Warehouse Rumble (3 page)

“Don’t worry, Jack,” Missy Gates quipped. “No one
important
got hurt.”

Herman Jackson sputtered. “N-no one
important
 . . . ?”

“Relax, Herman,” Willingham said, putting his arm around the smaller man’s shoulder. “She’s just pulling your leg. Aren’t you?” He shot Missy a nasty look. She shrugged and went back to the auditions.

“I was next to the chimney when it collapsed,” Chet said. “I didn’t get hurt much.”

“Much?”
Jackson said, still alarmed.

“Just a few bruises and some dirty clothes,” Joe explained.

Jackson let out a long sigh of relief. “Well, if that’s all . . .”

“Stop worrying,” Willingham said. “You’ll live longer. Trust me. Now, why don’t you just head home and dream about all the publicity
Warehouse Rumble
is going to generate for you when you sell this dump?”

“Okay,” Jackson said, nodding. “I’m sorry I overreacted. Next time, though, make sure you call me
immediately.
”

“Herman, there won’t
be
a next time,” Willingham said sincerely. He walked Jackson toward the door, talking quietly to the man as they went.

“Where are you five supposed to be?” Ms. Kendall asked. She looked at Bo Reid, the Hardys, and their friends and checked her clipboard.

“Me and lardo got a free pass,” Reid called from nearby.

“That’s
Mister
Lardo to you, chump,” Chet shot back.

“We’re on break,” Frank said quickly, trying to defuse things before Chet and Reid could start up again.

“Ah, yes,” Ms. Kendall said. “Enjoy your time off. Mr. Willingham wants you back at practice in ten minutes.” She flipped her papers closed and walked away.

“I’m hitting the bathroom,” Daphne said. “Did any of you notice where it is?”

“On the far side of the warehouse,” Chet replied.

“Past the chimneys,” Frank added.

Daphne jogged off in that direction while the Hardys grabbed some hot cocoa and doughnuts. Bo Reid sneered at them and then moved away to watch some of the auditions.

“Nice guy,” Joe said, clearly meaning just the opposite.

“Too bad the chimney didn’t fall on
him,
” Frank added.

Just then, a piercing scream rose above the clamor of the warehouse.

The Hardys and Chet turned and saw Daphne standing stock-still near the broken chimney. Her eyes were wide, and her skin looked very pale.

The brothers and Chet sprinted to her side.

“What’s wrong?” Frank asked.

Daphne pointed to the bottom of the pile of broken bricks lying next to the chimney.

Poking out of the rubble was a skeletal hand.

The Hardys and their friends stared at the bony fingers that were protruding from beneath the wreckage of the old chimney.

“What’s happening? Is anybody hurt?” Ward Willingham called as he rushed to the scene.

“This guy definitely doesn’t look well,” Chet said.

“But I don’t think the trouble is very recent,” Frank added grimly.

Daphne shook her head. “It
couldn’t
be one of the contestants.”

“Not unless piranhas live in these chimneys,” said Joe.

“What do you mean?” Willingham asked. He
stopped when he spotted the skeletal hand. The other people in the warehouse began to gather around the chimney as well.

“Keep back,” Julie Kendall said. “It might not be safe.”

“Is this some kind of prank?” Willingham asked angrily. He looked around until he found the crew who had been working on removing the rubble. “Do you guys know anything about this?”

The cleanup crew merely shrugged and shook their heads.

“All right,” Willingham said, “everyone back to work. We’re on a tight schedule here. We don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

“You
have
to call the police on this,” Frank said. “Even if it turns out to be just a prank.”

Willingham glared, then finally said, “All right. Julie, get the police on the phone, would you?”

Julie Kendall pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911.

“We should keep everyone away from the skeleton,” Joe suggested.

“How about we start with you guys,” Willingham snapped. He waved his hands at the Hardys and their friends, indicating they should move toward the other side of the warehouse.

The teens, the other contestants, and the members of the crew moved away from the chimneys. A
number of contestants, including Daphne, took the opportunity to visit the bathroom.

“The police are on their way,” Ms. Kendall announced as she snapped her cell phone shut.

“Good,” Willingham said, though he didn’t seem to mean it. “Let’s try to get in some more practice before they arrive.”

