Skin and Bones Page 3

  “I don’t know,” Frank said. “One target was obviously the packages from the zoo. The lab wasn’t touched, but it looks like the person wanted something from your office.” Frank found it hard to hide his frustration. “Did Brando have an associate or anyone working with him when he was legitimate?” Frank asked as they shuffled through the papers.

  The phone rang before Cody could answer. “Dave, what’s up?” he said into the phone. “You’re kidding! When?” Cody started pacing. Frank could see that Cody was getting angrier by the second. “I don’t believe it,” Cody said. “He had two more years. Okay, see you then. Thanks for calling.”

  Cody clicked off and turned to the Hardys. His dark brown eyes seemed to be shot through with darts of anger. “That was Dave Cloud. He’s about three minutes away,” he said. Cody’s voice was very low, and his lips were pulled into a thin line over his mouth.

  “It’s making sense now,” he continued almost to himself. Then he remembered Joe and Frank. “Mike Brando’s out. He was released yesterday morning.”

  4 Clang, Clang . . . Crunch!

  * * *

  “Mike Brando’s out,” Joe repeated. “He had to be the one who decked you last night. He probably came here straight from prison.”

  “I wonder if your father knows he’s out,” Frank said. “He might be able to find out what his plans were for after prison.”

  “I’ll talk to him later,” Cody said. “Boy, it’s all coming together now. It’s no coincidence that I’m attacked the day Brando is released from prison.”

  “And you think the person who kicked Joe on the roof was also Brando, right?” Frank asked.

  “I sure do,” Cody answered.

  “Who are we talking about?” came a strong voice from the door into the office.

  “Hey, Dave,” Cody said with a broad smile. Cody turned to the Hardys. “Guys, you remember Dave.”

  Dave greeted the Hardys while Cody got everyone a soda from the small refrigerator in the corner. Dave took a seat next to Cody’s desk. He was tall and slim, with long legs, and moved loosely, like a basketball player.

  “So, who are we talking about?” Dave repeated with a friendly smile.

  “Mike Brando,” Frank answered.

  “That loser,” Dave said, his smile vanishing. “Imagine letting him out for good behavior. He doesn’t know the meaning of the term.”

  The four talked a while longer about Brando and his past crimes. When Dave finished his drink, he announced he was ready to go to work. “Let me at that computer, Cody. I’ll see what I can find out about those e-mails.” He pulled a computer disk from his pocket. “I wrote a program for you, which I’ll load while I’m here. If you get any more threats, this will make them easier to track down.”

  While Dave worked on Cody’s desktop computer in the office, Frank and Joe took the records of the interrupted merchandise orders and the files of the suppliers involved up to the lab and went over them with Cody. Frank also checked out the suppliers through the Internet, in case there was any information about them that would lead him to the person who had ripped Cody off. He ran into one dead end after another.

  Joe concentrated on learning how Cody developed his vendor leads to see whether there was a pattern that might allow someone access to the orders.

  Cody went back and forth, from learning the new software from Dave, to helping Deb with customers in the shop, to answering questions for the Hardys. Dave poked his head in the lab at about four o’clock to say goodbye and agreed to return the next evening to go out for dinner. Deb left, and Cody closed the shop around six o’clock.

  “I’d like to head back to your father’s,” Frank told Cody. “With the news about Brando getting released, this would be a good time to ask him a few questions.”

  “Okay,” Cody said. “But remember, you promised not to tell Dad everything that’s been happening around here. When we solve the case, then we’ll tell him.”

  “You know, Cody, he could be a big help to us,” Joe pointed out.

  “I know, I know,” Cody said. “But I’m not ready to confide in him yet. Let’s give it another day or two—see what we can figure out.”

  “When to tell your father will be your decision,” Frank agreed.

  “Good. Say, I’ll pick up something for dinner and meet you at Dad’s.”

  As they drove to Sergeant Chang’s, Joe and Frank talked about the person on the roof. “I know Cody thinks it was Mike Brando,” Frank said. “But what would he be doing up there? Especially if he’d just clobbered Cody and ripped off those packages.”

