Crime in the Cards Read online

  10 The Black Knight

  That evening the Hardys and their girlfriends sat in the Mortons’ family room sipping sodas while Chet paced the floor.“Chet,” Iola said, “wearing out the carpet isn’t going to make the Black Knight get back to you any earlier.”

  “I know,” Chet replied, “but I can’t think of anything else to do.”

  “Maybe you should go to the Dungeon Guild,” Frank suggested. “You were going to see if you could pick up some cards there.”

  “Good idea,” Callie said. “At least the Dungeon Guild owner operates out in the open.”

  “Well, kind of out in the open,” Frank said. “ Remember when we followed him to his secret park meeting.”

  “Mystery and imagination are part of the game,” Chet replied. “A lot of players like that kind of thing.”

  “Right now, though,” Joe said, “all the mystery is getting in the way. We’re no closer to solving these card thefts than we were when we started.”

  Iola put a hand on his shoulder. “You and Chet should both calm down, Joe,” she said. “Stewing about it won’t help anything.”

  “Maybe Frank’s right,” Chet said. “I should check the Dungeon Guild before it closes. Anyone want to go with me?”

  Before anyone could answer, the doorbell rang. Chet answered it and found Tim Lester waiting on the doorstep.

  “Tim, hey,” Chet said. “What brings you here?”

  “I dug through my extra cards and found some that I thought you might be able to use,” Tim said, holding out a big shoebox. “If you want them, you can have them for last month’s prices.”

  Chet smiled. “Thanks, Tim. Come on in. The Hardys and Callie are hanging out, too.” All of them said hi to Tim.

  “Did you get your cards from school?” Joe asked.

  Tim looked puzzled. “How’d you know about that?”

  “Daphne clued us in,” Frank said. “We saw her this afternoon.”

  Tim shook his head. “Nah. I couldn’t get them. I left them in my locker after McCool almost busted us yesterday. Pretty stupid, eh? I got into the school, but the cops were hanging around, so I couldn’t get close to my locker.”

  “The police?” Callie said. “Why were they at school?”

  “I heard somebody stole a big camera from the industrial arts room,” Tim said, “but I don’t know for sure. Anyway, I couldn’t get my deck. At least with the cops around, my best cards should be safe.”

  “Unless the police start opening lockers,” Chet said.

  Tim’s face fell. “You don’t think they’d do that, do you?”

  “They might,” Joe said. “It depends on what they’re looking for.”

  “Well, they can’t be looking for Chet’s cards, because he never reported them stolen,” Iola said, frowning.

  “You really have to do that, Chet,” Callie added.

  “Maybe later,” Chet replied. He was already busy thumbing through Tim’s shoebox.

  Frank rubbed his chin. “Crime seems to be epidemic at Bayport High lately,” he said. “I’ll check with Con and find out what’s going on.”

  “Go ahead,” Chet said. “I’m going to see if Tim’s got any cards I want. First, though, I’ve got to do something.” Chet walked to the family computer sitting in one corner of the room.

  “Chet, you just checked ten minutes ago,” Iola complained.

  “Yeah, I know, but . . .” Chet said. He typed some commands in and then was frustrated when nothing was there.

  “Why don’t I set the program to ring when new mail comes in?” Callie suggested.

  “Good idea,” Joe said. “That way, maybe Chet cankeep his blood pressure from blowing off the top of his head.”

  Callie and Iola worked on the computer while Chet and Tim riffled through Tim’s cards. Frank and Joe went outside to talk to Con Riley on their cell phone.

  Half an hour later they regrouped in the family room. Chet appeared much happier, as did Tim—who was counting his new-found money. The girls were sitting on the couch, chatting.

  “Computer all set?” Joe asked.

  Callie nodded. “Fired up and ready to sing out,” she said.

  “My deck’s in a little better shape,” Chet said. “Though I still need some powerful cards to make a decent bid at the tournament.”

  “My wallet’s fatter,” Tim said, smiling. “And that’s a good thing.”

  “What did Con have to say?” Iola asked.

