The Karate Clue Read online

  1

  Kick! Turn! . . . Gone!

  They call me Lightning Warrior! Hai-yaaaa!” nine-year-old Frank Hardy shouted. He gave the air three swift karate kicks.

  His eight-year-old brother, Joe, tugged at the white belt on his new uniform. “Since when do warriors wear pajamas?”

  “A karate uniform is called a gi,” Frank said. “Remember?”

  “Well, they still look like pj’s to me.”

  It was Friday afternoon at the Bayport Karate School. The Hardy brothers were about to take their first karate class. Frank and Joe had always wanted to learn karate when they lived in New York City. Their family had just moved to a town called Bayport, and their mother had finally said it was okay for them to start a class.

  It was the very end of summer, and school hadn’t started yet. Frank knew Mrs. Hardy thought karate class was a good way for him and his brother to meet some of the kids in their new neighborhood. They had already met a few on their own.

  Frank glanced across the studio. One of their new friends, Chet Morton, was in the class, too.

  Chet liked to imitate body noises and play practical jokes. He could be gross sometimes, but he was fun. He loved to eat more than just about anything.

  “Hey, Frank, Joe!” Chet called as he walked over. “Aren’t these jackets supposed to have pockets?”

  “What do you need pockets for?” Frank asked.

  Chet opened his fist. In his hand was a clump of chocolate-covered candy worms. “For these!” he cried.

  “Can’t you go one hour without food, Chet?” Joe asked, laughing.

  Chet spread his chocolate-covered hands. “How should I know? I never tried.”

  Joe looked down at his bare feet and wiggled his toes.

  “It’s neat that we don’t have to wear socks and shoes,” he said. “Now we’ll see who has duck feet, banana toes—”

  Another pair of feet appeared in front of Joe’s.

  “—And toe jam,” Frank added.

  The new set of feet belonged to Zack Jackson, the bully of Bayport. Zack was nine years old. His dark hair stuck up in spikes, and his hands and arms were covered with rub-on tattoos.

  “You just wait,” Zack said with a nasty grin. “I’ll be a black belt champ before any of you wimps.”

  Frank and Joe knew that having a black belt in karate meant you were an expert.

  “Oh, yeah?” Chet sneered. “The only black belt you’ll ever wear is to hold up your pants.”

  Joe tried not to laugh, but he did.

  Zack glared at Joe. “Well, HARDY Har! Har!” He karate chopped the air with his tattooed hands and stomped away.

  “Who does he think he is—Jimmy Han?” Frank asked.

  Jimmy Han was the boys’ favorite movie action hero. In one movie Jimmy fought off three villains on the wing of an airplane.

  “Did you say, ‘Jimmy Han’?” A girl with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail elbowed her way between the boys.

  Frank and Joe nodded.

  “I’m Tanya Wilkins, and I just happen to be president of my very own Jimmy Han fan club,” she said proudly. “We hold meetings at my house every Saturday morning. Want to join?”

  Frank, Joe, and Chet shrugged.

  “I even have a Jimmy Han treasure chest,” she whispered. “That’s where I keep all my Jimmy Han stuff. You know, pins, magazine articles, movie ticket stubs—”

  Just then a tall man wearing a gi and a black belt clapped his hands three times. Everyone stopped talking.

  “Please sit on the floor facing me,” the man called out.

  The kids in the class hurried to sit next to their friends. Chet wriggled between the Hardys.

  “Hey, Chet.” Joe pointed to the other side of the studio. “Isn’t that your sister, Iola, over there?”

  A girl with freckles smiled and waved at the boys.

  Chet buried his head in his hands and wailed. “Did you have to remind me?”

  “I am your instructor, Allen Vega,” the man continued. “But in karate class, the instructor is called Sensei.”

  The class repeated the word out loud—sen-say. Suddenly a boy with blond hair rushed through the door. He was already dressed in his gi.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” the boy panted. He dropped his green knapsack and sneakers on the floor with a clunk. “But my driver couldn’t find the way. I’m Brian Ludlow.”

