Trick-or-Trouble Read online

  A Race with the Devil

  Allison skidded wildly as her Halloween bag jerked tight across her chest. She and the bike crashed to the street, and the bag’s contents flew into the air. Allison gasped in pain.

  Joe and Frank sprinted after the mugger.

  “Hey you!” Joe called. “Stop!”

  The bandit stopped, but only long enough to scoop up a few of the spilled envelopes. The black-robed devil then turned and ran into the alley across the street.

  “Look after Allison,” Frank called to Callie. “We’ll catch the thief.”

  Callie Shaw ran to where Allison had fallen. “I’m all right,” the girl in the witch costume said, “just a bit shaken up.” She and Callie lifted the bike and began to pick up the spilled clues.

  Frank and Joe charged into the alley after the bandit. “Any idea who we’re chasing?” Joe asked.

  “Between the darkness and the mask, who knows?” Frank replied.

  The Hardy Boys Mystery Stories

  #109 The Prime-Time Crime

  #110 The Secret of Sigma Seven

  #139 The Search for the Snow Leopard

  #140 Slam Dunk Sabotage

  #141 The Desert Thieves

  #143 The Giant Rat of Sumatra

  #152 Danger in the Extreme

  #154 The Caribbean Cruise Caper

  #156 A Will to Survive

  #159 Daredevils

  #160 A Game Called Chaos

  #161 Training for Trouble

  #162 The End of the Trail

  #163 The Spy That Never Lies

  #164 Skin & Bones

  #165 Crime in the Cards

  #166 Past and Present Danger

  #167 Trouble Times Two

  #168 The Castle Conundrum

  #169 Ghost of a Chance

  #170 Kickoff to Danger

  #171 The Test Case

  #172 Trouble in Warp Space

  #173 Speed Times Five

  #174 Hide-and-Sneak

  #175 Trick-or-Trouble

  The Hardy Boys Ghost Stories

  Available from ALADDIN Paperbacks

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Aladdin Paperbacks edition September 2002

  Copyright © 2002 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  The text of this book was set in New Caledonia.

  THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  THE HARDY BOYS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Library of Congress Control Number 2002103779

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-7395-8

  ISBN-10: 0-7434-7395-7

  Visit us on the World Wide Web:

  http://www.SimonSays.com

  Contents

  1 Fright Night

  2 The Old Dark House

  3 Severed Head Start

  4 Race with the Devil

  5 Slashing Blades

  6 Ghost Riders

  7 The Shuttered Store

  8 Vault of Horror

  9 Sincerely Smashing Pumpkins

  10 Werewolf’s Wagon vs. Dracula’s Dragster

  11 The Unholy Three

  12 Theater of Blood

  13 Parade of Death

  14 Witch Hunt

  15 Horror Express

  1 Fright Night

  “My mom is driving me nuts!” Daphne Soesbee complained. She and her four friends walked down Racine Street—away from Java John’s and back toward the Book Bank—their arms brimming with carry-out food and drinks.

  “I thought going a little crazy was a good thing during Halloween,” Joe Hardy said. He hefted the large bag of sandwiches in his broad arms and smiled.

  Daphne crinkled her nose at him and turned to the dark-haired girl walking beside her. “Iola, tell your boyfriend that he has a weird sense of humor.”

  Iola Morton laughed. “He’s the detective,” she said, “I think he can figure it out for himself.”

  Daphne laughed too. She struggled with the tray of drinks she was carrying, trying not to spill.

  “I can take that,” Chet Morton offered, reaching for the tray. He already held two bags of carry-out food in his big hands.

  Daphne smiled at him. “I don’t see how,” she said, “unless you have some hidden talent for juggling.”

  “Chet has many talents,” Frank Hardy said, “most of them hidden.”

  Chet, a big guy, grinned back at the older Hardy. “I’ll tackle both you and your smart aleck brother after we drop this grub off at the Book Bank.”

  “Oh, no,” Callie Shaw said. She shook her blond head and wagged her finger at him. “You’re not about to fight with my boyfriend when you promised to help your sister and Daphne and Daphne’s mom with this contest. Work first; fight later.”

  “I can do both,” Chet said. “I’m a man of many talents.”

  “Most of them hidden,” Iola Morton added, giggling.

  “So, is it the Halloween contest that’s making your mom crazy, Daphne?” Frank asked.

  Daphne nodded. “She’s almost wishing she’d never agreed to write the clues when the Bayport Merchants Association asked her. It’s a lot of work.”

  “Which is why my sister, Callie, and I are here to help,” Chet said gallantly.

  “Mom and I appreciate your volunteering,” Daphne said. “If you can handle some of the gofer work, that’ll give us time to concentrate on the contest.”

  “Did the clue cards come in yet?” Chet asked.

  “We got them last night,” Daphne replied. “Mom and I ran the first day’s envelopes out to the participating merchants this morning. I had to take the day off from school, but…” She shrugged. “What’s a girl to do?”

  “What about the clues for the other four days?” Joe asked.

  Iola tousled her boyfriend’s blond hair. “Trying to gain some advantage in the contest, Joe Hardy?” she asked.