Slowly, the prospective contestants drifted back to their routines. As they did, a loud knock sounded on the door.

“That’s awfully fast,” Ms. Kendall said, indicating to one member of her crew to open the door.

The crewman did, and two people bustled inside. The one in front was a well-dressed woman holding a microphone. Behind her came a man holding a TV camera with the letters
WSDS
stenciled on the side.

“Stacia Allen, WSDS News,” announced the woman. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Willingham said, smiling awkwardly. “We’re holding tryouts for
Warehouse Rumble.
”

“The reality-game pilot that’s shooting in Bayport?” Ms. Allen asked, sticking her microphone in front of Willingham. “Are you the show’s producer?”

“Yes,” Willingham replied. He lowered his sunglasses, and his eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you from a news magazine on a rival network? I don’t remember issuing credentials to your crew.”

“How did these news hawks get here before the police?” Chet whispered to the Hardys.

“Maybe they were listening in on the police radio band,” Joe suggested.

“Or they could have been on their way here
before
the call went out to the police,” Frank said.

“You’re thinking that Hessmann guy called them?” Joe asked.

“He said people had a right to know what was going on here,” Frank said.

“If that’s the case,” Chet replied, “this news crew is going to get a much better story than they bargained for.”

Ms. Kendall stepped up next to her boss. “WSDS wasn’t issued credentials, sir,” she said to Willingham.

“You don’t need credentials to follow up on a news story,” Stacia Allen said. “I hear there’s some hot news in this warehouse tonight. Care to comment?”

“
Warehouse Rumble
is going to be the hottest new show of the season,” Willingham said, falling into his rehearsed patter. He tried to position himself between the TV camera and the broken chimney.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Ms. Allen said. “What can you tell me about this accident?” She and her cameraman tried to move around Willingham toward the chimneys.

“That’s a matter for the police,” Frank said, stepping in front of her.

Ms. Allen glared at him. “Who are you?” she
asked. “What’s your relationship to this program?”

“Frank Hardy. I’m just one of the people trying out for the show.”

Allen’s eyebrows raised. “The son of Fenton Hardy, the detective? And that must be your younger brother, Joe.”

“Guilty,” Joe said, stepping up beside his brother.

“So you really don’t have any authority to stop us,” Ms. Allen said, trying to outflank the Hardys.

“They don’t, but
we
do,” said a voice from the doorway.

The brothers turned and saw Officers Con Riley and Gus Sullivan, two of Bayport’s finest, standing in the door.

“Looks like we got here just in time,” Sullivan continued. He was older than Riley, but Riley outranked him.

“You should know better than to try to disturb a crime scene, Ms. Allen,” Riley said. Riley and Officer Sullivan walked up to the group and barred the way of the news crew.

“Crime scene . . . ?” Allen said. For a moment, her eyes lit up at the discovery, then she recovered her composure. “Since when is shooting pictures interfering with the police? The press have rights, you know.”

“So do the police,” Officer Sullivan countered.

“So do
I,
” Willingham put in. He shook hands with the police and introduced himself. “This is the
set of
my
TV show. I won’t have rival networks poking around.”

“Ever hear of the First Amendment?” Stacia Allen asked.

“Let’s not get worked up,” Con Riley said. “She
does
have the right to cover news, and if you’ve really found a skeleton in that chimney, that would qualify.”

Ms. Allen shot Willingham a smug grin.

“However, we’ll try to keep her out of your hair,” Riley finished.

“But I’m holding auditions here!” Willingham said.

Julie Kendall sidled up to her boss. “Maybe we should call it a day,” she suggested. “We’ve got another session scheduled for the morning. These people could come back and finish their auditions then.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Riley said.

“Yeah, okay,” Willingham agreed. “Everybody head for home. Auditions resume at nine
A.M.
—sharp—tomorrow morning.”

“If you’ve witnessed the trouble here, please stay so Officer Sullivan can interview you,” Con Riley added.

“I’m doing interviews as well,” Stacia Allen announced, “after the police are through, of course.” She shot Con Riley a condescending smile.

“Just stay out of our way,” Riley said. He turned toward the Hardys. “Good to see you kids again.
Do you have any information about this?”

