The Ice-cold Case (9 page)

“Why? Are you town boys going to take up ice fishing?” Ernie asked in disbelief.

“We're thinking about it,” Frank replied. “We've been spending so much time around here, we figure we ought to at least try.”

“There's not much to it, if you can take the cold,” Ernie said.

“Where should we start fishing?” Frank asked.

“There's a bunch of places,” Ernie said, making no sign that he was going to come out from behind the counter.

“Would you mind pointing them out?” Frank asked, waving for Ernie to come outside.

“You're not going to leave me in peace until I do, are you?” Ernie said.

“No, sir,” Frank said.

Ernie got up from his chair and followed Frank out the door.

There was an open door at the back of the store leading to the room where Ernie lived. The moment that Frank and Ernie left the shop, Joe ran to the back and slipped into Ernie's living quarters. It was just one large room cluttered with furniture. There was a kitchen at one end and a bathroom at
the other. Ernie had a bed by a window, and Stu and Neil had sleeping bags on a pair of cots. Their duffel bags had clothes pouring out on the floor. It looked like the last day of a three-week camping trip during which no one had cleaned anything.

Joe didn't know how long Frank was going to keep Ernie outside. He scanned the objects on the small table between the two cots, but there was nothing except the usual suspects: some change and pencil stubs. He quickly looked through Ernie's dresser drawers, then went to the kitchen and checked the cabinets. If there was any stolen loot in the room, it must have been hidden in the walls or under the floorboards, he decided.

Next to the phone, Joe saw a notepad covered with telephone numbers. He took the photocopy of the note that came through their van window from his pocket and compared the handwriting to the various scribbles on the pad. None of it matched.

The note was written on a piece of paper nearly the same size as the notepad, the only difference being that one edge of the page was torn off. Joe saw that the bottom of the pad had the words Miller's Reels on it. Joe was sure the note was from the same pad but that someone had torn the Miller's Reels part off to make it a blank sheet. Joe tore off a blank piece from the pad.

After searching for a full five minutes, Joe hadn't come up with anything. He peeked out the window and saw that Frank and Ernie were still by the lake.

Joe looked over the room, thinking of where he would hide something. He lifted up the sleeping bags. Then he got down on the floor and looked
underneath the cots. He saw a small piece of paper folded up and wedged under the canvas of one of the cots.

It was a list of numbers written in two columns. Joe couldn't make much sense of it, but he was certain there was something to it. Why else would it be hidden? Joe grabbed a pencil and copied the numbers on the piece of paper he'd taken from the pad and then returned the original to its hiding place.

He slipped back into the shop just as Frank and Ernie came through the front door.

“So you want any fishing gear?” Ernie asked.

“Not ready yet. We're going to start out with Hank,” Frank said as he looked over at Joe. Joe gave him a nod to let him know he'd found something.

“So why are you wasting my time asking for fishing spots?” Ernie snapped as he took his seat behind the counter.

“Because you're the one who knows the good ones,” Joe said.

This answer seemed to satisfy Ernie, who picked up a magazine and began to leaf through it.

“By the way, we wanted to ask Stu and Neil if they'd seen anything since the fire you had. Do you know where they are?” Frank asked.

“Didn't you see them on the lake?” Ernie said as he waved to the window.

“No, but we'll go look now. Thanks for all your help,” Frank said as he held the door open for Joe.

As the Hardys walked down the hill to the lake, Frank looked back to see if Ernie was watching them.

“What did you find?” Frank asked.

“Look at this,” Joe said as he handed Frank the piece of paper. “I think the paper came from the same pad as the note we got airmailed to us at the Kwans'.”

“What about the handwriting?” Frank asked.

“Not a match. Whoever wrote the note probably used his or her left hand or something so we wouldn't be able to trace it. But look at the paper. It's definitely the same. And there's a part that's torn off,” Joe said, pointing.

“What do you think these numbers mean?” Frank asked.

“No idea,” Joe replied.

“Is that Neil and Stu over there?” Frank said as he pointed to two men fishing.

“Hey, guys!” Joe called.

