The Short-Wave Mystery (12 page)
Read The Short-Wave Mystery Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
Biff was excited after the Hardys had given him details. “Boy, what an evening! First a robbery and now a hidden treasure!”
The Morton farmhouse was aglow with light, and gay dance music from Iola's hi-fi came throbbing out on the crisp night air. As the Hardys' convertible pulled up, Chet popped onto the veranda to greet the three latecomers.
“Hey! What kept you guys so long? Iola and Callie wouldn't even let me serve the food till you got here! You want me to starve to death?”
“Starve!” Joe burst out laughing. “Listen, Chet, you have enough surplus poundage stored up to hibernate for the winter!”
“Oh yeah? I'm down to a mere shadow from waiting for you slowpokes! What's your excuse?”
“Nothing specialâjust the crime of the century, that's all,” Biff said casually.
“Crime of the century!” Iola gasped. Callie Shaw, Tony Prito, Phil Cohen, and the other party guests came crowding around the doorway as the boys entered. “What do you mean?”
“I got chloroformed, the Lektrex plant got looted, and Frank got kidnapped.”
“What!”
There was an explosion of questions from all sides. The teen-agers listened and chattered excitedly as Biff and the Hardys related their night's harrowing adventures.
There was an explosion of questions from all sides. The teen-agers listened and chattered excitedly as Biff and the Hardys related their night's harrowing adventures.
When the boys finished, Callie linked her arm through Frank's and led him to an easy chair. “What you need is some rest and refreshment. How about some fruit punch to start with?”
“Aaah!” Frank sank down with a contented grin.
“Double portion!”
Iola was fixing cushions on the sofa for Joe and Biff. “Someone pass those appetizers, please. Chet, you get busy on the hamburgers!”
“Now you're talking, Sis!” The chubby youth went bounding toward the kitchen.
Soon the party was in full swing again. Games and more dancing followed the refreshments. Finally the moment arrived for the “grand opening” of Chet's bear and aardvark. But before he could make the necessary preparations, his friends started to needle him about his rising-dough fish.
The young taxidermist took the ribbing goodnaturedly. “Okay, funny folks.” He set down his tools and rubbed his hands briskly. “Let's clear a little work space here!”
Newspapers were spread on the living-room floor, and the two stuffed animals set in the center. With professional flare Chet donned an apron and opened his taxidermy kit.
“Do you really think there could be a treasure inside one of them?” Callie asked eagerly.
“It's just a hunch,” Joe murmured.
“Chet, are you sure you'll be able to put the beasts together again?” Iola queried.
“Sure, nothing to it!” Chet gave the aardvark a last affectionate pat. “Hate to do this, old boy, but you're in the best professional hands.”
Turning the animal on its side, the pudgy craftsman opened his taxidermy kit and began work like a surgeon. Tony Prito assisted.
“Medium scalpel.”
“Medium scalpel!” Tony echoed, slapping the instrument into Chet's outstretched hand.
“Paring knife.”
“Paring knife!”
“Small surgical scissors and hammer.”
“Small surgical scissors and hammer!”
Working with deft strokes, Chet carefully opened the underside of the aardvark. The job proved more difficult than expected. As he removed a section of the inner shell structure, a hush fell over the party guests.
Frank and Joe watched impatiently, fingers crossed. Were they on the verge of solving the baffling mystery of the Batter estate?
With the opening large enough, Chet's hands probed the entire length of the aardvark. He removed the excelsior, then shook the animal. Nothing more came out!
“It's empty!” Chet's face was a picture of comical disappointment.
“Never mind! Maybe the secret's inside the bear!” Frank said hastily, fearing their stout chum might lose heart for the task.
“Okay, but this had better not be a wild-goose chase!”
“How can you chase a wild goose inside a stuffed bear?” piped up a boy named Jerry Gilroy.
“You want me to use this scalpel on
you?”
Chet waved it menacingly as the girls giggled.
you?”
Chet waved it menacingly as the girls giggled.
Half an hour later the bear cub, too, had been thoroughly probed without result.
