The Ice-cold Case (3 page)

“There's so little traffic anyway,” Mrs. Kwan said. “We moved here because it's so quiet—usually.”

“So, are you boys going to stop this crime wave?” Mr. Kwan asked.

The Hardys were a little taken aback. They planned to do all they could, but they didn't want to promise the Kwans something they couldn't deliver.

“Well, we'll give it our best shot,” Frank said with a faint smile.

“Not another word, Hiromi,” said Mrs. Kwan. “We've already embarrassed the boys enough and kept them from the—”

Before Mrs. Kwan could finish her sentence, there was a loud crash from outside, instantly followed by screams.

They all ran outside and found shards of glass in the driveway surrounding the left side of the Hardys' van.

“Well, Frank, either someone's been practicing their slap shot on our van or they didn't like your parking job,” Joe said as he opened the car door to survey the damage.

“Ow!” Joe yelped. He fell over a large rock with a piece of paper wrapped around it sitting in the middle of the passenger seat. “Hey, Frank,” he said to his brother. “Do you remember seeing this rock here before the window broke?”

Frank gave his brother a good shove for acting so stupid. He bent over and picked up the rock. The paper was held on by a red rubber band, which Frank quickly removed. He unfolded the paper and
read its message out loud: “ ‘Hardys, stay off the lake. You're skating on thin ice.' ”

“Well, we know one thing,” Joe said, looking over Frank's shoulder. “Whoever did this has lousy handwriting.”

Chet looked back and forth between the broken window and the Hardy brothers. “You guys make some new friends out there?”

“Yeah, Chet,” Joe replied sarcastically. “We were getting a little tired of your company. . . . Just kidding!”

Fortunately, Chet was a longtime friend of the Hardys and was used to such abuse from them.

“I can't believe this,” Mr. Kwan said as he walked over to inspect the van. “I'm calling the police.”

“That's okay, Mr. Kwan,” Frank said. “We have to stop by the station anyway. We'll report it. Meanwhile, do you have any plastic to cover this hole?”

By the time Frank, Joe, and Chet had finished duct-taping over the window with one of Mr. Kwan's tarps that he used in his sculpture studio, the party definitely seemed to be over.

The Kwans offered to drive everyone else home, so Frank and Joe could go straight to the police station.

“Let me know if you need my help,” Chet told the brothers as he got into the Kwans' van.

“You're on, buddy,” Frank said.

•   •   •

Chief Collig sat at his desk, reading what looked like interrogation reports as his secretary showed
the two brothers into his office. “Frank and Joe Hardy—what can I do for you boys?”

“Someone threw this rock through the window of our van, along with this note,” Frank said. He put the rock and the note on Collig's desk.

Chief Collig read the note. “Any idea who did this?”

“Well, it wasn't Ray, since he was here. We were hoping to catch him before he left. He may be able to help us, if he recognizes the handwriting,” Frank said.

“You're in luck. He's still here,” Collig said, “and will be for a while. He's in a heap of trouble.”

“About that trouble,” Joe said. “Ray wasn't even in Bayport last winter. He was with his mother in Michigan. So he couldn't have been involved in those robberies.”

Collig nodded as if he'd heard all this before. “That was last year,” he said gruffly. He paused. “Weren't you on the football team with Ray, Joe?”

“Yeah,” Joe said.

“Look, I think it's very noble of you to help your teammate, but he's already admitted that he broke into one of the houses.”

Joe looked dismayed. “What?”

“He said he and some friends went into Ari Brown's place, and it was robbed about two weeks ago,” Collig said.

“He admitted he was involved?” Frank asked.

“Not exactly,” Collig explained. “He said they went in on a dare. But the fact is he admitted to breaking into the house.”

“Can we talk to him?” Joe asked.

“Be my guest,” Collig said, standing up.

“Oh, and could we get a photocopy of that note?” Frank asked. “I imagine you'd like the original, but a copy may help us out.”

“Oh, all right.” Chief Collig picked up the note and led Frank and Joe out of his office. They stopped off at a copy machine, which looked and sounded like a dying dinosaur, but the chief got a decent copy from it.

