Warehouse Rumble (11 page)

Chet smiled sheepishly and toweled the water from his hair. “Hey, I said I had catlike reflexes—not catlike balance.”

The Hardys’ afternoon challenge involved retrieving clues from a course using remote-control cars and then using them to solve a puzzle. The bodies of
the cars had been modified so that each resembled a giant insect. The effect was fairly comical, though the brothers admitted that it might look good on TV.

“If this show doesn’t become a hit as is, maybe they can spin it off as
Battle Bugs
or something,” Joe joked between rounds as technicians serviced the bug-cars.

“‘The mutant mania of the future that everyone with three eyes is talking about,’”
suggested Chet. He and Daphne had come to watch the Hardys’ event, since their own had already finished.
“‘Go buggy or bug off!’”

“You could have been an ad writer, Chet,” Frank said.

“I may be,” Chet replied. “After Daphne and I win this competition, of course.”

“Of course,” Daphne said with a smile.

“Unless we beat you to it,” Joe said.

“Of course,” added Frank.

Once the technicians had finished preparing the remote-controlled mutants, he and Joe returned to the contest. They managed to squeak out a win, though their opponents nearly completed the puzzle first. Fortunately the Hardys’ competitors misread a critical clue, and the brothers surged ahead of them at the last minute.

As Frank, Joe, and their friends headed to check on their next challenges, they heard one of the technicians say, “Great TV.”

“Yeah,” Chet said. “You guys did good.”

Frank nodded wearily. “I’m beginning to feel it, though.”

“With the obstacles we’ve had,” Joe said, “I feel like we’ve done
twice
the number of games as everyone else.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Look at these two,” Daphne said. “You’d think they’d just run a mile.”

“Five miles,” Chet said.

“Brain work can work up a sweat too,” Frank said.

“Time to refuel, I think,” said Joe.

Within a few minutes they’d reached the refreshment area. The brothers felt relieved that most of the other contestants looked just as bushed as they did. Lily and Bo seemed equally tired. Jay looked utterly exhausted.

“Too worn out to hassle us, I hope,” Joe said.

As the four friends sat down in folding chairs on one side of the break area, the warehouse doors suddenly opened and Con Riley walked in. He was followed by a small contingent of police officers, and a slender older woman with silver hair twisted up into a bun.

“Where is it?” the woman whispered harshly to Riley. “Do you know who has it?”

“Take it easy, Ms. Forbeck,” Con Riley replied. “We have protocols to follow.”

In the wake of the police came Stacia Allen and her cameraman, camera rolling and microphone ready.

Spotting the reporters, Ward Willingham moved to cut them off. “What’s going on here?” he asked. “Ms. Allen is no longer welcome on my set. Officer, would you please ask her to leave?” The producer was clearly struggling to keep his temper under control.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Willingham,” Con Riley said. “I’m afraid we’ll have to discuss the status of Ms. Allen later. I have a warrant to search these premises.” He held out a piece of paper so the producer could examine it.

Willingham glared at Allen and her cameraman. “Another one of your stunts, I suppose,” he said.

Stacia Allen shook her head. “Nope. But I’m loving every minute of it. I told you you can’t kick out the press.” She directed her cameraman to focus on Willingham as he took the piece of paper from Officer Riley.

Con Riley scanned the crowd until his eyes lit upon the Hardys and their friends. He walked over to them, looking very stiff and formal.

“Hi, Con. What’s up?” Joe asked.

“Don’t tell me that Reid character swore out a complaint against us,” Frank said.

“No, Frank,” Riley said. “In fact, I’m not here to see you and your brother at all.” He turned toward Daphne and Chet. “Ms. Soesbee,” he said, “I’m afraid I have to ask you to come downtown.”

Chet rose and stood between Daphne and Officer Riley. “What’s all this about?” he asked angrily.

Frank and Joe joined their friend. “Are you arresting Daphne?” Joe asked.

“I’d rather not,” Riley replied, “but I will if that’s what it takes.”

The older woman came forward and looked at Daphne with hawklike green eyes. “Is she the one?” Ms. Forbeck asked. “Is she the one who stole my ring?”

“What are you talking about?” Daphne asked. She looked both puzzled and scared.

