The Bad Luck Skate Page 2

  “That’s what Pam said,” Joe replied.

  “Sorry I can’t help. I’ve got to get the girls down to their sign-ins,” said Chet with a wave. “Good luck, guys. I know you’ll figure out who messed with the skate.”

  The Hardy brothers waved back. It was nice to have their friend’s confidence. It would have been nicer if they had another clue.

  Too bad they didn’t.

  FULL PRESS

  “We need to get to work,” Frank said. As more and more people arrived at the rink for the day’s events, the chances of the Hardys missing a clue only went up.

  “Let’s follow the paint back toward the locker room,” suggested Frank. “There’ll be fewer people there, plus I want another peek at the scene of the crime.”

  Chants and music could be heard from the open locker-room door as the team got ready for their game. The Checkers’ coach poked his head inside and called, “Time for warm-ups.”

  Before Joe could say watch out, the whole Checkers team poured out of the locker room and streamed past the brothers. Freddy spotted the Hardys off to the side and asked, “Any luck solving the case?”

  “Nothing yet,” Joe admitted, watching his new friend’s shoulders sag. “It’s really early in our investigation.”

  “We’re still working on it,” added Frank, trying to cheer the goalie up. Freddy met Frank’s eye and gave him a weak smile.

  “They’ll figure it out,” Pete said, tapping Freddy on the shoulder. Then the two boys followed their team to the exercise room for warm-ups.

  The brothers had the locker room to themselves, so they settled in for some uninterrupted investigation. The skate was still on the shelf, but someone had placed paper towels under it. There was also evidence that someone had tried to clean up the paint on the floor. Other than that, everything looked the same as when they’d left.

  Joe frowned. It was never good when someone messed with a crime scene. “Looks like we’re not gonna get much else from here,” he grumbled. “The scene’s been tampered with. What next?”

  “Let’s go through the timeline,” suggested Frank. “Maybe that will give us something new.”

  “It couldn’t hurt,” Joe agreed. He didn’t like when clues hid from them. He took pride in their ability to quickly root out the truth. With the start of the game approaching, they didn’t have much time. “We entered the building right around eleven a.m. I went to grab something to eat at the café.”

  “And I followed Pete to the locker room. He dropped off his bag and immediately took out their lucky skate. The team gives it to the player of the game, and Pete got it last game. He said it had to be up on the shelf here before the rest of the team arrived. That’s another of those superstitions Pam was talking about.”

  “That couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes,” Joe said. “What happened next?”

  Frank thought for a second. He wanted to make sure he reported every detail exactly as it had happened. “Pete went into the bathroom,” he continued, pointing to the shower area. Then he spun and pointed back out the door. “I offered to fill his water bottle and stepped out to the fountain for water.”

  “Was there anyone else in the room before you left?” asked Joe.

  Frank frowned as he considered the question. “When I left, the locker room was empty.”

  “Okay,” Joe said. “With Pete in the bathroom and you at the water fountain, our culprit had an opening.”

  “That seems right. There was only a short window of time for them to get in and out—just a few minutes. I was facing away from the door as I filled the bottle, so I didn’t see anyone near the locker room.”

  “This doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere,” Joe said, shaking his head. “How do we not even have a single suspect yet?”

  Just then, a loud thump came from down the hallway, and the boys both startled. They exchanged sheepish smiles, then stepped out to see what had created the racket. Wally was coming down the hall pushing a mop bucket, and he didn’t look happy.

  “I can’t believe these kids,” Wally grumbled to himself. “Every day, it’s the same thing. These hockey players don’t care who has to clean up after them.”

  Frank and Joe quickly stepped out of the ranting maintenance worker’s way. As Wally passed into the locker room, Joe noticed something strange. He nudged Frank’s arm and pointed at Wally’s hand.

  Peeking around the doorframe, Frank watched as Wally started to mop the floor, trying to catch a glimpse of what Joe had spotted.

