The Caribbean Cruise Caper Page 9

  “Well—okay,” Joe said. He glanced around and seemed to notice the others for the first time. “What say we go up to the sundeck? We need to talk over a couple of things about the contest.”

  Joe and Frank climbed up past the captain’s cabin to the top-level sundeck. Frank took up a position by the railing, in plain view of the people on the aft deck, and acted as if he were having a spirited conversation with Joe.

  Joe, meanwhile, scrambled down to the pilot house, then down to the cabin deck. Once inside his and Frank’s cabin, he placed a file folder in plain sight on the table. Then he ducked into the closet, closed the door to a crack, and settled down to wait.

  It was a long wait. The stuffy air in the tiny closet and the gloom in the unlit cabin gave Joe an urgent wish to lie down and take a nap. From time to time he checked the nightglow dial of his watch. The hands did not seem to move at anything like normal speed.

  To keep himself alert, he silently recited the lyrics of his favorite golden oldie songs. It worked, but he had to struggle not to hum along. He had just started trying to remember the words to yet another song when he heard a click from the latch of the cabin door. He eased the closet door open a little farther and put his left eye to the crack. A shadowy form was creeping across the cabin. The intruder picked up the file from the table and riffled through it, then started to turn to leave.

  At that moment Joe felt a speck of something land in his eye. He blinked furiously, but the pain made his eye water more. Quickly he moved his head to put his other eye to the crack, but he was a split second too late. All he heard was the cabin door shutting.

  Joe wanted to kick the wall, but he couldn’t spare the time. He slammed the closet door open and dashed out of the cabin and into the corridor. To his left a shadow flitted across the wall going upstairs. Joe bounded over and ran up the steps as fast as the narrow space and sharp spiral twist allowed.

  Joe had almost reached the top step when he sensed a movement to his left, from within the telephone niche. He started to turn. A long, dark object came swinging toward his head. He dodged right, taking the blow on his shoulder, but the impact pushed him off balance. He took a quick step to the rear, but his foot missed the next step down.

  Joe felt himself start to topple backward. He grabbed for the handrail, but his fingers found only air. He pulled up his knees. If he could get his head tucked and convert the fall into a roll, he might be all right.

  Too late. Joe’s alarmed shout was cut short when his head slammed against the edge of one of the steps.

  13 Joe Takes a Tumble

  * * *

  The sundeck on top of the bridge was an elongated oval with bench seats along each side. Toward the bow was a Ping-Pong table and a locker for sports equipment. The yacht’s old-fashioned blue smokestack, decked like a Christmas tree with radar, radio, and navigational antennas, cast a gnarled shadow on the weathered teak decking.

  Frank had the sundeck to himself. He paced up and down. Occasionally he paused to look down toward the afterdeck, two levels below. The only person still in sight was Lisa, who was sitting with an open notepad on her lap. Where were the contestants? Was Chuck’s accomplice, whoever he or she was, about to take the bait? How long should Joe stay hidden in the cabin closet before he gave up and decided the trap hadn’t worked?

  Frank moved his lower jaw from side to side, trying to release some of the tension in his face. He understood the arguments Bettina and David had given for not pursuing Chuck. He even agreed with them, more or less. Even so, the decision to let Chuck escape irked him. Why go to all the trouble of finding out whodunnit if that person then thumbed his nose at you and walked away laughing?

  A sudden shout from one of the lower decks broke into Frank’s thoughts. The shout was immediately followed by a distant crash. What was that? He rushed to the side. Kneeling on the bench seat, he leaned over and searched for the source of the ruckus. All he could see was Lisa running along the narrow walkway that led to the foyer. Something had happened!

  One powerful leap brought Frank to the head of the companionway. He grasped the two railings and let gravity carry him swiftly to the bridge deck, then down the next set of stairs to the main deck. He ran through the salon and dining area to the foyer. Lisa and several others were standing frozen at the head of the companionway to the cabin deck, staring down. Frank pushed past them.

