The Mark of the Blue Tattoo Read online

  “I’m a little nervous about going by myself,” Callie admitted. “Would you mind coming along?”

  “No problem,” Frank told her. After some discussion, they agreed that Callie would go alone in her car, so that Stephanie wouldn’t be suspicious of anything. The Hardys would go separately and be waiting in the diner parking lot at eight sharp.

  The Starlight was shaped like a railroad dining car, with chrome siding and long windows. Joe drove around to the side and parked in a spot with a view of the entrance. The big neon sign over the diner switched back and forth from pink to green, casting wildly colored shadows across the parking lot.

  “Do you see Callie?” Joe asked.

  “Not yet,” Frank replied. “But we’re a couple of minutes early. I’m sure she’ll—uh-oh. Trouble.”

  Four teenage boys were walking across the parking lot, headed straight for the van. They all wore angry, determined looks. Gus French, swinging a bicycle chain, was in the lead. The boys on either side of him were holding baseball bats. The fourth, Dino, had a tire iron in his right hand and was bouncing it threateningly against his left palm.

  9 Rumble at the Diner

  * * *

  The gang split up as it approached the Hardys’ van. Gus and Dino headed toward Joe. The other two moved toward Frank, swinging their bats as they came.

  “No ski masks this time,” Joe murmured.

  “I guess they don’t care if we see their faces,” Frank replied. “They’re probably not planning to leave us in any shape to testify.”

  “We’d better make a preemptive strike,” Joe said. “Look scared. We want to make them overconfident.”

  “Looking scared shouldn’t be hard,” Frank said grimly. “If you think it’ll help, I’ll look totally paralyzed with fear!”

  Joe kept his eye on Gus and Dino. Moving slowly, he reached over and grasped the door handle. Frank was doing the same on his side.

  The gang was almost even with the front of the van. An evil grin spread across Gus’s face. He drew his arm back to smash Joe’s window with the chain.

  “One,” Joe muttered out of the side of his mouth, “two, three!”

  Joe swung the door open. It slammed into Gus’s chest. He staggered backward and crashed into Dino, who dropped his tire iron with a clatter.

  As he reached to turn on the ignition, Joe glanced at Frank. One of the boys on his side had dropped his bat and was holding his hand to his forehead. Frank had a grip on the other guy’s bat. He jerked the bat toward him, then, as his opponent tried to pull it back, gave it a hard shove. The small end of the bat caught the boy in the pit of the stomach. He yelled and doubled over.

  Joe twisted the key in the ignition. With a throaty rumble, the engine came to life. Gus was on his feet again. He raised his chain for another swing. Joe shifted into reverse and hit the accelerator. The van lurched back a dozen feet, out of reach of the four startled hoods. Joe hit the brakes and flicked on the headlights, then the two quarter-million-candlepower driving lights mounted on the front bumper.

  Gus, Dino, and their two buddies raised their hands to shield their eyes from the blinding glare. Joe shifted to low and leaned on the horn as he accelerated. The four Starz jumped out of the way. Something banged against the side of the van as the Hardys sped past. Moments later they were on the street, out of danger.

  “Whew!” Joe said. “Next time we run into them, I’d like the odds to be a little more even.”

  “Joe, we’ve got to go back!” Frank said urgently. “Callie’s car just turned into the diner’s parking lot. She doesn’t know those creeps are there.”

  Joe slammed on the brakes and swung the wheel hard to the left. The van lurched into a tight U-turn. The tires squealed loudly. For one sickening moment, Joe was sure the van was going to roll over. Then it leveled off. He aimed the nose at the entrance to the parking lot.

  The potent driving lamps lit up the shadowy parking lot, washing out the pink and green from the neon sign. Callie had come to a stop near the back fence. The four Starz were clustered around the same station wagon the Hardys had encountered earlier that day. As the bright beam swept across them, Gus came into sharp focus. Frank could see Gus looking around frantically, then noticing Callie. With an ugly scowl, he ran toward her, his pals only a few steps behind.

