Crime in the Cards (6 page)

“Frank's right,” Joe said. “It sounds like a setup.”

“That's why I won't be going alone,” Chet said, smiling at the brothers.

“Chet, you don't mean . . .” Iola began.

“Hey,” Chet said, “Frank and Joe know how to tail someone without being seen. Imagine how easy it'll be to keep
me
in sight.”

Callie frowned. “It could still be dangerous,” she said. “Maybe Iola and I should go, too.”

“When tailing someone,” Joe said, “I'm afraid two is company and four would be a crowd.”

“You could wait a couple of blocks away in the van, if you want,” Frank said. “We could keep in touch by cell phone.”

“And we can come in blazing like the cavalry if you need us,” Iola said, smiling.

Callie frowned. “Sitting in the van isn't my idea of exciting,” she said.

Frank gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “ Detective work is like war,” he said. “It's long periods of boredom followed by short bursts of intense action.”

Callie folded her arms across her chest and scowled playfully at him. “I think that ‘intense fear' is the original quote,” she said.

“We'll leave the research to you, Callie,” Joe said, smiling.

Callie sighed. “I'll have plenty of time for it,” she said.

“We
both
will,” Iola added.

“Let's head for home instead of getting ice cream,” Frank suggested. “I want to have time to prepare for tonight.”

The others nodded their agreement.

“I'll try to check the Internet, too,” Chet said. “Maybe find that site Daphne mentioned.”

“Good idea,” said Joe. “Though I doubt you'll have time to pick up any cards tonight.”

“I need to get some replacements soon,” Chet said, “or I'm sunk.”

They gathered at Chet and Iola's house just before nine. The Hardys arrived with Callie in their van.
Callie brought a cell phone in order to keep in touch with the brothers. Looking at a map of the area, they picked a spot for the girls to wait with the van. Then
they loaded Chet's bike into the back; the brothers had put their bikes in earlier.

“Why not just walk from where we park?” Callie asked. “There's a trail through the woods behind the mall. It cuts over into Magus Hills, a subdivision that's close to where we'll be waiting. I used to jog down that path all the time before the mall closed.”

“I'd rather not walk an unfamiliar route at night if we don't have to,” Frank said.

“Me, either,” Chet added.

“Besides,” Joe said, “we might need quicker transportation if something goes wrong.”

Callie and Iola glanced uneasily at each other, but neither said anything.

“Let's roll,” Frank said.

They piled into the van and soon they arrived at their parking spot: a small park about a half-mile from the mini-mall.

“We'll call you once we've got the place under surveillance,” Joe said as he and the others got their bikes out of the back of the van.

“Good luck,” Iola said, planting a kiss on Joe's cheek. She turned to Chet. “Take care of yourself, big brother.”

Chet smiled confidently. “Don't worry. We're the Team Supreme.”

“Keep the bike headlight on all the way, Chet,” Frank said. “Joe and I will cut ours off at the top of the curve just south of the mall. We'll hang back far enough not to be seen when you arrive. Take your
time getting to the north entrance, so we can get into position.”

“If you need help,” Joe said, “yell and we'll come flying.”

“Check,” Chet said.

“You guys remember to call if you need help, too,” Callie cautioned.

“Don't worry,” Joe replied. “None of us is about to get hurt over a deck of cards. We'll holler real loud if the plan goes south.”

With a final goodbye, Joe, Frank, and Chet got on their bikes and were quickly out of sight.

The Benson Mini-Mall was in an older section of Bayport. It was one of many such malls that had sprouted up in the mid-1970s only to die from lack of business during the recession of the early '90s. It sat on a hillside, surrounded by woods and sleepy subdivisions. Below the mall lay the waterfront, above it the affluent neighborhoods of Bayport.

When they reached the sloping curve just south of the mall, Frank and Joe hit their brakes to let Chet build a comfortable lead on them. The brothers switched off their headlights. Friday night traffic was light, and there was little danger from oncoming cars.

When the Hardys rounded the curve, they spotted Chet pedaling hard across the cracked and broken asphalt parking lot. The mall lights were dark, but a three-quarter moon shown through a light cloud cover. The night was warm, and mist clung to the
trunks of the trees dotting the hills that surrounded the mall.

Chet dismounted and walked his bike past the boarded-up mall toward the north entrance, on the far side of the parking lot.

“Let's cut to the left and circle around back,” Joe suggested. “There's a service road behind the mall, and we can use the woods back there for cover.”

“Right,” Frank said. He and Joe kept to the shadows skirting the south edge of the lot. They wove across the battered pavement, dodging the dried weeds sprouting up through the cracks in the asphalt.

“I see why they said not to bring a car,” Frank said in a low voice. “The lot is littered with broken glass.”