  “Brian Ludlow’s dad owns the Bayport Marina,” Chet whispered to the Hardys.

  “Wow!” Joe said.

  “Brian goes to some fancy private school,” Chet added. “He’s so rich he probably blows his nose in dollar bills.”

  Sensei pointed to a black belt tied around Brian’s waist. “This is a class for beginners. Why are you wearing that?”

  “This belt was a present from a good friend,” Brian said. He glanced at the class. “Jimmy Han.”

  “Jimmy Han?” Tanya Wilkins cried. “No way! No way! No way!”

  Sensei gave the kids permission to look at the belt. They jumped up and surrounded Brian.

  “How do you know Jimmy?”

  “My dad sold him a boat for one of his movies,” Brian explained. “I visited the set one day, and he gave me his black belt.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Zack sneered. “Prove it.”

  “Read it and weep,” Brian said. He then flipped the end of the belt over. On the back, written in gold, were the words: “Best wishes from Jimmy Han.”

  “I would do anything to have that belt in my treasure chest.” Tanya said. She chopped the air swiftly. “I’d fight off two hundred ninjas. Hai-yaaaaa!”

  “You know what I’d do?” A man who looked a little older than the instructor walked over to inspect the belt. “I’d take that belt straight to Weatherby’s Auction House and sell it,” he said. “It could be worth a fortune.”

  “Who was that?” Frank whispered to Chet as the man walked away.

  “That’s Bobby Lee,” Chet said. “He runs this place.”

  “Hey, Ludlow,” Zack called out to Brian. “If you know Jimmy Han so well, why don’t you invite him here to the class?”

  “I don’t think so.” Brian shook his head. “Jimmy is pretty busy.”

  “Hah. You don’t really know Jimmy Han,” Zack said with a laugh.

  “I do so!” Brian insisted.

  The studio became very quiet. “Okay, I will invite Jimmy,” Brian promised. “You’ll see. He’ll be here next Tuesday.”

  A loud cheer filled the studio.

  “My dream is about to come true!” Tanya cried happily.

  Sensei walked over to Brian and handed him a white belt. “Thanks, Brian. But for now, why don’t you wear this?”

  Brian took the belt.

  “Right through that door is the changing room,” Sensei explained, pointing to the back of the studio. “You can put your things in an empty cubby.”

  The Hardys watched Brian pick up his knapsack and sneakers and walk through the door. He closed it behind him. A few moments later he came out wearing the white belt.

  “I can’t promise that you’ll be able to fight off a gang of ninjas,” Sensei said when everyone was seated. “But after a few classes, you might be able to do this.”

  The kids watched Sensei demonstrate some awesome fighting moves called katas. Sensei explained that many katas were hundreds of years old. Some were even named after animals.

  The class tried one of the katas called the horse. Everyone had to stand with their legs spread wide.

  “This isn’t as easy as it looks,” Joe whispered to Frank.

  After the katas, Sensei showed the class how to do a side kick. Chet tried one. He lost his balance and fell on the mat with a thump.

  “Fighting, or sparring, is an
important part of karate,” Sensei explained when class was almost over. “But so is respect. That’s why we bow at the end of each class.”

  Frank and Joe giggled as they bowed to Sensei and then to each other.

  “Class is dismissed,” Sensei announced. “See you all next Tuesday.”

  Frank and Joe ran with the others into the changing room.

  As the Hardys reached their cubbies, they spotted Brian leaning against the wall. He looked upset.

  “What’s up, Brian?” Frank asked.

  “My black belt!” Brian cried. “It’s gone!”

  2

  Mystery Message

  Sensei called everyone back into the studio. “Whoever took Brian’s belt, bring it forward now,” he announced.

  Frank and Joe glanced around the room. Most of the kids looked scared. Zack was staring down at the floor.

  Brian turned to the class angrily. “You can forget meeting Jimmy now. No way I’ll invite him to a class full of crooks.”

  The class groaned with disappointment.

  “Fair enough,” Sensei said. “I’ll be in my office for the next hour if anyone has news about the belt.”

  The kids quietly began leaving the studio. Joe nudged Frank with his elbow.

