Crime in the Cards (3 page)

The teacher shook his head. “No,” he said. “I haven't even opened the drawer since I confiscated them.” He pulled the drawer all the way out and emptied the contents, but there was no sign of the cards. “I don't understand it,” he said. “They couldn't have just vanished!”

“Does anyone else have access to your desk?” Joe asked.

“Normally, no,” Mr. Pane said. “I had seventh period off today, though, and the room was empty. I was in the teachers' lounge. Anyone could have come in then, I guess. The desk was still locked, though.”

Frank picked up the drawer and examined the lock.
“It doesn't look as though it's been forced,” he said. “If it was picked, it was picked by an expert.”

“I'll have to tell Principal Chambers,” Mr. Pane said. “All of you wait here until I come back.”

He went out the door and headed for the school offices.

Chet collapsed into a chair behind a student desk at the front of the room. He buried his face in his large hands. “I can't believe it,” he said.

Iola walked over and put her hands on her brother's shoulders. “Don't worry, Chet,” she said. “We'll find your cards.”

“That deck had the Coyote
and
the Bargeist in it!” Chet moaned. “I have some spare cards at home, but how will I ever rebuild my deck in time for the tournament?”

“You could buy more,” Callie suggested.

“At six dollars for a pack of thirteen?” Chet scoffed. “No way. Most of the cards in every pack are common cards—duplicates of ones I already have. It's taken me almost two months to build up that deck to tournament level through buying and trading. I don't have the time or money to replace the rare cards I've lost.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his short blond hair distractedly.

“We'll just have to get your cards back, then,” Joe said. He and Frank had been poking around the room, looking for any clues.

“Do you think you
can
find them?” Chet asked hopefully.

“We've solved tougher cases,” Frank said. He replaced
a row of books he'd been paging through. “I'm not finding anything here, though. How about you, Joe?”

Joe, who had been searching under the desk, stood up. “Nothing,” he said. “Too many people use this room on a regular basis. We'd have to be pretty lucky to find a clue pointing directly to the culprit. Unless, of course, the robber got careless.”

“Whoever opened that drawer knew what he was doing,” Frank said. “A pro couldn't have done better.”

Just then Mr. Pane returned with the principal. Chet stood up hopefully as they entered.

“I can't say that I'm really surprised about this,” Mr. Chambers said.

“Well,
I'm
surprised,” Mr. Pane replied. “No one's ever broken into my desk before.”

“Those cards have been causing a lot of trouble in this school. It was your deck, Mr. Morton?” the principal asked.

Chet nodded.

“Were the cards valuable?”

“Some of them. Yeah.” Chet said.

“I don't mean to sound unsympathetic,” Principal Chambers said, “but this is one of the reasons I banned Creature Cards from school this morning. If you'd kept the cards in your locker, as I suggested, this wouldn't have happened. We'll look into it, of course, but we have a lot of students and we can't just interrogate everyone. We could call the police, though.”

Chet shook his head. “No,” he said. “The cops wouldn't take this seriously.”

“Chet,” Callie said, “alerting the police might be a good idea.”

“I'd rather trust Joe and Frank,” Chet said. “They'll get my cards back.”

“Thanks, Chet,” Frank said. “We'll try to live up to your faith in us.”

“I'll talk to the other members of the faculty,” Mr. Pane said hopefully. “With a little luck maybe we can turn them up.”

“Thanks,” Chet said. He and the others filed silently out of the classroom. They visited their lockers and then headed out to the student parking lot.

“Man,” Joe said, “I hate locked-room mysteries. A locked desk is almost as bad.”

“As you said, Joe, there are just too many people with access to that room,” Frank noted.

“Well, whoever took Chet's cards had to know they were in that desk,” Callie said. “Shouldn't that limit the suspects to the people who were in Mr. Pane's class at the time?”

“That might be true,” Frank said, “if it weren't for the network of Creature Card players in the school. Remember what Gerry Wise said? The news about the cards being confiscated was all over school.”

Callie frowned. “Oh, that's right,” she said. “All the card players' being so close will sure make this tougher to solve. What about the lock, though? Who'd
have the skill to pick it? Could you narrow the list of suspects that way?”

“It didn't look like a very tricky lock,” Frank said. “Either Joe or I could have sprung it without leaving a mark.”

“Plus,” Joe said, “it's a standard issue school desk. There may be any number of keys for it floating around.”

The group reached Frank and Joe's van.

“Let's go get pizza,” Frank said. “We can discuss the case on the way.”

“What about our cars?” Callie asked.

