Camping Chaos (6 page)

The ghost thing happened by our campsite.

WHY: Maybe the person really wants to win the tent-decorating contest?

Or maybe the person just wants to make trouble?

Or maybe it’s just a bunch of stupid camp pranks?

Joe leaned over and peered at Frank’s notes. “I think our best bet is to figure out who the white blanket belongs to,” he said after a moment. “Why don’t we ask around and find out who has the initials
H-O-F
?”

“Actually, why don’t we ask the one person who would
definitely
know?” Frank suggested.

•  •  •  •

The Hardys found Ranger Gil in Gooseberry Lodge, getting ready for the morning’s canoeing expedition on Loon Lake.

“Hi, Ranger Gil. Do you know if any of the campers here have the initials
H-O-F
?” Joe asked him immediately.

“
H-O-F
? Hmm, doesn’t sound familiar, but let me double-check the registration list,” Ranger Gil offered.

The Hardys waited while Ranger Gil pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the screens. The phone had dinosaur stickers on it. “My son,” Ranger Gil explained, pointing to the stickers. “Nope, we don’t have any
H-O-F
s. Why do you ask?”

“We found a white blanket at our campsite, and the label has those initials. We’re trying to find the owner,” Frank explained.

“I can tell you that it’s not mine or Garrett’s. I have a green blanket, and his is blue,” Ranger Gil said. “I know . . . why don’t you put it in our lost-and-found box, which is in my office? I’ll also let our counselors know to check with the other campers and their parents.”

“Thanks, Ranger Gil,” Joe said. He and Frank turned to go.

“Oh, boys? I just thought of someone,” Ranger Gil said suddenly. “I don’t know his middle name, but . . . anyway, it’s Harold Fishbein.”

Frank and Joe stopped in their tracks. “Who?” Frank asked, confused.

“Harold Fishbein. You know, Fish!” Ranger Gil said.

The Hardys stared at each other in surprise.

Was Fish their ghost—and also their thief?

9

L
oon Lake was as still as glass as the campers, parents, Ranger Gil, and Wendy set out in their canoes. A great blue heron sunned itself on a rock. Mountains loomed in the distance, bright with the colors of autumn.

Harold Fishbein, aka Fish, was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, Wendy. Where’s Fish?” Frank called out from the canoe he and Joe shared.

Wendy shrugged. “Dunno, Hardys. He might
be resting in his tent. He said he was coming down with a cold.”

Joe was about to say something to Frank. But Frank shook his head, cutting off his brother. Frank didn’t want the two of them discussing the case while they were on the lake. Sound traveled easily over open water, which meant that other people might be able to hear them even if they whispered. In fact, Frank could make out Beatrice and Lina’s conversation—about glittery versus non-glittery headbands—from practically halfway across Loon Lake.

As Frank drew the oars through the water, he thought about Fish. Fish was alone at the campground while everyone else was on the lake. Was he using the opportunity to steal more stuff? Or perform some other mischief?

Why was he doing all this?

Or was Fish actually sick? Maybe he wasn’t the thief or ghost after all.

Forty-five minutes later, the group returned to shore. “Okay, gang! We’ll meet at the lodge at noon for our farewell lunch. We’ll be announcing the winners of our tent-decorating contest!” Ranger Gil told everyone.

Frank and Joe took off to find Fish while Phil, Chet, and Mr. Hardy headed back to their campsites. Frank had remembered to put the white blanket in his backpack.

Walking around, they saw some of the other campers’ tent decorations. Frank’s favorite was Zack’s zombie-theme decorations. Joe’s favorite was Zack’s sister Caitlin’s shark-theme decorations.

They finally found Fish in Gooseberry Lodge. He was in the kitchen, dressed in his pajamas and purple sneakers and gulping down a glass of orange juice.

“Hey, guys. I’m sick. You’d better stay away from me,” Fish called out in a croaky-sounding
voice. He blew his nose into a big white handkerchief.

Frank noticed that the handkerchief had initials embroidered on it:
HOF
.

Yes!
He and Joe were on the brink of cracking the case!

“So your real name is Harold Fishbein, huh? What’s your middle name?” Frank asked Fish.

