The Desert Thieves Page 4

  “And then there’s Raymond Perez,” Joe said.

  “Perez?” Grish asked. “The artist?”

  “He knows about the thefts, and we caught him eavesdropping near our campsite,” Frank explained.

  “And then there are those desert creatures that only come out at night,” Joe said, “to talk on their CBs.”

  “What’s this about CBs?” Grish said, his eyebrows going up.

  Frank and Joe told him about the hike they’d taken in the middle of the night and about hearing an engine and something like sentry instructions on the CB.

  “I know Perez,” Grish said. “He’s been staying here for a while. He’s always into something, like a little kid.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment. “But CBs? These guys must be more sophisticated than I thought,” he said. “If they’re using radios, it will be even harder to catch them in the act.”

  “You’ll need some good solid detective work,” Joe said.

  Grish looked at him keenly and then smiled. “I know you’d like to work on the case, Joe,” he said, “and now I’m thinking, with this new information about the CB radio, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You two could be my eyes and ears. You’ve already turned up, what, two more suspects in your first day? That’s pretty quick work. If I let you get involved, though, you have to make me a promise.”

  “What’s that?” Joe said.

  “That you’ll keep me informed of everything you discover. That way I’ll feel that I’m still in charge and following the rules. Is it a deal?”

  “Deal,” Joe said.

  “It’s a deal,” Frank said. “You’re the boss.”

  Grish turned to Fenton. “How about you, old buddy?” he asked.

  “You’ve got my word,” Fenton said. “But this trip is a vacation for me, and I plan on relaxing. Frank and Joe can do all the legwork, and I’ll supervise.”

  “No, I’ll supervise,” Grish said with a laugh. “You can visit with me.”

  “Now, that’s an offer I have to accept,” Fenton said. “So, why don’t we head over to your office? You can give us a map of the park and show us where the thefts have taken place.”

  “And we can talk about Kidwell,” Frank said, “and the other suspects.”

  Frank and Joe drove the car to the office, with Fenton and Grish following in Grish’s truck. When they arrived, Kidwell’s blue pickup was parked outside the office, and Kidwell was sitting on the steps, waiting.

  “There’s our man,” Frank said to Joe. “He must be here to try to get his job back.”

  Grish and Fenton pulled up next to Kidwell’s truck. The ranger got out and said, “Morning, David. What’s up?”

  Kidwell stood up and looked from the Hardys to Grish. “I think we need to talk,” he said.

  “I think so, too,” Grish said. “Would you mind waiting out here for a few minutes?” he said to the Hardys. They nodded. “Thanks,” said Grish, and he and Kidwell went into the office and closed the door. Frank and Joe stood beside the steps, and Fenton leaned on Grish’s truck.

  Joe said, “Do you think Grish will give him his job back, after Kidwell attacked him like that?”

  “I’m not sure I would,” Fenton said. “But maybe Grish knows something we don’t know. Maybe Kidwell is under some kind of personal pressure.”

  “Or maybe Grish wants to have Kidwell around so we can keep an eye on him,” Frank said.

  Joe stepped up onto the porch and strolled past the window. Inside, Grish was sitting at his desk, with Kidwell standing on the other side. Kidwell was talking earnestly about something while Grish listened, his hands folded.

  “It looks like they’re really talking,” Joe said. “I think Grish is going to give him another chance.”

  “Good,” Frank said. “That means we can keep an eye on him.”

  “You know, I was thinking about that,” Fenton said. “If the cactus thieves work mainly at night to avoid being seen, then Kidwell and his accomplices probably won’t do anything incriminating in the daylight.”

  “He might scout around during the day for specimens to steal,” Frank said.

  “Yes, he might,” Fenton said. “In which case you guys might want to tail him. On the other hand, it might be more worthwhile to spend some time thoroughly checking out the other theft sites.”

  “Maybe Grish will have them laid out on a map,” Joe said.

  The office door opened, and Kidwell walked out. Without looking at the Hardys, he strode straight to his truck, got in, and drove away.