  “Well, if he was interrupted when we came on the scene, maybe the roof was just a handy place to hide.” Joe was silent for a minute. “No, that doesn’t make sense. It would have been easier to hide in that wooded lot behind the shop.”

  “It would have been even easier to just get out of there,” Frank said as he pulled into Mr. Chang’s driveway. “I mean, why hang around at all? It doesn’t make sense.”

  The Hardys and Cody’s father talked about Mike Brando while they waited for Cody to arrive with dinner. Frank and Joe were both careful to keep their promise not to tell Mr. Chang specifics about the problems his son had been having.

  After talking about Cody’s business dealings with Brando, Frank steered the conversation to the prisoner’s release the day before. “Cody was surprised that Brando was released so soon,” he said.

  “Well, I was, too,” Sergeant Chang replied. “But that’s the way things work nowadays. He apparently was a model prisoner, so he got time off for that. And they counted his time served while waiting for trial. He didn’t make bail because the judge set it too high. The court figured that with all his international contacts, Brando could have easily skipped the country. I agreed with that.”

  “Are you worried about the threats he made when he was sentenced?” Joe asked. “Cody told us Brando said he’d make both of you pay for catching him in that sting.”

  “Well, it’s always wise to be cautious about any threats,” Sergeant Chang said.

  “About any what?” Cody asked as he walked in with sacks full of dinner for the four of them.

  “We were talking about Mike Brando making good on his threats,” Frank said.

  “That’s right, son,” Mr. Chang agreed. “I’ve talked to several people, and the consensus is that Brando’ll head north to his sister’s in Seattle.”

  The Hardys helped Cody lay out the white paper cartons of steamed buns, aromatic chicken, beef with garlic almonds, sticky rice, and sweet-and-sour ribs.

  “Brando behaved himself in prison,” Mr. Chang added, taking his seat at the dining room table. “Even took some computer training.”

  Frank and Joe exchanged glances as Cody changed the subject. “I showed the guys Bug Central today,” he told his father.

  “That’s really something, isn’t it?” Cody’s dad said, chuckling.

  “Unbelievably cool,” Joe said. “Sort of like the ant farm I had when I was a kid—only on a galactic scale!”

  “There’s something weird when you think about all those fuzzy little guys, crawling over bones, munching away,” Frank said.

  “I know,” Cody said. “Don’t you love it? Some museums have used them to clean off whole elephants or giraffes. One Canadian museum’s beetle colony specialized in whale carcasses.”

  Frank, Joe, and Cody told Sergeant Chang about Jennifer Payton’s request and the upcoming haunted house fund-raiser.

  After dinner Sergeant Chang told them he was having trouble with the starter on his new car. Joe offered to take a look at it, so Cody’s father and he went out to the garage. Frank and Cody cleared off the dining table.

  “My dad’s one of the best detectives around,” Cody told Frank. “But he didn’t know Mike Brando as well as I did, and I can’t believe that Mike has changed that much. That man seemed to be born without a conscience.”

  The Hardys, Cody, and Mr. Chang stayed up late talking so Cody decided t
o stay over at his dad’s that night.

  • • •

  Wednesday morning Sergeant Chang’s car wouldn’t start at all. He said he’d take a bus to work, but Frank insisted he use his van. Sergeant Chang agreed, saying he’d get his car fixed and the van over to Skin & Bones later that afternoon.

  Joe drove Cody’s SUV away from Sergeant Chang’s, with Cody in the front passenger seat as navigator and Frank in the back. “I’ve got a couple of stops to make on the way back to the shop,” Cody said. “I need to pick up my new flyers and some skeleton chains. Take the next left.”

  “Hey, guys,” Joe said as he turned on to Geary. “Looks like we may have picked up a tail.”

  “Someone’s following us?” Frank said, sneaking a peek out the back window.

  “The dark green sedan,” Joe said, periodically checking his rearview mirror. “He’s been with us since we left.”