  “The theft at the school had nothing to do with cards,” Frank said. “Tim was almost right. It wasn’t a camera that was missing, though, just a lens.”

  “For the separations camera used in Mr. McCool’s class,” Joe added. “One of the students using the lab after school on Friday reported the theft.”

  Tim breathed a sigh of relief. “At least the cops won’t be busting me for having cards in my locker,” he said.

  The others chuckled.

  Tim stood. “I hate to take the money and run,” he said, “but I should get going.”

  “Maybe you could drop by tomorrow for a tune-up game,” Chet suggested. “I could invite Daphne, too.”

  “Sounds great,” Tim replied as he stepped out the door. “Bye!”

  Joe sat down on the couch next to Iola. “Maybe we could talk to Daphne if she drops by tomorrow,” he said.

  “It might be that Daphne and Chet’s thefts are unrelated,” Frank said. “The cardsarevaluable. Maybe we’re looking at crimes of opportunity here.”

  “But it’s not just Daphne and me,” Chet said. “Other people have lost individual cards. And why is all this happening just now?”

  “The cards have gotten a lot more popular lately,” Iola said. “I’d never even heard of them until you got serious about the game, Chet.”

  “Too bad you tussled with Gerry last night,” Callie said to the Hardys. “Maybe he could have tipped you to some places to look for the crooks.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “We should try him. He didn’t seem to hold the mistake against us.”

  “Holding grudges is bad business,” Chet interjected.

  “We’ll chat with Gerry in the next day or two,” Frank said, “once things cool down. I’m still hoping he can tell us something the other kids didn’t.”

  “There are only three days until Chet’s tournament,” Iola said. “That doesn’t leave you much time.”

  “We can handle the pressure,” Joe said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

  Chet chuckled. “I’m getting a soda,” he said. “ Anybody else want one?”

  “Sure,” the others chimed together.

  Chet returned a few minutes later with five cans of soda, a big bag of tortilla chips, and a bowl of salsa. As he entered the room, the bell on the computer rang out.

  Chet nearly dropped the snacks in his dash for the keyboard. The others got off the couch and came to peer over Chet’s shoulder.

  “It’s a message from the Black Knight,” Chet said. “He says I can meet him at midnight tonight at the seven-mile marker on Old Bluff Road. He says I should come alone.”

  “That’s not too far from Magus Hills,” Callie noted. Joe and Frank glanced at each other, remembering that Pete, Daphne, and Gerry all lived in that subdivision.

  “What is it with these guys and their mysterious meetings?” Iola asked rhetorically.

  Frank checked his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time to get there and set up,” he said.

  “It’s almost two hours until midnight,” Iola replied, puzzled.

  “Yeah, but we need to get there early enough so the Knight won’t know we’ve arrived first,” Joe said. “We’ll stake the place out, just in case Chet runs into trouble.”

  “We’ll come along,” Callie said.

  Frank took her hand and squeezed it sympathetically. “Not this time, I’m afraid,” he said.

  “Too many detectives spoil the stakeout,” Joe said,finishing his brother’s thought. He gave Iola a kiss on the cheek by way o
f consolation.

  “So you expect us to wait here?” Iola asked.

  “You could drive me out,” Chet suggested, “but then you’d have to hide in the car or something.”

  “Just so long as we don’t have to hide in the trunk,” Callie said.

  “Again,”Iola added with a deadpan face.

  The Hardys arrived at the meeting place on Old Bluff Road just before eleven o’clock. They parked in a culvert half a mile back and hiked up the ridge to the seven-mile marker.

  The brothers found a concealed spot in the trees and sat down to wait. It was colder than it had been the night before, and much gloomier. Fog had sprung up again and, tonight, cloud cover blotted out the moonlight. Even after their eyes adjusted, the brothers couldn’t see more than twenty feet in the darkness.

  “I’m really getting sick of this fog,” Joe said.

  “When the weather turns cold again, it’ll leave,” Frank said.

  Joe frowned. “That’s a mixed blessing,” he said. “Outside stakeouts are easier when the weather’s like this.”

  “Pipe down,” Frank whispered. “I think Chet’s coming.”

