His assailant staggered back, tripping on an overturned trash can and falling backward onto the hard ground. Joe moved in to grab the man’s shirt collar. He intended to haul this particular piece of garbage to the police station. However, before Joe could get a grip, he found himself being pushed forward by someone coming at him from behind!

Joe fell on top of his first attacker, his brain registering the second man as the one whom he thought must have been following him. Joe rolled off the first guy before the man could react, and scrambled to his feet.

The second thug came at Joe, but Joe was ready, and delivered a round-house to the man’s left jaw. Although Frank liked to insist that his younger brother was reckless when it came to a fight, Joe wasn’t stupid, and under the circumstances, he decided the most prudent course would be to run. As he started out of the alley, the thug who still remained standing reached out to grab him, but only caught his shirt. Joe felt the fabric rip, as he exited the alley and pounded back down the street at a dead run. He wasn’t sure whether he’d just been attacked by a couple of muggers, or if there was some more sinister reason for the assault, but for whatever reason, he wanted to get away from there, and fast!

Joe ran for six blocks, with an occasional short break of jogging, before slowing to a walk, but the closer he got to the hotel, the more worried he became about leaving Frank alone at the hospital. Someone had been trying to kill Frank, since the day after their arrival, and right now, his brother was vulnerable.

He couldn’t do it, he decided, with a shake of his blonde head. He just couldn’t leave Frank unprotected. He did an about-face, and started back to the hospital, hoping the muggers had departed by now.

Maybe it was just your average, everyday mugging…but then again, it might have been whoever trashed our room, looking for – the key? The notebook? If it was the notebook, then these guys don’t know about Tremaine’s habit of taking notes on loose pieces of paper…. These thoughts ran through his head as he walked. He turned a corner, and gave a start of relief as he saw a taxi stopped at a red light at the end of the street. He hadn’t yet reached the spot where he had been attacked, and he really wished to avoid another confrontation. He raced up the street, not stopping until he reached the passenger door of the cab.

"Can I get a lift to the hospital?" Joe panted.

"Hop in, buddy." the driver answered, jerking his thumb toward the back seat. Joe climbed in and soon arrived at the hospital complex, with its reassuring bright lights and bustle of people coming and going. He got out and paid the cab driver, then paused at the entrance, considering how he was going to get into the hospital. Visiting hours were over, so he definitely was going to have to sneak inside.

Reaching the sixth floor, he began evasive tactics and maneuvers to keep himself out of the view of the nursing staff. By careful timing, he managed to get to Room 614 without any of the nurses noticing him, and hastily slipped inside.

The lights were dimmed, and Frank appeared to be sound asleep. Joe hated to wake him. But I need to talk to him! he thought. Reluctantly, he shook Frank’s shoulder. "Frank? Wake up!" he hissed.

Frank jumped, then squinted his eyes open. "Wha—? Joe? What’re you doing here?"

"It’s a long story," Joe sighed. "The short version is, I got jumped in an alley on the way back to the hotel, so I decided to come back here…just in case you were in any danger!" he finished.

Frank blinked owlishly in the dim light. "If I was in danger…?" he mumbled. Finally waking up a bit more, he elevated the head of the bed and turned up the lighting. He surveyed his brother closely. "You got jumped in an alley…? What were you doing in an alley, anyway?" he asked suspiciously. "Are you hurt at all?" he added, worry taking hold as he noticed Joe’s ripped shirt.

"I decided to walk back to the hotel, because there weren’t any buses." Joe explained, a bit shamefaced. "On the way, some creep grabbed me and dragged me into an alley, and then another guy arrived….I’m okay," he continued, reassuringly. "I was quicker than they were, and I got away and came back here."

"Routine mugging?" Frank queried, doubtfully.

"Maybe – but…" Joe hesitated. "…but do you remember what the guy looked like – the one you jostled when we got off the elevator?"

"The man who possibly murdered Tremaine?" Frank nodded.

"Well, the second guy had the same basic height and build, but a different hair color. He could have been wearing a wig when you saw him." Joe said. "The second guy who attacked me was following me. I heard footsteps and turned around to look, and that’s when I was grabbed and pulled into the alley."