“We'll come back and pick them up later,” Joe replied.

“Sounds good,” said Iola.

All five of them piled into the Hardys' van and headed for the pizza shop.

“So, you think there could be another key to the desk?” Iola asked after they were under way.

Frank nodded. “It's possible. Any number of people could have a duplicate. Mr. Chambers probably does, for one.”

Chet sighed. “But we
know
Chambers wouldn't swipe my cards. So where do we go from here? I'm sunk without that deck.”

“We should talk to other players,” Joe said. “Figure out who had a motive for taking your deck.”

“That could be just about anyone,” Chet said with a laugh. “Those cards are valuable. Whoever took them might just sell them. Some kids collect Creature
Cards without playing the game. They keep them as an ‘investment.' Gerry's like that. He's got plenty of cards, but I've never seen him play. Daphne and I aren't the only ones who've had cards stolen, either. Just about everyone I know has had a card or two lost or stolen. We're the only ones who've had whole decks taken, though. And just a few days before the tournament.” He shook his fist in anger. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Don't worry, Chet,” Iola said. “I know it looks bad, but Frank and Joe will find them. You should concentrate on getting ready for the tournament. Maybe you could buy the cards you need from Gerry. You've gotten cards from him before, haven't you?”

“Yeah,” Chet said. “But he bases his prices on the cost guides posted on the Internet—so shopping with Gerry is no bargain.”

“I didn't realize there was so much money in this,” Callie said.

Chet nodded. “A lot of kids sink their savings into their decks. I know people who spend most of the money they earn at their part-time jobs on the game. I've done it myself—once or twice.”

“Do you think all the thefts are tied together?” Iola asked Joe.

“Maybe not all, but it seems likely that some are,” Joe replied. “What burns me up is that kids are getting hit at both ends. They pay dealers a lot for the cards initially, and then they have to replace their stolen cards.”

“It's just a big circle of cash,” Frank agreed. He
pulled the van up in front of the pizza shop. Inside they sat at a booth and ordered two pizzas and a pitcher of root beer.

“Chet,” Joe asked, “how good do you think your chances really were in the tournament?”

“Pretty good,” Chet said glumly.

“Who are your main competitors?” Frank asked.

“Well, the tournament will draw people from all over the state, and not just kids, either. The game is big business, and people take tournaments very seriously. So, it's hard to predict who might show up. Locally, though, the toughest players are Pete Kaufmann and Daphne Soesbee.”

“And Daphne's missing her cards, too,” Callie said. “That puts Pete in a pretty good position.”

“I guess it does,” Chet said. “I never thought of that.”

“What about Tim?” Iola asked. “You play against him all the time.”

“Yeah,” Chet said. “That's why I'm not really worried about him. I know his moves pretty well.”

“Speaking of Tim . . .” Frank said, looking through the big storefront window. “Isn't that him walking up the street?”

All of them looked. Sure enough, Tim Lester came strolling down the sidewalk past the pizzeria. He spotted the group sitting inside, waved, and entered the restaurant.

“Hey, guys,” Tim said, a broad smile lighting up his face. “Chet, wait till you see what I got.” He sat down
at the table and fished his deck out of his jacket pocket.

He laid the cards out on the table, fanned through them, and plucked out one showing a picture of a large monster that looked like a giant robot. “Check this,” Tim said. “Titanium Titan, very rare, very powerful. Might even give me the edge I need against your Bargeist, Chet.”

The Hardys and the girls glanced uncomfortably at one another, realizing that Tim didn't know about Chet's cards. Chet's eyes, though, remained fixed on Tim's deck, fanned out on the table.

Suddenly Chet's hand flashed out and grabbed one of the cards from the deck. He held it up just inches from Tim's face. Frank and Joe saw that it was a Coyote card—one of the ones Chet had lost.

“Where did you get this?” Chet angrily asked Tim. “Did you steal it from me?”

“Someone stole Chet's cards out of Mr. Pane's desk,” Joe said.

“You mean you didn't get your cards back?” Tim asked Chet.

Chet wasn't listening, though. His face was still red with anger. “Where did you get this Coyote?” he asked. “They're very rare. Mine was the only one in Bayport.”

“Well, not anymore,” Tim said, getting angry himself. “I picked that up at the Dungeon Guild just forty-five minutes ago. Do you want to see my receipt?”

“If you don't mind,” Frank said.

Scowling, Tim fished into his pocket again. “Wait a minute,” Chet said, the color of his round face returning to normal. “This isn't my card. It
doesn't have that ketchup stain in the corner. Oh, man! I'm sorry, Tim. I'm just so upset about my deck.”