  Sure enough, Chet’s old sedan chugged up the hill and pulled onto the shoulder. Chet got out and stood by the side of the road.

  Joe checked his watch. Five minutes to midnight.

  They waited.

  Chet paced nervously, wearing small ruts into the gravel shoulder of the road. Fifteen minutes passed. Then thirty. Then forty-five.

  After nearly an hour Chet whispered loudly, “Frank! Joe! I don’t think he’s coming.”

  The Hardys left their hiding place and walked downhill to Chet. Callie and Iola sat up in Chet’s car.

  “My neck is sooo stiff!” Callie complained.

  “At least you were in the back,” Iola said. “I’ve had the gearshift digging into my ribs all this time.”

  “Sorry about the waste of time, girls,” Frank said. “Looks like we’ve washed out this time.”

  Chet sighed. “I was hoping to at least get a shot at some good cards,” he said.

  “You might get that chance yet,” Joe said quietly. His eyes narrowed as he focused on some evergreen bushes just down the road. He turned back to Chet and Frank.

  “What do you see, Joe?” Frank whispered.

  “Somebody’s lurking in those bushes,” Joe said. “I saw his shadow move.”

  “Let’s get him,” Frank said. He and Joe turned and ran for the bushes at full speed.

  The hiding figure jumped up and started skidding down the sloped side of Old Bluff Road. The fog and darkness made it impossible to determine the person’s identity.

  “We’ll cut him off with the car!” Chet called afterthe brothers. The Hardys heard Chet’s car engine roar to life atop the bluff.

  The fog obscured the brothers’ vision, making their quarry difficult to follow. “Isn’t Magus Hills down in this direction?” Joe called.

  “I think so,” Frank replied. “It’s hard to tell in this fog. Whoever he is, this guy knows the terrain better than we do.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “We’d have caught him by now otherwise.”

  The figure ahead of them darted to the right across the top of a ridge, hardly breaking stride even though the slope dropped away precipitously.

  Joe and Frank sprinted to the top of the cliff after him, starting to close the gap slightly.

  As they crested the ridge, though, the sandy ground crumbled beneath Frank’s feet. He started a slide toward the edge of the cliff.

  11 A Card Revealed

  Frank reached out to grab on to Joe, but the younger Hardy’s footing slipped as well. As Frank clutched Joe’s coat, both of them slid standing up over the drop.Their feet flew out from under them, spraying small stones and sand into the air. Clawing with their fingers, they caught the edge of the slope, and both slammed hard into the sandy cliffside.

  “Oof!” Joe gasped. “You okay, Frank?”

  “I’ve been better,” Frank replied. “I don’t have a very good grip.”

  “Neither do I,” Joe said. “The sand on the cliff face keeps slipping out from under my feet.”

  Frank nodded. “Me, too. I’ve climbed ice walls that were easier to get purchase on.”

  The ledge under Joe’s fingers crumbled and he slipped a few feet more before he could get a bettergrip and stop his descent. “I could use a rope right about now,” he said grimly.

  “Here! Catch my coat!” a voice called down from above.

  A heavy maroon jacket dangled in front of the younger Hardy, and Joe grabbed it just as the surface gave way beneath him. The person holding the other end of the coat grunted as Joe’s weight fell on him. Joe looked up and saw Pete Kaufmann grimacing with exertion.

  “I—I don’t know if I can pull you both up,” Pete said.

  “Help Joe,” Frank replied. “I’ve got a better grip now.”

  Pete pulled, and Joe tried to help by scrambling with his feet—to no avail.

  Chet Morton, sweating and panting, suddenly appeared beside Pete on top of the ridge. “Let me give you a hand,” Chet said.

  Together, they hauled Joe up first, and then got Frank.

  “Boy, am I ever glad to see you!” Joe said to Chet.

  “Yeah, thanks, Chet,” Frank said. “You, too, Pete.” Pete sat down to catch his breath.

  “Good thing I decided to follow on foot while the girls took the car,” Chet said.

  Frank pulled his cell phone from his pocket and handed it to Chet. “Call Callie’s phone and tell the girls that we’re all right,” he said. “Joe and I want to chat with Pete.”

