Skin and Bones (3 page)

“Cody, I get the feeling you have a suspect in mind—for
everything
that's happened to you,” Frank said. “Have you got a name for us?”

“Mike Brando,” Cody declared.

“Who's Mike Brando?” Joe asked. “And could he be the guy who got me on the roof?”

“Nope, not on the roof, but everything else maybe. When I first opened Skin and Bones,” Cody explained, “Brando was one of my best suppliers. He told me he was a former game warden and had worked in animal parks and game preserves in Australia, Africa, and Brazil.”

Cody put down his soda, then leaned back in his chair. The expression on his face showed that he was still angry. “He had the whole package—career records, references, a list of terrific contacts all over the world.”

“That sounds pretty impressive,” Frank said. “Did his references check out?”

“Yep,” Cody said. “He'd started his own search business and offered to serve as my middleman to line up the best specimens.”

“He'd be sort of a bones broker,” Joe concluded with a chuckle.

“Exactly,” Cody agreed with a lopsided smile. He ran a hand through his thick dark brown hair. “He—” Cody was interrupted by the sound of the door buzzer.

Cody checked his watch as he stood up. “Yikes, I almost forgot—Deb was going to drop by tonight to meet you guys.”

“I'll get it,” Joe said.

Joe went down and unlocked the shop door. Waiting outside was a pretty young woman in a long skirt and jeans jacket. Thick wavy blond hair cascaded around her face. “Hi, I'm Deborah Lynne.”

“I'm Joe Hardy. Come on in.”

He led her through the store and back up to Cody's kitchen. Cody introduced her to Frank, saying that
Deb was his new business manager and also helped out in the store. He quickly filled her in on what had happened earlier.

“So, what did the doctor say?” Deb asked, helping herself to a piece of now cold pizza.

“I haven't seen one yet,” Cody said with a sheepish glance toward Frank and Joe. “I'm okay.”

“Come on, Chang,” Deb said. She took the pizza out of Cody's hand and slapped it onto his plate. “I'll take you to Dad's. At least he can check you out. My dad's a doctor,” she told the Hardys.

“All right, all right, I'll go,” Cody said with a grin. “I can't fight all three of you.”

Deb drove Cody to her father's, and the Hardys headed back to Sergeant Chang's. As the brothers were getting ready for bed, Deb called to say her father had given Cody a clean bill of health, and Cody was already back home. They agreed to meet at Cody's for brunch at ten o'clock the next morning.

Tuesday morning was cool and damp, and the city was cloaked in thick fog. Deb arrived shortly after the Hardys. In his kitchen Cody was fixing a big platter of burritos and eggs, and Frank was relieved to see that he looked well and rested.

Over breakfast Frank got right down to business.
“So, let's finish our conversation from last night,” he said. “Why do you suspect Mike Brando?”

“Mike's first deliveries were great,” Cody explained. “He got stuff I'd had trouble locating because I didn't have his contacts. But then he offered to get things that I knew were illegal,” he said, his expression troubled.

“Internationally restricted bones and skins,” Deb added. “No one can buy or sell them.”

“But at that point it was just my word against his,” Cody pointed out. “Dad organized a sting, and Brando walked right into it. Man, was he mad. He swore he'd make us pay.”

“Oh,” Joe said, “so that's why you said he couldn't be the guy on the roof. He's in prison.”

“Yes,” Deb said. “But we figure he could have someone on the outside helping him.”

“He definitely could be behind the computer messages,” Frank pointed out. “He's not in for a violent crime. He'd probably be a good candidate for computer privileges.”

“If it's not Brando, then I haven't a clue who it could be,” Cody said, finishing his third burrito.

“Great breakfast, Cody,” Joe said, leaning back in his chair.

“Agreed,” Frank stated. “So, how about that tour of
your lab you've been promising, Cody. I want to see how your business works.”

“That's right!” Cody said. “You've never seen Bug Central. C'mon—let's go.”

“I'll open the shop,” Deb said, and went down to welcome the morning's customers.

