The Shore Road Mystery (4 page)

Elated by the clue, the Hardys thanked Chet and headed home. After a light supper, they told of their proposed visit to the Dodds. Aunt Gertrude was skeptical about the bail which Mr. Hardy had put up so promptly. “You're all too trustful,” she said. “Look up this Slagel in your father's files.”

Frank and Joe did so, and were disappointed when the files revealed no information on Slagel.

“Reckless, plain reckless, Frank and Joe Hardy,” Aunt Gertrude said. “Why, the Dodds may really be car thieves!”

“But Dad doesn't think so, Aunty,” Joe reminded Miss Hardy.

“Never you mind. You just can't rely on men who don't have a woman around the house to keep them straight.” Despite her words, the boys' aunt was secretly proud of their magnanimous efforts to help the Dodds.

When the telephone rang, Joe answered the call. “It's Chief Collig,” he whispered to Frank. Then Joe's jaw dropped and he slowly hung up the phone. He could hardly speak.

“The chief says the Dodds may have jumped bail. They've disappeared in their station wagon!”

PERPLEXED over the news of the Dodds, Frank and Joe immediately cycled out to the farm. It was a scene of confusion, with a crowd of spectators watching the excitement from the highway.

“There's Chief Collig,” Frank indicated as the boys parked next to a bright-blue television van. They went over to speak to him. As they walked with him toward the house, Joe asked, “But why would the Dodds run away?”

Collig took a deep breath and shook his head. “I only know they appear to have left hastily—and, I'm afraid, permanently. One of our patrols noticed the garage was empty and investigated. The door of the house was unlocked. All food and clothing were gone.”

The officer turned to the boys. “I'm sorry that you and your dad will suffer financially should the Dodds not appear at the hearing tomorrow.” 28

Frank and Joe, in their concern over the Dodds, had completely forgotten about the posted bail.

The police chief accompanied them through the farmhouse rooms. Joe, who was familiar with Jack's room, noticed that a pup tent and sleeping bag were missing.

“I don't understand it,” Frank said ruefully as they started down the stairs. “Jack seemed worried but not enough to—”

“I'm afraid this isn't all,” Collig interrupted. He held out a large rabbit's-foot charm. “Have you boys ever seen this?”

“Yes, that's the one Jack had on his key ring,” Joe said.

“Another car was stolen at Bay Bluff during the last hour.” Collig hesitated. “This charm was found there.”

When the three returned to the noisy scene outside, the boys inquired for Jack's uncle. He had not arrived.

Frank and Joe decided to ride out to Bay Bluff. As they reached their motorcycles, Frank said in a low voice, “Joe, I have a hunch that Jack and his father didn't leave of their own accord.”

Joe whistled. “You mean they might have been kidnapped? But why—”

The discussion was interrupted by the arrival of a short, stout man named Oscar Smuff, wearing a green tweed suit and Tyrolean hat. He appeared to be taking copious notes in a memo book.

Smuff, an aspiring detective, had long wanted to become a member of the Bayport Police Department. The Hardys often encountered him on cases, but he was not distinguished for powers of deduction or insight. The boys greeted him and started their vehicles.

“Too bad about all that bail money,” Smuff said. “But you're just kids—didn't know you were backing car thieves. Got in over your heads this time. Should have asked my advice.

Joe was about to retort, but Frank signaled to him and they wished the egotistical detective good night.

Heading through a cool sea wind down the dark highway, the Hardys soon reached Bay Bluff. Near a lone police car, a young woman was wiping her eyes as an officer spoke with her. The boys parked and introduced themselves.

From the woman's story, Frank and Joe gathered she had parked at the bend, heading south, and climbed a foot path to watch the sunset. “I did leave the key in the ignition,” she admitted, “and my car wasn't visible from the path, but I had a complete view of Shore Road traffic in both directions. Then I saw my car moving out on the highway—but it was too late.”

“We're sure sorry to hear that,” said Frank.

