Friday, October 20, 2000 (4 pm)

            Connor shifted the Blazer into gear and it spurted forward, just in time for the blue-green/sapphire/teal whatever color Audi to zip by and crash up onto the sidewalk in front of the Radley’s house.  Connor continued down the street and they saw the Audi speed down the street in the other direction.  Mandy squeezed her boyfriend’s arm and breathed a considerable sigh of relief.  They were safe!  Or, at least for the moment, they were out of danger.

“Did Derak follow your cousin here?” Connor asked with all the curiosity of a scientist with an experiment about to flower.

Apropos, Mandy thought.  He is a scientist or will be.  If he doesn’t break all his fingers playing football – or something worse. 

His eyes took on that intense look of a guy – person – who was seriously interested in your answers.  Connor’s eyes, a deep, almost dark, green, took on a rather interesting glow.

“He must have,” Mandy answered as she settled back in her seat again.  “I can’t think of any other reason he knew how to find us.  To be honest, I’m not even sure how Andrew found us.  We didn’t exactly leave an advertisement in the want ads.  I guess it’s not totally inconceivable he could find us since he did but, it well…”

“Reeks of a mystery,” Sam and Chet said together, deadpan.

Everyone laughed and the tension in the SUV subsided a little.  Mandy smiled warmly at her friends as Connor’s SUV ate up the distance between the Radley’s and the corner of Elm and High Street, where the Hardy Home used to stand.  Mandy frowned a little nervously – she very vaguely remembered a very brief time, before she lost consciousness, when she saw what remained of her house.  There wasn’t much left of it.  The memory was not one she dwelled on too much; the pain was too intense.

Mandy shook her head and felt Connor squeeze her shoulder.  She smiled over at her boyfriend and squeezed his hand in return as he stopped the car in front of Stacia Ptaski’s lawn.  Mandy forced herself to actually look at the remains of her house.  She climbed very slowly out of the front seat of the SUV and, unable to stop the drop-mouthed amazement on her face, she sighed.  One hand reached out to the house and to the overturned car now resting on the driveway in front of the Hardy home.  It was so much worse than what she remembered or imagined – so much worse.  A yellow police line ribbon ran from one end of the yard to another, around the elm trees that ran along the edge of the lawn.  She saw a couple of police officers as they still picked through the rubble of their house.  She hugged herself as she turned away and Connor gathered her close, to shield her from the sight.

            “It’ll be all right, Mandy,” Connor said.  “Well get Joe back, they’ll rebuild.  It’ll be all right.”

            Mandy nodded and swallowed nervously.  She set her shoulders and resolutely turned back around to face her home.  She sighed as she shook her head and squeezed Connor’s hand again.  She turned around with a bounce.

            “All right,” she said as she rubbed both of her hands together.  “We have a job ahead of us, gentlemen and Samantha.  We’re going to start with the houses on Elm Street first.  You four…”

            Mandy motioned to Connor’s football pals.

            “Your job is to, I guess, keep your eye open and, ah, tackle anyone that gets too close.”

            “Mandy, they’re football players, be precise,” Connor chided with a friendly grin.  “It’s OK, guys, just watch and if someone is acting weird, let us know before you tackle them.”

            The ‘boys’ grinned and nodded as Mandy led the way up Stacia Ptaski’s familiar lawn.  Mandy remembered several times growing up when she and Frank and Joe visited with Mrs. Ptaski and she gave them lemonade and cookies or sometimes cake.  Mrs. Ptaski made the best cookies on Elm Street, with the possible exception of Mandy’s Aunt Gertrude.  Mandy wasn’t too sure, at that point, just what she was going to ask but as she knocked on Mrs. Ptaski’s door she collected her thoughts and nodded.

            “My dear, my dear,” Stacia bustled out of the house and patted Mandy on the back.  “It’s so good to see you again.  Is there something I can help you with, dear?”

            Mandy swallowed and nodded a little nervously.

            “Yes, Mrs. Ptaski,” Mandy said.  “I wanted to ask you about… about the day our house blew up.  Were you home that day?”

            Mrs. Ptaski nodded her silver-gray head (?) and agreed with Mandy.

            “Oh, yes, dear, I was home all day.  I baked cookies and muffins for the Elk Club’s jamboree.  That took me a good portion of the day.  I must say that the explosions were most frightful.  I’m so very glad that you weren’t home, dear.”

            Mandy swallowed and looked over at Sam and Connor.  They nodded to her, encouraging and Mandy continued.

