Eye on Crime (7 page)

Joe walked through the doors of the locker room, his brother following closely. Joe quickly
scanned the locker room. There didn't appear to be anybody in there, and the showers were also silent.

“Check the nameplates,” he whispered to Frank. “You take the back rows,”

The two split up, Joe quickly walking down the first row of lockers while Frank sprinted to the back of the room.

After just two minutes of fruitless reading, Joe heard a whistle. He looked down the line of lockers. Frank was a few rows away, giving the thumbs-up sign. Joe quickly joined his brother.

“Rojas and Wingfoot,” Frank said as he pointed at two lockers, “side by side.”

“That makes it easy. Good thing they're best friends.”

Frank reached into his pants pocket. He took out a long, thin metal pin with a hook at one end, along with a second, thicker rod.

“Good thing they don't use combination locks,” Frank responded. He stuck the two pins into the lock that held Rojas's locker closed. After a few jiggles, the lock mechanism yielded to Frank's expert touch. Joe immediately began searching through the locker while Frank went to work on Wingfoot's lock.

“Find anything?” Frank asked as he began his search of Wingfoot's possessions.

“Just a goofy picture,” Joe replied. “Here, look at this.”

Frank glanced over to see what his brother was holding.

“ ‘To some great performers. You're the best, Monty Andrews,' ” Frank read. Joe had found a picture of Rojas and Wingfoot posing with the host of
Monty Mania.
“Looks like they were picked from the audience at one of the tapings.”

Frank stuck his head inside Wingfoot's locker. Joe replaced the picture on the inside of the door to Rojas's locker. Then he closed the door and latched the lock.

“Bingo,” Frank exhaled. Joe kneeled down to get a look at what had gotten Frank's attention.

“What have we here?” Joe asked with a smile.

“Gee,” came a booming voice from behind the brothers, “we were just going to ask the same thing!”

Frank and Joe stood up slowly. Frank still held the object that had riveted his attention before they were startled by the booming voice behind them. Joe gave his brother a what-do-we-do-now look as they calmly turned to face the guy, who was backed up by the Shoreham High School baseball team.

There was a moment of tense silence. Frank counted the number of people they faced—thirteen to two, not very good odds.

“I'll ask again,” said a tall, lanky boy with dark skin and an angular face. “What do we have here?”

“Looks like a couple of thieves!” shouted a voice from the back of the pack of boys.

“Looks like a couple of Bayport bums, come here to sabotage us,” another voice said.

“Yeah, I recognize them,” said the dark-skinned teen. “You two play for Bayport High's baseball team. The Hardy brothers.”

“And you're Pepper Wingfoot, and it looks like you're guilty,” Joe responded. He pointed to what was clenched in Frank's hand. The older Hardy dangled a bright gold necklace between two fingers. The necklace had a heart-shaped charm that bore a small, sparkling diamond.

“Hey!” Wingfoot spat. “Where'd you get that necklace?” Wingfoot lunged forward to swipe the necklace from Frank's hand, but Frank clenched his fist and pulled the bauble out of reach.

“The real question should be, where did you get it?” Frank said. “Been doing some after-hours shopping?”

“Don't answer that,” said the boy next to Pepper. He was as tall as Wingfoot but much more muscular. “We don't have to answer any questions about that.”

“What are you hiding, Rojas?” Joe asked as he realized who the other boy was.

“Enough with the talk!” shouted another ballplayer. “Let's teach these Bayport goons a lesson.”

“Yeah!” grumbled some of the other players as they descended on Frank and Joe. The brothers both put their hands in front of them.

“Come on, now,” Frank said. “We didn't come here for a fight.”

“Well, it looks like you found one,” Rojas responded. He raised his fist, aiming it at Joe, who crossed his arms in front of his body in a defensive posture.

The punch, however, was halted by a loud voice instead.

“What are you guys all crowded around for?” asked a man in a Shoreham baseball uniform as he pushed through the crowd.

“These guys from Bayport broke in here and ransacked our lockers, Coach,” Wingfoot explained.