  When the Hardys went inside, Grish said, “Well, I decided to let him stay on. He apologized for blowing up yesterday and said he really needed the job. Since he put it that way, I said yes. I was also thinking that he’ll be easier to track if he’s still working here.”

  “That’s what we were thinking, too,” Frank said. “Do you know where he’s headed? Joe and I can catch up with him and keep an eye on what he does.”

  “I’ll show you on the map,” Grish said.

  “And while you’re at it,” Joe said, “why don’t you give us an idea of where the thefts have occurred, so we can look at those sites?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Grish said, “I told David to clean up one of the vandalized areas this morning. We’ve been trying to repair them as quickly as we can.”

  He reached into a drawer and pulled out a map of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. Unfolding it on his desk, he said, “This is a topographic map. As you probably know, all these squiggly lines show how steep the terrain is, so you can tell where the mountains are, the flattest places, and so forth.”

  “We’ve worked with topo maps before,” Joe said. “These long heavy lines circling through the park must be the roads. There’s only one for the whole western part of the park.”

  “Show us where the cactus thefts have occurred,” Frank said.

  Grish paused, then got up and went to another map on the wall. “I’ll mark the sites with red dots. Let’s see. There have been eighteen different sites. Most have been in the northwest quadrant of the park, where there’s less traffic.”

  Frank peered over Grish’s shoulder and asked, “Where’s the one we saw yesterday? Wasn’t it in this area?” He pointed to a section of the park on the east side.

  “I think it was about here,” Grish said, tapping the map. “Near the Diablo Mountains. I guess I’ll mark that, too.” He marked another dot on the map. “That makes nineteen.”

  “Where’s Kidwell working this morning?” Joe asked.

  Grish pointed to a red dot in the northwest quadrant. “Here.”

  Joe marked the same spot on his map with a pen, then asked, “And he’s headed up that way now?”

  “He’s supposed to be,” Grish said, returning to his desk. “Now, remember,” he said. “You guys are to keep me posted on what happens. I’ll include it all in my reports.”

  “No problem,” Joe said.

  Frank, looking at the map in front of Joe, said, “I’ve been trying to figure out where those sounds we heard last night could have been coming from. It had to be somewhere out here, in the western part of the park.”

  “We’ll head past there on our way to check on Kidwell,” Joe said. “We can keep our eyes open for tracks leading off the road.”

  “Good idea,” Fenton said. “You guys be careful. Understand?”

  “Sure, Dad,” Joe said. “Ready to hit the trail, Frank?” As Joe reached for the door, Raymond Perez walked in with a big smile on his face.

  “Say, guys,” he said. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, not much,” Joe said. He looked meaningfully at Frank and nodded toward the door, in a gesture that said, Let’s get out of here.

  Perez’s smile broadened. “Well, guess what?” he said.

  “What?” Joe said, his eyes still on Frank.

  “You’ll never guess,” Perez said.

  Joe sighed impatiently. Frank finished folding the map and started for the door.

&nb
sp; Behind Perez’s back, Joe waved goodbye to his father and Grish and started to sneak out the door. He froze at Perez’s next words.

  “I just found the spot where someone stole a cactus last night,” Perez said.

  6 Getting Too Close

  * * *

  “What?” Joe yelled. Grish stood up.

  Perez laughed and repeated himself. “I said I just found the spot where a cactus was stolen last night.”

  “Who told you about people stealing cacti?” Grish said, his face stern.

  “I figured something was going on,” Perez said. “I’ve seen a couple of strange things, places torn up around the park. I reported that one place a couple of weeks ago. Remember, Grish? You said you already knew about it? Then I overheard these two guys talking last night”—Perez pointed to Frank and Joe—“and I figured there must be a major investigation happening.”

  So much for working under cover, Joe thought with frustration as Perez continued.

