Terror at High Tide Read online

  Alicia’s face looked frozen with fear. She rushed into the room. “Frank, Joe,” she said in a shaky voice. “I need your help. Dad’s disappeared. He never came home from last night’s dinner!”

  4 Deadbeat Dune Buggy

  * * *

  “What?” Joe exclaimed. He stood up and put an arm around Alicia, then settled her into a chair next to him and Frank. Alicia took several deep breaths, then buried her face in her hands.

  “Alicia,” Frank said gravely, “tell us what happened after we all left the museum last night.”

  Lifting her head, Alicia stared into space for a few moments. Frank could tell she was struggling to stay calm. “Let’s see,” she began in a shaky voice. “As you know, Dad never showed up at the museum, so I decided to wait for him at home. Well”—she paused, her lip trembling—“he never came home.”

  “Did you check in again with the people who gave the dinner party?” Joe asked.

  “Yes,” Alicia said. “I called the Ferriers right away when I got home, and this time Mr. Ferrier told me that he hadn’t seen Dad since dinner. When I had called earlier from the museum, some guest who didn’t know anything took my message. She hadn’t realized that Dad had already left.”

  “Have you told the police?” Frank asked her.

  “Yes,” Alicia said. “I called them right away, after I spoke to Mr. Ferrier. Dad could have still been out somewhere, but I was worried. I know it was way too early to file a missing-persons report or anything, but I thought the police would do something because of the museum break-in.”

  “It’s true,” Joe observed. “Your dad’s disappearance and the wrecked museum seem as though they’ve got to be linked. Anyway, let’s just say the two events happening on the same night make for a weird coincidence.”

  Alicia nodded in agreement. “That’s what I thought, too. When I called the police, they said I could file a missing-persons report, but I’d have to wait twenty-four hours for him to be officially considered missing.”

  “Did you talk to Detective Crespi?” Frank asked.

  “Yes,” Alicia said. “He was sympathetic and everything, but he said that my dad might have just been out with friends and that I shouldn’t worry. He told me to make sure that my dad called him the minute he got home. He seemed more concerned that Dad wasn’t around to answer questions about the museum vandalism.”

  “And Crespi didn’t speculate that the two events might be linked?” Frank pressed.

  Alicia shook her head. “No. The vandalism was on his mind, not my dad.”

  “Well, his tune might change in another twenty-four hours,” Joe said grimly. “Though I hope Crespi is right—that your dad was just out with friends.”

  Alicia drew a deep breath, then let it out in a slow sigh. “That’s not Dad’s style—to party all night,” she said. “And even if he had been with friends, he’d call me to let me know he’d be home late.”

  Frank knew Alicia was right. He could understand Geovanis staying out late with friends, but it was odd that he hadn’t called by now. Something may have happened to him—either an accident, or a crime.

  “Anyway,” Alicia went on, “I barely slept all night, and by nine this morning when Dad still wasn’t home, I knew something was really wrong. I’m convinced he’s been kidnapped—and that Roberto Scarlatti’s the culprit!”

  “Alicia,” Frank said, “you can’t jump to conclusions like that. I agree your dad could be in some sort of trouble. But he may have been in a car accident or something. Have you checked the hospital?”

  “Of course,” Alicia replied, looking exasperated. “And he’s not there. Besides, the police would have told me that. Also, Jonah Ferrier told me that my red Jeep, which Dad had borrowed last night because his car was being fixed, is still sitting outside the Ferrier house.”

  Frank and Joe were silent for a moment while they thought about Alicia’s story. Finally Joe said, “Let’s say your dad was kidnapped. Maybe the guy kidnapped him first, then went into the museum to trash it. But why?”

  “If it was the same person,” Frank pointed out. “We’re just guessing here—we have no evidence yet—”

  “But I’d say my guess is a pretty educated one,” Joe cut in. “What are the odds that Geovanis would get kidnapped and the museum vandalized all in one night, by two different guys with different motives?”

  Frank shrugged. “I see what you mean.”

  “It must be Roberto Scarlatti, then,” Alicia pressed. “He’s the only enemy my father has. Everyone else loves him.”

  Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It may seem like Geovanis is a popular guy, he thought, but that doesn’t mean he has no other enemies.

  “You guys will help me investigate, right?” Alicia pleaded. “You’re my only hope at this point.”

  “Of course we will,” Frank said, smiling. “And we should get going right away—to chase down Scarlatti and also talk to Jonah Ferrier.”

  “So you agree with me about Scarlatti?” Alicia asked hopefully.

  “Kind of,” Frank answered. “I agree that Scarlatti is jealous of your dad, and his behavior yesterday in the museum points to him as the likely culprit. Also, the trashing of your dad’s office and not Scarlatti’s makes the guy look guilty. But why would Scarlatti want to wreck the museum he wants to take over?”

  Joe pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I’m tired of these guessing games. Let’s go check out Scarlatti’s house. Since the museum’s closed, he might be at home.”

  “Do you know where he lives?” Frank asked Alicia as they both stood up.

  “He lives in Siasconset—or ’Sconset as the people who live here call it,” Alicia told him. “I’ll lead you there on my moped.”

  “Great,” Joe said. “Frank and I can borrow mopeds from the inn.”

  Five minutes later Frank, Joe, and Alicia were speeding to ’Sconset on mopeds. Since the main road was being resurfaced just outside the village, they were forced to detour onto a rutted road.

  The road was narrow and treacherous, with sharp curves and cliffs that plummeted down to a rocky shoreline twenty feet below. Glancing out over the ocean, Frank could see the colorful jibs of sailboats zigzagging across the choppy blue water. The faint hum of a plane in the distance grew steadily louder.

  Suddenly the noise became overwhelming. It wasn’t a plane, Frank realized—it was some vehicle behind him revving its motor.

  “Watch where you’re going!” Frank heard Joe shout.

  Frank shot a quick glance behind him. A blue dune buggy with a red lobster insignia on the hood was bearing down on Joe, as if trying to push him off the winding road. Frank knew he had to act fast, or Joe would plummet down the cliff.

  Frank slammed on his brakes, hoping it would force the fast-moving dune buggy to swerve and pass them both.

  Frank looked quickly over his shoulder and then back at the road ahead of him. His heart leaped into his throat. The road had curved and he’d veered into the other lane—right into the path of an oncoming car!

  5 Hang-Up Call

  * * *

  At the last possible second Frank steered his moped hard to the right and missed the oncoming car by inches. Back in the right lane, he brought the moped to a halt on the side of the road.

  “Hey, buddy, you okay?” the driver yelled as he slowed his car. “You’d better be careful or you’ll drive right into the water.”

  “Sorry,” Frank said. He shot a glance over his left shoulder to see the blue blur of the dune buggy speeding by him.

  “Frank!” Joe yelled from behind. Frank turned to see that Joe had stopped his moped about ten yards behind. His blue eyes were flashing with anger, and his breath came in bursts.

  “Did you see that yahoo?” Joe asked “He was trying to run me off the road—he looked like he was planning to pick you off next.”

  “I saw the dune buggy but not the driver,” Frank told him. “Did you get a look at him?”

  “Nope,” Joe s
aid, shaking his head. “I was too busy trying to stay on the road.”

  “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” Alicia shouted as she approached them from the opposite direction. “I noticed you weren’t behind me, so I turned back.” She wheeled her moped around, bringing it to a stop next to Joe’s.

  “Did you see a bright blue dune buggy go by you on the road?” Frank asked her. “It nearly knocked Joe over the cliff—and almost made me slam into a car.”

  “Did it have a picture of a lobster on the front of the hood?” Alicia asked.

  “That’s the one,” Frank told her. “Did you see the driver?”

  “Not very well—he was really speeding. But it looked like he was wearing some kind of hat or mask or something,” she said, furrowing her brow. “It was pretty weird.”

  “That’s for sure.” Joe looked troubled. “That driver definitely had it in for us—and he didn’t want to be recognized.” Joe blew out his breath. “It looks like somebody’s trying to warn us off the case.”

