Trick-or-Trouble Read online

  Callie and Iola, along with the rest of the float committee, were working in the huge storage building that had once been the pride of Bayport’s fishing industry. Now long abandoned, it was little more than the city’s largest garage, though a few rooms on the north side were still filled with old nautical equipment.

  Floats for the upcoming Halloween parade filled the big room. All had spooky themes, and many were funny, too. Callie and Iola’s project was called the “Werewolf’s Wagon.” It looked like something out of a 1960s hot-rod model kit. Not to be out-done, another group had patched together a car called “Dracula’s Dragster.”

  “This should be some spooktacular race to the parade finish line,” Joe said, climbing behind the wheel of the wolf car.

  Iola laughed. “I wouldn’t count on winning too much with either of these two,” she said. “They may look pretty good on the outside, but they’re held together with chewing gum.”

  Joe smiled at her. “Maybe you and I should take the Werewolf’s Wagon for a moonlight ride.”

  “I have it on good authority,” Callie said, “that come midnight, that hot rod turns into a pumpkin.”

  “Or a lemon, maybe,” Frank added with a grin.

  “So,” Iola said, “you two detectives figured out who’s behind that devil mask yet?”

  “Brent Jackson’s still my top candidate,” Joe said. “He’s jerk enough to make all this trouble.”

  “If he’s won a prize yet, though, we haven’t heard about it,” Callie said.

  “He might not claim the prize right away,” Frank noted. “That would be a good way to ward off suspicion. I’m not sure about him, though. Harley Bettis is pretty high on my list.”

  “If either of them were brainier, they’d be better bets,” Joe said. “As it is…” He shrugged.

  “Bettis does have the Kings to back him up,” Callie pointed out.

  “That’s why I’m thinking we should do a little more checking on him tonight,” Frank said. “After we drop Iola off at the Book Bank, I mean.”

  “We could scout out where he works,” Joe added. “Magnum Motors isn’t too far away from the Soesbees’ store—and pretty close to where he kept us from catching the devil-masked man the other day.”

  “Do you think the devil-masked man could be a woman?” Callie asked. “Missy Gates is pretty spry, after all.”

  “It’s possible,” Frank said. “The only way we’ll find out is to keep working on the case.”

  “We better head to the shop then,” Iola said. “It’s nearly dark already.”

  They all piled into the Hardys’ van and drove to the Book Bank. They arrived just as Chet walked in with the night’s supply of carry-out food; the frenzy of the contest had left the Soesbees and the Mortons with little time for dinner breaks.

  The store bustled with customers, even before the official beginning of the night’s contest. Some were waiting for dusk and the start of the Spooktacular, while others were just regular shoppers.

  Councilwoman Hamilton stood in one corner, talking animatedly to Kathryn Soesbee. None of the friends could hear what the women were saying.

  “What’s up with that?” Joe asked Daphne.

  “Just some contest business,” Daphne replied. “The councilwoman’s always on edge—which doesn’t help Mom’s mood, either.”

  “I thought the contest had been going well,” Frank said.

  “Oh yeah,” Daphne said. “Real well. But real crazy, too. Did you hear that some contestants nearly got into a fight down at Kool Kone last night?”

  “We hadn’t heard that,” Joe managed to say with a straight face.

  Darkness fell, and the streets of Bayport swarmed with costumed treasure hunters once more.

  The Hardys and Callie picked up their traditional first clues of the night at the Book Bank, then they hopped in the van and drove over to Magnum American Motors. They’d decided to use the car for some stops tonight—at least until they got back over the river, into the city’s center.

  Magnum American Motors was a large blue-and-gray cinder block building on top of a bluff that was just a few blocks from the riverbank. The building had a big picture window in front, with neon motorcycle logos hanging from the corners. A beautiful red, white, and blue chopper dominated the display. A sign in the corner by the bike’s back wheel proclaimed, “Proud Sponsor of the Bayport Spooktacular!”

  “That must be the limited edition Geronimo they’re giving away,” Frank noted.