  “And then I was channel-surfing in the middle of the night on my CB scanner,” Perez said. “I picked up a transmission about getting a cactus framed up and loaded. I figured it must have been the bad guys in action. I didn’t have any way to get a fix on their location, but I could hear some engine sounds off to the northwest. I know this park like the back of my hand, so this morning I drove out to where I figured the sounds were coming from. Sure enough, I found a big hole.” Perez grinned.

  Grish looked exasperated. “Listen, Perez, this is part of an ongoing investigation. Things are kind of delicate right now because . . . well, for various reasons. I’d appreciate it if you’d mind your own business.”

  Ignoring Grish and looking from Frank to Joe, Perez said, “So you guys really are detectives.”

  “Did you hear me, Perez?” Grish said. “I said butt out.”

  “Okay,” Perez said, looking disappointed and angry. “I can see when I’m not wanted.” He started out the door, stopping when Frank put a hand on his arm.

  “Before you go,” Frank said, “tell us where the spot is.”

  “Aha!” Perez exclaimed, his face lighting up again. “Do I get to play spy, too?”

  “Just tell us where the place is,” Frank said as patiently as he could.

  “Are you going to let me in on the fun,” Perez asked, “or do I take my ball and go home?”

  “We can probably find that spot ourselves,” Joe said with a shrug, “just as you did, Perez. Let’s get out of here, Frank.”

  “But we could save time,” Frank said, “if Perez showed us what he found. He could be a big help.”

  “A big help?” Grish repeated. “What about the confidentiality of this case? If Perez knows, who’s next?”

  “Hang on,” Frank said. “Perez has already figured out about the cactus thefts, right? And he’s kept his mouth shut so far. Right, Perez?”

  Perez’s eyes were alight with excitement. “Absolutely,” he insisted. “Hey,” he said to Grish, “all I want to do is help. To do my duty as an American citizen to protect federal land and innocent cacti everywhere.”

  Frank could feel himself starting to like Perez. He was clever, and Frank realized it might be fun to have him on their team. But Grish wanted to maintain complete control of the investigation, and he clearly didn’t want Perez involved.

  “Grish,” Frank said, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Joe and I will keep an eye on Perez. Think of it this way: at least we’ll know where he is most of the time, so he can’t get into trouble.”

  Grish shook his head. “Whatever,” he said finally. “I give up. This is turning into a circus anyway. Just remember that I need to keep track of everything in my reports. The guys from the state are going to be here pretty soon, and I have to have everything down in writing. Understood?”

  “It’s a deal,” Frank said. “Let’s get on the trail.” He held the door open as Joe and Perez walked out, then waved to his father and left.

  The three of them piled into the car, with Joe driving and Perez in the backseat.

  “Okay, Perez,” Frank said. “Which way?”

  Perez directed them to an area about four miles northwest of the campground. “It’s right up here,” he said after a few minutes. “On the left.”

  Joe slowed until he came to some tire tracks leading away from the road. He pulled over and shut off the engine. “Would you look at that?” he said. “They really trashed this place, didn’t they?”

  “You aren’t kidding,” Frank said. Large, dualtire tracks led off from the shoulder of the road, marked by squashed bushes, grasses, and several jumping cacti. A second set of tracks ran parallel to the first, about a dozen feet to the side, and this set of tracks led right over the top of some creosote bushes and cacti. Even from the car they could see that no effort had been made to minimize the damage. The bushes surrounding the hole were broken, and soil had been slung in every direction.

  They got out of the car and walked along the tracks, looking down. “Here,” Joe said, pointing at two footprints. “Whoever was directing the truck as it backed up was wearing cowboy boots.”

  Perez snorted. “That’s a really useful clue. Out here half the population wears cowboy boots.”

  “We don’t have a tape measure with us, do we?” Joe asked, ignoring Perez.

  “As a matter of fact,” Frank said, pulling a small tape from his pocket, “we do.” He tossed it to Joe, who pulled out the end and measured the length of the clearest footprint.

  “Twelve and a half inches,” Joe said. “About a size twelve. I’m a size ten, so we can guess the guy was my height or bigger. Maybe six feet or more.”