After the policeman and the woman had driven away, the Hardys looked for clues to the theft. The stolen car had been driven south toward Bayport.

Frank followed his flashlight beam across the road toward the ocean. Joe did the same. From far below came the sound of the pounding surf.

“If only Jack and Mr. Dodd had known about the glove we found!” Joe sighed. “Now, it may not be wise to publicize that we have it until we have some idea where Slagel is.”

Frank agreed. “But it might be good for us to have a talk with Dad tomorrow. If—”

Frank's voice was drowned in a loud screeching sound as a limousine burst around the bend from the south. It swung too wide in the turn and headed straight for the boys!

Blinded by the glaring headlights, Joe slipped but sprawled safely out of the way as the big car rocked back onto the road and raced off. Frank had vanished from sight!

“Frank!” Joe cried out, rushing to the edge of the bluff. He heard a sound, and looking down, was relieved to see his brother's hands grasping the vines of a small bush. In a moment he had pulled him up.

“Whew! Thanks!” Frank gasped. “I was standing on an awful lot of air down there! Did you get the license number of that car?”

“No,” Joe replied. “But it looked to me like a tan Carlton, two or three years old.”

After a double-check failed to turn up any clues, the brothers headed home. Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude were upset to hear of the Dodds' disappearance. Their mother also mentioned having heard prowlers outside the house earlier in the evening.

“Again! Were they near the garage?” Joe exclaimed.

“Yes,” Aunt Gertrude replied. “I looked around out there myself but didn't see anybody. Your father's car was not touched.”

“Joe, the glove!” Frank started, suddenly remembering that they had left it in their crime lab over the garage.

Both boys tore out of the house and ran up to the lab. The pine-paneled room also served as a combination workshop and clubhouse. One maple bookcase, a small safe, several plaster footprint molds, and various scientific kits were arranged neatly along two walls of the lab. Hanging on another wall were assorted disguises—wigs, beards, masks, and hats.

Joe flicked on the light and opened a cabinet.
The glove was gone!

Frank groaned. “Our only clue! But let's make a duplicate of Slagel's picture, anyway.”

They did this, then returned to the house.

“Well,” Joe said, trying to be cheerful, “the Dodds may still show up at the hearing tomorrow.”

A light came into Frank's face. “Joe! We may have lost a clue, but I think we've gained something in its place.”

“What?”

“The fact that the glove was stolen from us proves it must be important—and probably to Slagell”

The late news reports gave no word on the missing Dodds, but another car had been reported stolen and presumed to have been driven toward Bayport. When the announcer read its description, Joe jumped up.

“A tan Carlton! Frank, it's the car that almost ran us down at the bluff!”

“But the driver was heading
north.
Still—” Frank snapped his fingers. “I've got it! Tire marks prove the thieves always head south. But what's to stop them from turning around a minute later and heading north?”

“A simple U-turn!” Joe agreed.

The following morning, just before the scheduled hearing of the Dodd case, Frank called Chief Collig and learned that the Dodds had failed to appear. Nothing had been heard from Martin Dodd, either.

“Do you suppose he was kidnapped too?” Joe asked Frank.

His brother shrugged. “If so, it may involve the Pilgrim mystery. Let's go out to Cheston College and make some inquiries.”

Before they left, a phone call came from their father. After briefing him on the latest developments, Joe asked, “Dad, how's your case coming?”

“I'm not at liberty to say much, but I wouldn't be surprised if I suddenly took up the study of gases as a hobby. I wish I were free, though, to give you boys a hand.”

Late that morning Frank and Joe traveled by train to Greenville, then walked to the peaceful, shaded campus of Cheston College. At the office they learned that Martin Dodd, a bachelor, had left as expected the day before for Bayport. The boys obtained two photographs of the astronomy professor. Both showed him to be tall and middle-aged, with a gray mustache and horn-rimmed glasses.

“He may be in Bayport right now,” Frank remarked hopefully.