  “Just curious about the mechanics of it all,” Joe said.

  “My mom can fill you in while we eat,” Daphne said. “You deserve a sandwich or two, since you helped lug this ‘feast’ here.”

  They hauled the food to the front entrance of the Book Bank. The store was a tall, narrow building with big plate-glass windows on either side of the door. Books and decorations for the “Halloween Spooktacular,” as the contest was called, lined the display windows. Cobwebs hung from the rafters, and a giant papier-mâché spider crawled among the volumes near the front of the glass. The word “Book” in the big sign above the door had been painted over in dripping red letters with the word “Blood.”

  “Nice touch,” Frank noted.

  “Mom thought it gave the store the proper atmosphere for the Spooktacular,” Daphne replied.

  Chet opened the door, and all six teens went inside. A bell rang as they entered.

  Long ago the store had been an actual, working bank. Its solid brick construction harkened back to the beginning of the twentieth century. The building had remained a bank until the end of the nineteen sixties, when they built a new branch near the Bayport courthouse. The building’s former owners had added plate-glass windows when they turned it into a retail establishment.

  Daphne’s mom, Kathryn Soesbee, had remodeled it again when she bought the place a little over two years ago. Bookshelves lined the interior of the building. The first floor was taken up with new stock, while the second was devoted to old books and
rare editions. A metal spiral staircase near the center of the store led up to the second floor.

  Despite the renovations, the original bank vault still existed. It was a big, thick-walled room near the back of the first floor. The vault looked like something out of a TV western series. It had a tiny, barred window in one wall near the ceiling. The Soesbees used it mostly for storage.

  As the friends entered the store and set down their carry-out bags on a glass-topped table near the checkout counter, Kathryn Soesbee bustled out of the vault. She was taller and slimmer than Daphne, though both mother and daughter shared the same dark red hair. She looked harried, and almost surprised to see everyone.

  “Back already?” she said. “Great, ’cause I’ve got a million things for us to do.”

  “I thought the contest wasn’t starting until midnight,” Joe said, checking his watch. “It’s barely seven now.”

  “There’s so much final preparation work to do!” Ms. Soesbee said. “I have to coordinate with the merchant’s committee, call the media, fix up the store displays and…”

  “Eat first,” Daphne said. “Nervous breakdown later.”

  “It’s easier to really go crazy on a full stomach,” Chet said, smiling.

  Ms. Soesbee let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I’ve been working too hard. I just want everything to be perfect for this contest.”

  “I doubt anyone expects perfection,” Frank said, “just fun.”

  “With the haunted house for a kickoff event and the Halloween parade at the end,” Callie added, “it’s sure to be the best contest Bayport has ever seen.” She and the others sat down at the table, and Daphne doled out food.

  Kathryn Soesbee sat down as well, though she drummed her fingers nervously on the tabletop.

  “My mother,” Daphne said, rolling her eyes, “the madwoman of Marketing Street.”

  Ms. Soesbee looked over at her daughter. “So,” she said, looking at Frank, Joe, and Callie, “are you three looking forward to the contest?”

  “Very much,” Frank nodded.

  “We’re excited to see what kind of puzzles you’ve cooked up,” Callie added.

  “I hope they’ll be good enough,” Ms. Soesbee said. “The Merchants Association has a lot riding on this.”

  “Chill, Mom,” Daphne said. “The riddles are great. They’ll keep this town jumping right up to Halloween.”

  “With your literary knowledge and your daughter’s gaming skills, it’s a sure bet,” Chet said, smiling at Daphne.

  Ms. Soesbee sighed. “I wish I were so confident,” she said, “but it’s all so complicated, coordinating the committee, the media, the participating merchants, the stores providing the prizes, the zoo supplying creepy animals….”

  “There are prizes?” Chet said, surprised. “Maybe I shouldn’t have volunteered to help out. Then I’d still be able to win something.”

  Iola rapped lightly on her brother’s head with one knuckle. “You have to solve the puzzles first, bro.”

  “Hey, I’ve hung around with Joe and Frank enough,” Chet said, mocking defensiveness. “I’ve won my share of puzzle-based games.”

  “Not against me,” Daphne said with a smile.

  “There are instant prizes, too,” Ms. Soesbee said. “Anyone can win just by visiting one of the participating merchants and picking up a clue envelope. Of course, you do have to solve puzzles to get the best prizes.”

  “What are the chances that one of the big prizes will turn up right away?” Frank asked.

  “No chance at all,” Daphne said. “The clues that lead to the big stuff are stretched out over the whole contest. People will have to really scramble to scoop them all up by the last day.”

  “And I’m sure you’ve made them really hard to figure out,” Joe said.

  Daphne smiled. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you.”

  “What happens to the prizes no one wins?” Callie asked.

  “Well, the contest guarantees that the grand prize—the reconditioned RV mobile home—will be awarded,” Ms. Soesbee said, “but the rest go back to their sponsoring merchants. A lot of merchants are holding a second-chance raffle for unclaimed prizes.

  “I’m not handling that part of the contest; it’s been left to the individual stores. I’ve got enough to worry about! Speaking of which, we should get back to work. Which bag has the cookies in it? I’ll set them behind the counter for tonight.”