  Joe steered directly at them. He screeched to a stop, slapped the release button on his seat belt, and threw the door open.

  Frank was already outside, ready for battle. “Callie!” he shouted, as Joe joined him shoulder to shoulder. “Get out of here. We’ll take care of these guys.”

  Joe wished he felt as confident as Frank sounded. One of the two bat-wielding boys came running at him, arm raised high. Joe bent over double, then charged. The bat whizzed over his head. Joe grabbed the boy’s forearm with both hands and straightened up, then spun on his toes. The gang member’s arm wrapped around his own neck. The bat fell from his numb fingers and made a clunking sound on the pavement.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Joe could see something move. He dropped to his knees and dove to his left. Dino’s tire iron hissed past him and hit Callie’s bumper with a loud clang.

  Callie jumped out of the car and screamed, “Go away and leave us alone. I just called the police on my cell phone. They’ll be here any minute.”

  Dino blinked and looked over his shoulder at Callie. Joe pushed off as if from the line of scrimmage and hit him solidly, shoulder to mid section. Dino went whoof! and fell backward to the ground. Joe met Callie’s eye and grinned.

  A pair of headlights swung across the parking lot and headed toward them. The car slid to a stop, and both front doors were flung open. Joe turned to face this new, unknown menace.

  The first person out of the car was Marlon Masters. He shouted, “Gus, Dino, you guys, back off. The cops are on the way!”

  Hedda climbed out from behind the wheel and joined him. “Marlon’s right,” she said. “This is pointless. You’re just asking for trouble.”

  Dino clambered to his feet, his fists clenched. Joe got ready to defend himself against any blow that came his way. But Dino looked over at Gus, then, seeming to waver, toward Hedda and Marlon.

  “Break it off. That’s an order,” Marlon said. “Scram this minute, or you’ll have to deal with me instead of these dorks.”

  Joe didn’t like being called a dork, but he was glad to see that Dino and his buddies were moving away, their shoulders slumped. And why not? Twice they had had two-to-one superiority over Joe and Frank, and twice they had come out on the losing end. Not a great record when you liked to think of yourselves as tough guys.

  Marlon trotted over to the gang members. Taking Gus and Dino by the elbows, he walked them to the station wagon, talking in low tones. Then he got in with the four Starz and they drove away. Gus couldn’t resist giving Joe a final scowl.

  Hedda walked up to Joe, Frank, and Callie. “I’m upset with you,” she said. “Upset, and very disappointed. I thought we could work together, but I’m beginning to realize that you like nothing better than to make trouble.”

  Joe was stung by the scorn in her voice. “All we did was defend ourselves when those creeps jumped us,” he said.

  “I know why you and your friends came here tonight,” Hedda replied. “More spying and prying. You can’t deny it, can you? I thought not,” she added after Joe and Frank did not reply. “You know, until you started interfering, my work with the Starz was going well. I was beginning to turn them around, to get them off a collision course with the authorities. Now look at how they’re behaving.”

  “You can’t keep creeps from acting like creeps,” Frank said. “That’s the way they are.”

  Hedda’s face grew taut. “Very smart, Frank Hardy,” she said. “But I want to tell you this. You and your organization had better get with the program, and do it fast. Otherwise, I am going to see that you have some major headaches.”

  Not waiting for Frank’s response, she turned and stomped off to h
er car. Moments later she drove away.

  “Where are those cops you called?” Joe asked Callie.

  Callie gave a shaky laugh. “I don’t have a cell phone,” she said. “I was bluffing. I knew I had to do something. But I was so scared!”

  Joe grinned. “So were we,” he told her. “But we came through it okay. Hedda’s pretty gutsy, isn’t she? I wish she wasn’t so down on us.”

  “What about that girl you were supposed to meet, Callie?” Frank asked. “She didn’t show, did she?”

  “No, she didn’t,” Callie replied.

  “But the Starz did,” Joe pointed out.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Callie said. “I thought of it, too. But I really don’t think Stephanie would help them set a trap for me. I don’t know her well, but she doesn’t seem like the type who would send someone into such a dangerous situation.”

