The Ice-cold Case (13 page)

After giving Joe and Ray time to get in position, Frank, Phil, and Hank made their way out onto the lake. It was a cold, crisp night.

“I was hoping it would be cloudy,” Frank said as he looked at the moonlit lake.

“Where's Riley?” Phil asked.

“I'm sure he's on the way,” Frank said. “I just hope we have something to show him when he gets here.”

“I'll lead the way,” Hank said as he pressed at the ice with a long stick. “None of you know this ice like I do.”

Phil followed along, watching the greenish glow of the LCD screen on the GPS unit.

“Over here, to the right,” Phil said as he checked the GPS reading against Joe's list of locations.

“This is it,” Phil said. He put the GPS in his pocket and turned on the metal detector. He put the headphones on and waved the detector gently over the ice and snow, covering a few square yards before he suddenly stopped.

“Right here,” he proclaimed.

Frank got down on his hands and knees and swept the snow away from under the metal detector. The ice underneath was mottled white. Hank started chipping away at it with the ax, trying to be quiet. The sound echoed across the lake.

Frank and Hank cut through five inches of ice before they came to a ball of tinfoil.

“What are we looking for?” Hank asked.

“My guess is that there's fishing line around here somewhere,” Frank said.

He used the ice pick to scratch away at the ice around the ball of foil.

“Anything?” Phil asked.

Frank took off his gloves and gently tried to lift the ball of foil from the ice. As it began to pull apart, he felt a slight tug and saw a bit of clear fishing line attached to it.

“There's the fishing line. Give me the ax,” Frank said.

He chipped away at the ice around the fishing line. But he stopped short when he heard Joe's signal, two short whistles followed by a long one.

Joe was watching the flickering light of a television against the window of Tuttle's back room when he saw two dark figures come out of the front of the bait shop.

“It's Stu and Neil,” Joe whispered to the night air.

“What'll we do?” Ray whispered back.

“What are you doing
here?”
Joe asked, his temper rising.

“I got bored back there—so what? Now, what are we going to do?” repeated Ray.

Joe didn't have time to clobber Ray for leaving his post. “We'll try to buy some time,” Joe said as he walked out of the shadows toward the bait shop. “Hey, Neil, Stu, over here.”

Rather than respond to his call, Neil and Stu ran behind the shop. Joe heard the unmistakable roar of an engine. Then he saw Stu and Neil take off toward the lake on a snowmobile.

Frank, Hank, and Phil had chipped the ice away
from the fishing line and were pulling the line up from the icy water when they heard the roar of the snowmobile.

“What's that?” Phil asked.

“Kill the flashlights,” Frank said.

Phil and Hank turned off their flashlights, but their dark outlines on the white ice stood out in the moonlight.

Frank wasn't going to leave the lake until he found the loot. He kept pulling on the fishing line and found it was attached to a piece of heavy rope. He frantically hauled in the rope as he heard the roar of the snowmobile engine coming closer.

“Do you see anything?” Hank asked.

“We have to get out of here,” Phil said, looking toward the sound of the revving engine.

Frank pulled the rope up and a dark plastic bag came to the surface. He opened the bag and saw a sparkle of silver gleaming in the moonlight.

“Bingo,” Frank said, scrambling to get the bag out of the water.

“Frank, come on,” Phil said as he began to run. The snowmobile was getting closer. Hank was already halfway to the Kwans' house.

The roar of the engine grew louder, and the ice began to shake. Then the ice began to shudder. Frank felt what was coming. Dragging his booty behind him, he took off a few feet behind Phil and just a few inches in front of the cracking ice.

Frank tried to run as gently as he could, but there was no way to move without causing the ice to splinter around him. The snowmobilers obviously knew what they were doing. They swung around in a wide arc and started straight toward Frank and Phil from solid ice. Frank stood frozen. If he moved, he'd be under the ice in a flash. If he didn't, the snowmobile would crack the rest of the ice and he'd still go under.

But maybe, he thought, they'll go under, too. He took that as his consolation as he braced himself for impact.

