The Ice-cold Case Read online

  “Don’t count on it,” Joe replied.

  Frank took his brother’s arm and pulled him along. “We’ll settle this on the lake.”

  “Be there in a half hour,” John shouted as Frank pulled the van out of the driveway.

  “Unless you’re too chicken to show up,” Joe shouted back.

  “Save it for the ice,” Frank said to Joe. He pulled Ray’s postcard from his pocket. “We’ll check it when we get home. We’ve got to get our skates, anyway.”

  When they compared the card to the note, they were disappointed to find that none of the handwriting matched.

  “Just because Vinnie and John’s writing doesn’t match,” Joe said, studying the card, “doesn’t mean they didn’t do it.”

  “Just because they like to give you a hard time doesn’t mean they threw the rock through our window,” Frank countered.

  “Just because they didn’t send the rock through our window doesn’t mean they aren’t committing the robberies,” Joe reminded his brother. “So let’s go nail them at hockey.”

  They swung by their house, grabbed their gear, and drove out to the lake. When they arrived, Vinnie and John were already on the ice, slapping a puck back and forth. Vinnie and John were good hockey players, Frank noticed.

  “Come on, let’s get this game started,” Joe said.

  “Wait up.” Frank took his brother’s arm. “Let’s watch for a sec.”

  “Why?” Joe asked.

  “Watch Vinnie’s left side,” Frank said. “He’s weak on the left.”

  Sure enough, when John shot the puck to Vinnie’s left, Vinnie nearly missed it.

  “Good observation,” Joe said as Frank finished lacing up his skates.

  Frank and Joe skated onto the ice where Vinnie and John were playing. Ray had set up two rocks to indicate goals at either end of a rink he had outlined with a few sticks.

  “Hey, Joe, we have a cheering section,” Frank said as he pointed to the Kwans’ house. Sarah and her father were standing by the lake, watching them.

  “They’re probably wondering what we’re doing with these guys,” Joe said with a chuckle.

  “Hey, you gonna play hockey or what?” Ray called to Frank and Joe.

  Joe and Vinnie came together for the face-off. Ray counted to three and dropped the puck. Before Joe could even reach for it, John yanked Joe’s foot from behind with his stick, sending Joe sprawling to the ice. Vinnie knocked the puck away and raced down the ice toward the goal. Frank jumped over Joe and chased after Vinnie, but John skated right at him and knocked him down.

  “Score!” Vinnie shouted.

  “What about the hooking?” Joe asked Ray as he got to his feet.

  “No rules—remember?” Ray said.

  “So that’s how you want to play,” Joe said.

  Frank knew that Joe was up for this kind of game, but he didn’t like the idea that it could escalate into a brawl.

  Joe was ready for the next face-off. At the count of two, he lunged forward and knocked Vinnie off balance. When the puck fell, Joe flicked it over to Frank. Frank took off down the ice, expecting John to trip him with his stick at any moment.

  “Watch your head, Frank,” Joe called out.

  Sensing John coming up behind him, Frank pulled the puck close and came to a stop, crouching low with the long handle of his stick poking out a few feet behind him. John was too close to stop. His chest rammed into the handle of Frank’s stick, and his feet shot out from under him.

  Frank skated off to the far end of the rink and gently tapped the puck in for a goal. From the distance, the Kwans cheered.

  “One all,” Ray called out.

  It wasn’t long before the score was tied at two. Frank had scored by pounding away at Vinnie’s weakness on the left. Vinnie and John scored when Ray dropped the puck at one instead of three at the face-off.

  At the last face-off, John got the puck to Vinnie. Frank crossed in front of Vinnie so that when Vinnie tried to work the puck on his left side, Frank stole it and fired the puck down the ice to Joe. Joe was racing to break away from John, and for a moment he thought he might be in the clear.

  “Joe, look out!” Frank shouted.

  Joe realized that Vinnie and John were coming right at him from opposite sides. Neither of them seemed to be paying attention to the puck. They seemed more eager to cream Joe.