  “It looks as if Brian could use some help finding that black belt,” he said.

  Frank gave his brother a sly look. “Yeah, so?”

  Joe pumped his fist in the air. “So this looks like a job for . . . the Clues Brothers!”

  “Weirdo,” Zack muttered as he left the studio.

  Chet ran over. “Did you say, ‘Clues Brothers’? As in another mystery?”

  “Wait a minute, you guys,” Frank said. “Maybe Brian doesn’t want our help.”

  Brian stepped forward. “I could use all the help I can get.”

  Frank smiled at Brian. “I’m Frank Hardy, and this is my younger brother, Joe.”

  Brian looked at Frank and then at Joe. “Brothers? You don’t look like brothers.”

  Brian was right. Frank had brown hair and brown eyes. Joe had blue eyes and liked to stuff his blond hair inside a baseball cap.

  “Not only are they brothers,” Chet said proudly, “but they solve crimes.”

  “You mean like detectives on TV?” Brian asked. His eyes were shining.

  “Better!” Joe exclaimed.

  Frank shot Joe a warning glance. “We’ll do our best,” he told Brian.

  “I’ve seen you around,” Chet told Brian. “I’m Chet Morton.”

  “Great,” Brian said. “When do we get started?”

  “Right now,” Frank said.

  The boys followed Frank back into the changing room. Iola Morton was sitting on top of a row of cubbies, swinging her feet.

  “I put the belt in that cubby,” Brian said, pointing to one in the top row. “Right on top of my sneakers and knapsack.”

  “Did you check inside your knapsack?” Joe asked.

  “Sure,” Brian said quickly. “I checked everywhere.”

  “Ah-ha,” Frank said, reaching into the cubby. He pulled out something green and shiny.

  “It looks like a sticker,” Joe said.

  “A green dragon sticker,” Frank said. He examined it and showed it to Brian. “Was this in there before?”

  Brian shook his head. “No. The cubby was completely empty before I used it.”

  “How do you think the sticker got in there?” Joe asked Frank.

  Frank shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But it might have belonged to the person who reached in for the belt.”

  Chet leaned on Brian’s shoulder and winked. “That sticker is called evidence.”

  “Did any of you see someone go into the cubby room during class?” Frank asked.

  Iola jumped off the shelf. She bounced up and down on her toes. “Ooooh. I did!”

  Chet gave his sister a sharp look. “Stay out of this, will you?”

  Iola ignored her brother. “I saw Tanya Wilkins come in here while Sensei was doing the katas. It was somewhere between the tiger and the bear.”

  “Did you see Tanya come out with the belt?” Frank asked.

  “No,” Iola said. “I wanted to watch Sensei, not Tanya.”

  “Thanks, Iola,” Frank said.

  “No problem,” Iola said with a smile. Then she stuck her tongue out at Chet.

  Frank slipped the green dragon sticker into his pocket. “This is our first clue. On the way home we’ll figure out our next plan of action.”

  The kids filed out of the karate studio. When they were outside, they walked down a path leading to the street.

  The Hardys and Mortons lived close enough to the karate school to walk home. Brian’s driver was waiting for him down the street.

  “Even though my belt was stolen,” Brian said, “I did have fun today.”

  “Me, too,” Joe said. “But now I have to get used to wearing shoes again.”

  He bent down to retie his sneakers. His mouth dropped open. Right beneath his foot, a message was scribbled on the sidewalk in bright blue chalk.

  “ ‘Say goodbye to the black belt forever,’ ” Joe read.

  “It must be a message from the karate thief!” Chet exclaimed.

  Frank knelt down on the sidewalk. “There’s something weird about the B’s in this message. The top loop is small, and the bottom loop is huge.”

  “Maybe the thief faked his or her handwriting to trick us,” Joe said. “What do you think, Frank?”

  “Maybe . . . maybe not,” Frank said. “But it is another clue.”

  • • •

  That night after dinner Frank and Joe explained the case to their dad. Fenton Hardy was a private detective in Bayport.

  “Okay,” Fenton said. He leaned back on the living room sofa. “You have two good leads. Now, what about suspects?”