At the last moment, the snowmobile swerved away, missing Frank by inches. Frank's resolve had deserted him. He found himself pressed flat on the ice and felt a cold whoosh of air as Stu swung a heavy steel ice bar just above his head.

“Phil, get down,” Frank shouted as he watched the snowmobile chase after his friend.

But Phil kept running. Stu swung the ice bar and caught him behind his knees, which sent him sprawling.

Frank tried to spread his body out as far as possible along the cold, cracking ice. If I can distribute my weight over a greater area, he thought, I might not break through. The noise of ice breaking up seemed to surround him as he waited for Stu and Neil to return for him.

Frank finally lifted his head to see how close they were and was surprised to see two figures on ice skates chasing after the snowmobile.

As he watched in astonishment, one of the skaters peeled off and skated over to him. It was Joe!

“Don't come any closer! The ice is breaking up,” Frank shouted to his brother. “Back there.” Frank tried to nod his head backward. “Get the metal detector.”

Joe skated past Frank and swooped down, grabbing the long handle of the metal detector.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Joe asked.

“Do you remember jousting from history?” Frank responded.

“I would have paid more attention in class if I'd known it would come to this,” Joe said.

He maneuvered the long handle of the metal detector so he could use it as a lance, thrusting it out a few feet in front of them.

“Don't fall through the ice while I'm gone,” Joe told his brother.

“Wouldn't think of it,” Frank replied. “Now,
charge!
”

Neil and Stu turned and came back at Frank and Joe, with Ray trailing behind them on his skates. Stu had the heavy ice bar sticking out a few feet on the right side.

“Go for the right,” Frank said. Joe pushed off and sprinted straight toward his opponent.

Joe's push-off caused the ice around Frank to break-up a little more. He felt as if he was floating on a number of tiny frozen islands, but he was still on top of, not under, the water.

Frank watched the dark outline of his brother spin around as the snowmobile buzzed him. Joe's stab with the metal detector had no effect. But Stu and Neil seemed to catch on to the game. They made a wide arc and started for Joe with ferocious speed.

Frank couldn't watch this time as his brother took off to confront the snowmobile. He focused on the crack that ran through the ice just below his nose. All he heard was a war cry from Joe and the sound of metal against metal. Then all was almost silent, except for the sound of the snowmobile coming closer and closer. He couldn't help but raise his head.

Before he could even shut his eyes, the snowmobile was upon him. Frank expected to be dead, but he curiously still felt alive—cold, wet, but alive. The air was silent for a moment, and then suddenly thunder roared in Frank's ears. He looked up, right before he went under, to see the snowmobile
disappearing under the ice, with Stu and Neil trying to use each other as a ladder to get out.

•   •   •

“Help me! Help!” Neil called out as he flailed in the icy water.

Joe grabbed the rope that was tied around the sack of stolen loot Frank had been hauling and carefully approached the hole where Neil, Stu, the snowmobile, and Frank had fallen through.

“Grab the rope,” Joe called as he tossed one end of the line.

“Hey, you idiot!” Neil screamed. “I'm over here! Help!”

Frank thrashed in the darkness but missed the rope. Joe threw it again, and this time Frank caught it.

Joe didn't trust that the ice near Frank would hold him, so he tied the rope around his waist and crawled away from the hole on all fours until he felt secure enough to stand.

He took a large breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Then he dug one blade of his skates into the frozen lake and gently, but with all the strength he had, he pushed off. It was a slow process, and Joe did not look back. Stop, breathe, push. Stop, breathe, push. On his fourth go, he felt something give. He didn't know whether it was his back or the ice, but he put all his effort into one last push—and went sailing across the ice.

Horrified he'd lost Frank, he turned and sped back toward the hole. The moonlight had dimmed behind a cloud. The lake looked solid black. Joe
raced as fast as he could when suddenly he hit something and went flying. He landed flat on his back, but on solid ice.

“Oh,” he moaned. The clouds separated, and in the growing moonlight Joe saw what had tripped him. The long body of Frank Hardy lay on the ice, not moving.

“Frank!” he yelled, and pulled his bruised body up and got it moving.

He knelt beside his brother. “Frank?” he shouted. “Frank!”