“Thanks, Chief,” Frank remembered to say.

The brothers followed Chief Collig to a cell in the back of the building.

Ray was sitting on a bunk with his head in his hands.

“You've got visitors, Ray,” Collig said, then turned around and walked off.

Ray looked up and saw Frank and Joe on the other side of the steel bars. “Are you guys going to get me out of here?” he asked.

“We'll see what we can do . . .” Frank began.

“But first we need to talk.” Joe finished his brother's sentence for him.

“Ray, someone threw a rock through our van window with a note attached,” Frank informed him, watching for any signs of whether he was surprised by the news.

“The note warned us to stay off the lake,” Joe said.

“That's what that jerk Tuttle is always yelling at me,” Ray said. “Are you getting me out or what?”

“We mentioned to Chief Collig that you weren't
in Bayport last year so you couldn't have done those robberies,” Joe said, ignoring Ray's question.

“So you believe I'm innocent?” Ray asked.

“I'm not sure I'd go so far as to call you innocent, but I'm not convinced you're a burglar,” Joe said.

“So what did Collig tell you?” Ray asked. He stood up and walked over to the bars that separated him from freedom.

“He said you admitted to breaking into the Brown place,” Joe said.

“It was a dare, that's all. You know, raid the fridge and hang out. We just thought it would be a laugh,” Ray said.

“A laugh?” Joe echoed.

“I know. It sounds pretty stupid to me, too, right now,” Ray admitted.

Collig suddenly reappeared with a set of keys jangling from a large ring.

“Okay, Ray, you're going home,” Collig said.

“That's great. Thanks, guys,” he said to Frank and Joe.

“We can't take credit for this,” Frank said.

“Oh, no,” Ray said, then groaned. “My dad isn't here, is he?”

“Nope. When I called him, he said you could rot in that cell for all he cared,” Collig said.

From the look on Ray's face, Frank realized that Collig wasn't kidding.

“We just got a call that someone broke into another house. It's safe to say you didn't do it, since you were here,” Collig said.

“So, you're letting me go?” Ray asked.

“We may have more questions for you later. Maybe your friends here can give you a ride home,” Collig said as he unlocked the cell.

“No problem,” Frank said. He had wanted to talk to Ray without the police around.

When they reached the van, Ray asked if the thrown rock had hurt anyone. He looked at the broken window. “They really got you.”

“Yeah, and we'd really like to send whoever did it a thank-you note,” Frank said.

Ray climbed into the back of the van. “What is all this stuff?” he asked, looking at the equipment Frank and Joe kept there.

“We never know what we're going to need when we're on a case,” Joe said. “It's tools mostly and some winter gear.”

Frank got in behind the wheel and pulled the copy of the note from his pocket. “Take a look at this, Ray. Do you recognize the handwriting?”

Ray took the note and examined it by the light from the dashboard.

“Can't say I do, but I probably wouldn't even if my best friend had written it,” Ray said.

The night was getting colder, and the roads were becoming more treacherous. Frank and Joe kept two fifty-pound bags of cement over the back tire wells to give the van more traction in slippery conditions. But even with this added weight, Frank had to be very careful as he drove.

“So what do you think is the story behind these robberies?” Frank asked Ray as they made their way across town.

“How should I know?” Ray replied stiffly.

“Ray, Chief Collig is going to pin this on you and your friends,” Frank said. “We're trying to help you. The least you can do is cooperate with us.”

“How could he pin it on me? I was in jail during the last robbery.”

“Which makes it look like your friends pulled it to make sure Collig would let you go,” Frank said. “By admitting to breaking and entering, you've become his prime suspect.”

“I didn't have anything to do with any robberies. It's probably that nut Tuttle,” Ray said.

“So when Ernie saw you checking out the Anderson house, you were just going to break in for the fun of it?” Joe asked.

“I wasn't checking it out—at least not the way he thinks,” Ray said. “You ever see houses like that? That's the way I want to live someday.”

