The Desert Thieves (14 page)

“Yeah, Perez,” Joe said. “You almost got them killed in a car accident. Good thing you caught them right after the turn onto the highway, though, before he got up to highway speed.”

“Exactly,” Perez said enthusiastically. Joe wondered if Perez had done that purposely, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had to admit Perez's move had saved the day.

They heard footsteps and turned to find Kidwell stumbling into the light. Perez helped him sit down on the ground.

“I'm doing better,” Kidwell said. “At least I think I am. I'm still groggy.”

Fenton asked, “What did you give him, Grish?”

“Nothing that would hurt him,” Grish said. “Sleeping pills. I was going to give him another dose about now, to keep him out until morning. After we dug up the cactus, my partners were set to go back to get Kidwell's pickup and clean up the
motel room. We were going to tip off the cops and go our separate ways. The cops would find Kidwell in his truck in the morning, right at the scene of the crime. All the evidence would point to him. He'd be blamed for the rattlesnake, the rappelling rope, and the fuel line as well as the cactus thefts. And of course he couldn't point to his accomplices, because he wouldn't know who they were. So the cops would figure he was uncooperative and they'd throw the book at him. Long prison term, end of story.”

“What did I ever do to you, boss?” Kidwell asked Grish.

“Nothing,” Grish replied. “Doesn't matter.”

“Grish sent me into town earlier today,” Kidwell said. “He said I had to pick up something at the motel. He said the guys there would give me what he wanted. They did, all right. They jumped me.”

“And the shovel?” Joe asked. “What was so important about the shovel?”

“You probably don't know this,” Kidwell explained, “but I had a great little landscape business in Phoenix.”

“Grish told us a bit about it,” Frank said.

“Well,” Kidwell went on, “after I got cleared and paid off my lawyers, all I had left of my business was that silly shovel, which once belonged to my father. He was a landscaper, too, and he'd had his name engraved on it—same name as mine. It was the only thing I had to start over with. That's why it was so important to me.”

From the direction of town, they saw one, then two, then three police cars come over the rise, lights flashing. Two of them slowed and turned off toward where the helicopter hovered with its searchlight beaming. The third continued straight and came to a stop in front of Perez's truck.

As two officers stepped from the vehicle, Fenton offered them his wallet to identify himself.

“So you're the one who was kidnapped?” one of the officers asked.

“Not exactly,” Fenton said. “This man over here—David Kidwell—was kidnapped. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And you'll want to take this man here—Winton Grisham—into custody for robbery, kidnapping, assault, you name it.”

“I can see this is going to be a long night,” the officer said as his partner snapped handcuffs on Grish and led him toward the patrol car, all the while reading him his rights. “We got a call from a young woman who gave us a pretty complicated picture of what's going on,” the officer continued. “It was a good thing we got the highway patrol chopper involved. Why is the chopper over there, and you fellas all over here?”

“Two of the bad guys are over there,” Perez said. “And the biggest bad guy, the one in the patrol car, was making a run for the border. Just like in the movies.”

“So you stopped him?” the officer asked.

“No, sir,” Perez said. He pointed at Joe, and said,
“It was him. Joe came out of nowhere and cut him off at the pass! Like in the old westerns!”

“Not exactly,” Frank said. “In the old westerns, the bad guys would have been stealing cattle, not plants. And they'd have been on horseback, not in trucks. And there's no way they'd have been caught by a helicopter. And then there are details like the walkie-talkies and the power winch for lifting the plants.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “Except for that stuff, it was exactly like the Old West.”

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Aladdin

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1996 by Simon & Schuster Inc.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

ISBN 0-671-50527-0

ISBN 978-1-4424-8601-0 (eBook)

THE HARDY BOYS and THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES are trademarks of Simon
& Schuster, Inc.