  They skated as fast as they could, heads down, with the handles of their sticks pointing at Joe like bayonets.

  9 Sore Losers

  * * *

  Joe waited to the last second before passing the puck to Frank. In the same motion, he lunged headfirst onto the ice.

  “Look out!” John shouted, but it was too late. He and Vinnie were going too fast to stop. They crashed into each other with such force that they bounced backward onto the ice.

  Frank was the only one left standing. He skated casually to the goal, then stopped before gently tapping the puck through.

  “Score,” he said quietly.

  “The Hardys win,” Ray announced.

  Joe got up and waved to the Kwans, who were applauding the victory.

  Frank skated over to Joe as Vinnie and John rubbed their bruises.

  “So, who’s going to wipe who off the ice?” Joe said to Vinnie.

  “You won. No big deal,” Vinnie said. “Sorry to cut short your victory, but we’ve got to get to work.”

  “What time is it, anyway?” John asked.

  Ray checked his watch. “It’s nearly five.”

  “You like working the night shift?” Frank asked.

  “Would you like flipping burgers from six to two in the morning?” John said before he and Vinnie skated back to Ray’s truck.

  “Good game,” Joe shouted as he and Frank skated to their van. “Good for us at least,” he added under his breath.

  “We should check the schedule at Burger World,” Frank said, hopping into the driver’s seat. “If they were working when Lang was attacked, I’d say they’re in the clear.”

  “Let’s go see if Hank can tell us something about the guy who owns that shanty we were locked in last night,” Joe said.

  At Green’s Salvage, Red greeted them, barking and wagging his tail. Hank came out of his office to see what Red was so excited about.

  “Hey there—how’re you doing?” Hank asked as Frank and Joe got out of the van.

  “We just played some hockey, so we’re feeling pretty good,” Joe said, still enjoying the win over Vinnie and John.

  “Speak for yourself, Joe. I’m starting to feel pretty sore,” Frank said. He rubbed his side where John had rammed into him.

  “How about some hot cider?” Hank said. “Come inside.”

  They went into Hank’s cluttered trailer and managed to pull three chairs up to Hank’s table.

  “I can’t believe you ever find anything in here,” Frank said as he moved an air filter off a chair.

  “Oh, I know where everything is,” Hank said. “Unless someone else comes in and moves something. Then I’m in big trouble,” he added, with a chuckle.

  Hank took a pot off a little electric hot plate and poured three cups of steaming cider. Frank and Joe wrapped their cold hands around the hot mugs.

  “So, what brings you here?” Hank asked as he sat back in his chair.

  “We had a run-in with someone on the lake last night after you left,” Frank said.

  “They locked us in one of the shanties,” Joe added.

  “Whoever it was must have been expecting us. The shanty was all sealed up,” Frank said.

  “Whose shanty was it?” Hank asked.

  “Paul Rizzo’s,” Frank said.

  “There’s no way that Rizzo is involved,” Hank said without a hint of hesitation. “Little guy, maybe seventy-five years old. He used to run the diner out near the highway with his brother. He comes to the lake only on weekends now,” Hank said.

  “Rizzo didn’t know about any of this, I’ll bet,” Joe said.

  “That’s right. He barely knows which shack is his,” Hank said with a chuckle. “He’s a nice guy, but he isn’t much of a fisherman.”

  “Does he have any family who might use the shack?” Frank asked.

  “I think he’s got two daughters who live in Florida. His brother still runs the diner. I tell you, Rizzo isn’t the type to be mixed up in anything,” Hank said.

  “But everyone knows he’s on the lake only on weekends?” Joe asked.

  Frank knew what Joe was thinking. “So, anyone who’s out there with any regularity would know the shanty is empty most of the time?”

  “Yup,” Hank said as he poured them more steaming cider.

  “And unless I miss my guess, they’ve been keeping a pretty close watch on us every time we’re out there,” Frank said.

  “Hank, did you see anybody hitchhiking around here last night?” Joe asked.

  “In this weather? It’s way too cold,” Hank said.

