Crime in the Cards (5 page)

Joe tripped and landed heavily against a nearby car. The car's alarm went on, and one of the card players came running from the other side of the lot to turn it off.

Joe spun on Kestenberg. “That's all I'm going to take from you,” the younger Hardy growled.

Kestenberg waved Joe forward with a hand and smiled. “Bring it on, Blondie,” he said.

Frank seemed about to step in, but Joe warned him back. “Keep out of this, Frank,” he said. “This is between Kestenberg and me.”

“Good,” Kestenberg said. “I've been aching to get a piece of you since I quit the football team. I couldn't punch you out then because we were teammates, but now . . .”

“Frank, do something!” Iola cried.

“Kestenberg has it coming,” Frank said coolly. “Don't worry. Joe can take care of himself.”

“I don't like Joe fighting my fights,” Chet grumbled. “Just keep out of it,” Callie said. “I don't think this was about you, anyway.”

Joe stepped forward, ready for action.

“Stop right there!” a loud voice called.

Everyone in the lot turned to see Mr. McCool, the printing teacher, walking toward them from the faculty parking lot. His mouth was set in a thin line, and his brows were knitted together just below his shaved head. He looked like a pro wrestler heading for the ring.

Kestenberg straightened up and Joe stepped away from him. The rest of the crowd started to disperse, but McCool said, “Freeze. Every one of you. Nobody leaves until I'm done here.”

“We were just—” Kestenberg began.

“I know what you were doing,” Mr. McCool said. “And you're lucky I don't drag both of you to Mr. Chambers's office. Be glad that I just work here part-time. I'm not on the clock, yet, so I've got a little flexibility in dealing with this situation.”

McCool scanned the group, resting his steel gray eyes on each student in turn. “These are school grounds,” McCool said, “for those of you who need to be reminded. Among other things, that means there will be no brawling in this lot.
And,”
he continued, “Creature Cards are banned
here
as well as in the school building itself.”

A collective gasp went up from the gathered kids. Gerry Wise went pale, and Daphne Soesbee edged toward the back of the crowd. Pete Kaufmann folded his arms across his chest. Sweat beaded on Tim Lester's forehead.

“I could confiscate every card in this lot,” McCool said, his voice as cold as ice.

“Mr. McCool,” Tim said, his voice almost squeaking, “we didn't mean to do anything wrong.”

“I figured that,” McCool said, “which is why I'm cutting you all a break.” He folded his arms across his brawny chest. “I'm going to go into the building to punch in. When I come out again, I don't want to see any sign of those cards on school grounds. You understand?”

The gathered students nodded their heads. Kestenberg snickered.

“Kestenberg,” McCool said, fixing his steely gaze on the ex-football player, “you come with me.”

“That's not fair!” Kestenberg said.

“You think it would be more fair if I took you to the principal's office?” McCool asked. “Move it!” The teacher turned and left; Kestenberg reluctantly trailed after him.

“Boy,” Chet said quietly, “Mr. McCool should have been a gym teacher.”

“Well, I don't see any reason to hang out here,” Callie-said. “Let's go inside.”

“Just a second,” Frank interrupted. “I want to ask Gerry Wise a few questions before we go in.”

Frank scanned the lot. The card players were standing around, staring suspiciously at one another. Some tucked their cards into their backpacks, others put them in their cars. A few just stuffed decks into their pockets. Clearly, no one wanted anyone else to
know where his cards were hidden. Frank saw no sign of Gerry, though.

“Boy, he sure vanished fast,” Chet said.

“Probably he had the most cards to lose,” Frank noted. “I don't see Daphne, Tim, or Pete hanging around, either.”

“Don't worry about it, Frank,” Joe said. “We'll catch up to them later.” The five friends walked toward the front entrance.

“Hey, Chet, I almost forgot . . .” Callie said. “What was your plan for getting your cards back?”

“Iola and I made some Wanted posters last night,” Chet said. “I'm offering a cash reward for anyone who turns in my deck—no questions asked.”

“How much?” Joe asked.

“One hundred and fifty dollars,” Chet said. “They're worth more than that, but I'm hoping that whoever took them would rather have the money than the hassle of trying to fence them.”

Frank frowned. “I don't know, Chet,” he said. “Sometimes rewards scare up a lot of false information.”

“I'm not offering anything for information,” Chet said, “unless it leads
directly
to the return of the cards. And I didn't put the amount on the poster, just some contact info. I figured if I put too much on the posters, Mr. Chambers might not let me them put up.”

“Well, it's a start anyway,” Joe said.

“I guess it really couldn't do any harm,” Frank added.

“If nothing else, maybe the posters will shake something loose for you guys to work on,” Chet said.