Ms. Forbeck thrust a bony finger at Daphne. “There it is!” she said, pointing to the ring on the
string around Daphne’s throat. “She
is
the one. Thief! Thief!”

“Take it easy, Ms. Forbeck,” Con Riley said.

“Who is this old bird?” Chet asked.

“Be polite, Morton,” the policeman snapped. “This is Carla Forbeck, one of Bayport’s most prominent citizens.”

“And that ring was among the jewelry stolen from me fifteen years ago!” Ms. Forbeck said indignantly.

“Well,
I
didn’t take it,” Daphne said. “I was in preschool fifteen years ago. I just found this the other day.”

“That’s what we want to talk to you about downtown,” Riley said.

“Couldn’t you question her here?” Frank asked. “She’s competing on this show.”

“That’s okay, Frank,” Daphne said. “I think Chet and I are done for the day, anyway.”

“Well, if you’re going downtown, I’m going too,” Chet said.

“And us,” added Joe.

“Won’t that hurt your standing in the game?” Daphne asked, worry written across her pretty face.

“What’s more important: a TV show, or a friend?” Frank said.

Nearby, Ward Willingham frowned. “Well, if you’re going to haul off my contestants, do so,” he
said. “And take those news snakes with you. They’re not welcome on my set.”

Stacia Allen smirked at him. “I think we have what we need,” she said. “The real story now is going to be told at the police station.”

“You’ll have to talk to Chief Collig about that,” Riley said. “Okay, all of you, let’s head for the squad cars.”

Daphne, the Hardys, and Chet followed the police toward the door. Stacia Allen and her cameraman followed. The brothers tried not to notice Jay Stone laughing while they left.

“Don’t worry,” said Ms. Kendall, who was standing at the doorway. “We’ve nearly finished shooting for the day. I’ll try to make sure you’re not left out.”

The four friends nodded their thanks to her.

It took only a few minutes to reach police headquarters downtown. As the cops figured out which interview rooms they were going to use, the brothers put in a call to Daphne’s mom. The Book Bank—the store the Soesbees owned—was only a few blocks away, and Kathryn Soesbee arrived at the station in no time. The police had decided to let her accompany her daughter during the questioning. Since the Hardys and Chet were involved with the discovery of the ring, they were allowed to sit in as well.

Con Riley ushered all of them into a small meeting room near the rear of the station. An oval table surrounded by chairs was in the center of the room.

Ms. Forbeck and her lawyer took their seats, as did a police stenographer.

As the rest seated themselves Kathryn Soesbee asked, “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here?”

Con Riley turned to the older woman. “Ms. Forbeck,” he said, “maybe you should start.”

The slender, silver-haired woman stood. “My name is Carla Forbeck,” she said. “Possibly you have heard of me. My family is prominent in Bayport society, and has been for a hundred and fifty years.

“Fifteen years ago, on the night of April sixteenth, my ancestral home was broken into and robbed. Many valuable pieces of jewelry were taken. The thief was never caught, and none of the goods have ever resurfaced—until now.” Her cold green eyes fell on the ring dangling around Daphne’s neck. “I saw the ring this morning on the WSDS News broadcast.”

Daphne put her hand to her throat. “So you’re saying this ring is part of the jewelry that was stolen from you?”

“I would recognize it anywhere,” Ms. Forbeck said. “But, in case you require proof, my lawyer has brought photos from the insurance claim.” Her lawyer reached into his briefcase and laid a photo on the table.

Daphne, the Hardys, Chet, and Ms. Soesbee looked at it.

“That’s the same ring, all right,” Joe said.

Daphne took the ring off of the string and handed it to Carla Forbeck. “Here, Ms. Forbeck,” she said. “I was only keeping it until the owner turned up.”

“Where did you find it, Daphne?” Con Riley asked.

“In the basement of the old warehouse,” Daphne said.

“The show had a contest that involved going into the tunnels beneath the complex,” Frank explained. “We were running a race when Daphne stumbled. She found the ring in a puddle on the floor.”

“At first we thought it was one of the game’s prizes,” Chet said, “or something lost by one of the other contestants or crew.”

“When that turned out not to be the case,” Joe said, “we theorized it might have been lost by someone who had worked in the warehouse before it closed.”

Daphne nodded. “We didn’t think the owner would turn up, so I decided to wear the ring as a good-luck charm.”

