Crime in the Cards (9 page)

“I know,” Chet said. “That's why we came to see
you. I tried to find the Black Knight site, but I didn't have any luck.”

Daphne gently slapped her forehead. “I'm sorry. I should have sent you the URL. Come on in. We'll send an instant message from my machine to the Knight. You can pick up the conversation at your place later.”

“Good idea,” Chet said.

Daphne led the teens into her house. “Mom,” she called to an unseen parent, “I've got some friends over to surf the Net.”

“That's fine, dear” came a reply from the other room. Chet and the others went upstairs to Daphne's room. There they found the latest in computer equipment as well as the usual posters and memorabilia.

Daphne quickly logged on to the Net. “The site is kind of hidden,” Daphne explained. “You can't find it unless someone shows you. There. I've E-mailed the URL to you, Chet.”

“Thanks,” Chet said. He stood next to Daphne; the rest of the group watched over their shoulders.

Daphne's fingers flew over the keyboard. In seconds the Black Knight's site appeared on the screen. It had a crude castle and a block-lettered title. As the page opened, a deep voice came over the monitor, “Halt! Who goes there?”

Daphne typed in her name and password. The doors to the castle opened, a new screen popped up, and the computer voice said, “Welcome, Lady Soesbee.” Daphne moved her cursor across the new screen and pressed the Send a Message option.

She requested that the Black Knight contact Chet at his home E-mail address as soon as possible. She stressed that Chet needed to buy cards before Tuesday's tournament. Then she sat back and smiled with satisfaction.

“That's all there is to it?” Joe asked.

“Yep,” Daphne said. As she spoke, a bell sounded and a new screen popped up on her monitor.

“It's from the Black Knight,” Daphne said. “He must have been online when we wrote.”

“Let's see what he has to say,” Frank said.

Daphne pressed a few keys and the reply opened up. It read: “Lady Soesbee: Tell your friend to wait for my E-mail tonight. We'll set up a meeting.—The Black Knight”

“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 can
keep 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 cards
are
valuable. 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 of 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.