"So this probably does have something to do with the case." Frank frowned thoughtfully.

"One more thing," Joe murmured, realizing Frank needed to know the whole story of the evening’s events. "—when I went back to the hotel earlier, to get your stuff – " He paused, and Frank made an impatient ‘come on, give’ gesture with his hand. "Well, somebody had trashed our room – looking for something."

"What?" Frank sat bolt upright, then winced and eased himself back down. "Why didn’t you say something earlier, you idiot?"

"I didn’t want you to worry!" Joe flared defensively. He scowled. "I was trying to keep you from getting upset—you were just in a car crash, remember?"

"Okay, okay – " Frank said pacifically, then stared at his brother thoughtfully. "Was anything taken?"

"No, not that I could see."

"I think you’d better stay here tonight." Frank decided. A thought drifted through his mind, but he didn’t speak it aloud: I don’t want you going back to the hotel by yourself, when there’s a murderer on the loose! At least here you should be safe!

"I’ll get caught!" Joe glanced at the door. "If you’re supposed to be under observation, the nurses will come in and observe, won’t they?"

"Yeah, but only once every couple of hours." Frank told him. "You can duck into the bathroom when anyone comes in."

Joe rolled his eyes, but inside he felt triumphant. This was what he had wanted! He moved the chair close to the bathroom door, and attempted to make himself comfortable. Frank lowered the lighting level again, and the two boys tried to get some much-needed rest.

*****

It was a long night for Joe Hardy. Every hour or so, he was abruptly jerked from a restless doze as a nurse opened the door to the hospital room and entered to check Frank’s vital signs. Once or twice he came perilously close to being caught outright, but he managed to slide into the bathroom in time. To his extreme annoyance, Frank seemed to think the whole situation was funny!

Sourly, Joe wondered what the hospital staff thought of his brother snickering while his temperature and blood pressure were taken. "If you don’t stop laughing like that, they’re going to ‘observe’ you in the psychiatric ward!" he snapped crossly, after one such episode. Frank just grinned, turned over, and went back to sleep.

When morning arrived, Joe wearily made his stealthy departure from Frank’s room, and went to the hospital cafeteria while Frank was having his breakfast. A cup of too-strong coffee and a cold Danish did nothing to improve the younger Hardy’s mood, but the caffeine at least helped to wake him up. When he returned to the sixth floor, he found Frank being checked over by one of the physicians, prior to being released.

"Take ibuprofen or acetaminophen if you’re uncomfortable," the doctor was advising Frank, as Joe quietly entered the room. "And try to rest. Your body will tell you when you’re doing too much – listen to it!" The blonde, lanky young doctor grinned. "You’re free to leave, any time. Try to stay out of the way of stolen cars after this, all right?"

"I intend to!" Frank replied grimly.

Once the doctor had gone, Frank dressed, brushed his teeth, and ran his razor hastily over his face. "Let’s get out of here!" he said to Joe, who was only too glad to accede to the request. "Since you don’t have to meet up with the rest of your class, let’s go get that key and try to find out what it fits!"

"But – wait! I agree, we should go back to the hotel, but you need to rest!" Joe objected. "You aren’t supposed to go running around town trying to track down—"

"Joe, we don’t have time for me to rest!" Frank interrupted him. "And right now, while you’re available, is when we need to get busy."

"I don’t like it, though." Joe grumbled. "You’re supposed to be taking it easy."

"I will take it easy – later." Frank promised. "But for now, let’s go."

After picking up the key at the hotel, the Hardys hailed another taxicab and this time requested a ride to the airport. As they rode along, the brothers conferred quietly in the back seat of the taxi.

"What do you suppose might be in any locker the key goes to?" Joe mused. "The loose pages of notes Tremaine kept? If they aren’t in it, then where did they go? There should have been some lying around somewhere."

"Unless whoever killed him took them." Frank reminded him.

But Joe shook his head. "If the notes were taken by whoever killed him, then why trash his room later, and why ransack ours?"

"I have no idea," Frank admitted. "This case seems to get nowhere; it just goes in circles."