Con Riley looked at Ms. Forbeck. “It’s lucky for you that she did. Otherwise, you might never have found it.”

“That’s true,” Ms. Forbeck said. “And now that I’ve heard her story, I don’t believe that she had anything to do with the theft. She would have been little more than a baby when my jewelry disappeared. I will, of course, be dropping the charges.”

Kathryn Soesbee let out a long sigh of relief. “Well, thank goodness!” she said. “Can I take my daughter home now?”

“I don’t see why not,” Con Riley replied. “We’ll just want a signed statement from her before she goes. And from the rest of you as well,” he added, looking at the Hardys and Chet.

“No problem,” Joe said.

Filling out the paperwork took about an hour. As the four teens and Daphne’s mom were about to leave, Ms. Forbeck stopped them near the station door. “I want to thank you for finding my ring,” she said. “Though I wonder how it came to be in the warehouse in the first place.”

“That complex is huge,” Frank said. “I’m sure a lot of people have come and gone from it over the years.”

“In its heyday there were probably hundreds of workers in there,” Joe added. “Maybe thousands.”

“Yes,” Ms. Forbeck replied. “You’re probably right. Well, if I’m lucky, maybe the rest of the jewels will turn up one day. That nice policeman said they’d send someone over to check the area where you found the ring. After so much time, though, I doubt they’ll turn up many clues.”

“You never know,” Frank said.

“Good luck,” Daphne said.

They said their good-byes to Ms. Forbeck, then headed to their respective homes. All four teens
were so exhausted by the day’s ordeals that they quickly fell into deep slumbers.

•  •  •

The news that greeted the teens the next morning was good. Despite their absence at the end of the previous day, Ms. Kendall called to say that both the Hardys and Chet and Daphne’s team had made it through to the next round of the contest. Jay Stone and the Sabatine-Reid team had advanced to the semifinals as well. Missy apparently felt well enough to compete alongside Jay. Her left arm was still bandaged, but she wasn’t using the sling anymore. Though the Hardys and their friends weren’t scheduled to go head-to-head right away, it was clear they might soon have to face one another.

“May the best team win,” Chet said, as they congratulated one another over breakfast at the Morton house.

“Break a leg, both of you,” Joe said, smiling.

“This sure is a strange case,” Frank said. “We’ve got accidents, a dead man in a chimney, a game with treasure at the end, purloined prescriptions, stolen jewels, monster-masked intruders, and mysterious lights in the warehouses at night. . . .”

“And rats,” Daphne added. “Don’t forget the rats.”

Frank sighed. “If we weren’t running ourselves ragged, maybe we’d see how it all fits together.”

The four of them finished breakfast and headed back to the old warehouse. As they pulled into the
parking lot they spotted Stacia Allen’s news van parked, as usual, across the street.

“If there’s trouble, she’s here on the double,” Joe said.

“With luck, she’ll stay on
her
side of the street today,” Chet said.

On their way inside they met Officer Gus Sullivan coming out of the warehouse. He was covered in dirt and looked very unhappy.

“Anything wrong?” Frank asked.

“Just wasted the morning searching the area where your friend found that ring,” Sullivan said, brushing the grime from his uniform. “Didn’t find anything but muck, and rat tracks. Call us if you kids turn up anything. And, if you do, be sure you ask for Officer
Riley.
” He gave a half-smile, indicating that he hoped Riley might have to dig through the basement next time.

The four teens chuckled. “We’ll keep in touch,” Joe said.

They checked with Ms. Kendall for their assignments, and discovered—somewhat to their relief—that the four of them would not be facing one another that morning.

“That increases the chances of one of our teams getting to the finals,” Chet said enthusiastically.

They split up, and the Hardys headed for the same side of the warehouse where they’d encountered the rat swarm.

“I hope those exterminators did their job,” Joe said.

Their challenge consisted of clue reading and navigating another maze. They and their opponents, Lily and Bo, would start from opposite ends of the course. The first team to reach the middle and sound the Klaxon would win and advance to the finals.

The brothers waited for the siren and then raced forward into the maze.

The labyrinth had been constructed out of both old warehouse rooms and new obstacles put in place by the
Warehouse Rumble
staff. Windows and other light sources had deliberately been blocked off to make navigating and reading the clues more difficult.