  “Black paint on his hands,” Frank whispered. His mind started racing. Was the answer that easy? Was Wally their culprit?

  “Wait a minute. I’m remembering something. I saw Wally talking with the other team’s coach when Pete and I came down to the locker room,” Frank exclaimed. “They seemed pretty friendly, and there was definitely time for Wally to get into the locker room while I was filling Pete’s bottle.”

  “What would his motivation be?” asked Joe. “He seemed friendly with Pete and Pam. Why would he ruin the team’s skate, especially if he’s the one cleaning up the mess?”

  Joe had a point. “Maybe he did it for the other coach?” Frank offered. “If they’re friends?”

  “It’s possible,” admitted Joe. He didn’t think Wally was the guy, but a good detective didn’t rule anyone out without proof. And right now, proof of any kind was in short supply.

  As the Hardy brothers considered this new twist in their case, Freddy suddenly came running down the hallway, eyes wide. “Come quick, guys,” he managed to get out, before bending over to catch his breath.

  Frank and Joe dashed after him. As they made the turn into the exercise room, the trio pulled up. Standing in front of the wall was the rest of the Checkers team. They were all talking and pointing at something that had been taped there.

  The Hardy brothers stepped forward to get a closer look at whatever had captured everyone’s attention—a sign.

  CRACK IN THE ICE

  “Doomed!” Freddy wailed. “We’re doomed!”

  His Checkers teammates were trying to comfort the distraught goalie, but he just kept saying, “Doomed!” and stomping around in circles. Finally the coach came over and led Freddy back to the locker room.

  “Why would someone do this?” Pete asked. “After all the hard work we put in to get to the championship game, we might need to forfeit?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” said Frank confidently. “Joe and I will figure out who did this. And now we have another clue to help us catch the culprit.”

  Joe reached out and pulled the paper off the wall. “This note is more than a threat. It’s a lead.”

  “Who had the opportunity to post this?” Frank asked.

  Pete shook his head. “The exercise room is a public place.” He was fidgeting with a hockey stick, knocking a heavy ball back and forth. “Everyone has access.”

  “That doesn’t help us narrow down the suspect pool,” Joe said. “Did you see anyone suspicious hanging around here when you came in for warm-ups?”

  Pete made figure eights with the ball while he tried to think back. “Nope. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There’re a lot of people here today, and I was focused on getting ready to play.”

  Frank and Joe looked around the exercise room. They didn’t see any other clues. Their investigation wasn’t getting any easier.

  SNAP!

  All three boys jumped as Pete’s stick snapped in half.

  “What the—” Pete shook his head. “The bad luck is getting worse!”

  Frank knelt to examine the blade of the stick, turning it so that he could see the break point more clearly. “Look here, Joe. I think someone messed with Pete’s stick.”

  Joe took the blade from his brother. “There’s a notch! It’s definitely been tampered with.”

  Pete looked at the broken shaft in his hands. “Right here,” he said, indicating a worn-down area. “I think someone rubbed a skate against the shaft to weaken it
.”

  “Could that damage have happened in a game or practice?” asked Frank. “Maybe someone’s skate blade glanced off your stick while you were playing?”

  Pete shook his head. “Not possible. I check my stick after every game. You don’t want it to break during play. That leaves your team a man down.”

  Joe nodded. That made a lot of sense. “Where do you keep your stick before games?” he asked.

  “Outside the locker room, in the stick rack, along with the rest of the team’s.” Pete’s eyes went wide. “The other sticks…”

  The three boys rushed to the stick rack. Pete grabbed a stick and showed Frank and Joe what to look for. Working together, they quickly made it through the whole rack.

  “They all seem fine,” Frank said. He turned to Pete as a new thought struck him. “I think they were targeting you.”

  “Makes sense,” said Joe. “Pete’s the best player. And he has those superstitions.”