But when the Hardys called on Chief Collig later that afternoon they were told nothing had been heard of the mysteriously missing uncle. Without mentioning the Dodds' Pilgrim mystery, the Hardys provided the chief with one of the professor's photographs.

“We'll look for him,” the officer promised.

Upon reaching home the brothers found that Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude were out. A few minutes later the boys received a visitor. Frank ushered the heavy-set, well-dressed man into the living room. He introduced himself as a Manhattan businessman.

“I must profoundly apologize for not giving my name to you boys,” he said. “I have come on a matter of a highly confidential nature.”

“My father can't help you now. He is away,” Frank told him. “Perhaps when he returns—”

“Oh, but you misapprehend me,” the stranger protested, removing his spectacles. He smiled ingratiatingly. “It is the services of the distinguished sons of Fenton Hardy which I am interested in acquiring—for a private case in New York City.”

The stilted language and pompous manner of the man impressed neither of the boys. Suspicious of his wish for anonymity, they informed him that they were engaged on other matters. His flattering persistence availed nothing.

“You refuse then? Most unfortunate, most unfortunate,” the man whispered. He bowed curtly at the door and left.

“There's something fishy about him,” Joe commented. “Too bad we couldn't get his name.”

“I did notice some things,” Frank said. “The cigarette he was smoking was a foreign make, and that gaudy tie clasp had the initials C. M. on it.”

“Maybe he wants to get us out of Bayportl” Joe suggested.

Other thoughts crossed the boys' minds. Was the stranger connected in any way with the Shore Road thieves? Or did he know anything about the disappearance of the Dodds?

Early that evening Joe phoned Chet, and without disclosing details of the Pilgrim mystery, told him of the missing Martin Dodd. Chet agreed to come to a strategy meeting at the Hardy home the next day.

Joe had just hung up when he thought of something. “Frank! Jack's boat! We forgot all about it! Do you think the Dodds could have gone off in that?”

“Not unless their station wagon is parked down by the boathouse. But we might find some clues there to where they could be!”

Ten minutes later Frank and Joe reached an aluminum boathouse at the Bayport waterfront. They parked their motorcycles. Faintly pink clouds lingered in the sky below a rising half-moon. Over the distant hum of cicadas, the boys' footsteps drummed on the wooden boards of the dock.

Inside the dark, oblong structure six boats were moored. Eerie shadows seemed to ripple up the corrugated walls from the lapping water. At the end of the row, Frank saw a green-and-white boat bobbing gently.

“It's still here!” he said.

Joe, snapping a finger to his lips, grabbed his brother's arm. He had heard a sound outside, but now only the wash of water on the hulls came to their ears. The brothers worked their way along until they stood over Jack's boat. Holding the damp railings, the Hardys peered into its dark hold.

“Let's have a closer look,” Frank said.

At that moment the sound of a board creaking came from inside the cabin of the boat.

“Joe! Somebody's in there!”

Before they could investigate, the boys felt strong arms around their necks. Wet cloths were slapped over their faces!

FRANK awoke to see blurred reflections from the water on the dark boathouse ceiling. His clothes felt damp, and he was conscious of a heavy feeling in his head.

As Joe stirred alongside him, Frank scrambled to his feet, then helped his brother to get up.

“Jack's boat—it's gone!” Joe said groggily. “Did you get a look at the men who attacked us?”

“No, but whoever grabbed me and clamped that cloth over my face was strong. Wonder what knocked us out?”

“Some kind of liquid gas is my guess,” Joe answered.

After informing Chief Collig of the attack upon them and the stolen Dodd boat, many unanswered questions filled the Hardys' thoughts as they drove home. Who were the men who had gassed them and taken the Dodd boat? Could they have been Shore Road thieves, who also had planted a stolen car at the Dodd farm? Did they know anything about the clue to the Pilgrim treasure? Above all, what had become of Jack and his father?

Frank looked worried. “We feel sure the Dodds aren't car thieves, and what happened tonight at the boathouse makes me think more than ever that they didn't run away.”

“You mean they were not only kidnapped, but maybe harmed?”