Fish blew his nose again. “Oliver. Why do you want to know?”

Frank pulled the white blanket out of his backpack. “Is this yours?”

Fish blinked in surprise. “Yes! Thank you! I’ve been looking all over for it!”

“You . . . lost it?” Joe said, puzzled.

Fish nodded. “Yup. It went missing from my clothesline last night. That’s probably why I got sick. It was freezing in the middle of the night!”

A door opened and shut. A moment later Phil
and Chet came running into the kitchen.

“We’ve been looking all over for you guys,” Phil said breathlessly. “We have something to show you!”

“Now? Because we’re kind of busy,” Joe said, nodding in Fish’s direction.

“You’re gonna want to see this,” Chet piped up.
“In private.”

Joe glanced at Frank. Frank shrugged and nodded. The brothers said good-bye to Fish and followed Phil and Chet outside.

“Okay. What’s so important?” Frank asked the two boys.

Phil pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the screens. “I was looking through my photos from this weekend,” he began.

“So?” Joe said.

“So, remember this one?” Phil held up the phone for the Hardys to see.

On it was a picture of the lightning-bolt footprint.

“Yeah. You took that yesterday by the creek,” Joe recalled.

“Do you remember what
else
I took yesterday by the creek?” Phil prodded.

Joe and Frank shook their heads.

Phil touched the screen again. A different image came up.

It was a picture of a pair of pink hiking shoes lying in the weeds. In the background was Princess Petunia sitting on a rock in the middle of the creek.

Phil magnified the image and zoomed in on the bottoms of the shoes. Frank squinted at them. The soles had lightning bolts on them!

“I know who they belong to!” Frank said excitedly.

10

W
endy!”
Joe and Frank said in unison.

“You mean Wendy, our counselor?” Chet asked.

Frank nodded. “She waded into the creek to rescue Princess Petunia, remember? She took off her shoes before she went in!” He added, “I guess she has small feet. Her footprints were the same size as ours!”

Joe mulled all this over. They finally had their Who. But they still didn’t have their Why.

“Okay, so why would Wendy steal our stuff? And pretend to be a ghost?” he asked Frank.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Frank replied.

The four boys headed over to Wendy’s tent. Fortunately, she was there, packing up her gear.

“Hey, Hardy dudes and Phil and the Chetster!” she called out when she saw them. “Did you have an awesome weekend? Don’t forget to tell all your friends so they’ll come next year!”

“We know what you did, Wendy,” Joe blurted out.

Wendy blinked. “Excuse me?”

Frank explained they had talked to Fish about the white blanket.

“Oh!” Wendy sighed heavily. “Okay, so I guess I’ve been busted. But I had a good reason to steal Fish’s blanket! Well,
borrow
, technically.”

“Did you have a good reason to ‘borrow’ our snakes, too? And Princess Petunia and Mr. Truffles?” Frank demanded.

“Yes! I was just trying to make things fun!” Wendy explained.

“Fun?”
Joe was totally confused.

Wendy nodded. “This is my first counseling job. Well, kind of my first job
ever
. Fish told me it was important that I make things superfun for you campers. So I tried to come up with some wild and crazy ideas. Like making stuff disappear and then reappear in the wrong places. And pretending to be a ghost.”

She turned to Chet. “I wasn’t expecting you to think I was a real ghost! You screamed so loudly that I just kind of ran. I feel bad about that. I guess I owe you an apology.”

She added, “I guess I owe
all
of you an apology.”

•  •  •  •

“Best . . . cupcakes . . . ever,” Chet said as he scarfed down his third chocolate-chip-and-peanut-butter cupcake.

“I’m definitely coming back next fall,” Phil agreed, stuffing a banana cupcake into his mouth.

Wendy had driven into town before lunch and picked up several dozen cupcakes at a bakery, to make up for what she’d done. The campers were enjoying them now for dessert as Ranger Gil announced the winners of the tent-decorating contest.

“Our third-place winner is Zack and his zombie tent!” Ranger Gil said. “Zack, come up and get your medal.”

Everyone clapped as Zack rose to his feet and went up to claim his medal.

“Our second-place winner is Lina and her safari tent!” Ranger Gil continued.