  “Not superstitions. It’s a process,” Pete corrected. “It gets me ready to play. Sports science says that if you do the same thing before each game, it puts you in the right mindset for success.”

  “I’m not sure sports science would agree that touching a smelly skate is part of a good process,” replied Joe. “But it does look like you’re the target of these attacks.”

  “Who would want you to lose?” Frank asked.

  “Anyone rooting for the Snipers,” said Pete. “Or against us.”

  “They’d need to have access to the locker room, the stick rack, and the exercise room,” Frank added.

  “Pretty much anyone can get back here,” Pete said. “It’s not like we have a security guard.”

  “So anyone would have had the opportunity to sneak in and tamper with your stick,” concluded Joe.

  “Maybe we can try to narrow down the pool,” Frank said.

  Joe thought that was a good idea. “Let’s make a list.” Since this was part of their usual process of figuring out suspects, he was ready. He pulled out the clue book, and under Who? wrote Suspects. Underneath that, he wrote Adam Ackerman.

  “What makes you think Adam did this?” Frank asked as Joe handed him the clue book. “I haven’t even seen him here.”

  “Unfortunately, I have,” Joe said. “He’s upset because he didn’t make the Checkers. Plus, he said he was supporting the Snipers. That’s two good reasons for him to make our suspect list.”

  “Well, we should probably add Wally, then,” Frank said. “He’s friendly with the other team’s coach, had black paint on his hand, and was grumbling about the Checkers making a mess in the locker room.”

  Joe frowned as he considered other possible culprits. “Is there a chance it could be someone else?” he finally asked, glancing at Pete, who just shrugged.

  Frank nodded. “We need to keep that as a possibility. I’ll go talk to Adam. He might be more willing to give something up if I’m the one doing the asking.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay not seeing him again,” Joe said. “I’ll go find Wally.”

  With that decided, the boys went off in search of their suspects, and Pete went to rejoin the team in the locker room. Luckily, Frank found Adam in the first place he looked: watching figure skaters on rink one.

  Frank approached him cautiously. He knew from past experience that you didn’t want to set Adam off by throwing out accusations. “Hey, Adam. Mind if I ask you something?”

  “Whatever it is, I had nothing to do with it, Hardy,” Adam snapped. “I’ve been sitting here ever since I ran into your runt of a brother.”

  “You didn’t happen to go down to the locker rooms to look for any of your friends?” asked Frank.

  “Didn’t need to,” Adam said with a sneer. “I always watch the skaters before games so I can rate their falls.” He held up a sheet of paper he’d been writing on. “If anyone wants to say hi, they know where to find me.”

  Frank took out the paper the threat had been scrawled on. “You didn’t happen to see anyone put this up, did you? We found it hanging on the wall in the exercise room.” He pointed down the hall to where the Checkers had been gathered earlier.

  “Nah. I’ve just been sitting here watching skaters fall down. I haven’t been paying attention to what goes on off the ice.”

  Frank was inclined to believe Adam’s alibi. Besides, the writing on the note didn’t match the writing on Adam’s paper. They’d need to cross him off their list.

  Hopefully, Joe would have better luck with Wally.

  A MISSED SHOT

  While Frank had no trouble finding Adam, Joe wasn’t having as much success in his search for Wally. He checked the café, rinks one and two, and the exercise room, and he even went back to the locker room. But Joe couldn’t find the elusive maintenance man anywhere.

  The whole time he was searching, more and more people were streaming into the rink to watch the big events. As Joe passed the exercise room on his way into the lobby for the second time, he noticed the clock on the wall said twelve fifteen. The game started in forty-five minutes. He was running out of time.

  Joe was just about to give up when a door at the end of the hall marked EMPLOYEES ONLY swung open, and Wally came strolling out.

  Finally, Joe thought. He rushed over to catch the maintenance worker before he could get away again.

  “Hi, Wally. I’m Joe Hardy. Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “As long as you make it quick. I’ve got to cut rink two in five minutes.”