Frank opened one chilled eyelid and then the other. Through his shivering blue lips, he said, “I'm cold.”

“Hey!” Joe called to the crowd that had gathered to pull Stu and Neil from the lake. “I need help with Frank! Bring blankets! Get a sled!”

Ten minutes later Frank was being carried into the Kwans' house by Con Riley and a paramedic. They had arrived on the scene just as the snowmobile had gone under. Stu and Neil had been saved. Mrs. Kwan had her hands full for the next few hours warming the three icemen, inside and out.

In front of the roaring fire, Joe and Officer Riley stood warming themselves.

“Stu and Neil Tuttle are your robbers,” Frank said to Officer Riley. “They've been stashing the stuff in the lake under the ice.”

“Well, they won't be going anywhere for a while now, and when they do, it'll be in handcuffs,” Riley promised.

Phil hobbled in, held upright by Ray Nelson.

“Where have you two been?” Riley asked.

“I kept running after that creep clipped me with his steel bar—” Phil began.

“Neil, or was it Stu? One of those two jerks,” Joe informed the officer.

“I saw him running,” Ray said. “I knew he wouldn't get far with his legs so bruised. I could tell they were already starting to buckle, so I went after him.”

“Good thing, too,” Phil said with a smile. “Next thing I knew, I was being dragged through the woods on some kind of handmade stretcher, pulled by this guy.” He pointed at his crutch, Ray, and smiled broadly.

“So, here we are. End of story,” Ray finished the short tale.

“Not quite, Ray Nelson,” Phil said. “I'd have died of exposure out there if no one had come after me. You can't deny it, Ray—you did something good.”

“Yeah, well, don't spread it around,” Ray said. “I have a reputation to protect.”

Riley took Phil up to the bedroom where the paramedic and Mrs. Kwan were taking care of one of the other injured parties.

Ray took a seat near the fire.

“So, you did something good,” Joe said with a hint of anger in his voice. “Well, how about explaining to me why you left your post at the bait shop so those two could get to their snowmobile?”

Ray seemed to get a bit defensive. “Look, Joe, you're a Hardy. A golden boy. Always a hero. So maybe I'm no courageous detective like you, okay?
I figured if those two came out back, I'd be toast. It wouldn't be a fair fight.”

“But you let them take the snowmobile and almost kill my brother, not to mention Phil. They'd have gotten us, too, you know,” Joe countered.

“Let me finish,” Ray said. “I didn't want to fight them, just me against them, so I drained the gasoline from their snowmobile and went back to join you.”

Joe's mouth dropped open. “You what?” A hint of a smile began to creep onto his face. “You
what?”

“Why else did you think they suddenly stopped before they could bean your brother? Why else did they let the snowmobile stop on thin ice? They were out of gas!”

Joe felt like hugging Ray, but instead, he walked over to him and shook his hand.

“Aw, c'mon,” Ray complained. “I'm a hero, too, now!”

They gave each other big football-player hugs, hooting and shouting, “Victory!”

•   •   •

Soon all the invalids—the perpetrators and the victims alike—were seated by the fire, drinking hot chocolate and swapping stories of their near-death experiences. But Con Riley kept a close eye on Neil and Stu Tuttle.

When Mrs. Kwan and the paramedic gave the okay, the party broke up. Officer Riley slapped handcuffs on the Tuttles, and everyone went out to see them off in the squad car.

Just as Stu and Neil were about to duck their heads to get into the car, Ernie Tuttle drove up.

“What's going on here?” Ernie shouted.

“That's what I'd like to ask you,” Riley said. “What do you know about these boys and those robberies?” Riley asked as he grabbed Stu and Neil and made them face Ernie.

“Stu, Neil, what are they doing to you?” Ernie demanded.

“These two have been doing some breaking and entering on their visits, and hiding the loot in the lake,” Officer Riley said.

Ernie looked at Stu in disbelief. “Stu, is this true?”

Stu turned away from his grandfather without speaking.

“Neil?”

Neil hung his head.

“I don't believe it,” Ernie kept muttering. But from the looks on his grandsons' faces, Ernie knew it was true.