  Chet handed her one of the bags he’d been carrying.

  “Better check those,” Joe said with a smile. “Some might have wandered off.”

  “Wander off yourself, Hardy,” Chet replied. “Unless you want to pitch in, and not participate in the contest.”

  “No chance of that,” Callie said. “Joe and Frank promised we could enter this as a team.”

  “We’re still figuring out a way to split that mobile home, though,” Frank said.

  “You’re not the only brain in town, Frank Hardy,” Daphne replied good-naturedly. “It’s just possible that someone else may win the grand prize.”

  Frank smiled. “Possible,” he said.

  “But not likely,” Joe added.

  Callie hooked her arms through the brothers’ elbows. “If you need your boyfriend, Iola,” she said, “he’ll be home plotting strategies for tonight’s big kickoff.”

  Joe, Frank, and Callie picked up the Hardys’ van from the alley behind the building and headed home. They stopped at Callie’s house so she could pick up her costume for the opening shindig at the old Niles mansion. Joe wasn’t dressing up, but Callie had convinced Frank to go as a gypsy rogue; she would be wearing a fortune-teller costume.

  The kickoff party started at ten P.M., with the official contest beginning at midnight and running until one A.M. The following four days, the contest would start at dusk and run until midnight.

  “This seems like a pretty risky venture,” Callie said, adjusting the fall of her long gypsy skirt. “Since you don’t have to buy anything to participate, the merchants could lose a lot of money.”

  “Most of the prizes aren’t big enough to affect a store’s bottom line,” Joe said.

  “You can only get one free entry per store per night,” Frank said. “But I read in the paper that you can get bonus entries for purchases. That should stimulate sales.” He smeared some dark makeup on his chin to simulate beard stubble.

  Callie nodded. “I guess pulling people into the stores may lead to actual shopping.” She put her arm around Frank’s shoulder and posed. “What do you think, Joe?”

  “A perfect gypsy couple,” Joe replied.

  “You sure you won’t join us?” Frank asked. “Every good gypsy couple needs a werewolf for a pet.”

  Joe shook his head. “Iola doesn’t go for beards.”

  They said good night to Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, and headed up to the old Niles place.

  The Niles mansion sat on the corner of Weis Parkway and Hickman Drive, near the southern edge of downtown. It was perched on a small hill behind a stone wall that was topped with metal spikes. The big iron gate at the front entrance stood ajar, and overgrown bushes crowded the driveway. Someone had put up a sawhorse barricade just inside the gate, so people wouldn’t bring their cars up to the house.

  The Hardys and Callie found a parking spot a block away, and they hiked back to the mansion.

  “It’s like something out of a horror movie,” Callie said as they walked through the gate and around the barricade.

  The mansion’s Victorian towers stretched like broken fingers toward the cloudy sky. Its clapboards were gray and weather-beaten; some of its shutters hung loose alongside their windows. Though the long walk to the huge front doors was lit by jack-o’-lanterns, no light came from within the manor.

  “I read the historical society is renovating the place in conjunction with the contest,” Frank said.

  “If that’s true,” Joe said, “they haven’t gotten very far.”

  “Or they’re really bad at renovation,�
� Callie added with a nervous grin.

  They walked up to the big oak doors, and Frank lifted the gargoyle-faced iron knocker. He thumped the knocker down three times. The sound echoed eerily through the ancient house.

  “Just like a Karloff flick,” Joe said.

  Frank cocked his head and listened. “Is that wolves I hear howling?”

  As he spoke, one of the heavy oaken doors creaked open and a pale, wizened face peered out.

  Callie’s eyes went wide and she gasped. “But…you’re dead!”

  2 The Old Dark House

  The flickering candelabra in the old man’s hand cast weird light across his strange, menacing face. The man’s thin lips pulled back in a smile, revealing pointed teeth. Terrified screams from inside the mansion drifted out through the doorway. Beyond the leering figure were many dark shadows in a cavernous room.

  Callie put her hand to her mouth, stifling a scream.

  The face in the door laughed.

  “Chill, Callie,” Joe said. “It’s just Vincent Blasko—the old horror movie star.”

  “B-but, he’s dead,” Callie said. “I read about it in the papers.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you read, young lady,” Blasko replied. “Like Mark Twain, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. The newspapers printed a retraction, but…” He shrugged. “No one ever reads the back pages.”

  Frank put his hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder. “You must have missed the publicity about Mr. Blasko hosting this event,” he said.

  Callie nodded nervously. “I was so busy working on the parade float, I must have,” she replied. She forced a smile. “You really gave me quite a scare.”

  Mr. Blasko grinned back. “I have that effect upon people. One of the consequences of playing so many mad doctors and vampires, I suppose.”

  “Well,” Callie said, “I am really glad you’re not dead.”

  “As am I,” Blasko replied. “Playing a ghoul all these years probably made it easier for people to believe that I had passed on. Plus, I haven’t appeared in many films in recent years—not enough good scripts, you know. My career was in decline before my ‘death’ and since…Well, let’s just say that no one’s beating down the cemetery gates to hire me.”