  Joe let out a low whistle. “She sure is a beaut.”

  “I wouldn’t mind winning it,” Callie said. “Though I suppose I’d have to share it with you two weirdos.”

  Frank gave his girlfriend a quick hug. “I’m sure we could work out a timeshare or something,” he said.

  “We’ll have to win it, first,” Joe said.

  A chime above the door rang as they entered the dealership. Inside, motorcycles, snowmobiles, and four-wheelers dominated the display floor. Nearly all the brands displayed were high end, and every one was an American-made model.

  On the left side of the room there was a service counter; a small office stood on the right. A corridor between the two led to the garage in the back of the building, the rest rooms, and the rear alleyway exit.

  Harley Bettis prowled behind the parts counter, polishing the top with a dirty rag. He wore an oil-stained gray jumpsuit and looked very much at home amid the machine parts. He looked up and scowled as the teens entered.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “We just came in to look around,” Joe said, “and maybe pick up a few clues.”

  “The boss handles the clues,” Bettis said.

  “Well, could we see him, then?” Callie asked.

  “I’ll get him,” Bettis said. He turned toward the back of the shop, then turned around and said, “Don’t be making any trouble here. This is my job, you know.”

  “We’ll stay out of the way,” Frank said with a friendly smile.

  Bettis nodded suspiciously, and slunk between two of the long parts shelves. He went through a door at the back of the room and into the garage.

  “Friendly sales staff,” Joe said sarcastically.

  “He’s certainly acting like he has something to hide,” Callie noted.

  A moment later a burly man with curly hair and a bushy mustache walked up the corridor between the office and the parts counter. He smiled and wiped his hands on a clean rag. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I was just working in back. This is a busy time, you know.”

  The teens didn’t see anyone else in the dealership, but they didn’t say anything.

  The man extended his hand. “I’m Rod Magnum,” he said, “owner of Magnum American Motors. How can I help you tonight?”

  Frank shook his hand.

  “I’m Frank Hardy. This is my brother Joe, and my girlfriend, Callie Shaw. We just came in to check the place out and gather our free clues.”

  Magnum nodded knowingly.

  “Is that the cycle you’re giving away?” Joe asked, tilting his head toward the motorcycle in the front window.

  “That’s her,” Magnum said. “Isn’t she a beaut? Limited edition. Someone’ll be pretty lucky to win her.” He walked behind the sales counter, brought out a big jar full of clue envelopes, and held it out to the teens. “Take your pick.”

  The phone rang. Bettis, returning from the garage, said, “I got it.” He talked quietly into the phone, and turned his back on the others.

  The Hardys and Callie picked three clues out of the jar while keeping an eye on Bettis.

  “Thanks very much,” Frank said. “We’ll have to come down here and shop around after the contest is over.”

  “Shop around now, if you like,” Magnum said. “I’ve got time.”

  “We have to be getting back to the contest,” Callie replied.

  Bettis put down the phone. “I’m going on break,” he said.

  Magnum looked at him and frowned. “Don’t take t
oo long,” he said. “Business will pick up any minute now.”

  Bettis nodded.

  “Thanks again, Mr. Magnum,” Joe said, shaking Magnum’s hand.

  “Tell all your friends,” Magnum said, “only the best at Magnum American Motors.”

  After the three teenagers exited the store, Callie said, “Bettis is definitely up to something. Did you see how suspiciously he acted when he got that phone call?”

  “Maybe we should see where he’s headed,” Joe suggested.

  They all got into the van. Joe pulled around to the alley just in time to see Bettis leaving on a beat-up old motorcycle.

  “That could be the one he used to escape from the windmill last night,” Callie said.

  “Maybe,” Frank said. “Try not to let him see us, Joe.”

  Joe chuckled. “As if I don’t know how to tail someone.”

  Bettis kept to the alleyways as he headed toward the edge of downtown. Joe circled the blocks, keeping the van out of the alleys in order to avoid being spotted. It was a tricky maneuver, but the younger Hardy was pulling it off without a hitch. That is, until they circled a block where Bettis didn’t come out.