"Maybe the notes are in Tremaine’s personal effects at the morgue." Joe hazarded another guess.

Frank gave him a doubtful look. "Too obvious. Whoever killed him would have searched the body, right? And taken the notes, if he found them….If they’re actually of any importance, I mean….No, those notes must still be somewhere in Tremaine’s room."

"If there were any notes." Joe returned glumly.

A thought was teasing at the back of Frank’s mind. "If you were Tremaine, and the bad guys were at your door, where would you hide papers?" he asked. "Put yourself in his shoes for a minute…."

Joe considered it. After a moment, his eyes brightened. "In the wastebasket!" he exclaimed. "Remember Sherlock Holmes: the best place to hide something is in plain sight!"

"Well, if there were any papers in the trash, they’d be at the police station now." Frank said. "They would have been taken in with all the other stuff from the crime scene."

"So, do we ask Fogle to let us see them?" Joe asked, grinning.

"You bet we do!"

Once dropped off at the airport, the Hardys proceeded to go to the storage locker area. They matched the number stamped on the key to a locker number, and Joe inserted the key into the slot, his fingers trembling with anticipation.

"It fits – so far, so good," he muttered, and attempted to turn it. To their utmost delight, the key turned smoothly, and the lock opened! With Frank leaning over his shoulder, Joe reached into the little compartment, and withdrew…a tiny black velvet box!

"What – jewelry?" Frank breathed. "I wasn’t expecting anything like that!"

Joe carefully pried open the little box, and revealed a diamond solitaire ring reposing on the white satin within. "Whew!" he whistled softly. "Pretty nice!"

"Is there anything else in there?" Frank prodded – but when Joe checked, he found the locker empty. Shutting the ring box, he handed it to Frank.

"I suppose we should try to find out what this is about," Frank mused, hefting the little box in his palm. "There’s the name of a jewelry store on the box – Whattya say we try checking there?"

"Sure, that’s cool." Joe swung the locker door shut. "I don’t see what a diamond ring has to do with anything else in this case, but we can’t just let it go."

Another taxi ride later – they were beginning to feel as if they did nothing but ride in the back of cabs, here in Nashville! – the boys arrived at the jewelry store indicated on the ring box. A somewhat supercilious clerk condescended to answer their questions, and looked up the information on the ring for them.

"It was purchased by a Mr. Donald Tremaine," the short, balding man informed them. "He bought it here ten days ago; he and his fiancée came in and selected it. It needed to be sized, and Mr. Tremaine picked it up two days ago. He said his fiancée had gone out of town, and he was going to give it to her on her return."

Frank and Joe exchanged sober glances. This was sad news, in more ways than one. Of course it was dreadful for Donald Tremaine’s fiancée, but it was also disappointing for them, for the key, the locker, the ring – all this had suddenly become a dead end, in the case. Thanking the clerk for his help, the boys left the jewelry store, Joe pocketing the ring once more.

"Let’s turn it into the police," Frank suggested. "We can walk to the downtown station, it’s only a couple of blocks."

"You sure you’re feeling up to it?" Joe fussed. "You said you’d rest, after we found out about the key—"

"I’m just fine." Frank broke in. "Jeez, Joe – you been taking lessons in worrying from Aunt Gertrude, or something?" He turned in the direction of the police station and started walking; Joe had no choice but to follow.

A short time later, they arrived at their destination, and going inside, requested to see Sergeant Fogle. They were in luck; he was in, and he wasn’t too busy to see them. They only had to wait a few minutes before the sergeant joined them.

"Well, we found out what the key was to," Joe immediately got to the heart of the matter. "It fit a locker at the airport. Inside it was this." He held out the ring box. "We checked it out, and discovered that Tremaine bought it to give to his girlfriend. We thought it ought to be included with his personal effects."

Fogle nodded, his sharp brown eyes alight. "I appreciate your work following this up." he said. "Even though," he added, "you should have brought the key to me immediately, instead of trailing off on your own, you realize!"

Joe exchanged a glance with his brother. He managed to stay silent, but his mind was shouting: But we found the key, after your detectives overlooked it, and you asked for our help in the investigation! We aren’t babies, after all!