Cody led the Hardys up to the lab, which took up nearly the entire third floor. “Over here is all my media stuff,” Cody said proudly. A wall of floor-to-ceiling bookcases was crammed with tapes, books, and CDs. “I've got videos and books about nearly every animal, fish, and bird in the world. Plus prehistoric life and fossils.” More shelves held boxes and albums of photographs, neatly cataloged, filed, and labeled.

A second wall looked like one in an artist's studio. Shelves, pegboards, and tables were covered with brushes, wire scrapers, scissors, rulers, colored pencils, compasses, tubes of paint, display stands and easels, frames, and rolls of tape and wire.

“Here's where I do a lot of the final work,” Cody said, seating himself on the stool in front of his drafting table. “This is my favorite part, really—doing custom work for a client or getting a display ready for the store.”

A third area of the room looked like a science lab. A worktable with two sinks anchored the wall. Bunsen
burners, cleaning fluids, microscopes, and other paraphernalia stood waiting for Cody.

The fourth wall was nearly covered floor to ceiling by stacks of crates and boxes. In the corner was a door with a hand-lettered sign: Bug Central—Do NOT Open!

“So, this is Bug Central?” Frank said.

“Yep,” Cody said, chuckling. “My specimens arrive in different conditions. They're not always clean, white, and ready to go. Sometimes they still have bits—or even a lot—of flesh on them.”

With a wide grin, Cody opened the door to a large closet. On one wall were shelves of fiberglass bins of different sizes. Four old refrigerators lined the other wall.

Cody led the Hardys to one of the larger fiberglass bins, which was clear and gave them a view of what was going on inside. A large skull lay on a bed of cotton batting. Swarming over it were thousands of tiny caterpillars.

“Meet my assistants,” Cody said with a flourish. “The dermestid beetle colony.”

“You're kidding!” Joe said. “This is amazing.”

“Lots of museums around the world have used dermestids since the eighteenth century—sometimes whole rooms of them,” Cody explained. “Nothing
cleans a bone faster. Adult beetles lay eggs in the flesh on the bone. The larvae—the little caterpillars—hatch and eat the meat. Then they burrow into the cotton at the bottom of the bin as pupae, emerge as adults, and the cycle begins again.”

“Totally cool,” Frank said, watching the dermestids in action. “What kind of skull is this?”

“That's the zebra skull we picked up at the zoo yesterday,” Cody said. “It was pretty clean. I put my buddies to work on it last night when I got back from Dr. Lynne's.”

“And the refrigerators?” Joe asked.

“I have colonies in them, too,” Cody answered. “I pick up old refrigerators. Hey, the price is right—and they're really secure. See, the trick is to keep the dermestids from ‘bugging' out on their own.”

Frank and Joe groaned at the bad joke.

“They'll eat anything organic,” Cody continued, “so they're very destructive. They eat wood, so this room has paint that's toxic to them. In case any of the little critters get away, they won't be able to eat through the wood.”

Cody and the Hardys left Bug Central and went back into the lab. “This is really great,” Frank said. “Looks like you have everything you'd ever need here.”

“And I love it,” Cody said, his eyes sparkling.
“Sometimes I wish I could afford to hire all the help I needed to run the business. Then I could just stay up here and play.”

Frank and Joe followed Cody down the two flights of stairs to the shop. A pretty young woman in her late twenties stood at one of the display counters, talking to Deb.

“I know you,” Cody said. “You recently bought Reflections, the club next door. Sorry I haven't been over to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Yes, I'm Jennifer Payton,” the young woman answered. She was tall and looked as though she worked out regularly. Her golden brown hair was pulled back off her face, and she had a huge friendly smile. “And you can make it up by doing me a favor,” she added. “I'm in charge of a fund-raiser for the Children's Shelter.”

“That's this weekend, isn't it?” Cody said, nodding. “You're doing a haunted house at the Soxx Mansion. You've done a good job promoting it.”

“Except I'm in a real jam,” Jennifer said, “and if you don't help me out, we may have to cancel.”

A frantic look came over Jennifer's face, and for a minute Frank thought she was going to cry. “What happened?” he asked.