“There's only one way to find out,” Frank replied. Chet went to the principal's office to obtain permission to put up his posters. The Hardys, Iola, and Callie volunteered to help Chet put the flyers up.

Even with Creature Cards banned, Bayport High was buzzing about the upcoming tournament. Frank and Joe chatted with some of the other players, and surreptitiously listened in on as many conversations as they could, but they didn't find out anything new.

Sam Kestenberg hassled the brothers whenever he saw them. The Hardys ignored Kestenberg's comments about their hanging with “nerds” and “losers.” Eventually, Kestenberg found other people to bother.

During lunch, the Hardys and their girlfriends met with Chet. He had permission to hang the posters at lunchtime, and seemed pleased with himself. In fact, he looked happier than he had since his cards were stolen.

“I talked to Mr. Pane today and I think he feels guilty,” Chet said when the five of them were outside the cafeteria.

“You can't blame him for the theft,” Callie said. “How could he know someone would break into his desk?”

“I
don't
blame him,” Chet countered. “But if he wants to feel guilty . . . well, maybe I can use that later when I'm late with an assignment.” He smiled.

“We should split up,” Frank said. “Lunch period isn't going to last forever.”

The others nodded their agreement, but before they could split up, Pete wandered by on his way to the cafeteria.

“Getting desperate, Morton?” he asked.

“There's plenty of time before the tournament next week,” Chet said defensively. “I'm just trying to cover all my bases.”

“I guess that means you're not having much luck rebuilding your deck,” Pete said.

“He's hardly started!” Iola blurted out. Pete smiled smugly. “If I were you, Morton, I'd have rebuilt by now. There's more than one way to get cards for a tournament.” He winked slyly and walked into the cafeteria.

Daphne Soesbee, who had been waiting in line just inside the cafeteria doors, walked over to Chet. She seemed a lot cheerier than she had the last time they'd seen her. She scowled at Pete's back. “Don't let Pete bug you,” she told Chet. “He's just trying to psych out the competition.”

“Right now,” Chet said, an air of resignation in his voice, “I'm no competition to anyone.”

“Have you looked for replacement cards on the Internet?” Daphne asked.

Chet shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “I was
thinking of doing that tonight, but I still haven't found a really good local site.”

“You might try the Black Knight's site,” Daphne said. “I've heard that Pete gets a lot of his best cards there.”

“What about you?” Frank asked, stepping in. “Is that how you're rebuilding?”

“Nah,” Daphne said. “I've got my own secrets. Good luck, Chet. You're going to need it to be ready by Tuesday.”

“Thanks, Daphne,” Chet said.

She started to go back inside the cafeteria, then turned and called back, “Remember, Chet, go where you gotta go to win.”

“That's pretty ruthless,” Iola said quietly, once Daphne had gone.

“I'm just glad she's bounced back from her loss,” Chet said.

“You said she was one of the best players in town,” Joe added. “Probably she's rebuilt her deck enough to feel confident again.”

Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “In any case, we'd better get going on Chet's posters,” he said.

The others agreed and spent the rest of the lunch period plastering the halls with Chet's flyers.

At the end of the school day, the five of them met next to Chet's locker.

“Any news, Chet?” Callie asked.

Chet shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “I'm still hopeful, though.”

“Did you catch up with Gerry?” Iola asked Frank and Joe.

“Nope,” Joe said. “We talked to a lot of kids, but that guy is hard to find.”

“Unless you're a buyer,” Chet put in.

“We can phone Gerry tonight,” Frank said. “I'm sure he knows about the theft—it's all over school. We just have to tell him what cards to watch out for.”

“Besides, if he's such a shark at buying and selling, maybe we can get some tips from him on who might handle hot cards,” Joe said.

“You think he deals stolen cards?” Callie asked.

“No,” Frank said. “But with so much trading going on, he might be able to tell us who's trustworthy and who's not.”

“You want to hit the ice-cream shop and get some sugar to jump-start our brains?” Chet suggested

“Sounds good,” Joe said.

“No ice cream for me, though,” Iola put in. “I don't care how warm it is out, I'm still feeling cold inside.” She hugged her thick coat around herself and shivered to make the point.

“Yeah, okay,” Chet said, laughing. “No ice cream for you. What about a nice hot chocolate? Just let me get my coat.”

He opened his locker and a piece of folded white notebook paper fluttered to the floor.

“Fan mail?” Joe asked jokingly.

Chet picked up the paper and read it. The note was printed in plain, block lettering. It said:

Looking to replace your cards? Be at the north entrance of the deserted Benson Mini-Mall at 10
P.M.
tonight. Don't bring a car. The parking lot is a mess. Any cars out front might be towed. There's no street parking, either. Hoof it or bike it or whatever. Come alone. Bring your cards and your cash.