  “Then how did Gus and Dino know to come here?” Frank asked. “Not to mention Marlon and Hedda Moon. Coincidence?”

  “I don’t know,” Callie cried. “But I don’t believe Stephanie would set me up. Look, I’m going home to call her. Would you mind following me? I’m sure nothing will happen, but . . .”

  “No problem,” Joe said. “In fact, Frank’s planning to ride shotgun with you. Right, Frank?”

  “You took the words out of my mouth,” Frank said solemnly.

  The drive to Callie’s house was uneventful. Mrs. Shaw met them at the door. “Some girl named Stephanie has called half a dozen times for you. She sounds very distressed,” she said.

  Callie gave Joe and Frank a glance, then hurried to the phone in the hall. The conversation that followed was too low for Joe to hear. After a couple of minutes, Callie replaced the receiver and turned to them.

  “Dino came over this afternoon to question Stephanie,” she reported. “He said he’d seen her talking to me. She got really scared and ended up telling him about our date at the Starlight Diner. After he left, she called to warn me, but I’d already left the house. She wants to get together with me tomorrow. I said yes.”

  “Are you sure that’s such a hot idea?” Frank asked.

  “I believe her,” Callie insisted. “And I think she needs my help. Our help.”

  Frank looked troubled, but all he said was “Well, okay . . . but be careful. And keep us posted on everything you do.”

  On the drive home, Joe and Frank talked over the question of Stephanie’s role. Was she in on it or was she a victim? If she was a victim, what did she know that the Starz were so determined to keep the Hardys from finding out? Interesting questions, they agreed, but there was no way to answer them without more information.

  Back home, they found their parents in the living room. The television was tuned to a program about a new crime bill Congress was considering.

  “There’s a casserole staying warm for you in the oven,” Mrs. Hardy told them. “And a fresh container of chocolate swirl ice cream in the freezer.”

  Joe grinned. “After listening to some of Chet’s ideas for ice-cream flavors, chocolate swirl sounds so bland,” he said.

  “And so normal,” Frank added as the two brothers headed for the kitchen.

  Frank served up two portions of tuna noodle casserole while Joe poured two glasses of iced tea, then they sat at the kitchen table to eat. They were halfway through when the phone rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Frank mumbled through a mouthful.

  Joe reached the phone first. “Hello?” he said.

  “Joe, listen, it’s Biff,” came a frantic voice. “Somebody just smashed the side window of my mom’s car. They got away before I could get a look at them. But they spray-painted a blue star on the windshield. What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure, but I can guess,” Joe replied. He covered the receiver and relayed Biff’s startling news to Frank. Then he said to Biff, “There’s nothing you can do tonight, so try not to worry. We’ll figure out our next move tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Biff said. “But in the meantime, what do I tell my mom? She’s going to kill me!”

  “Just chill . . .” Joe began. But before he could get the rest of the words out of his mouth, he heard a sharp impact outside, followed by a rain of glass onto concrete.

  10 Battle in the Dark

  * * *

  Frank ran toward the back door. Joe, who was closer, reached the door first and flung it open. Clearing the steps in one jump, he dashed toward the van. Still on the porch, Frank saw two shadowy figures rising out of the bushes. Both held baseball bats.

  “Joe!” Frank shouted. “On your left!”

  Joe spun around. Frank jumped up onto the railing of the porch and launched himself at the attacker closer to him. He hit his target at chest height and carried his opponent to the ground. But his opponent twisted as he fell. Frank ended up underneath his assailant, with the boy’s bony knee poking Frank under his ribs.

  Frank started to push the boy off. He looked up and saw the butt end of a bat coming straight at him. He twisted his head to the right. The bat hit the ground less than an inch from his ear. Frank clasped his hands together and thrust them up under his attacker’s chin. The boy let out a choking sound and fell backward. Frank sprang to his feet, grabbed the bat away from him, and turned to see how Joe was doing.

  Joe was doing fine. His opponent was racing down the driveway, leaving his bat on the ground as a trophy. Joe leaned over to pick it up, then decided there was no point in chasing him. I’ll know his face next time I see him, he thought to himself.