Neil and Stu waved to the Hardys. But as Frank and Joe came toward them, Neil and Stu began to walk farther down the lake—away from them.

“Don't they see we're trying to catch up to them?” Joe asked.

“Maybe that's why they're moving away,” Frank said.

After a few more steps, Joe felt the ice beneath his foot give way slightly. He heard a squishing sound.

“Frank, stop,” Joe warned.

Frank froze in his tracks. “What?”

“Thin ice,” Joe said. “It's really dangerous where you are.”

Frank carefully got down on all fours to spread
his weight more fully. “Get down slowly,” he called to Joe, who was a few feet ahead of him.

Frank could see Joe begin to crouch down with his hands outstretched in front of him. There was a loud crack, followed by a splash, and then Joe was gone.

“Joe!” Frank expected to see Joe pop up through the hole in the ice. But after the splash, he heard nothing. Frank lay down on the ice and crawled over to look into the hole. He saw only chunks of ice floating in the frigid water.

Frank began to shout as he slid back away from the hole. “Help! My brother's fallen in!”

In an instant, ice fishermen came running. Some carried heavy steel ice bars, others held their augers. At first Frank was shocked to see that they weren't coming toward him but rather to various spots about a dozen yards away.

“Over here,” one of the fishermen shouted to Frank. “The current's got him!”

The current! Even though the surface of the lake was frozen, the water underneath was still moving,
Frank realized. That was why Joe hadn't come back up through the hole.

Frank ran to help the fishermen, who were frantically attacking the ice, some with axes, others drilling with power augers. Frank tried to see Joe through the milky whiteness of the ice. He finally caught a glimpse of Joe's yellow coat moving beneath the surface.

“He's here; I'm right over him,” Frank shouted to the fishermen.

Frank held out his arm in the direction Joe was drifting so the men could make holes in the ice along Joe's route.

Frank looked ahead to see if there were any holes where Joe was headed. Frank ran to the nearest hole, a nine-inch circle cut with a power auger. He lay on the ice and reached his arm into the cold water, hoping he'd be able to grab Joe as he drifted by. Fishermen circled Frank, their tools at the ready.

“Here he comes,” one of the men called.

Frank saw the yellow of Joe's parka and reached deep into the hole to grab the sleeve. He pulled the sleeve so that Joe's head came to the hole. Joe's face popped into the hole, and he took a deep breath.

The fishermen sprang into action, attacking the ice around the hole to make it big enough to pull Joe through.

“Joe, are you okay?” Frank said as he held on to his brother.

“Cold . . .” Joe said.

“Stay with me. We'll get you out in a second,” Frank said. But he knew they didn't have a lot of time to spare. Joe had already been in the water a minute or two. Frank could see he was having trouble breathing. He knew it was partly because his muscles were so tight from the cold.

As the fishermen expanded the hole, Frank tried to pull Joe out. One of the fishermen grabbed Joe's other sleeve and others took hold of Frank to make sure he didn't get pulled in himself. In a few moments, they had Joe out and lying on the ice.

“I'm really cold, Frank,” Joe said through his chattering teeth.

“I know, we'll get you warm,” Frank said.

“Quick, let's get him to Tuttle's,” one of the fishermen said.

“No, take him to the Kwans',” Frank said. Not only did he distrust Ernie, he remembered that Mrs. Kwan was a nurse.

Erik Fernandez, one of the fishermen, drove his snowmobile, trailing one of Ernie's homemade sleds, up beside Joe on the ice. They rolled Joe onto the sled and Frank held his head as Fernandez took off for the Kwans' house.

“You still with me, Joe?” Frank asked as he looked at his brother's bluish lips.

Joe said something, but Frank couldn't hear him over the roar of the snowmobile. He leaned over until his ear was an inch from Joe's mouth.

“I can't feel my feet,” Joe whispered. Frank knew this was a dangerous time. Even though Joe was out of the water, his clothes were soaked and starting to freeze in the cold air.

“Stay with me, Joe,” Frank said. With only a few moments before they reached the Kwans', Frank looked around the lake and saw that there was no sign of Stu or Neil. He couldn't be sure they had drawn them onto the thin ice on purpose, but it sure seemed that way.

