The Desert Thieves (2 page)

“Who was that?” Joe cried. “We could have been killed!”

Grish set his jaw with determination, wheeled the car around, and took off into the dust after the blue pickup. “That was David Kidwell,” Grish said tightly. “I don't know what he's up to this time, but he can't go around forcing people off the road.”

Grish's fingers gripped the wheel angrily as he squinted through the windshield, straining to see beyond the thick dust cloud being thrown up by the other vehicle. Joe and Frank tried to catch a glimpse of the pickup, but it had too much of a
head start. Gradually the dust cleared, but by then the blue truck was gone from view.

“If I remember right,” Frank said, “there aren't any turnoffs along this road. Unless he heads across the desert, we should catch up with him.”

“The problem is that all the roads in this park are a one-way loop,” Grish explained. “It cuts down on damage to the desert and accidents way out here. He's going the wrong way, and he's going so fast he could have a head-on with another vehicle.”

At that moment they spotted the blue pickup ahead, stopped at the side of the road. When they drew nearer, they saw that it was parked at the site of the destruction they had seen earlier. A tall man with dark hair was walking toward the truck with a shovel in his hand. He wore a gray work uniform and appeared to be about twenty-five. He scowled as Grish pulled up behind the pickup.

Grish leaped from the car and slammed his door as Frank, Joe, and Fenton also climbed out.

“What do you think you're doing, Kidwell?” Grish yelled. “Are you crazy? You know as well as I do that this is a one-way road.”

Kidwell stood unmoving, shovel in hand. “I came to get my shovel,” he said.

“Your shovel?” Grish asked, incredulously. “Your
shovel?
You almost ran us off the road driving like a madman—for a
shovel?”

Kidwell nodded. “That's it,” he said. “It was my dad's shovel. I was afraid it would be gone by the time I got here.”

“Why would you be afraid of that?” Frank asked.

Kidwell looked Frank up and down, seeming to be aware of the Hardys for the first time. “Who are you?” he said to Frank.

“I'm Frank Hardy. This is my brother, Joe, and our father, Fenton. I was just wondering why you would be afraid your shovel would be missing from a place like this, out in the middle of nowhere.”

Kidwell shrugged. “I'm not supposed to talk about it,” he said.

“Not supposed to talk about what?” Joe asked.

Kidwell looked at Grish, then said, “Nothing. Forget it. Sorry I scared you.” He laid the shovel in the back of his truck, opened the cab door, and got in. “I gotta go. Guess you'll want to talk to me in the morning, boss?”

“You guessed right,” Grish said with a touch of sarcasm. “First thing. Be on time.”

“No problem,” Kidwell said. He started his truck, turned sharply across the roadway, and then headed out in the correct direction along the one-way road.

“What was that all about, Grish?” Frank asked. “He's not the most talkative guy in the world, is he?”

Grish opened his door and motioned for the Hardys to get in. “You're right,” he said. “Kidwell doesn't say much. But I've given him and the other maintenance people explicit instructions that if they discuss the investigation, they'll be put on administrative leave.”

“You mean they'll be fired?” Joe asked, as Grish turned the car around and headed back toward the campground.

“More like they'll be suspended for a while without pay,” Grish said.

“I don't understand,” Frank said. “You said you don't want a lot of talk about the investigation to spook the thieves. And you suspect that Kidwell is one of the thieves. But he knows about the investigation?”

“That's right,” Grish said. “I can't hide the fact that an investigation is under way. All my workers know about it, and so do some of the long-term residents of the campground. As for the details of the investigation, though, that's another matter.”

“How long has Kidwell been working for you?” Frank asked.

“About two months,” Grish said. “He knows a lot about the ecosystem here. He's quiet and seems to be a very thorough worker. I thought he was going to be perfect for the job.”

“What makes you think he's involved with the cactus thefts?” Fenton asked.