  Joe carefully wove in and out of a couple of lanes and drove completely around one block. He watched the green car follow each move at a distance.

  “There’s the printer’s,” Cody said, pointing to a storefront on the right. “You can stop in the loading zone for a few minutes while I get my stuff.”

  Joe pulled into the loading zone. They all watched as the dark green car slowed down, then suddenly sped up, cruising past them.

  “Did you see the driver?” Cody asked. “He went by so fast, I didn’t get much.”

  “Dark nylon jacket—black or maybe navy blue,” Joe said. “Wraparound shades, black knit ski cap pulled down over the ears, gloves.”

  “I couldn’t tell whether it was a man or woman,” Frank said. “Could it have been the person on the roof, Joe?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “It could have been. Let’s split up,” he added suddenly. “I want to go after that guy. See you back at the shop.”

  Frank and Cody jumped out of the SUV, and Joe took off after the green car.

  After they had picked up the flyers, Frank and Cody headed for the metal craftsman’s studio to get some of the special chains that held up the skeletons at Skin & Bones.

  Frank and Cody walked a few blocks to a cable car stop. Within minutes they were climbing a series of very steep hills in the rumbling, clanging car.

  When they reached the top of the third hill, at a very busy, noisy intersection full of cars and pedestrians, the cable car stopped. A lot of passengers got off and even more got on before it started the steep descent down the other side of the hill.

  Frank was sitting at the front end of one of the open benches that ran along the outside of the cable car. He could see far down the hill to Fisherman’s Wharf. In the distance, the prison Alcatraz sat on an island in the bright bay.

  The cable car gripman clanged the familiar bell, alerting everyone that the car was about to move. There was a final flurry as last-minute passengers hopped aboard, elbowing one another.

  Frank and the others already on the car were jostled in the frantic rush. Suddenly, someone inside the car shoved Frank’s shoulders forward so he was leaning out over the street. He started to turn around to complain, but he was rammed again from behind—this time in the middle of his back.

  Before Frank could get his balance, he lurched out of his seat. He flew forward until his forehead scraped the ground. He realized that he was only half on the street—the rest of his torso and legs were hanging over the cable car footboard.

  He tried to roll off completely, but a sharp pain in his ankle stopped him. With a sickening feeling, he realized his foot was caught in the vertical handrail attached to the front corner of the cable car.

  In the din of the traffic, he heard Cody call his name. He doesn’t see me, Frank realized. He can’t see where I am!

  Frank twisted and turned, trying to get free, but each move inched him farther around the front of the cable car and closer to danger. He called back, but the noisy intersection swallowed up his yells. He felt the cool slickness of metal against his cheek and realized his head was resting on one of the tracks. His pulse seemed to tear through his throat as he heard the grinding scrape of the grip lever.

  Clang-clang. Frank’s heart seemed to stop as the loud bell noisily announced that the cable car was about to move.

  5 The Suspect Slips

  * * *

  Clang-clang, clang-clang. The sound of the cable car bell cut through the air again. The busy intersection was crowded with cars and pedestrians. Over the din, Frank could hear Cody calling his name. He could also hear a few people yelling at the gripman.

  Either the gripman couldn’t hear or it was too late because Frank could feel the rumbling vibration of the car as it began to move downhill.

  Twisting and sliding, Frank struggled to pull his body up so he could free his leg with his hands. The vertical handrail that had his foot trapped was nearly within reach. Calling on all his strength, he strained to raise his shoulders and head until he was almost sitting. With a great gulp of breath, he flung his arm out and grabbed for the handrail.

  The feel of the cool steel rod in his palm renewed his energy and determination. “Cody!” he yelled. “Down here!”

  “Frank!” Cody saw him at last. So did others on the cable car. Frank heard the grinding of the ratcheted lever as the gripman pulled it partway back. The jaws of the cable grip released its tight hold, and the cable car vibrated to a humming idle.

  Frank and Cody worked Frank’s foot out of its trap, and Frank hoisted himself back up on to the footboard of the cable car. He was bombarded with questions from the gripman and a few of the passengers.