“Of all the dopey ideasâ!” Chet glared at the Hardys. “Just for that I ought to make you two brilliant Sherlocks sew up these specimens!”
“We'd be glad to,” Joe said soothingly, “but don't you see, doctor, we lack your professional âOof!”
Howls of laughter went up as a wad of excelsior caught Joe squarely in the face. But Chet's good nature was soon restored, and the floor was cleared again for more dancing.
Next day, over Sunday dinner, Frank and Joe discussed the baffling case with their father.
“We know,” said Frank, “that the gang found nothing in the animals they stole from the auction or in the wolf's head. Otherwise, they wouldn't have taken the rest of the animals Friday night.”
“And now we know Batter hid nothing in the aardvark or bear cub,” Joe added.
“Right! Which leaves one possibility,” Frank went on. “That stuffed fox taken from Lektrex.”
“But if Warner's right, Batter never mounted that specimen,” said Mr. Hardy, frowning.
“We can't be sure, Dad,” Frank argued. “All he said was that he got it from a friend in New York. Since the gang stole the fox, they may have some reason for connecting it with Batter.”
Were they on the verge of solving the mystery?
Fenton Hardy nodded thoughtfully. “All right, that's a reasonable assumption to work on.”
“I think we should call Mr. Warner,” said Frank, “and check up on the person who gave him the fox.”
Frank reached him by telephone at his home. “Mr. Warner, would you mind telling me the name of the friend who gave you the stuffed fox?” Frank asked.
“A fellow named Nils Afron. He's a wealthy interior decorator in New York City. Does office décor.” Warner said he did not know Afron well and had met him on a hunting trip in Canada.
“Could you give me his address, please?”
“Hmm. I don't have it with me, but my secretary can look it up tomorrow and phone you.”
“We'd appreciate that, sir.” After hanging up, Frank suggested to his father that someone should go to New York and interview Afron.
“I agree, son, but this security check has me pretty well tied up for the next few days. How would you boys like to fly to New York tomorrow and see him? You could get excused from school early.”
Joe gave a whoop. “Great idea, Dad!”
The following afternoon Frank and Joe left school at one o'clock. They stopped at their house to get Afron's address from Aunt Gertrude, then drove to the airport. Two hours later their plane was touching down at LaGuardia Field. After riding to the East Side Air Terminal in Manhattan, the brothers walked to Forty-second Street and caught a crosstown bus.
“Wonder if we should have phoned first to make sure Afron's in,” Joe murmured.
Frank shook his head. “Better to catch him off-guard, I'd say. Then if he does know anything about Batter or the gang, he'll have no time to cover up, or invent a story.”
They got off the bus at the Avenue of the Americas and walked quickly to their destination in the West Forties. The address proved to be a small, grimy-looking office building.
“Not a very classy place for a wealthy decorator to have his studio,” Joe said in surprise.
Inside, they consulted the wall directory, listing the firms with offices in the building. Afron's name was not among them. Frank turned to the uniformed elevator dispatcher who was standing nearby at his post in the lobby.
“Could you tell us the office number of Afron Business Décor, please?”
“Afron Business Décor?” The dispatcher frowned and shrugged. “Never heard of it. There's no such outfit in this building.”
CHAPTER XV
Mystery Scrambler
No decorating firm on the premises!
“The owner's name is Nils Afron,” Joe told the elevator dispatcher. “You're sure he's not located at this address?”
“Not since I've been here, Bud. You can see for yourselfâhis name's not on the board.”
“How long
have
you been working here?” Frank spoke up.
have
you been working here?” Frank spoke up.
“About a month and a half.”
“Then it's possible Afron might have had an office here before you came and moved out?”
“Can't prove it by me.” The dispatcher gestured toward a door at the far end of the lobby. “Try Mr. Smith, the manager, over there. He'd know.”
“Thanks, we will,” said Frank.
The boys knocked on the door and were told to come in. A stout, bald, elderly man was seated at a desk inside. He listened patiently to their query, then nodded.