  “He must have stopped somewhere in there,” Frank said. “Pull over. We’ll have to look for him on foot.”

  Joe found a parking spot, and the three of them quickly backtracked on foot to where they’d last seen Bettis.

  As they crept between the garages and back entrances of stores, they heard Bettis’s threatening voice.

  “If you try to ruin this setup,” Bettis said, “I’ll break your neck.”

  7 The Shuttered Store

  “Can you see him? Who’s he threatening?” Callie whispered.

  Joe and Frank peered into the alleyway, but they couldn’t see their quarry. They shrugged.

  “We’ll have to sneak closer,” Frank whispered.

  The three of them moved toward Bettis’s voice, carefully avoiding the trash cans and other obstacles in their way.

  “I mean it,” Bettis said, his voice echoing through the alley. “If you screw this up for me, I’ll make you regret it. Big time.”

  A muffled voice drifted back to the three friends, but they couldn’t make out what it was saying.

  “I don’t care what you do,” Bettis said, “just as long as you keep me out of it. I’ve got my own fish to fry here. And if you get in my way…” He let the threat hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “I’ve worked long and hard to get here, and I’m not gonna let some half-baked scheme foul it up.”

  The Hardys and Callie crept closer. Peering around a garage and a Dumpster, they saw Bettis with a person in a bulky motorcycle jacket and helmet. The two stood in the shadows between two buildings. The helmeted person was facing away from the brothers. Bettis looked angry.

  “You’ve been warned,” Bettis said. “Keep your nose out of it—way out of it. I’ll make you regret it if you don’t.”

  A muffled laugh came from the helmet.

  Bettis’s eyes narrowed.

  “Someone’s watching us!” he said. “Take off—I don’t want to be seen with you.” He pulled his helmet onto his head, and he and his cohort fired up their motorcycles.

  “They’ve spotted us!” Joe whispered.

  “Back to the van,” Frank said. “Maybe we can follow them.”

  The Hardys and Callie ran back toward the van as Bettis and the other cyclist took off. Bettis went up the alley, away from the brothers, and the other person darted down the small walkway between two buildings.

  “Rats!” Callie said as they reached the van. “There’s no way we can catch whoever Bettis was talking to.”

  “Maybe Bettis will lead us to some more info, then,” Frank said. He hopped behind the wheel and started the van while the other two climbed in.

  Bettis had a good head start on them, but Frank knew the Bayport roads, and a trick or two about tailing as well. In less than a minute, he had Bettis’s taillights in sight once more.

  “He won’t spot us if I hang back,” Frank said.

  “Why don’t you turn off the lights?” Callie said. “Bettis would never see us then.”

  Frank shook his head. “Too dangerous with all these contestants milling around,” he replied. “The streets are a lot more crowded than usual.”

  “We wouldn’t want to clobber anyone the way Bettis nearly clobbered us the other night,” Joe added.

  “Who do you think Bettis was talking to?” Callie asked.

  “My guess is either Jay Stone or Missy Gates,” Joe said. “It sounded like he didn’t want them horning in on whatever scheme he’s got up his sleeve.”

  “If Bettis has gone out on his own, the rest of the Kings gang can’t be too happy about it,” Frank said. “They probably want to get in on his action.”

  “I’m surprised the juvenile authorities let Bettis off so light,” Callie said. “They should have locked him up for good.”

  “Well, maybe he’ll be nailed with some harsher punishment this time,” Joe replied.

  When it looked as though Bettis might turn back and see them, Frank took a couple of quick turns. “He doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere in particular,” Frank said. “He’s just winding around through the back streets.”

  “Maybe he’s trying to shake us off,” Joe suggested.

  “Yeah.” Frank smiled. “Too bad it won’t work. I’ll stay back a bit farther, and give him enough rope to hang himself.”

  They trailed behind Bettis for another five minutes, keeping well out of sight. Gradually the motorcycle rider stopped dodging through the alleys and side streets.