Frank and Joe knew what he meant. Sarah lived in one of the smaller houses by the lake, and it was huge. The Anderson place was a mansion.

“It's not a crime to admire a nice house,” Ray said.

“It is if you go in and look around without an invitation,” Joe reminded him.

“So I've been told,” Ray replied. “But I didn't have anything to do with robbing those places, and I don't think any of my friends did, either.”

“Then help us with something,” Frank said. “I'd like to see samples of their handwriting to see if any of them wrote this note.”

“I'm not going to spy on my friends,” Ray said.

“No one is asking you to,” Joe said. “We just want to know if one of them threw the rock through our window.”

“Besides, Ray, if Chief Collig decides to blame you for the robberies, we may be the only real friends you have,” Frank added.

“Did Vinnie and John come to the station?” Joe asked.

Ray was quiet for a moment. “I'm sure they were busy,” he said defensively.

“That much I guessed,” Joe said.

“Look, I made a mistake going into the Brown place,” Ray admitted. “But as for the rest of it, it's just Ernie trying to get back at my old man by blaming me for something I didn't do.”

“What's with Ernie and your old man?” Joe asked.

“They used to be partners. The bait shop and all the land around it belonged to both of them, fifty-fifty,” Ray said with an edge to his voice. “But my dad had some hard times when he and my mom got divorced.”

“So what happened?” Joe asked.

“My dad asked for a loan, but Ernie wouldn't help him out. My dad even suggested they sell a few acres of land, but Ernie wouldn't do it. Finally, when my dad was nearly desperate, Ernie bought him out for next to nothing. My old man didn't have a choice. They've hated each other ever since.”

“Isn't your place around here somewhere?” Frank asked as he reached a secluded road on the far end of town.

“Yeah, on the right, under the big tree,” Ray said, pointing to a huge tree that reflected the van's headlights on snow-covered limbs.

Frank slowed the van and concentrated on rounding the icy curve into the driveway.

“Some place,” Joe said as he looked at the beat-up cars and fallen trees that lined the path to the small house. There was a board over one of the windows, and the roof was sagging.

“Yeah, my dad calls it home,” Ray said. “But if Ernie had helped him out years ago, we'd be living in one of those lakefront mansions now.”

As Frank brought the van to a stop, a man wearing a camouflage jacket stepped out from behind an old beat-up Volvo. He raised a shotgun to his eye, released the safety, and aimed directly at them through the windshield.

“Dad, it's okay; it's me,” Ray shouted to the man with the shotgun.

“That's your father?” Frank asked.

“Yeah, and you caught him on a good day,” Ray said as he got out of the van.

“What kind of trouble are you in now?” Mr. Nelson shouted. He lowered the gun.

“I didn't do anything,” Ray said.

“The police don't take your kid to the station unless he did something,” Mr. Nelson shouted, his face red.

Frank and Joe got out of the van slowly so they wouldn't alarm Mr. Nelson.

“It's Ernie Tuttle's fault,” Ray said.

“Tuttle? What did he do?” Mr. Nelson demanded.

“Why don't we go inside and warm up,” Ray said as he led the way into the house.

“Tuttle is the most low-down cheat in Bayport,” Mr. Nelson said.

“Ray told us about your business with him,” Joe said. He climbed the broken front steps, careful to step over the rotted boards.

“You'd think
I
was the one who ripped
him
off!” Mr. Nelson said as he put down his gun and flopped into a ratty old lounger.

Ray waved for Frank and Joe to sit on the couch, where a big, mangy-looking retriever was asleep. The dog made no effort to move when Ray tried to shoo him away. Frank decided to stand. Joe looked around the room and did the same.

“So, Mr. Nelson,” Frank said, “have you heard about the robberies out by the lake?”

“Tuttle's doing it,” Mr. Nelson said, the angry edge rising in his voice.

“Why would he bother?” Joe said. “I thought he was rich with all that land.”

“Just to be ornery,” Mr. Nelson grumbled. Then he turned his attention to his son. “Why were you in the police station?”

“Ernie said he saw me casing the houses,” Ray replied sheepishly.