The coach glared at Frank and Joe. Then he glanced at Rojas, who still had his fist cocked.

“Relax, Roberto,” the coach said. “You don't need any more trouble.”

“That's what we're here about,” Frank said, holding up the jeweled necklace he had found in Pepper Wingfoot's gym bag.

The coach's eyes widened. He glanced at the crowd of ballplayers.

“Okay, hit the showers!” he growled. The crowd began to disperse, murmuring threats at Frank and Joe.

“You two come with me,” the coach said to the Hardys. “You guys also.” He indicated Rojas and Wingfoot. The four teens glared as they walked in
silence behind the coach. He led them to a small office at the front of the locker room. When he was sitting behind his desk, he addressed the boys.

“One at a time, starting with you,” he said pointing to Frank. “Names and explanations.”

“I'm Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe,” Frank began. “We came here hoping to get some information from Rojas and Wingfoot about the robbery at the Jewelry Exchange.”

“By breaking into my locker?” Wingfoot asked angrily.

“We wanted to see if you really were involved in that crime,” Frank said.

“And I guess we found our answer,” Joe added, indicating the necklace in his brother's hand.

“Let me see that,” the coach said to Frank, who handed the necklace across the desk.

“Can you explain this?” he said to Wingfoot.

“Hey, maybe those guys planted it!” Rojas interjected.

Wingfoot shook his head. “Nice try at a save, buddy. But the truth will serve us better here. I bought it for my girlfriend a few weeks ago. I was saving it for her birthday.”

“In your locker?” Joe asked with skepticism.

“After we were, you know, arrested, I moved it here so if the cops searched my house, they wouldn't be suspicious like you guys are now.”

“Why wasn't it gift wrapped?” Frank asked.

“I was going to slip it around her neck. Figured it was cooler than just handing her a box with a ribbon around it.”

“Do you have proof that you bought this necklace, Pepper?” the coach asked.

“Sure, Coach,” Wingfoot replied. “I have a receipt and everything. Guess I didn't want any more hassle from the cops so I stashed it here.”

“That's good enough for me,” the coach said. He glared at Frank and Joe. “So, what's your interest in all of this. You work for the cops? Or maybe the jewelry store?”

“Neither,” Joe said. “We're working for our girlfriends.”

“See, they came to steal the necklace,” Rojas said.

“How would we know there was even a necklace in there?” Joe replied. “We were looking for evidence.”

“Why?

“Well, because our girlfriends, Iola Morton and Callie Shaw, were arrested for robbery, and we think it's tied into the break-in at the Jewelry Exchange,” Joe explained.

“So your girls are doing time for a crime they tried to frame us for? Good.”

“It's not like that, Rojas,” Frank replied. “Look, we know they're innocent. Maybe you two are framing them for something you did.”

“We didn't do anything,” Wingfoot said. “Man,
I can respect you guys trying to help your girlfriends, but we have nothing to say to you that we haven't said already to the cops.”

“Hey,” Rojas said, cutting off his friend, “our lawyer told us to follow what the police told us and not say anything to anybody.”

“Forget the rules,” Wingfoot said. “These guys bent the rules to help their girlfriends. Maybe they can help us.”

“If you're innocent,” Joe said, “anything we do to help Iola and Callie will help you.”

“There's nothing to help with,” Rojas said. “We have no alibi, some stupid videotape puts us at the scene. Our meat is burned.”

“Where were you two the night of the robbery?” Frank asked.

Wingfoot laughed. “That's the problem,” he said. “We were just with each other, hanging in the woods outside of town. No witnesses, nothing.”

“That's the only excuse Callie and Iola have, too.”

There was nothing more to get from Rojas and Wingfoot. Frank and Joe apologized for breaking into their lockers.

“I'll let you two go this time with just a warning,” the coach said. “But the only time or place I ever want to see you around here is on the field for a ball game. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe said.

“Thank you, sir,” Frank added.

The Hardys left Shoreham High School and started the long drive home.