  At the base of the stairs, Joe was crouched on his hands and knees. He shook his head as if trying to clear it. Frank darted down to his brother’s side. Just then Boris and one of the crew appeared from different directions. The crew member took Joe’s elbow and started to help him up.

  “I’m okay,” Joe muttered, shaking off the hand. He pushed himself to his feet, then gingerly touched a spot just above his left ear.

  “Are you sure?” Frank demanded. “What happened?”

  “I fell and hit my head,” Joe replied with a glance at the crowd of eager listeners. “No big deal. I’m fine now.”

  He gave Frank a meaningful look and started back up the stairs. Frank followed. The people at the top drew back to let them through. Joe paused to scan the telephone niche—Frank, too. What was so interesting? The wooden stool next to the telephone table was lying on its side. Otherwise, everything was just as it always was.

  “Let’s go out on deck,” Joe said. “I need some air.”

  As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Frank said, “Okay, what’s the real story?”

  “Somebody came for the folder,” Joe reported. “I couldn’t see who it was. The person whomped me with something at the head of the stairs and got away.”

  “Probably the stool,” Frank said. “You could have been badly hurt. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Joe said impatiently. He touched the side of his head again and winced.

  “So our trap worked fine, but we didn’t catch anything,” Frank mused. “Too bad you didn’t see who it was.”

  “I didn’t see who it was,” Joe replied. “But I can make a very good guess. I recognized the perfume.”

  The Hardys went looking for Sylvie. They found her sitting in the salon with a magazine open on her lap. She looked up when she heard them approaching. Frank could see her hands tighten on the pages.

  “Joe? You are all right?” she asked.

  Joe shrugged and didn’t reply.

  “He’ll probably have the mother of all headaches tonight,” Frank said. “But I don’t think there’s any lasting injury.”

  “That is very good,” Sylvie said. She looked down at her magazine as if she thought the exchange was finished . . . or wanted it to be.

  “Sylvie,” Frank said, “Joe and I need to talk to you. Will you come with us?”

  Her face pale, Sylvie followed them onto the deck. Joe dragged three chairs into a tight circle. The moment Sylvie sat down, she covered her face with both hands and started to weep.

  Frank glanced around. Jason, Boris, and Cesar were all watching from a distance. When he glared at them, they slowly drifted away.

  “I am so sorry,” Sylvie sobbed. “I never meant for this to happen. Never!”

  “What is your connection with Chuck?” Joe asked.

  She dropped her hands to stare at him. “Chuck?” She dropped her hands to stare at him. “Chuck?” she said, wiping her cheeks. “I have no connection with Chuck. I do not even know this Chuck.”

  “You entered our cabin and took that file, didn’t you?” Frank demanded.

  “But of course I took the file,” she replied. “I had to. I am sure Chuck was not working alone. Someone else on the boat is part of his scheme. When you talked about the evidence lying unguarded in your cabin, I was afraid. What if the unknown accomplice took it and destroyed it? We might never reach the truth.”

  “Hold it right there,” Joe said. “Are you trying to tell us you took the file to protect it?”

  Sylvie spread out her hands, palms upward. “But of course. To protect it and
to use it. You must understand. I know I am a good detective. But I did not do so well on the puzzles yesterday or today. Winning the contest is very important to me. It is a chance that will not come again. I thought, if I solve a real mystery, one of importance to the people of Teenway, perhaps that will help me in the contest.”

  “In other words, you stole the file as a way of helping us,” Joe said in a tone of disbelief.

  “To help you and to help myself,” Sylvie replied. “I see now that you set a trap. So you too have understood that the accomplice is still at large.”

  Joe rolled his eyes and made an incredulous noise. It sounded something like phfuah!

  “And then, when Joe came after you, you beaned him with a stool and knocked him down a flight of stairs,” Frank pointed out. “That’s a funny way of helping us.”

  “I was afraid,” Sylvie said with a shrug. “I heard someone chasing me. I thought it was the villain. I had to defend myself. So I hid in the alcove by the telephone and picked up the only weapon I could find. I did not see it was Joe until I was already swinging the stool at him. Then I tried not to hit so hard, but the boat rolled and he fell. I am very sorry. Are you sure you are all right?”