“How did your cards get stolen?” Tim asked.

“Someone picked the lock on Mr. Pane's desk and took them,” Callie offered.

“Hold on a second,” Joe said. “What's this about a ketchup stain?”

“Well . . .” Chet said sheepishly, “I was so excited when I got the Coyote in a card pack, that I got kind of careless. I was eating a burger while I rearranged my deck to fit the Coyote in. Some ketchup dripped out of the bun and on to the cards. I blotted it off, but you could still see a red stain.”

“I remember,” Tim said. “When you showed me the Coyote I thought the stain was blood.”

“Yeah, the same drop of ketchup spilled on the corner of one of my White Knights, too.” Chet shrugged sheepishly. “It's not as though the stain affects game play—it just makes the card worth less if I wanted to sell it.”

“You gotta be more careful with your cards once you get them back,” Tim said. “You've got a lot of dough tied up in that deck.”

“I'm not in this for the money,” Chet said. “I'm in it for the
fame.”
Then his face saddened again. “Right now, though, I'm not in it at all.”

“So, there's no chance this card is one of yours, then?” Joe asked.

“No, I'm sure it's not mine,” Chet answered. “Sorry I lost it with you, Tim.”

Tim nodded. “That's okay, Chet. I understand. I'd be on edge, too, if I lost my deck. If there's anything I can do . . .”

“You said you got the Coyote at the Dungeon Guild,” Frank said to Tim. “Did you buy it singly, or pick it up in a pack?”

“I bought it as a single,” Tim said. “The odds of another pack with a Coyote showing up are pretty slim. There aren't that many Coyotes in the whole country, and the packs are distributed randomly. For two to show up in Bayport . . . Well, I'm sure the odds are against it.”

“If they're so rare, how'd the Dungeon Guild happen to have a single one to sell you?” Frank asked.

Tim shrugged. “You'd have to ask Ron Felix—he owns the shop. Probably he got it through his network, though.”

“People all over the country trade and sell cards,” Chet explained. “A lot of them use the Internet, but there's plenty of trading by phone and in person, too.”

“You'd be surprised how far a card can travel if the right money is involved,” Tim said, smiling. “Before the crackdown, a lot of trading happened in school, too.”

Just then Pete Kaufmann walked into the pizzeria. He started for the pick-up window but changed direction when he spotted Chet.

“Hey, Morton,” he said as he walked up to the table. “I heard that your deck got ripped off.”

Joe's eyes narrowed. “How'd you know about the
theft?” the younger Hardy asked. “We came here right after it happened.”

“I was in the gym for fencing practice when Mr. Pane came in and talked to Coach Fazzio about it. Pane wanted all the teachers to keep an eye out for your deck.” Pete smiled smugly and turned to Chet. “I guess that puts you out of the tournament, Morton. Too bad. Not that you stood a chance against me.”

Chet stood defiantly. “Hey, I'm not out of it yet,” he said. “I've got enough cards at home to enter, and there's plenty of time between now and then to replace what I need.”

“We're going to help him, too,” Iola added defensively.

“Ooh! I'm scared,” Pete said sarcastically. He turned and headed for the pick-up window.

“Remember, Kaufmann,” Chet called after Pete, “it's the
player
who wins the games—not the cards.”

“Hard to win a game without any cards,” Pete shot back. He didn't even glance over his shoulder as he said it.

Chet glared at Pete's back as Pete picked up his order and walked out the door.

When the pizzas arrived everyone dug in, eating quietly for a while. Finally Chet broke the silence. “Man, Pete really bugs me sometimes.”

“That's probably part of his strategy, big brother,” Iola said. “Pete's one of those guys who likes to win at any cost. I've seen him fence. He's ruthless.”

“You got that right, Iola” Tim said. “Pete boasts that
he's got over two thousand dollars tied up in his decks.”

“He has more than one deck?” Joe asked.

“Lots of people do,” Tim replied. “Before a tournament, they size up the competition, and then choose their card mix. I've got a couple of decks myself.”

“I haven't been at it long enough to have more than one good deck,” Chet said. “That's why I keep my spare cards—to make an extra deck when I can.”

“That makes sense,” Joe said. “The same way you might change the tune-up of your car for different types of races.”

“What about Daphne,” Frank asked. “Do you know if she has another deck?”

“She might,” Chet replied. “Though I've only seen her use the one.”