  “It does sound crazy,” Frank said.

  “Sure does. Red would have barked his fool head off if someone had walked by, and he didn’t,” Hank said. “So, who do you think it is?”

  “Well, we don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I’m beginning to think we should be spending more time around Tuttle’s Bait Shop,” Frank said.

  “Ernie?” Hank said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s got to be someone who can watch the lake pretty much all the time,” Frank said.

  “Do you know much about Ernie’s grandsons?” Joe asked.

  Hank sat back in his chair. “No, I don’t know them very well,” he admitted. “They stay pretty much to themselves.”

  “It’s only a theory,” Frank said.

  “I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Hank said. “You can count on me.”

  “Thanks a lot, Hank. And don’t take any chances. Whoever’s out there hurt Lang pretty bad,” Frank said as he stood up.

  “Don’t you worry, Red and I will be safe,” Hank said as he held the door for them.

  “I’m so hungry, I could eat a . . . burger,” Joe said as they went back to the van.

  “Burger World it is, then,” Frank said.

  When Frank pulled the van out onto the main road, he noticed headlights in the rearview mirror.

  “Joe, keep an eye on those lights behind us,” Frank said.

  Joe leaned over so he could see out the passenger-side mirror. “How long have they been back there?”

  “I first noticed them when we pulled out of Hank’s. I think they were waiting for us.”

  “Who do you suppose it is?” Joe asked.

  “Well, Lang’s in the hospital, and Vinnie and John are supposed to be at work. Unless I miss my guess, there’s only one other choice.”

  “Stu and Neil Tuttle?” Joe asked.

  “Bingo,” Frank said.

  When Frank pulled into the Burger World parking lot, the lights behind them disappeared. They waited in the van to see if anyone drove by, but no one did.

  “The driver must have cut the lights when he saw us pull in here,” Frank said. “Why don’t you wait with the van while I go check out Vinnie and John’s schedules. Honk if there’s trouble.”

  “While you’re at it, how about a cheeseburger and some fries?” Joe said.

  Frank went inside, where he saw Vinnie and John in their Burger World uniforms, flipping burgers in the back. They spotted Frank and made faces at him, still not happy about having lost the hockey game.

  Frank ordered some food from the girl at the counter.

  “Were Vinnie and John working last night?” Frank asked.

  “Who are you? Their parole officer or something?” the girl asked.

  “Just a friend,” Frank said.

  Vinnie came up to the counter.

  “This guy wants to know if you were here last night,” the girl said to Vinnie.

  “What’s it to you, Hardy?” Vinnie asked.

  “It’s about what’s been going on at the lake,” Frank said.

  “Well, you’re out of luck. John and I are here every night but Tuesday and Wednesday,” Vinnie said.

  “And you’re in luck,” Frank said as he collected his food and his change. “That’s pretty good proof you’re not involved.”

  Vinnie looked at Frank in surprise. “I thought you were trying to pin this on us.”

  “No way. I’m trying to prove Ray is innocent,” Frank said. “And if you guys are found innocent in the process, then all the better.”

  Before leaving the shop, Frank went to the pay phone and looked up the number for Tuttle’s Bait Shop in the phone book. When he dialed the number, Ernie picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Ernie, it’s Frank Hardy. I was wondering if I could talk to Stu or Neil,” Frank said. He wasn’t at all surprised when Ernie told him they weren’t home.

  When Frank got back to the van, Joe was ready to eat. “I guess that game really got my appetite going,” he said as he devoured his cheeseburger.

  “Vinnie and John were working,” Frank said between bites. “And for what it’s worth, I called Tuttle’s, and Stu and Neil weren’t there.”

  “You think they’re following us?” Joe asked.

  “I was thinking we should maybe check around the hangouts in town and see if anyone has seen them,” Frank said.

  Frank pulled out of the lot and drove toward downtown Bayport. They weren’t a dozen yards from Burger World when he saw the headlights in his mirror again.

  “Joe, we’ve still got company,” Frank said.