  Joe snapped his fingers. “If Brian is rich, he might have a butler. In the movies, the butler always did it.”

  Fenton shook his head. “Try again.”

  “Well,” Joe said. “Iola saw Tanya go into the cubby room. Tanya wanted the belt for her Jimmy Han treasure chest. She even said so.”

  “And there’s Bobby Lee,” Frank added. “He might have wanted the belt for the money.”

  “Who else?” Fenton asked.

  “Zack,” Joe said. “He is bad news with a capital B!”

  “Maybe a capital B with uneven loops,” Frank said with a laugh.

  “There you go,” Fenton said. “That’s three suspects already. Good work, guys.”

  Frank and Joe gave each other high-fives. Just then the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Joe said. He jumped up and ran into the hall. The doorbell rang again. “Okay, okay. Cool your jets,” he shouted. “I’m coming!”

  Joe peeked through a small window near the side of the door. “No way,” he said.

  Frank walked into the hall. “Hey, Joe. Who is it?”

  Joe took a huge gulp.

  “It’s . . . it’s Jimmy Han!”

  3

  Buried Treasures

  Very funny, Joe,” Frank said. He looked through the window. It was Jimmy Han! The action hero glared back at him. His arms were ready to chop. His legs were ready to kick.

  “We didn’t steal your belt, Jimmy!” Joe shouted.

  Frank carefully opened the door. He stared back at Jimmy. Then he slowly reached out and tapped the superstar’s head with his fist. It made a hollow “knock, knock” sound.

  “Wait a minute,” Frank said. “This thing is made out of cardboard.”

  “Are you sure, Frank?” Joe asked.

  Suddenly Chet Morton’s head popped out from behind the cardboard Jimmy Han.

  “Surprise!” he cried. “Is this cool, or what? I got it from my cousin who works in a video store.”

  “You sure had me fooled,” Frank said. “For one second.”

  “Not me,” Joe said. “I knew it was a fake all the time.”

  Frank turned to Joe. “Y
eah, right.”

  “I thought you guys would get a kick out of this,” Chet said. He imitated a karate kick. “A kick—get it? Get it?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Frank said. “I also just got a great idea.”

  • • •

  After breakfast on Saturday morning, Frank and Joe walked over to Tanya’s house.

  “Now, remember, Joe,” Frank whispered as he rang the doorbell. “Once we’re at the meeting, you walk over to a window and say your line.”

  Joe turned the brim of his baseball cap to the back. “Gotcha.”

  The door opened. Tanya stood before them, wearing a Jimmy Han T-shirt.

  “Hi, Tanya,” Frank said.

  Tanya looked at Frank and Joe. Then she bowed deeply. “Welcome to the Jimmy Han fan club,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Joe said. “How do we join the club?”

  “You want to join?” Tanya asked. Her eyes brightened. “Cool!”

  She led Frank and Joe to her room. Five kids sat cross-legged on the floor around a medium-size metal box. The box was closed with a hasp. It was covered with pictures of Jimmy Han.

  “The treasure chest,” Frank whispered to Joe. “That must be it.”

  The room was perfectly quiet, but Tanya clapped her hands for attention.

  “I bring two new fans of the Human Dragon,” Tanya announced.

  “Han’s the man!” Joe said. He rubbed his hands together. “Now can we look through the treasure chest?” He headed straight for the box.

  “Stop!” Tanya shouted. “Only members get to look through the treasure chest.”

  The other kids nodded seriously.

  “Okay,” Frank agreed. “Where do we sign up?”

  A boy wearing glasses groaned. “This isn’t softball practice, you know.”

  “You have to pass a quiz,” a girl with red hair said. “A quiz about Jimmy.”

  Frank and Joe stared at each other.

  “It’s really easy,” Tanya said with a smile. “Who wants to go first?”

  Joe pointed to Frank. “He does.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Frank muttered to Joe.

  Tanya asked Frank to stand alone in the middle of the room. Joe slowly inched his way to the window.

  “Ready?” Tanya asked.

  “Shoot,” Frank said.