  Chet nodded grimly. “So, you’re the Black Knight,” he said to Pete.

  “What? Me?” Pete sputtered. “I’m not the Black Knight.”

  “If you’re not,” Joe said, “what were you doing at the seven-mile marker on Old Bluff Road?”

  “I always meet the Knight there,” Pete said. “He suggested the spot the first time I contacted him. I got a note from him earlier tonight that said he had a good card for me and that I should show up at half-past midnight.”

  “What’s he look like?” Joe asked.

  “I’ve never seen his face,” Pete replied. “He wears a motorcycle helmet and jacket. He’s pretty tall, maybe about Joe’s size.”

  Frank frowned. “A very convenient story.”

  “It’s the truth!” Pete snapped. “When I saw Chet at the rendezvous point, I knew something was wrong. The Knightnevermeets two clients at once. When you guys appeared, I figured it was some kind of setup. I thought that maybe you’d tapped into the Knight’s E-mail and sent me a decoy note to throw off my game plan for Tuesday’s tournament.”

  “Why’d you run?” Joe asked.

  Pete shrugged. “There were five of you and one of me,” he said. “How did I know what you were up to? I figured I’d lose you along the ridge. But I didn’t think you’d fall off.” He took a deep breath, stood, and dusted himself off. “I didn’thaveto come back for you, you know.”

  “We’re glad you did,” Frank said. “Thanks.”

  “Can I go now?” Pete asked.

  Joe nodded. “Sure, take off,” he said. “We might want to talk to you again, though.”

  “I’m in the phone book,” Pete answered. He walked down the ridge and disappeared into the fog.

  “I told the girls to meet us at the bottom of the hill,” Chet said, handing the cell phone back to Frank. I figured it’d be easier than climbing back up.”

  “Good thinking,” Joe said.

  After returning to Chet’s car, the Hardys told the others what they’d learned.

  “The way I see it, there are two possibilities,” Frank said. “One, that Pete reallyisthe Black Knight, and what he told us was just a good cover story. Two, that the Knight spotted our stakeout and took off before Pete arrived.”

  “That doesn’t explain Pete’s presence, though,” Joe said. “There’s a third possibility, that the wh
ole trip was a set-up—both for us and for Pete.”

  “But, why?” Iola asked.

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe the Knight is one of the other regular Creature Card players.”

  “Hemight even beDaphne,”Frank said. “She could have faked that reply from the Knight when we were at her house. None of us was really watching her.”

  “This is making my head hurt,” Chet said. “All I wanted to do was win a card game.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have a better take on it in the morning,” Frank said.

  They all went home, but the Hardys didn’t sleep well. The puzzling facts of the case kept running through their heads.

  The brothers arrived at Iola and Chet’s house just after two on Sunday afternoon. Callie was there, too, as were Tim and Daphne. The girls, Chet, and Tim were deep into a game of Creature Cards.

  “I thought you didn’t know how to play,” Joe said to Iola.

  “It’s easy to learn,” Iola replied. “Chet and Tim taught us both this morning.”

  “Tim and I scraped together enough cards so they could play,” Chet said. “And since we’re only using basic decks, the odds are pretty even. It was a good chance to get in some group play before the tournament.”

  Tim smiled at Joe and Frank. “Your girlfriends are pretty good for beginners,” he said.

  “You guys gonna talk, or play?” Daphne asked, half-jokingly.

  “Okay,” Callie said, “I guess my Centaur Chief will attack Daphne’s Goblin Militia.”

  “Then my White Knight will have to come to the Goblins’ rescue,” Daphne said, laying her defensive card down.

  “Can you use a Knight to help the Goblins?” Iola asked.

  Chet gasped. “That’s my card!” he said, reaching across the table.

  Joe grabbed his arm. “Slow down, Chet,” he said. “You’ve overreacted to duplicate cards twice before.”

  This time, though, Chet maintained his calm. “No, really, that’s the White Knight from my deck. See the ketchup stain in the corner?” he said, pointing to the upper right edge of the card. Sure enough, a faint red blotch discolored the corner.