“There was a plumbing disaster at the mansion over
the weekend,” Jennifer answered. “There was a lot of water damage, and it can't be cleaned up by this weekend. Plus I lost most of my haunted house decorations. I'm sunk.” She sighed. “Unless . . .” She looked at Cody with a pleading expression.

“I don't get it,” Cody said. “What can I do?”

“Well, I had only two choices, really,” Jennifer said. “Cancel or relocate the whole thing to Reflections. I decided to relocate. And that's where you come in. . . .”

“I think I get it,” Frank said. “You need to borrow some things from Skin and Bones to replace your decorations.”

“Very good deduction,” Jennifer said. “Say, you'd make a great detective!”

Frank and Joe grinned at each other.

“So, will you?” Jennifer pleaded. “Will you lend me some skeletons and shark jaws and other scary stuff? Please? It's for a good cause.”

“Of course,” Cody said. “Glad to help. We'll even help you set the stuff up.”

“Thanks,” Jennifer said, looking around the shop. “Some of this will be perfect.”

“A haunted house, hmm?” Joe said. “Do you need any help
during
the event?” he asked. “Ticket-taker? Monster? Ghost?”

“Always room for more volunteers,” Jennifer answered
with a grin. “I've got the perfect costumes for all four of you. You can pick them up when you bring over the bones.”

Jennifer bustled out the door, and Deb returned to tending to Skin & Bones customers.

“I want to take a look at the records of your transactions with Mike Brando,” Frank told Cody.

“Last night when I got back from Deb's dad's, I sorted through all that stuff we picked up last night. So everything's better organized than usual. I can easily get the Brando stuff.”

“Could you tell whether anything was missing?” Frank asked. “Records, receipts, whatever?”

“Nothing that I could tell,” Cody said. “Maybe it
was
just vandalism.”

“I don't know,” Frank said. “One target was obviously the packages from the zoo. The lab wasn't touched, but it looks like the person wanted something from your office.” Frank found it hard to hide his frustration. “Did Brando have an associate or anyone working with him when he was legitimate?” Frank asked as they shuffled through the papers.

The phone rang before Cody could answer. “Dave, what's up?” he said into the phone. “You're kidding! When?” Cody started pacing. Frank could see that Cody was getting angrier by the second. “I don't believe
it,” Cody said. “He had two more years. Okay, see you then. Thanks for calling.”

Cody clicked off and turned to the Hardys. His dark brown eyes seemed to be shot through with darts of anger. “That was Dave Cloud. He's about three minutes away,” he said. Cody's voice was very low, and his lips were pulled into a thin line over his mouth.

“It's making sense now,” he continued almost to himself. Then he remembered Joe and Frank. “Mike Brando's out. He was released yesterday morning.”

4 Clang, Clang . . .
Crunch!

“Mike Brando's out,” Joe repeated. “He had
to be the one who decked you last night. He probably came here straight from
prison.”

“I wonder if your father knows he's out,” Frank said.
“He might be able to find out what his plans were for after prison.”

“I'll talk to him later,” Cody said. “Boy,
it's all coming together now. It's no coincidence that I'm attacked
the day Brando is released from prison.”

“And you think the person who kicked Joe on the roof was also
Brando, right?” Frank asked.

“I sure do,” Cody answered.

“Who are we talking about?” came a strong voice from the door
into the office.

“Hey, Dave,” Cody said with a broad smile.
Cody turned to the Hardys. “Guys, you remember Dave.”

Dave greeted the Hardys while Cody got everyone a soda from the small
refrigerator in the corner. Dave took a seat next to Cody's desk. He was tall and
slim, with long legs, and moved loosely, like a basketball player.

“So, who are we talking about?” Dave repeated with a friendly
smile.

“Mike Brando,” Frank answered.

“That loser,” Dave said, his smile vanishing. “Imagine
letting him out for good behavior. He doesn't know the meaning of the
term.”

The four talked a while longer about Brando and his past crimes. When Dave
finished his drink, he announced he was ready to go to work. “Let me at that
computer, Cody. I'll see what I can find out about those e-mails.” He pulled
a computer disk from his pocket. “I wrote a program for you, which I'll load
while I'm here. If you get any more threats, this will make them easier to track
down.”