  “Are you really okay?” Cody asked after Frank had assured the others he was fine.

  “Yes,” Frank said, reaching down to rub his ankle. “Thanks for the assist.”

  “No problem,” Cody said. “What happened, anyway?”

  “I was pushed,” Frank said in a low voice. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  Clang-clang. As the gripman prepared to close the grip jaws on the underground cable, Frank noticed a man in the shadows of an alley straight ahead. The man seemed to be staring at him. He was tall and built like a football receiver, solid and muscular. He wore sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low over his face.

  When Frank caught his eye, the man turned and quickly darted back down the narrow gap between two buildings.

  “Looks like this is our stop after all,” Frank said to Cody as he jumped off the cable car.

  Frank’s ankle complained painfully, but he kept running after the mysterious man.

  “What’s happening?” Cody called from behind, panting.

  Frank didn’t take time to answer his friend. His whole concentration was focused on ignoring his throbbing ankle and catching up with the man. At last the man was cornered in a courtyard. There was no way out of the courtyard except the way they had entered.

  The man turned to face Frank, who watched carefully to see whether the man was carrying a weapon. He seemed to be unarmed. Still, Frank stayed on his guard.

  As Frank and the man faced off, Cody ran into the courtyard. “Mike Brando!” Cody yelled.

  Frank’s nerves tingled—even more on alert.

  “So?” Brando grunted. “It’s me. So what?” His voice was deep and throaty. It sounded like faraway rolling thunder. He glared defiantly at Frank and Cody. It seemed as if he was daring them to take him on.

  Cody took the bait. He started toward Brando, but Frank’s arm shot out to hold Cody back. “Why are you following us?” Cody asked. “And why did you push Frank off the cable car?”

  “What are you talking about?” Brando sputtered. “I’m the one being followed here. I’m standing around minding my own business and you two take off after me.”

  “Were you on the cable car back at that intersection?” Frank asked.

  “And what about last night?” Cody asked. “Where’s my ostrich?”

  “Give me a break,” Brando said. “What’s happened to you while I was away? Sounds like you’ve gone a lit
tle crazy, Chang. I’d watch that if I were you. They might lock you up.” Brando grinned at Cody.

  Cody flew toward Brando again, but Frank managed to catch him before he got too far. “Don’t do it, Cody,” Frank warned. “Don’t let him get to you.”

  “You’re right,” Cody agreed. “But let’s call the police—or my dad. We’ll get to the truth then.”

  Brando’s grin turned to a scowl. “Pay attention to your pal here, Chang, and back off,” he snarled. “In fact, I think I’ll give the cops a call myself. Seems to me I’m the one being bugged here.”

  Frank turned to Cody. “He’s right,” Frank said quietly. “We have no proof that he’s done anything.”

  As Frank and Cody retraced their steps out of the courtyard, Cody couldn’t resist a final jab. “Don’t think you’re getting away with anything, Mike,” he called over his shoulder. Frank turned and walked backward, so he could keep an eye on Brando.

  “You’ll slip up,” Cody yelled as they left the courtyard, “just like you did the last time.”

  “We’ve got to get that guy, Frank,” Cody said as the two walked back to the cable car stop. “He’s been out of prison two days, and he’s already managed to attack us both.”

  “I agree that it’s probably more than coincidence that he was standing a few yards from where I was pushed,” Frank said. “But coincidence won’t cut it. We need proof, Cody.”

  “But how are we going to get that?”

  “Our best bet is to find out who interrupted your shipments and who’s sending the threatening e-mails,” Frank answered. “You know, it might be time to tell your father about your suspicions.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Cody said. “I want you and Joe to help, but it’s not fair to put you in such danger.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Frank said. “It’s just that your father has contacts who could help. For example, he knew that Brando took some computer training. Your dad could contact the prison where Brando served time. Maybe they could check the hard drives of the computer he worked on. Even when you delete files, they’re still in there somewhere. If Brando sent the messages to you from a computer in the prison, a trained technician might be able to pull them out.”