            “Mrs. Ptaski,” Mandy said.  “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions.  Do you remember seeing Joe that day?”

            “Oh, yes, dear,” Stacia said.  “He roared up to the house in that frightfully fast car of his and pulled into the driveway.  I saw him from my kitchen window while I was pulling cookies from the oven and putting more in.  He waved to me and then went inside.  I thought I saw him later along the side lawn.”

            The side lawn? Mandy thought.  Why would he be on the side lawn?

            Mandy frowned again but she thought a moment and then asked.

            “Mrs. Ptaski did you see anyone else that day?  Any other cars by our house?  Besides Joe’s car?”

            Mrs. Ptaski seemed to think about it but she frowned and shook her head.

            “Well,” she said slowly.  “I have to admit I thought I saw a car of some sort go by about, I’d say about thirty or forty minutes after Joe but I was still baking cookies and I went for a short while to fold laundry.  I fear I didn’t see enough.”

            “Mrs. Ptaski,” Connor spoke up.  “Did you happen to see a car or anything unusual in front of or near the house that day or the day before?”

            Mandy knew Mrs. Ptaski didn’t like that question by the frown on the older woman’s face.  Stacia looked at the remains of the Hardy house and she sighed again, politeness warring with a desire to not get involved in such things.

            “I…” Mrs. Ptaski started and stopped again.  She wrung her hands together in worry.  “I’m not sure what I saw, dear.  It was all from the side-yard I thought and it was dark, at night.  I thought perhaps it was one of you children.  The car was much like that dark car that dear Frank drives… drove.  I thought perhaps one of you had driven it over here to check up on the house.  The living room light was on for just a short while and then the car was gone again.”

            “A dark car?” Mandy asked.

            Mrs. Ptaski nodded.  “Yes, much like that dark car of Frank’s, as I said.”

            “Not blue-green?  Sapphire or something like that?”

            Mrs. Ptaski thought for a moment but then she frowned and shook her head.

            “I don’t think so,” Mrs. Ptaski said.  “It was darker than that.  Maybe even black.  I’m sorry, dear, I just didn’t see enough of it to remember.”

            Mandy sighed.  They would have to ask more neighbors to see if anyone else saw the same thing.  That meant talking to the neighbors on high street after all.  Mandy turned to the others and Connor put his arm about her shoulders.  Mandy turned back to Mrs. Ptaski.

            “Thank you, Mrs. Ptaski,” she said, politely.  “If you think of anything else, could you please call me?”

            “Certainly, my dear, certainly,” Mrs. Ptaski assured her.  She turned back to her door and opened as Mandy turned back to her friends. 

            “Let’s go,” she said.  “We have more people to talk to.”

            They spoke to several more neighbors, most of which knew as little (or much, depending on how you looked at it) as Mrs. Ptaski did.  Mandy grew more and more discouraged as they made their way from the end of the block on Elm street back to High Street so they could talk to the neighbors right across from Mandy’s home on the side street.  Mandy wasn’t at all sure about talking to Paul or Jen Morris; they were very standoffish and tended to not like having anyone come to visit that they weren’t close to.  They moved into the house they lived in only three years ago, while Mandy lived here almost all of her life. 

            “Problem?” Samantha asked when they paused at the end of Elm Street.

            “I really need to talk to the Morris’ but they aren’t what you’d call exceptionally friendly,” Mandy said, still frowning.

            “Are they the neighbors who yell at you if you get too close to their yard?” Connor asked as he looked up at the nice house.

            Mandy nodded.  “Well, there’s no help for it.  The rest of you should stay back here though, may as well not make them too mad about us being here.”

            “You sure we should let you go alone?” Connor asked.  “That’s the whole point of pack mentality you know.”

            “I know,” Mandy said.  “But trust me, you don’t want to talk to them.  I don’t want to talk to them.”

            “Then don’t,” Samantha suggested, softly as she squeezed Mandy’s shoulder.  “Let’s talk to everyone else first, maybe you’ll find out what you need to know.”

            Mandy sighed and wished she dared but she shook her head.

            “That’s sloppy investigation,” Mandy said.  “Besides that, you talk to the people most likely to know something before you talk to the ones who may or may not know something.  The Morris’ are always home on Sundays and they’re nosy enough to pay attention to everything going on.  They’re probably totally peeved about the explosion anyway.  Just wait out here, I’ll be back.”

            Mandy set her shoulders and with the determination of a Hardy, she walked up the walk to the front porch of the Morris’ house.  She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell then stood back to wait for one or the other of the Morris’ to answer the door.  She held her hands carefully behind her back so that she looked, she hoped, as unassuming as possible.  Strange that they Morris’ made her so nervous when she never worried about them before.