Grish seemed annoyed as he said, “Time, partly. The thefts started just a few days after Kidwell was hired. And don't forget he has the background and skills to be able to dig up large plants without hurting them. Also, he discovered most of the vandalized sites, including the one we saw today, even when he had a work assignment in a different section of the park.”

“Why would that make him a suspect?” Frank asked. “If he was involved in the crimes, wouldn't he want someone else to discover them?”

“He's trying to look innocent,” Grish said. “But I'm not buying it. I'm hoping to catch him and his accomplices in the act, but I haven't been able to figure out whom he's working with yet.”

“What makes you think he has accomplices?” Joe asked.

“Because the specimens he's taken are large,” Grish answered. “Removing them requires heavy equipment, and I doubt that one person could do it alone.”

“Who's handling the investigation?” Fenton asked.

“I'm supposed to be working in conjunction with the state investigators in Phoenix,” Grish said. “But so far they've been swamped with other cases and haven't been able to make a trip out here.”

“So who is helping you?” Joe asked.

“I've been pretty much on my own,” Grish said, braking to avoid hitting a jackrabbit. “I check the sites myself as soon as we find them. I take photographs, make measurements, keep records, that sort of thing. Gather evidence.”

“Have you checked on Kidwell's background to see if he has a record?” Frank asked.

“I didn't think of that,” Grish said.

“I'm sure all this interferes with your other duties,” Fenton said.

“Yes, it does,” Grish said with a nod. “But it's part of my job.”

“What about the tourists?” Frank asked. “Don't people notice the holes in the ground and the damage from the trucks running over the plants?”

“Sometimes,” Grish said. “If they report anything, we tell them that, yes, there has been some damage and we are investigating. That's all they need to hear.”

“Well, it sounds to me as if you could use a little help,” Joe said. “We—”

“I appreciate the offer,” Grish said, glancing at Joe in the rearview mirror. “But why don't you relax, enjoy yourselves, and take in the sights?”

As he turned the car into the campground, Grish became quiet. They drove between rows of large motor homes, each parked at a designated campsite with a picnic table beside it. Couples and families sat around the table at most of the sites.

“Some of these campers look as if they've been here for a while,” Fenton said.

“Some of them stay for weeks,” Grish said. “Most move on after a day or two, though.”

“Have any of them been here for longer than a few weeks?” Joe asked.

Grish nodded as he pulled up behind the Hardys' motor home. “As a matter of fact, this guy right next to you has been here quite a while. His name is Townsend. He's a university professor. He and his daughter are doing biological research of some
kind—she's his assistant. She's nice enough, but he's a little hard to talk to. They aren't here all the time, though. They leave for a couple of days every week or two.”

“Is there anybody besides Kidwell who might be involved in the cactus thefts?” Joe asked. “Any of the tourists?”

“No,” Grish said. “But listen. I know you're dying to get involved. I'm sure you are all very good detectives, but I don't want word of my suspicions to get out. There are just too many big ears around.”

“Grish, we are experienced investigators,” Frank said, “and we know how to keep our mouths shut. We could be a lot of help to you.”

Fenton joined in and said, “That's true. It's your business, if you don't want our help. But you know as well as we do that we can keep things confidential.”

Grish turned around in his seat and said, “I appreciate the offer, but let me handle it. If I need help, you'll be the first to know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do at the office.”

Putting the car into gear, Grish paused. “This job used to be fun,” he said. “Now we're looking at budget cuts, downsizing, people losing their jobs, and now all this thievery. I'm getting tired. Is that dinner invitation still open?”

“We'll be waiting for you,” Fenton said.

As the Hardys got out of the car, Grish said, “Great. And if you come by the office in the
morning, I'll show you a map of the very best places to see in the park.”

He drove away. Frank and Joe watched him go, then looked at each other.

“Now, guys,” Fenton said with amusement, “I know that look in your eyes. But you've got to remember, this is Grish's concern. Let's do as he asks and stay out of it. If he wants help, he'll ask.”