“So, Chet,” Tim said, “if you've got a bunch of basic cards, maybe you can pick up some of the rest you need at the Dungeon Guild. Ron got a fresh supply of cards in today.”

“That's a good idea,” Frank said. “I'd like to talk to the owner—make sure he knows that Chet's cards have been stolen.”

“With his connections, maybe he could get a line on Chet's deck,” Joe added.

“I have to inventory my cards at home before I go,” Chet said, “to figure out what I need.”

“I'd be glad to help with that,” Tim offered.

“Ha! I bet you would,” Chet shot back playfully.
“That way you'd know exactly what cards you needed to beat me.”

“Well, if you don't want my help . . .” Tim said in a hurt tone.

Seeing that Tim had taken him too seriously, Chet said, “I'm only kidding, Tim. But, if you want to help, we could have some tune-up games—after I start rebuilding. Maybe tomorrow, even. Tonight, Iola can help me inventory my cards.”

“My brother doesn't think I have anything better to do than to help him count cards,” Iola said, rolling her eyes. Joe smiled at his girlfriend and gave her hand a supportive squeeze.

“Well, I know that the rest of you are super-brains who never have to study,” Callie said, “but I've got AP biology homework. I really should go home. You guys can call me later if you need help, though.”

“I'd still like to talk to the Dungeon Guild owner tonight,” Frank said. “Tomorrow at school we can speak with Gerry Wise about the theft.”

“He probably already knows,” Chet said glumly.

“That doesn't mean he couldn't help us out,” Frank said. “If he sells cards regularly, maybe he'll hear something. We'll talk to some of the other players, too.”

Joe stood. “Okay,” he said. “We'll drop the three of you at the school parking lot to pick up your cars. Then Frank and I will go talk to the shop owner.”

“Sounds good,” Chet said, boxing up the leftover pizza.

“Can we drop you anywhere, Tim?” Frank asked as they were leaving.

“Nah,” Tim said. “I parked my bike up the street. With the weather being so warm, I can use the exercise.”

“Good idea,” Joe said. “It won't stay warm much longer.”

Tim said goodbye, and the Hardys drove the others back to their cars. On the way, Chet made up a list of his most valuable missing cards so that the Hardys could alert the owner of the Dungeon Guild to look for them.

It was almost dark by the time Frank and Joe parked their van a block away from the Dungeon Guild. The store was in a medium-size, single-story brick building in an older section of downtown Bayport. The painted sign over the entrance featured an armor-clad warrior and a fire-breathing dragon. Below the sign, two large picture windows displayed Creature Cards and many other games. A small sign hanging on the glass door proclaimed the Dungeon Guild's hours in Old English lettering.

The Hardys walked inside. The store was deserted except for a short, chubby, middle-aged man with a goatee and thinning black hair. The man was bustling around the store, arranging displays and setting up new merchandise. He looked up from a glass case when the Hardys entered.

“Hi. Welcome to the Dungeon Guild,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“I'm Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe. We're looking for the store owner,” Frank said.

“That's me,” the man said, hooking his thumb at his chest. “Ron Felix, proprietor. How can I help you guys?”

“We're friends of Chet Morton's,” Joe said. “He got some Creature Cards stolen today and we wanted you to be on the lookout for them.”

“Stolen cards—that's bad,” Mr. Felix said. He wiped the sweat from his shiny brow with a handkerchief. “Do you have a list of the missing cards?”

“Yeah, right here,” Joe said, handing over the list Chet had made up.

“Hmm. Tough luck for Chet,” Mr. Felix said. “He's a good customer. There are a lot of prime cards on this list. Do you mind if I make a copy?”

“Please do,” Frank said.

Mr. Felix walked over to a fax machine beside his cash register and ran the list through. A grainy copy came out the other side. Felix handed the original back to Joe. As he took the paper, Joe noticed a slight trembling in the store owner's hand.

“I'll keep an eye out for them,” Felix said, flashing a quick smile at the brothers. “Don't get your hopes up, though. I don't deal in stolen cards.”

“We never said you did,” Frank said. “Just stay alert for them. We have a few other questions, too. Where do you get your stock? Tim Lester picked up a rare Coyote card here today, and that's one of the cards on Chet's list. Tim's Coyote wasn't the stolen one, but I'd like to know where you got the card.”

“The main place I get cards is from my distributor,” Felix said. “The same place I get all my new games. I get boxes of Creature Cards all the time. I got a new shipment yesterday.” He wiped the sweat off his brow again.

“We heard you got some new cards today, too,” Joe said. “Where'd they come from?”

“I buy cards from collectors nearly every day,” Felix said.