Frank looked ahead to the Kwans' house and saw Sarah waving at them. Erik drove the snowmobile right up to the Kwans' back door.

“Joe fell in,” Frank said as he lifted his brother's nearly frozen body from the sled with Erik's help.

“We saw you pull him out,” Sarah said. “My mom's getting ready for him.”

Frank and Erik brought Joe into the house.

Mrs. Kwan was all business. “Take Joe up to the bathroom and get those clothes off him. Sarah, put some water on to boil. I'll be right up.”

Erik and Frank carried Joe upstairs to the bathroom. Mrs. Kwan had filled the tub with hot water. Frank and Erik had Joe stripped to his underwear when Mrs. Kwan walked in.

“This is no time for modesty. Get those wet things off him,” she ordered.

Frank and Erik did as they were told and then lowered Joe into the warm water. Joe let out a shudder as the heat enveloped him.

“Keep an eye on him. I'll bring something hot for him to drink. The ambulance should be here in a minute,” Mrs. Kwan said.

“Is he going to be all right?” Frank asked Mrs. Kwan.

“He wasn't in for long, was he?” she asked.

“I don't know, maybe three minutes at most,”
Frank said. “He was conscious when we got him out.”

“He should be fine,” Mrs. Kwan said with the knowing confidence of a professional.

Joe slowly began to seem more awake, and his color was improving.

Mrs. Kwan brought up a mug of hot water for Joe to drink. “It'll warm him up from the inside,” she said.

By the time the paramedics arrived, Joe was sitting up in the tub, looking almost normal.

One of the paramedics came into the bathroom and asked Frank, “How's he doing?”

“I'm okay,” Joe said.

The paramedic checked Joe's temperature and then took his pulse and blood pressure. “You're lucky they got you out so fast,” he said.

“I'd be luckier if I hadn't fallen in to begin with,” Joe said.

“Is he going to be all right?” Frank asked the paramedic.

“To be on the safe side, we could take him to the hospital for more tests. But honestly, there isn't much they can do for him that you can't do here. Keep him warm and take his temperature periodically to make sure he's okay,” he said.

Frank turned to Mrs. Kwan, who was standing in the doorway. “What do you think Mrs. Kwan? Should we go to the hospital?”

“If his vital signs are all right, I think he'll be fine,” she said.

“Then I'll stay. The food's much better here than at the hospital,” Joe said.

The paramedics left, and Mrs. Kwan got Joe a robe and heavy socks so he'd have something to wear while she put his clothes into the dryer.

“Go have a seat by the fire,” she suggested.

Joe put on the robe, but he had an embarrassed look on his face.

“What's the matter?” Frank asked.

“I feel weird hanging around here in a bathrobe,” Joe said. “I mean, there's a girl from school here.”

“It's either that or—nothing,” Frank said.

Joe thought for a moment. “Bathrobe,” he announced.

Frank watched Joe go down the stairs, being sure his brother was really as strong as he claimed after his ordeal. Soon they were sitting by the fire, drinking hot chocolate.

“What do you think happened out there?” Joe asked Frank as he felt the warmth of the fire on his feet.

“You mean with Neil and Stu?” Frank asked.

“Yeah,” Joe said.

“It looks like they drew us onto the thin ice on purpose,” Frank said.

“That's what I thought,” Joe said, anger rising in his voice. “Then what did they do?”

“You'll be comforted to know that my first response was to go after you,” Frank said. “I didn't give them a second thought.”

“For which I'm grateful,” Joe said.

“But when I did look up, I didn't see them anywhere,” Frank recalled.

“They didn't come to my rescue?” Joe said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Nope.”

Just then Sarah walked into the room. “Joe, this is the stuff that was in your pockets,” she said. “I should get you a plastic bag for it.”

“That'd be great,” Joe said as he took the things from Sarah. He laid his wallet in front of the fire. “Maybe it'll dry here.”

Joe took out his driver's license, his money, and a picture of him and Frank at the beach with Callie and Iola.

“Oh, and there was this,” Sarah said. She handed him the sheet of paper with the numbers he had copied down at Tuttle's.