“Right, Dad,” Joe said, with a wink at Frank. “It sounds interesting, though. Cactus rustlers?”

“It does,” Fenton said as he took a seat at the picnic table. “In the meantime, who's cooking? I'm starved.”

“It's Joe's turn to cook,” Frank said, taking a seat beside him.

“That's right,” Joe said. “Tonight we'll be having Joe Hardy's Gourmet Beans and Wienies.”

“The last time we had Joe Hardy's Beans and Wienies,” Frank said with a laugh, “they were burned to a crisp.”

“That,” Joe said, opening the door of the motor home, “is because you weren't paying attention when I stepped out and asked you to watch them.” He disappeared inside to get the food and drinks, then poked his head out for a moment.

“I love this motor home,” he said. “I still can't get over it. It's got a bathroom, beds, a dining room, and a living room with a TV. It even has a complete kitchen. It's just like a house on wheels. Hey, we could go into business selling wienies and live out here like real cowboys. Wouldn't that be great?”

“Yeah, right, dude,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. “We're your first customers, and we're not terribly impressed with the service.”

“Hey, you just gave me an idea, Frank,” Joe said. “We could call our company Food for Dudes! What do you think?”

Fenton laughed. Frank shook his head and said, “Dream on, bro.”

Fenton had rented the motor home in Phoenix on their way to Organ Pipe, and at first the feeling of driving a house down the road was strange. But they'd adjusted quickly, enjoying the idea that whoever was not driving could walk to the refrigerator anytime to get a cold drink or even work out with the weights they'd brought along.

At the dealer's suggestion, they had also rented a small car to tow. That way, once they got to Organ Pipe, they could leave the motor home parked at the campground and drive around in the car. And since the motor home came equipped with a two-way CB radio, Fenton had also rented a CB walkie-talkie to keep in the car.

Frank opened an outside cabinet door on the side of the motor home and pulled out a bag of charcoal. As he sprinkled the chunks in the raised brick barbecue, he said, “You know, Dad, I was thinking. Joe and I could work on this case while we're here, and Grish wouldn't even have to know about it.”

“Oh?” Fenton said, popping open a can of soda.

“If we could figure out where the other theft sites have been,” Frank continued, “we could do
our own investigating. This park covers thousands of square miles, so Grish wouldn't even see us. We could get tire measurements, check out the damage, look for footprints, whatever. Plus, we could get to know some of the people here at the campground and get a feeling for whether any of them are involved. I'll bet there are clues Grish has missed.”

“That's right,” Joe said. He had come back out and was trying to light the charcoal. “I don't think he has any training in detective work.”

“And he wouldn't have to know we were involved until after we've solved the case,” Frank said. “Dad, you could visit with him and keep him busy while we check things out. Meanwhile, we can trail Kidwell to figure out what he's up to, and we can call to find out if he has a criminal record. And while you're hanging out with Grish, he might even accidentally give you some information we could use for solving the case.”

“Grish has asked us to stay out of this affair,” Fenton reminded Frank. “We don't want to cause any trouble for him. Personally, I think he can probably solve this case on his own, given enough time.”

Joe was admiring the flames curling around the charcoal when he noticed that a young man had squatted down behind the Hardys' motor home, almost out of view. He was pointing a camera at a small cactus near the right rear tire, but his eyes were on the Hardys. As soon as Joe spotted him, he
straightened up and started fiddling with his camera. He looked about eighteen or nineteen, tall and thin, with a long blond ponytail. Joe had a strong hunch he'd been eavesdropping.

“Excuse me,” Joe called loudly. “What are you doing? Do you need something?” Joe walked around the corner of the motor home, a frown on his face.

The man turned and walked off, as if Joe hadn't even spoken.

“Hey!” Joe shouted. “I asked you what you were doing.”

At that, the man took off, running fast in the other direction. And just as fast, Joe was after him.

Sprinting after the intruder, Joe caught up with him two campsites away. He grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, whirling the guy around to face him.