, Joe and Frank related the events of the past few days, and told Rich and Perry – cautioning them to silence – how they had been assisting in the investigation of Donald Tremaine’s murder. When they finished, a contrite Rich Sutton slumped, downcast, in his seat. He felt like a complete fool.

Joe, finally forgiving, gave him an encouraging slap on the shoulder. "Rich, don’t worry about it any more; you thought you were helping. Fogle was just too slick for you."

"How can we help, now that we know about Fogle?" Perry asked. "Obviously, we won’t be telling him where you guys are, or anything like that, now – but how can we actually help?"

"I’m not sure," Frank admitted. "We’re meeting Fogle for dinner tonight; maybe we’ll know more after that. He’s supposed to be feeding us new information about the case; maybe he’ll let something slip."

"I still don’t get it." Rich said hesitantly. "Why are these guys trying to kill Frank? According to what you said, Tremaine thought Fogle’s involvement is because of Joe – and yet, it’s Frank that everyone seems to be after!"

"Good point." Frank approved. "And I don’t have an answer. I suspect Fogle may be going to try to frame Joe for the theft of that painting, the Martyrdom of Elisa—"

Joe snorted in disdain. "Art theft? Me?" he muttered derisively.

"—but, I agree, it’s pretty far-fetched." Frank chuckled.

"How could he do that?" Perry asked.

"I don’t know." Frank sighed. He was getting sick of that phrase. No matter what question was asked, the answer seemed to consistently be I don’t know! He hoped that by the end of the evening, a few other answers might reveal themselves, but he doubted that it would be that easy.

"Do you think Fogle will get suspicious if Rich doesn’t keep feeding him information on our whereabouts?" Joe asked now.

Rich looked startled. "I’m not going to tell him anything more!" he vowed.

"Don’t worry, Rich; you won’t have to." Frank reassured him. "You told him where we were going to be this afternoon; he’ll be with us himself, later, and he knows where we’ll be tomorrow. He isn’t going to be asking you for anything beyond that."

Frank looked at his watch. "Joe, we need to get going; we have to change before we meet Fogle for dinner." He got to his feet, and Joe followed suit. "Oh, and guys? It’s probably a good thing you know where we’re going to be tonight…just in case anything happens, I mean." He smiled grimly.

"We’re going to eat here, I guess." Perry said. "We’ll see you guys back at the hotel, later tonight, okay?"

"Okay." Joe said. "We’ll let you know if we find out anything."

All the way back to the hotel, as Frank smoothly piloted the van through the evening traffic, Joe ruminated on the question Rich had asked. Why are they trying to kill Frank?