  Frank and Joe went on questioning Sylvie for another ten minutes, but she stuck to her story. She had wanted to guard the file of evidence and use it to unmask Chuck’s secret accomplice. She had hit Joe in self-defense. She was very, very sorry, but she was also happy Joe had such a thick skull.

  “I’d say she took that round on points,” Joe muttered, as he and Frank went down to their cabin. “Do you believe her?”

  Frank put out his hand, palm down, and wobbled it from side to side. “As Sylvie would say, comme ci, comme ça. Or in plain American, six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  While Frank made notes about the afternoon’s events, Joe took a shower, then sat holding a cold washcloth to his head. Soon it was time for dinner. They reached the main deck just as Arnie stepped out of the galley. He was holding a wooden mallet and a set of chimes.

  “Hey, if it isn’t the men of the hour,” he said. “Time to call everybody to dinner. Would you like to do the honors?”

  “Sure,” Frank said. He took the chimes and gave Joe the mallet. Joe whanged away, with more enthusiasm than musicality. Finally Arnie reached over and took back the mallet.

  The day had been long and full of excitement. It had started with a round of the contest and continued through a picnic on a deserted tropical beach, a near drowning, the unmasking and successful escape of a dirty-tricks artist, a chase, and a dangerous tumble downstairs.

  Frank had expected that everyone around the dinner table would be dying to talk about one or another—or all—of these events. Instead, over Cajun-style crawfish stew with dirty rice, they started swapping airport horror stories.

  “National is the worst,” Elizabeth claimed. “I swear it was built a hundred years ago for the Wright brothers.”

  “At least you can get there,” David said. “Evan and I visited England last summer. We spent nearly as much time going from Manhattan to JFK as from JFK to London!”

  Boris grinned. “In America we are lucky,” he said. “Where I was born, before the plane takes off, the passengers have to get out and help wind up the rubber bands!”

  The table exploded with laughter. When it died down, Sylvie said, “Montreal has a very good modern airport. I like it.” She turned to Jason, who was sitting next to her. “What about your home?”

  “What, Fort Worth?” Jason shrugged. “The airport’s okay, I guess. It’s nothing special.”

  “O’Hare,” Kenneth said. “That’s the real pits.”

  “I don’t much like O’Hare either,” Bettina said. “But landing at St. Hilda the other day was the first time an airport made me think seriously about writing my will.”

  When everyone finished the main course, Bettina announced that dessert would be served outside on the aft deck. She pretended not to hear when Boris muttered, “That is so we will be closer to the rail, in case there is something in the dessert again tonight.”

  They went outside. The sea was dark, but overhead the sky was still a pale blue. To the east, night crept up from the horizon. A few early stars glimmered. A cool breeze blew in.

  “I think I’ll get a sweater,” Lisa said with a little shiver. “I’ll be right back.”

  As she left, Arnie appeared carrying a cake with two lit sparklers in it. The frosting was chocolate. On the top, in white frosting, was the outline of a boat and the words Teenway Detectives.

  “This cake is for everyone who is part of our cruise, but especially in honor of Joe and Frank Hardy,” Bettina announced. “They’ve shown us what it really means to be teen detectives.”

  Everyone applauded. Frank looked over at Joe and smiled. It was nice that what they had done so far was appreciated. Now, after a tribute like this, they had no choice but to finish solving the case as quickly as possible.

  Arnie cut the cake. Bettina handed the first two pieces to Frank and Joe. Frank was taking his first bite when Lisa ran out onto the deck.

  “My tapes!” she cried. “All my tapes are gone! They’ve been stolen!”

  14 A Criminal Record

  * * *

  The rest of the group stared silently at Lisa. Her tapes? All those little cassettes she had so carefully recorded were missing?

  Joe could tell that he and Frank were both thinking the same thing. Apparently Lisa had been right when she had suggested that there was important evidence on her tapes. Why else would anyone steal them?

  Bettina stepped over to Lisa, put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, and said, “How terrible for you. Are you sure? Could you have put them someplace different that slipped your mind?”