  Let’s see what my guy has to say for himself, Frank thought, looking over his shoulder. His opponent seemed to be trying to set a new record for the fifty-meter sprint. He was rounding the corner of the house when the sound of an accelerating car came from the street. He let out a cry of angry despair and ran faster.

  Frank looked over at Joe and started laughing. Then he noticed that the side window of the van was broken. The laughter died.

  Through clenched teeth, Frank said, “Whatever those worms are up to, we’re going to stop them!”

  “I’m with you all the way,” Joe said. “But the first thing we’d better do is warn everybody we know to watch out for acts of vandalism tonight. We don’t want these guys to give the auto glass shop any more new business tonight.”

  On their way back to the house, Frank asked, “Your guy—was he one of the ones at the diner?”

  Joe shook his head. “Nope. I’m definite on that. How about yours?”

  “I don’t think so,” Frank replied. “Next question—did they have enough time to get here from Biff’s house, or are we dealing with more than one platoon?”

  Joe gave him a sour smile. “ ‘Platoon’ is a big word for two punks,” he said. “But it sure looks like a coordinated assault. And to me that spells Marlon Masters. I doubt if Gus French could manage to mount a coordinated assault on his own shoelaces.”

  “Don’t underestimate him just because he acts like a creep,” Frank said. “History is full of efficient creeps.”

  They went into the house, and Frank dialed Callie’s number. She told him that she had put her car in the garage and locked the door. She also promised to turn on the floodlights in the driveway.

  Tony Prito was still at Mr. Pizza. His mother, alarmed by Frank’s message, said she would be sure to pass it along. In fact, she said, she was going to call Tony the second she and Frank got off the phone.

  “I hope we’re not like the boy who cried wolf,” Frank said to Joe when he hung up.

  Joe shrugged. “Too bad if we are. Think how we would feel if someone else’s car window got smashed and we could have prevented it from happening.”

  He took the phone from Frank and dialed the Mortons’ number. Chet answered. When Joe told him of the two attacks, his friend sounded alarmed. “Oh, great,” he moaned. “If I’ve got to pay for a broken windshield, it’ll take a few weeks’ worth of salary. Joe, what’s going on?”

  “You’re in a better place to know t
han I am,” Joe replied. “It’s clearly got something to do with Freddy Frost and the people who work there. Do you have something at home that shows everybody’s routes? Maybe that’ll give us some idea.”

  “Sure,” Chet said. “I’ll drop it by tonight. I can’t stay, though. I need to be in good shape for work tomorrow.”

  “Well,” Joe said, “if we can’t talk tonight, we should sit down tomorrow and hash this whole thing out.”

  “Hash!” Chet exclaimed. “Of course—hash ice cream! I never thought of that. Why don’t you enter it in the contest?”

  “Look, are you going to meet us tomorrow or not?” Joe demanded. Usually he loved trading quips with his friend, but he was in no mood. “I’m sorry, Chet,” he said. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Tell me about it,” Chet said. He agreed to meet the Hardys at a luncheonette near the Freddy Frost plant around noon. “And if I have time tonight after I get back from your house,” he added, “I’ll run up some samples of different flavors of hash ice cream and bring them along tomorrow.”

  “Don’t go to any bother,” Joe said as he hung up the phone. “Please don’t bother,” he added, his mood lightening.

  • • •

  Over breakfast the next morning, Frank studied the chart of Freddy Frost routes. “I have had it up to here with counterpunching,” he said. “It’s time to seize the upper hand in this case.”

  “Sounds good,” Joe said. He spooned a slice of banana out of his bowl of cereal before adding, “And how will we do that?”

  Frank counted on his fingers. “First, we take the van in to have the window replaced. Then we borrow a car. As ordinary as we can find.”

  “Custom-made for a tail,” Joe remarked. “And then?”

  “Then we follow Gus French on his ice-cream route,” Frank said. “This whole business started the other day the moment when Chet started driving for Freddy Frost. What we have to do once and for all is find out why.”