“Looks like a recycling center waiting to happen,” Joe agreed.

They pulled around the back of the mall and onto the service road. Recent rains had left a wide puddle running across the center of the access lane. A fallen birch tree blocked the road near the center of the mall.

Joe's eyes followed the ridge behind the building. “I think I see the path that Callie mentioned,” he said, indicating an opening in the woods.

Frank nodded. “Nice to know about, even if we don't use it,” he said. “Let's find Chet and then call the girls. You've got the cell phone?”

“At the ready,” Joe said, patting his pocket.

They passed numerous doors on their way north. Many of the portals, like the windows out front, had
been boarded over. Some, though, were bolted shut by heavy security locks.

Just before they reached the north entrance, the brothers noticed a half-dozen bicycles chained to trees. They also spotted three motorbikes and an ATV, locked to lampposts nearby.

“Looks like a regular convention,” Joe whispered.

Frank nodded. “Let's cut upslope into the trees,” he said.

The Hardys did so, and a minute later they had the north entrance to the mall in sight. One of the entry-way's doors stood open and dim light leaked out from inside.

A figure dressed in a black monk's robe stood by the door. He had his hood pulled up over his head so that, even using the binoculars they'd brought, neither Frank nor Joe recognized him. The brothers watched quietly as Chet approached the door.

“Hey, Chet-man,” the hooded figure said, the night air carrying his words to where the brothers sat hidden. “Glad you could make it. Chain your bike to a tree out back and come on in. Did you bring your money and any cards you have left?”

“I brought them,” Chet said, looking a bit nervous. “But I still don't know what I brought them for.”

“The
big game,
Chet,” the figure said. “Boy, I thought you knew.” The monk pulled his hood back to reveal his face in the dim light from the doorway. It was Gerry Wise. He smiled broadly. “We do this
nearly every month,” Gerry said. “Admission's fifteen bucks.”

“Admission to what?” Chet asked.

Gerry laughed. “You really are out of the loop,” he said. “It's a
keeper
game. People come from all over the county to play. You put your deck up against someone else's, and the winner gets his pick of cards from the other's deck.”

Chet nodded uneasily.

“I've heard of this kind of game,” Joe whispered to Frank. “Chet probably doesn't have the cards to compete in this.”

“Gerry,” Chet said, “you know my deck got swiped. I really don't have any good cards.”

“Well, you're in luck, Chet-man,” Gerry said. “ Minimum to play is three cards worth ten dollars each— and I just happen to have a small selection with me. So, for only forty-five, including admission, you can buy yourself a seat at the game.”

“Okay. I'm in,” Chet said. He pulled the money out of his pocket and handed it to Gerry.

“Great,” Gerry said. He reached into his robe and searched around a bit. “How about I set you up with the Samurai Scorpion, the Fiery Phoenix, and the Rogue Lion?” he said. “I'm giving you a bargain on price there. Will those three fit in with your deck?”

“Yeah,” Chet said, nodding.

Gerry handed him the cards and something that looked like a crumpled-up wig.

Chet unfolded the wig and held it out in front of
him. It was a cheap rubber gorilla mask. “What's this for?” he asked.

“Most of the players at these games don't want to be recognized—it might hurt their tournament play,” Gerry said. “So I provide disguises. Do you like my outfit? I'm the Mystic Monk.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chet said. “Isn't this all a bit melodramatic?”

“Hey!” Gerry said, throwing his arms wide. “This is Creature Cards—a world of magic and imagination. Loosen up, Chet-man. Go on inside. Follow the lights to the game area and deal yourself in.”

Chet shot a final skeptical glance at Gerry. Then he chained up his bike and went inside. After Chet left, Gerry pulled a wad of cash out of his robes and began to count it.

“Come on,” Frank whispered to Joe. “Let's sneak inside.”

The brothers cut back to one of the doors they'd noticed earlier. Joe updated the girls while Frank picked the lock.

The Hardys crept through an empty storage room and a deserted store before coming to the mall's central walkway. Benson's Mini-Mall wasn't in much better shape inside than outside. Ceiling tiles and old electrical fixtures dangled haphazardly. The carpeting stank of mold, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the empty halls.

Peering out of the storefront window, the brothers saw a dozen people gathered around a sunken seating
area in what had once been the center of the mini-mall. A circle of drop-lights ringed the playing pit. Most of the players wore strange masks and bulky clothing, to better hide their identities.

The contestants sat huddled in small groups, ranging from two to five people. The players talked animatedly as they laid their cards out, attacking and counterattacking. Chet, seated with four other players, was studying his situation carefully. A demon-masked player in a black satin jacket laughed as he laid down a winning card.