            She heard cursing inside and footsteps toward the door and demands that the dogs shut their traps or else.   She stretched once and then stood still as she waited for that front door to open. 

Come on, Amanda, she warned herself.  Keep it together.  Don’t cave into nerves now.    

Mr. Morris, puffing on a smelly cigarette between his lips, opened the door and fixed a hazel-eyed stare on Mandy.  The man stood there and glared, then pulled the cigarette from his mouth.

“So, you’re still alive,” Mr. Morris said.  “What do you want?”

Mandy set her shoulders and returned his glare with one of her own.  Her blue eyes flashed in anger as she stared at this always unfriendly, uncooperative neighbor.  Just why it was she was stick with someone like him for a neighbor… ah well.  The man’s tone, much to his detriment, had raised Mandy’s ire. 

Oh, no, she thought with conviction, they aren’t scaring me off this time!

“I wanted to talk to you about last Sunday,” Mandy squared her shoulders and steeled herself for battle.  “I would like to know if you saw or heard anything before the explosion and if so, what.”

Mr. Morris’ gaze faltered slightly and he stood, obviously torn, before he raised his cigarette again and puffed.  Mandy frowned and pointedly waved her hand in front of her face when he blew right at her and she wrinkled her nose at him – but she didn’t go anywhere.  He’d have to do better than that to scare her off!  Much better!

“I was on a business trip to Boston,” he said.  “You’d better talk to Roberta.  Rob!”

He turned his head inside to bellow for his wife.  He turned back to Mandy and removed his cigarette again.

“For what it’s worth I was sorry to hear about your house and your brother,” he said.  “I really am sorry.  We may not be the most friendly people in the world but we wouldn’t wish that on anyone.  I didn’t get home until Tuesday morning and things were like… that.”

He vaguely waved his hand in the direction of the remains of her house.

“I hope your parents are planning to rebuild?” Mr. Morris asked.  “I mean, OK, we haven’t gotten on at all but you’ve been good neighbors, barring the occasional late-night shoot-out or your alarms going off when no one should be awake.  I’d hate to see whomever did that drive you away.”

Mandy shrugged absently.  “They haven’t discussed it that I know of but I’m sure they will.”

Mandy swallowed, curious about Mr. Morris’ sudden friendliness, and just a little nervous.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Mandy, Mandy told herself sternly.

“What’s going on?” Roberta Morris asked.  “Oh, it’s you.”

Roberta mad ea face as her husband told her what was going on – and why Mandy was there.

“Oh, yeah,” Roberta said grudgingly.  “Will, I did see a couple of odd things.  The first was late Saturday night or Sunday morning.  I saw a dark car, probably a sedan, like that Lexus your oldest brother drives.  Frankly, I thought it was him.  A few lights went on and off.  I quit paying attention – he was leaving by then, he had a box in his…”

Roberta frowned again and pursed her lips together.

“What?” Mr. Morris was obviously interested in the rest of the story.

“It wasn’t a he,” Roberta said.  “It was a her.  A woman was carrying a box.  I didn’t think about it before.  She wore dark clothes and a baseball cap.  She moved like a woman.  You know what I mean, don’t you, honey?  Women just have that way of moving that other women will always recognize.  A sort of… walk.”

She said that last to Mandy.  Mandy shrugged in vague agreement.  Maybe she did know what Roberta was talking about.  But a woman?  It didn’t make any sense!

Her eyes had widened in shock and she blinked a few times, stupidly.  A woman.  A woman blew up their house?  She shook her head, her mouth totally dry, like she swallowed sawdust.

“A woman?’ she said somewhat numbly.  “You’re sure?”

Roberta made an elegant movement of a shrug and she pursed her lips together.  She gazed over at Mandy’s house and closed her eyes as if to see the bomber again and Mandy sighed.

“If it wasn’t a woman,” Roberta said at last.  “Then it was a person who moved like a woman.  I don’t see how she could have been a man.  We’re built differently you know, even though some of us are more masculine.  It’s the hip area, you see.  Women almost always have the hips of a women.  Men, well… don’t.”

Mandy, feeling sick, took a step back and wondered what other little surprises were going to be thrown at them.