“There was an Afron Business Décor on the third floor. Closed up a couple of months ago.”
“Did Mr. Afron leave any forwarding address?” Joe asked.
“No. Just went out of business, I guess.” The manager removed his glasses, breathed on the lenses, and polished them briskly. “Can't say I was surprised. Only a small setup. Never seemed to have any customers.”
“Can you tell us anything about him?” Frank persisted. “Anything that might help us locate him?”
Mr. Smith peered at the boys suspiciously, “Didn't he pay his bills? Are you skip tracers or something?”
Frank said, “No, but we think Afron may have information that would help solve a robbery.”
“Hmm. Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you much. Like I say, he had only a small suite here. A few office furnishings on display. I don't believe he even had a secretary.”
“What did he look like?” Joe asked curiously.
“Big blond fellow, about forty, I'd say. Close-cut curly hair and sort of a pug nose. Always dressed and talked like a million bucks, though.”
“Well, thanks very much.” Frank took out one of Fenton Hardy's business cards. “If Afron shows up here again for mail or any other reason, will you please call us collect?”
Mr. Smith looked impressed when he saw the famous detective's name. “You bet I will, son.”
Frank and Joe flew back to Bayport, eager to report on their trip. Both felt there was something odd about the circumstances surrounding Nils Afron which might bear looking into.
It was past six o'clock in the evening when their convertible pulled into the driveway. Aunt Gertrude, whom they had phoned from the airport, was setting the table for dinner.
“Where's Dad?” Joe asked eagerly.
“He was called over to the Lektrex Company an hour ago, and with the roast already in the oven. Something urgent, it seems.” Aunt Gertrude sniffed audibly as she smoothed the tablecloth. “These big businessmen seem to think they're the only people with problems. Never occurs to them that cooking a meal entails a few problems, too!”
Frank asked, “Any idea what it was about?”
“Not the slightest.”
Frank and Joe went upstairs to get ready for dinner. Later, as they were eating, Joe asked Frank, “Do you think we should wait until Dad gets home to tell him about Afron or should we call him?”
Frank frowned uncertainly. “I've been wondering that myself. If something new has come up on the plant robbery, our information on Afron might be an important lead.”
“Then let's call him right after dinner.”
As soon as they finished dessert, Frank dialed the Lektrex number. He asked the plant operator to locate his father and was switched to Jason Warner's office.
Fenton Hardy was very much interested in their news. “I'd certainly like to know more about this fellow Afron,” he commented. “I have a feeling that stuffed fox may be the key to this whole mystery.”
The detective paused. “Tell you what. You and Joe have been mixed up in this Lektrex case from the outset. Suppose you boys drop over here and sit in on this meeting.”
“We'll leave right away,” Frank promised.
When they arrived at the plant, the young sleuths were conducted to the conference room adjoining Mr. Warner's office. Mr. Hardy was seated at the conference table with the president and several other key executives of the company. Places were made for Frank and Joe.
“We're no longer dealing with a simple case of robbery,” Jason Warner informed them. “Our latest technical development has been pirated by a foreign electronics firm in Hong Kong.”
“That new thin-film circuitry?” Frank asked.
“Exactly. We just learned this Hong Kong firm is exporting a similar product.” Warner added angrily, “The details of their circuitry are identical with oursâit can't be a coincidence!”
Other books
Out of India by Michael Foss
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Billionaire Bad Boys of Romance Boxed Set (10 Book Bundle) by Kitt, Selena, Taylor, Tawny, Lore, Ava, Towers, Terry, Antonia, Anna, Aday, Amy, L'Amour, Nelle, Burke, Dez, Tee, Marian
Had We Never Loved by Patricia Veryan
The Tightrope Men / The Enemy by Desmond Bagley
Ship of Fools by Fintan O'Toole
Hell Divers by Nicholas Sansbury Smith
Tactics of Mistake by Gordon R. Dickson
Old Chaos (9781564747136) by Simonson, Sheila
Clay's Quilt by Silas House