  Joe looked at the passenger-side mirror. “Looks like the same lights to me.”

  As they drove through town, they saw a police cruiser parked near the Dew Drop Inn. Frank pulled next to the cruiser and saw that Con Riley was behind the wheel.

  “Hey, Con, how’s it going?” Frank called out.

  “Tired. I’m working a double shift, Frank. How’s your investigation going?” Con replied.

  “Good. Listen, I have a question for you. Have you ever seen Ernie’s grandsons hitchhiking into town at night or hanging out in any of the local joints?” Frank asked.

  Riley thought for a moment. “No, can’t say I have. And you know I stop in pretty much everywhere during my shift. Do you think they’re in on something?”

  “It would be nice to have some proof before we say anything,” Frank said. “And, Con, do me a favor. I think someone’s been following us. As we pull away, see if you notice anyone behind me.”

  Frank backed the van onto the road. There was no sign of a vehicle behind him.

  “Do you think they took off when they saw Con’s car?” Joe asked.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Frank said.

  A half mile farther up the road, they came to an intersection where the road they were on came to an end. They would have to turn right or left.

  “I can’t see a thing,” Frank said. With the trees and mounds of plowed snow, it was difficult to see much in either direction.

  “No headlights, either,” Joe said. He peered into the darkness but saw nothing coming. “I guess the coast is clear.”

  Preparing to turn right, Frank slowly pulled into the intersection, when suddenly they heard the distinct whir of tires on the snow. “Frank!” Joe screamed as a pickup truck came racing straight at them with its lights off.

  10 Thin Ice!

  * * *

  Frank slammed on the gas, and the van shot across the road as the truck roared by just behind them. The van bounced over the curb and into a ditch on the far side of the road, coming to a stop at a steep angle. The front bumper pressed into the ditch, and the back wheels were spinning a foot in the air. Frank and Joe lurched forward but were held back by their seat belts.

  “Are you all right?” Frank asked as he tried to sit up.

  “I’m okay,” Joe responded. “Did you get a look at it?”

  “A pickup, dark blue, maybe green. I’m not sure,” Frank said.

  It took some effort to get out of the van because when they released their seat belts, they fell forward onto the dashboard.

  “Sorry about driving into a ditch,” Frank said as they climbed out of the van.

  “Better than getting broadsided,” Joe said.

  Frank inspected the front of the van, which was pressed into the snow. “It doesn’t look too bad,” he said.

  “We’re not getting it back on the road without help,” Joe said.

  “I’ll go call Hank,” Frank said.

  Joe looked down the dark streets. There were no cars to be seen.

  “They’re not following us now,” Joe said.

  “I’m pretty sure they were the ones who just ran us off the road,” Frank said.

  Frank walked back toward town and went to the pay phone by the all-night deli to call Hank. Then he went inside and bought two cups of hot chocolate so he and Joe could warm up.

  When Hank arrived, he walked around the van and whistled loudly. “You guys sure are magnets for trouble,” he said as he attached a cable to the rear of the van.

  “Thanks for getting here so fast,” Joe said.

  “You’ve got to catch these guys before anyone else gets hurt,” Hank said. He walked back to his truck to start hauling the van up. It didn’t take him long to get the van back on the road. Frank and Joe were relieved to see there was no serious damage, just some scratches to the paint.

  “Maybe you guys ought to take the rest of the night off,” Hank said. “I’d say you deserve it.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Frank agreed.

  • • •

  When they got home, their father, Fenton Hardy, was in his study. Frank and Joe filled him in on their investigation.

  “So you suspect Tuttle and his grandsons?” Fenton asked.

  “Yeah, but we can’t figure out a motive for Ernie,” Joe said.

  “He may need the money,” Fenton said.

  “Why? He has all that land,” Frank said.

  “And he owes a lot of money on it,” Fenton said. “He hasn’t paid his real estate taxes for the last few years. He refuses to sell even an acre or two, which would be plenty to pay off what he owes.”

  “So maybe it is the three of them working together,” Joe suggested.