“One more thing, Mandy dear,” Roberta said.  “Sunday I did see your brother when he arrived.  He was on your back patio setting up the barbecue for a bit.  A smaller car, an Audi I think, pulled up into the side lot but I got a phone call from Jeremy here and went to answer it.  We talked about an hour and I was on the phone when your house blew up.  It knocked me off my feet.  I ran to the front door.  The Audi was gone but I saw you kids over in front of Stacia’s lawn.  I saw the second explosion knock all of you head-over-heels.  I never saw where that car went.”

“An Audi?” the nausea was gone and now Mandy was excited.  “What color was it?”

“I’d say, blue-green,” she said.  “More green than blue but definitely blue green.  It wasn’t dark enough to be teal.”

“Thank you,” Mandy said.  “Thank you very much, Mr. Morris, Mrs. Morris.  I really appreciate it.”

“Sure, sure,” Roberta waved her hand and went back into her house.  Mandy raced down the sidewalk to the talk to Connor and Sam and Chet and she told, half-confused and half-excited, what Mrs. Morris said.

“A woman?” Samantha repeated, confused, as she quickly plugged the information into a Palm Pilot she carried.  “That’s…”

“Confusing? Insane?  Totally crazy?” Mandy suggested.  “I know.  I don’t understand that part at all.”

Connor’s face bore the familiar look of someone highly dubious about something.  Mandy gently touched his arm.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You said they weren’t normally the most friendly or cooperative people in the world.  Why in the world would they suddenly decide to cooperate – or give up as much info as they gave up?  Are they the kinds to suddenly have a change of heart just because one of you is missing or your house blew up?”

Connor’s green eyes looked perplexed and he shoved his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket as he stood and stared at the Morris’ house.  Mandy frowned and shrugged.

“I don’t admit that I know them well or that I even like them but they seemed to at least be on the level.  I can’t just discount what they said, you know.”

“I know,” Connor said with a smile.  “Just, you know, don’t let their information get you down.  You and your parents and Frank have a good reason for going after your Uncle.”

“Maybe she’s an accomplice,” Samantha suggested.  Sam’s own red hair was falling loose from the braid she’d wrapped around her head.  Strands of brilliant auburn fell in single strands about Sam’s ears and face.  She looked tired but smiled bravely as she waited for her usual patience.

Mandy shrugged and led the way to the next neighbor’s house.  None of the next three had even been home that weekend, which Mandy found unusual but not suspicious.  Those neighbors she knew quite well, for all of them had lived in the neighborhood for ten years or more and often went to the Hardys for a pool party or some other event.

They last stop led them to the gate of the last house on the block, a rather large two-story wall behind an imposing, dark, brick wall and steel gate.  Mandy knew these neighbors too, though not well.  They were an older couple, retired, who sometimes visited with Mandy’s Aunt Gertrude.  Mandy had met the couple’s children and they had two grandchildren just three or four years younger than Mandy.  She remembered meeting them a few times over the years.

“Wait here, this won’t take long,” Mandy said to her friends.  “I really don’t think they saw anything, not over this wall, but I don’t want to skip them, just in case.”

“We’ll be here, love,” Connor kissed her and she went through the gate.

Mandy walked slowly up the long walk to the door and wondered how long it had been since the owners had taken care of the yard.  She remembered past visits, the last when she was 17, when this house had been immaculate.  The yard had been well groomed and even had rows of flowers along the front of the house itself.  Mrs. Andiron had been very fond of her flower gardens and often showed them off to anyone who would come over and see them.  Now the flower gardens had been taken over by dead weeds.

Spooky, Mandy thought and she shivered as she continued down the walk.  She stepped up onto the porch and stood there for a minute, curious about the state of the place.  Maybe nobody was even home.  She seriously doubted that anyone would have stayed here and let the place fall into such disarray.  She braced herself again, nervous, as she knocked on the door, positive that no one would be answering.

Mandy pressed the doorbell and heard a bing, bong, bong from inside the house.  She paced impatiently but without much home for anyone within opening the door.  She touched the door once – she was a bit surprised that it was so warm, considering that it seemed that no one lived here.  She finally turned away and walked back toward the steps when the door behind her opened.  She started to turn but someone grabbed her hair and pulled her back.  She heard a snikt, snikt, snikt sound and then she was released and the door slammed shut again.

Mandy turned back to the door and felt the back of her head with her other hand.

A cry of outrage rang out and Mandy screamed, “My Hair!” and turned to pound on the door.

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. I've only borrowed them to play with for a while but I promise to return them whenever I've finished with them.  (I make no promises as to condition, that's entirely up to them).  I promise, I'm only writing for fun and I'm not making a single dime off of this (unless you count personal fulfillment).