  “But who could know about our investigation at this stage?” Frank mused. “We were the only ones in the breakfast room at the Great White Whale.”

  “It’s true—you guys have been on the case for less than an hour,” Alicia said. “No one else could possibly know about it.”

  Frank looked thoughtful. “Except for one person. Whoever dropped the octopus on me and Joe last night probably got a look at us—from the moonlight coming through the windows. The guy may easily guess that we’re helping you out, Alicia.”

  “We’re near ’Sconset. Roberto could be on the lookout for us—while he’s trying to guard Dad,” Alicia said.

  “Scarlatti—or whoever kidnapped your father—might have learned from your dad that we’re detectives,” Frank said. “He might have wormed that information out of him.”

  Alicia glanced anxiously from Frank to Joe. “What do you mean—‘wormed’ it out of him? I hope he’s being treated nicely and not forced to give out information—”

  “Alicia,” Joe cut in. “We need your help to find your dad, so you’ve got to try to stay calm.” He frowned at Frank, wishing his brother hadn’t brought up the subject of how Mr. Geovanis was being treated.

  “I’m sure your dad’s fine,” Frank said, understanding Joe’s warning frown. “Kidnappers usually want something from other people—money or whatever—so it’s in their best interest to treat their captives well. Then they can exchange their captive for whatever it is they want.”

  “I’m sorry to get upset,” Alicia said with a quick smile. “It’s just that I’m so worried.”

  “It’s totally understandable,” Joe said. He gripped the handlebars of his moped and began to move slowly forward.

  “We’d better get a move on,” Frank said, as he revved up his bike. “Every minute counts.”

  Ten minutes later Frank, Joe, and Alicia parked their mopeds on a narrow street in the tiny fishing village of ’Sconset. As Alicia scouted around for the house, Frank and Joe studied their surroundings. The village was set on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and the Hardys noticed that ’Sconset was much smaller and less crowded than the town of Nantucket.

  After walking by a row of modest cottages surrounded by picket fences thick with roses, they stopped in front of a much larger house surrounded by a wide green lawn. The house was white with black shutters and a wraparound porch. Two dramatic-looking turrets stuck out on either side of its third story.

  “This is it,” Alicia announced. “Scarlatti’s house.”

  “Nice place!” Joe exclaimed.

  “It’s a reproduction of a ship captain’s house,” Alicia told Frank and Joe. “There are a bunch of houses like this in the town of Nantucket, dating from the late 1700s when Nantucket was one of the major whaling ports of the world. Roberto admired them, but he wanted to live in ’Sconset for the view so he had one built.”

  “What are those towers for?” Frank asked.

  “I think they were for spotting ships at sea, or maybe even whales,” Alicia answered.

  Joe grinned, then rushed up the porch stairs. “Come on, guys. Let’s see if we can spot anything in this house.”

  Frank rang the doorbell, then gave the door a hard knock. When no one answered, he tried the door handle. The door was locked.

  Joe walked to the end of the porch on the right side of the house and craned his head over the lawn, scouting around for the dune buggy.

  “If it was Scarlatti in that dune buggy,” Joe said as he walked back to Frank and Alicia, “he must still be out in it. I don’t see a garage back here, and the dune buggy’s definitely not on the street.”

  “He could be hiding it somewhere,” Frank suggested. “But you’re right—the guy doesn’t seem to be at home.” Turning to Alicia, Frank asked, “Do you know what kind of car Scarlatti usually drives?”

  “I’m not positive, but I think it’s some kind of plain gray car,” Alicia said. “I remember him giving Dad a ride home in it once.”

  “There’s no gray car parked on the street,” Frank said, glancing from one side of the street to the other.

  “Should we try to sneak in and look around?” Joe asked. “There may be a window open somewhere.”

  “There also may be a secret passageway,” Alicia said. “Roberto’s always bragged about what an exact reproduction his house is, and that it even has a secret passageway.”

  “A secret passageway?” Joe asked. “Cool.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard that some old Nantucket houses have them,” Alicia said. “I don’t know whether Roberto’s really exists or where it leads, but should we take a look around for it?”