  “We can’t say for sure, but that sounds right,” Frank said. “Come here and look at this.” He pointed to the deep crosshatched pattern of the tire tracks and to a notch in one of the crosshatches. “See this notch?” he said. “Look, it appears here and again over here as the tire rolled along. Hand me the tape.” He measured the distance from one notch to the next, and noted the measurement in a pocket notebook.

  “What can you tell from measuring that?” Perez asked.

  “By measuring the distance between notches, we can tell how big around the tire is. We can use this information to figure out the size of the tires,” Frank said.

  “But aren’t big truck tires all pretty much the same size?” Perez asked.

  Joe laughed. “I thought you said you noticed everything, Perez,” he said, his voice slightly mocking. “Tires come in many sizes.”

  “But don’t a lot of trucks have the same size tire?” Perez said.

  “If we know the tire sizes,” Frank said, “then at least we can tell when a truck is not the right one, because it won’t have the right tires. And we can try to match the tread pattern.”

  “I get it,” Perez said. He watched Frank and Joe pace the length of the two parallel crushed paths until they came to the large, uneven hole a few feet past the end of the tracks. About six feet across, the outer part of the hole was shallow, but the center was about four feet deep. The edges were littered with broken branches and footprints.

  Joe pointed to the footprints around the hole. “One set of prints is cowboy boots,” he said. “The other looks like sneakers or running shoes.” He stooped down and measured the sneaker prints.

  “It must have been a huge cactus,” Perez said, “if they had to dig a hole that big to uproot it. How could they possibly have lifted something that big out of the ground?”

  “With a crane,” Frank said. “They dug all around the roots, loosened the soil, and then lifted the plant, roots and all, with a crane. That’s the only way they could have done it, I think.”

  “I’ll bet it weighed tons,” Perez said. “A cactus is heavier than other plants because it holds so much water. The crane must have been very powerful.”

  Frank heard a vehicle approaching. He watched the road until he saw a gray motor home come around the bend and go on by, the driver scarcely glancing at the boys. />
  “Not much traffic out here, is there?” Joe said.

  “Later in the morning there will be,” Perez said. “People like to drive around this loop and check out the desert. But I don’t think too many of them get up early in the morning.”

  “Before it gets too late, we’d better catch up with Kidwell,” Frank said.

  “Who’s Kidwell?” Perez asked.

  As they walked back to the car, Frank told Perez of Grish’s suspicions about Kidwell. “We’re supposed to keep an eye on him,” Frank said. “Grish gave him a work assignment a few miles up the road.”

  “Does he know he’s a suspect?” Perez asked.

  “Nope,” Joe said.

  “You know,” Frank said to Joe after they had gotten in and driven off down the road, “I’ve been thinking about that. Kidwell got awfully upset at Grish yesterday. And before that he almost ran us off the road. He may suspect that Grish is on to him.”

  “In which case we’d better be careful how we approach him,” Joe said. “Working way out here, he can hear our car coming from a long way off. We don’t want to be too obvious. How far is this place he’s working?”

  Frank pulled out the map. “Well, he’s about here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map, “and I think we’re about here.” He scrutinized the map. “These lines show where the mountains are. It looks like there’s a hill not far from the road just before we come to the place where he’s supposed to be working. We could park the car and check out what he’s doing from the top of the hill.”

  They drove for about ten minutes, with Frank checking the map. Finally he said, “I think this is our hill on the right. Pull over here.”

  Joe pulled the car over and parked. The three of them got out and hiked up a steep, brushy hill, bending low when they got to the top, where the bushes were less dense, so that Kidwell wouldn’t see them on the crest. “This’ll be our lookout point,” Frank said.

  Joe saw that the road continued around to the other side of the hill as it made a one-way fifty-mile loop through the western half of the park. Two hundred yards from the base of the hill he saw a scene similar to the one they had just visited—a swath of crushed vegetation leading from the road to a partly filled-in hole. There was no sign of either Kidwell or his truck.