“We’ll be happy to tell you what we know,” Joe said. Daphne had returned from the bathroom. She, Frank, and Chet nodded their agreement.

“Great,” the officer said. “Talk to Sullivan. I have to take a statement from Mr. Willingham.” He and Willingham walked toward the broken chimney.

Stacia Allen tried to follow, but Sullivan cut her off. “You’ll get your chance,” he said. “Later.”

More police arrived to help with the crime scene, but the interviews still went slowly. The cops kept the newspeople at bay as long as they could, though Ms. Allen and her cameraman managed to get some shots of the broken chimney and the skeleton beneath it.

Ward Willingham decided to give the WSDS crew an interview after all. He kept talking about the game; Allen tried to steer him toward the “accident.”

It was nearly midnight by the time the Hardys and their friends arrived home. They all went straight to bed and quickly fell asleep.

•  •  •

The four friends assembled in the Hardys’ kitchen early the next morning. Frank made pancakes while Joe handled the eggs and bacon. Daphne and Chet set the table and poured drinks. A radio on the counter blared the news and weather.

Frank paged through the morning paper as they ate. “They discovered whose skeleton it was,” Frank
announced. “He had I.D. in what was left of his clothing. His name was Joss Orlando. He used to live in Bayport.”

“I heard on the radio that he’d been missing for fifteen years,” Daphne said.

“I thought he looked a little thin,” Joe added sardonically.

“How did he get in the chimney?” Chet asked.

“They think he fell in from the roof,” Frank said. “But why was he up there?” He shrugged.

“Con Riley and the cops will figure it out eventually,” Joe said.

“Well, I’m glad this is one mystery the
police
get to solve,” Daphne said, winking at the brothers.

Chet looked at his watch. “You guys need to be getting to the auditions,” he said.

“I’m surprised you didn’t sleep in—since you’ve already earned a spot on the show,” Joe said.

“Hey, I’ve got to root for my friends, don’t I?” Chet asked.

“Great—let’s get going, then,” Frank said, putting his dishes in the washer.

They finished cleaning up, then piled into the Hardys’ van and drove out to the old warehouse. Ms. Kendall greeted them as they entered. The refreshment area had been moved to the other side of the warehouse, away from the crime scene, which now had yellow police tape around it. A number of local news crews were poking around,
including Stacia Allen and her cameraman.

They saw quite a few new faces among the crowd waiting to try out, though the overall group wasn’t much bigger than the one the day before.

“It looks like some people from yesterday didn’t come back,” Chet said.

“Too bad Bo Reid wasn’t one of them,” Daphne noted, spotting the big, black-haired teen chatting with Missy and Jay near the wall.

“He has a guaranteed place in the show,” Joe said. “He’d be a dope to drop out. I wonder where the others are, though?”

Joe shrugged. “Maybe the tryouts were too rough for them.”

“Or maybe they didn’t like the decor,” Frank suggested.

“I wasn’t going to come,” said a girl standing nearby. She had stringy, blond-streaked black hair and was dressed all in black, Goth-style. “That chimney accident sounded way dangerous.”

“This whole place is falling apart,” commented her companion. He was a bit taller than Frank and Chet and was decked out in black clothes like the girl.

“Then I thought,” the girl continued, “it would be pretty radical to be on TV—even the local news. I’m Lily Sabatine. This is my brother, Todd. We’re trying out.” She and the tall teen shook hands with the group.

“Don’t let my sister fool you,” Todd said. “She digs danger.”

Lily laughed. “Busted! C’mon, Todd, let’s see how close we can get to that police tape.”

“Hmm . . . a little morbid?” Daphne asked as the siblings left.

“Danger is bread and butter to some people,” Frank said.

“Coffee and doughnuts to others,” Chet added with a grin at the Hardys.

“Looks like your boyfriend is cornering the doughnuts,” someone said to Daphne.

The four friends turned and saw Bo Reid lurking nearby, a smirk on his face.

“What’s the matter, Reid?” Chet asked. “Couldn’t win at Creature Cards, so you’ve made acting like a sore loser your hobby?”

“Maybe I just don’t like snotty redheads who hang around with fat slobs,” Reid shot back.