  “Later,” Frank said, looking at his watch. “First we should check out your house, Alicia. Maybe the kidnapper’s left some kind of message there.”

  “Let’s go,” Joe said, taking the porch stairs two at a time.

  “Wait a minute,” Alicia said as she and Frank caught up to Joe on the sidewalk. “Could we pick up my Jeep at the Ferriers’ house first? My cell phone’s in the glove compartment, and I wouldn’t want to leave it on the street for too long. Also, there might be a clue in the Jeep about Dad.”

  “Good idea,” Frank said. “But wouldn’t your father have the keys?”

  “I’ve got an extra set,” Alicia said, patting her shorts pocket.

  Half an hour later Alicia, Frank, and Joe dropped off their mopeds at the Great White Whale, then walked three blocks down Fair Street to where Alicia’s Jeep was parked.

  “That’s Jonah Ferrier’s house,” Alicia said, pointing to a white clapboard house with green shutters. “Do you think we should talk to him about when he last saw Dad?”

  Frank heard a ringing sound. “My phone!” Alicia said. Fumbling with her keys, Alicia rushed to unlock the glove compartment. Then she grabbed the phone. “Hello?” she said into the receiver. “Dad! Dad, is that you?”

  As Frank and Joe waited tensely, Alicia shouted, “Dad, where are you?”

  She paused for a moment, covering her right ear with her hand as she struggled to hear. “Talk louder,” she pleaded.

  Alicia straightened up, then shook the phone in desperation. She put it back against her ear. “Hello? Hello?”

  She looked at Frank and Joe, her eyes wide with terror. “It was Dad. He’s been kidnapped—I know it.”

  6 Who’s the Hot Rod?

  * * *

  Frank gently took the phone from Alicia and put it to his ear. The line was dead. Discouraged, he handed it back to Alicia, who put it in her backpack. “I’m keeping this with me at all times, in case Dad calls again,” she said.

  “I wonder if your dad could have seen us and that’s why he called at that moment,” Frank said. He peered at Jonah Ferrier’s house, wondering if Mr. Geovanis could have called from somewhere inside. A breeze from an open window ruffled a curtain in one of the top floor windows, but Frank saw no signs of life.

  “Maybe it was just a coincidence,” Joe said.

&nb
sp; “Could be,” Frank said. Turning to Alicia, he said, “Tell us exactly what you heard. First, are you sure it was your dad?”

  “Positive,” Alicia said. “These were his exact words: ‘Alicia, it’s Dad. I need help.’ Then he said something I couldn’t hear, and the line went dead.”

  “Did you hear anything else in the background—anything that could give us a clue to his whereabouts?” Joe asked.

  Alicia shook her head. “He was there one moment and gone the next. That’s it.” Alicia pressed her lips into a thin line. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered.

  “Take it easy,” Joe said. “We’ll find your father. I know it.”

  “You really think so?” Alicia asked, glancing at Joe.

  “Of course we will,” Joe said, trying to sound as confident as he could. “Look, Alicia,” he went on, “Nantucket’s an island. It’s not that easy getting off it, especially in the summer with all the crowds. Frank and I couldn’t even get a ferry reservation to bring our van over.”

  “You’re right,” Alicia said. “It would be hard for anyone to get last-minute plane reservations, or car reservations on the ferry. But what if the kidnapper takes Dad on the ferry and has a car waiting on the mainland—on Cape Cod?”

  Joe furrowed his brow. “How could a kidnapper force your father onto a ferry full of people? That would be a little obvious.”

  “True,” Alicia said. “So odds are Dad’s still on the island.”

  “You bet,” Joe said, nodding.

  Alicia lifted her chin, her eyes filled with determination. “I’ll find Dad wherever he is—whatever it takes. I won’t rest until I do.”

  While they were talking, Frank strode up the path to Jonah’s house. “Where are you going?” Joe asked him.

  “Just thought I’d take a look around,” Frank answered, knocking on the front door. “After all, Mr. Geovanis was last seen here. And his phone call came the instant we arrived at the house. He could have been watching for us.”