  “I hate to say this, guys,” Callie said, “but it looks like he may be heading back to Magnum Motors.”

  Joe frowned and checked his watch. “He’s been gone about twenty minutes,” Joe said. “It’s a long break—but not too long. I have a feeling Callie’s right.”

  Frank rapped his palm on the steering wheel. “If only we could have followed the other rider,” he said.

  “We did everything we could,” Joe said. “At least we know that Bettis is up to something—even if we don’t know what.”

  “We’ve seen three people on motorcycles,” Callie said. “Any one of them could have been at Pratt’s Antiques last night.”

  Bettis turned up Racine Street and went past the Book Bank before turning east toward Magnum Motors. Frank slowed the van down. “No use following him any further,” he said.

  “Who’s that hanging out in front of the Book Bank?” Callie asked.

  “And why is the store dark?” Joe added.

  Frank pulled the van into the nearest available spot. All three of them got out and moved quickly up the street toward the Book Bank.

  No lights were coming from the interior of the store. A man in a trench coat and hat moved cautiously around the storefront, peering into the windows and glancing around apprehensively. In the dark, none of them could make out the man’s face.

  Spotting the brothers and Callie advancing toward him, the man pulled his hat lower and turned to leave.

  “Stop right there!” Joe called. “What are you doing?”

  The man kept walking.

  The Hardys broke into a sprint. “Callie, call the police,” Frank said.

  The man turned as they approached. “No, please,” he said. “No police. I wasn’t doing anything untoward.”

  “Mr. Blasko?” Callie asked. She peered into the darkness, her fingers paused over the keys of her cell phone.

  “Why is the store dark?” Joe asked.

  “I’m sure that I don’t know,” Blasko said, taking off his hat and bowing slightly to Callie. He looked strange and ghostly in the pale light from the distant streetlamps. “I found it this way moments ago.”

  “What are you doing here?” Callie asked.

  “I was stopping by for a bit of light reading—I haven’t been sleeping well. Odd that they should be closed during the contest, don’t you think?”


  Frank nodded, his eyes narrowing as he regarded the aging horror movie star. “Yes,” Frank said, “very odd.”

  “Well,” Blasko said, “I must be going.”

  “What’s your hurry?” Joe asked.

  “No hurry,” the movie star replied, “but it is late, and I’m tired. Could you direct me to another bookstore, by any chance?”

  “I think there’s a Denning and Hayday open late near the mall,” Callie said. “You’d have to take a cab out there, though. Do you want me to call one?”

  Blasko shook his head. “No. No. It sounds like entirely too much trouble. I’ll just have to make do, I suppose.”

  “Would you like us to drop you at your hotel?” Frank asked.

  “Don’t bother,” Blasko replied. “I can find my own way. Walking is good for the constitution, you know.” He turned and strolled away.

  “That’s funny,” Joe said when Blasko had walked out of earshot, “he was going to leave the opposite way when we first confronted him.”

  “Maybe he thought we were muggers or something,” Callie said. “We did come up on him all of a sudden.”

  “Maybe,” Frank said, rubbing his chin, “but that story of his just doesn’t ring true to me.”

  “Do you want to follow him?” Joe asked.

  “We’d better see what’s going on here, first,” Frank said.

  He peered through the window of the Book Bank and saw a small emergency light burning way in the back—near the rear exit.

  “Where do you think they are?” Joe asked.

  Frank shrugged and tried the door. “It’s not locked,” he said, swinging the door inward. He and Joe got out their pocket flashlights.

  “Ms. Soesbee? Daphne? Iola? Chet?” Frank called. “Anybody here?”

  There was no answer.

  They shone their flashlights around the store’s interior.

  “Everything looks normal,” Joe said, “aside from the fact that the place is dark and deserted.”

  “Where could they all have gone?” Callie said.

  “Maybe the circuit breaker blew,” Frank suggested.

  “It’s in the back, probably,” Joe replied. “Let’s check and see if we can get the lights on.”