  “Cut the what?” Joe asked, looking around for a giant pair of scissors.

  “Cut the ice,” Wally corrected. “It’s my way of saying resurface the rink.”

  “This’ll only take a second,” Joe promised. “I’m looking into who poured paint on that skate in the Checkers’ locker room. You didn’t happen to see anything, did you?”

  “Kids,” grumbled Wally. He shook his head. “They’ve got no respect for anything around them or the people who clean up their messes. Unfortunately, I wasn’t near the locker room when it happened. I dropped the visitor’s room key off with the Snipers coach and went to cut ice on rink one. I’d just finished when I heard about that skate prank. It’s not the first one of their messes I’ve had to clean up.”

  Joe made a note in the clue book. “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

  “Those hockey players like to play practical jokes on each other,” explained Wally. “This is probably just another one of their tricks.”

  Based on how the team had reacted, Joe wasn’t sure this was a prank, but he wrote it down anyway. It was worth looking into. “Would anyone have seen you cutting the ice?”

  “If they were looking.” Wally gestured out the café window toward the rink, then narrowed his eyes. “Am I a suspect in your little investigation?”

  “Well,” Joe started. “You do have black paint on your hands.”

  Wally turned his palms to examine the black splotches, then nodded and smiled at Joe. “That I do, young man. Good job noticing it, but I got this cleaning up that mess. I tried to use some paper towels. I even put some under the skate. Then I tried my trusty mop bucket. It just spread the paint around. I think I’m going to need some paint thinner to get it all.” He paused for a moment, then shook his head sadly. “Whoever made that mess sure didn’t think about how I’d have to clean it up.”

  Joe glanced at Wally’s hands again. The paint could have come from cleaning. And when Joe looked closer, he noticed that there was paint on Wally’s knees and shoes as well, like he’d knelt or stepped in it. There hadn’t been any footprints or knee marks when they’d first looked at the scene.

  “Well, like I said, I gotta go cut some ice.” Wally grinned. “Hope you catch the culprit. When you do, you tell them I don’t appreciate them making that mess.”

  “I will,” Joe told him. They said goodbye, and then Wally continued on his way toward the rink.

  Joe believed Wally’s story, but just to be safe, he decided to retrace the maintenance
worker’s steps from rink one to the locker room. Maybe Wally had time to tamper with the skate and cut the ice on rink one?

  Unfortunately, that idea was quickly proven wrong. Rink one was on the opposite side of the lobby. Unless cutting the ice only took a few minutes, it was way too far for Wally to have done both. As Joe was walking back to find Frank, he noticed Pam Peterson sitting against the lobby wall. She looked upset.

  Joe prided himself on being a good friend. Since he wasn’t getting anywhere with his part of the investigation, it wouldn’t hurt to take a minute or two to see if he could help. “Hey, Pam,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  Pam looked up. Her eyes were a little puffy and red, as if she’d been crying. “I’m fine,” she responded, in a tone that definitely said she was not fine.

  Joe knew that people didn’t always say what they meant. He sat down next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Thanks.” Pam sniffed. “But I think I’ll be all right. My parents called to say they’re running late. And I’m worried about the skating competition.”

  “Is it a big one?” asked Joe. He didn’t really know anything about figure skating.

  Pam nodded. “It’s only the FSSIC’s second-biggest event of the year.”

  “The FS what?”

  “The Figure Skating Society of International Competitions,” Pam explained. “They’re one of the governing bodies for figure skating. This competition is where they identify skaters for things like the Olympic programs or school scholarships. All kinds of stuff. The winners go on to nationals.”

  “Wow,” Joe said, impressed. “That’s pretty cool. And you’re worried about how you’ll do?”

  “Something like that,” Pam murmured. “Not that it matters. No one’s coming to watch. Everyone will be over at Pete’s game.”

  “Really? It looked like a lot of people were watching the figure skaters.”