  “They’re gone, I tell you,” Lisa repeated. “When I looked in the box where I keep them, all I found was this.”

  She held up a thick, dog-eared paperback.

  “Hey, that’s my book,” Boris declared. “I left it on deck this morning before the picnic, while I went to get my swimsuit. When I came back, it was gone. I haven’t finished it.”

  “Here,” Lisa said. Joe heard an edge of hysteria in her voice. She tossed the book in Boris’s direction. “I don’t want your dopey book. I want my cassettes back. My whole story about the contest is on them.”

  She turned to Joe. “You’ll find them for me, won’t you, Joe?” she pleaded.

  “We’ll try,” Joe promised. “Where was this box?”

  “On the table in my cabin,” Lisa replied. “I can’t believe I was such a dodo, leaving it out like that. The first day I kept the box in the drawer under my bed. But it was too much of a hassle to get it out every time I wanted to put away another tape or listen to an earlier one.”

  “Was your cabin locked?” Frank asked.

  Lisa’s cheeks turned pink. “No. I . . . I have a thing about losing keys. I’m always getting locked out of places because I lose my key. So I don’t lock up if I can help it. I know that sounds dumb.”

  “I guess I don’t have to ask if the box was locked,” Joe said. He gave Lisa a reassuring smile. “What does it look like?”

  A confused expression crossed Lisa’s face. “The box?” she said. “But it’s not gone. Oh—you mean what is it like? It’s a nice old wooden box with an attached lid. I guess it was meant as a jewelry box. It’s just the right size for my recorder and a bunch of cassettes.”

  “Do you keep your recorder in there, too?” Joe asked.

  “When I’m not using it, sure,” Lisa replied. “Of course, I had it with me today.”

  “Of course,” Elizabeth echoed in a snide tone.

  “I can see why somebody might steal your tape recorder,” Kenneth said. “That’s an expensive piece of equipment. But why would anyone want a lot of used cassettes?”

  “It’s not the cassettes, Kenneth, it’s what’s on them,” Cesar told him. “Look at the way Lisa’s been snooping around ever since this trip b
egan. Almost anybody might want to get rid of them.”

  Lisa’s eyes blazed. “The only people who have something to fear are people who have something to hide,” she retorted. “How about you, Cesar? What are you trying to hide?”

  “My urge to pour a glass of lemonade over your head,” Cesar promptly replied.

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Joe pointed out. “Lisa, when was the last time you saw the missing tapes?”

  “I put a couple of cassettes in the box when we came back from the beach,” Lisa replied. “Everything was okay then.”

  “Call it four o’clock,” Frank mused. “And you realized just now the cassettes were missing. So that’s about a five-hour stretch when the theft could have happened. Were you in your cabin for any part of that time?”

  “I took a nap,” Lisa said. She sounded embarrassed, as if naps were only for little kids and old people. “From about four-thirty to five-thirty. Then I came out on deck. I got here a little while before you and Joe tangled with that guy.”

  “This is a waste of time,” Cesar said. “Her room was wide open and the box was in plain sight. How long would it take somebody to duck inside, grab the cassettes, and split? She might as well have left them in the salon with a little sign that said Free—Take One.”

  “You sound as if you know all about it,” Elizabeth remarked. “I wonder why.”

  “Listen, you—” Cesar growled.

  “Don’t you call me ‘you,’ ” Elizabeth snapped.

  “What am I supposed to call you? ‘Him’?” Cesar retorted.

  “That’s quite enough,” Bettina declared. “We’re all overexcited and overtired. We’re starting to say things we don’t mean, things we’ll regret in the morning. Let’s enjoy this wonderful cake our chef has made for us. If Joe and Frank have questions to ask about Lisa’s tapes, they can do it one on one.”

  • • •

  Frank awoke very early the next morning. A faint gray light shone through the porthole over his bed. A slight vibration and a difference in the motion of the boat told him that they were under way again. He sat up, slipped on shorts, a tank top, and a pair of boat mocs, and tiptoed out of the cabin without waking Joe.