“Drive by Callie's house. We can see if Mr. Shaw has any information after his trip to the police station,” Frank said.

Joe followed his brother's instructions. When they arrived at the Shaw residence, there were several cars parked in the driveway. The Hardys recognized the cars belonging to the Shaws, as well as two owned by the Mortons. However, they had no idea who owned the expensive black foreign luxury car.

Frank knocked on the door. It opened almost instantaneously, as if their arrival was expected.

“Oh, Frank!” Callie shouted with glee as she grabbed her boyfriend around the waist. Frank returned Callie's hug. Joe nudged past the two to get to Iola, who was in the entryway.

“We're so glad to see you two,” Joe said. “How'd you get bail set so quickly?”

“Don't answer that,” Mr. Morton shouted from the living room. “Don't tell them anything.”

“Dad!” Iola said angrily as the teens entered the living room. “Enough with this gag order.”

“Your father is correct,” said a man in a black suit. He was seated on the couch. On the coffee table in front of him rested an open briefcase, a yellow notepad, and several documents.

“And you are?” Joe asked.

“Stelfreeze. Brady Stelfreeze, attorney. I'm how bail was set so promptly. But that is the only thing you'll be told. Anything else these girls tell you will only hurt their chances in court.”

“Why is everybody over the age of eighteen so determined to keep us from speaking with our friends?” Iola asked.

“Teen gangs,” Frank said.

“Huh?”

Joe explained. “The way we figure it, the police think there is some sort of teen gang committing robberies.”

“How do you know any of this?” Stelfreeze asked incredulously.

“Because they're better than any police detectives,” Callie told him.

“And we think that they're our best chance to solve any mystery that involves other people our age, like those two boys from the Jewelry Exchange,” Iola added.

“Rojas and Wingfoot,” Frank said. “We just left them.”

“Did you learn anything?” Stelfreeze asked.

“You first,” Joe replied.

Stelfreeze said nothing.

“I'll break the stalemate,” Iola said. “We were arrested for robbing the Golden Palace Jewelry Store.”

“Iola!” Mr. Morton shouted.

“So they don't directly tie you into the Jewelry Exchange? Interesting.”

“Frank, I don't think you're helping matters here,” Mrs. Shaw said.

“I think they can,” Mr. Shaw said. “I saw them at the police station. And to tell you the truth, they probably work faster and better than the cops I met down there.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Frank said. He turned to Callie. “So why did the police come after you?”

“Supposedly they have us on videotape robbing the store last night.”

“You have that tape?”

“A copy is being delivered to my office later today,” Stelfreeze said.

“Frank,” Joe said. “It's almost six o'clock. I say we hit the scene of the crime before the store closes.”

“Good thinking. It's always a good idea to look for clues while the trail is warm.”

Frank and Joe said goodbye and headed to the van. Twenty minutes later they were at the Golden Palace. The store was smaller than the Jewelry Exchange. It didn't even have its own parking lot. It was in the middle of the block, separated from the store to its left by an alleyway.

The brothers entered the Golden Palace, which was little more than a wide hallway with glass
cases on one side and an office in back. The glass cases were all empty.

“Can I help you?” asked an old man as he came out of the back room. “We're not really open.”

“The door was unlocked,” Frank said.

“I've had police in and out all day. Plus anybody who had something on pre-order who came to pick it up, not knowing we were cleaned out last night. You here to pick up something?”

“Not anymore, I guess,” Joe said.

“Sorry. But you'll get a refund or replacement as soon as the insurance settles or the stuff is recovered.”

“They got everything, huh? We shouldn't have ordered from a place with so little security.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, said the old man. “The security for this place is just that one camera.” He pointed to a camera on the ceiling above the glass cases. “Didn't figure on needing more than that for a little place like this. And it did its job. Caught those thieves on tape.”

“Guess it did,” Joe said. “Well, thanks.”

“Is that an Eye Spy camera?” Frank asked.

“Sure is,” the man answered. “It worked like a charm.”

The brothers left the store.