The Ice-cold Case (11 page)

“We'd better make sure he's okay,” Joe said. He searched for his walking stick. He wasn't going to risk falling through the ice on the way back to the van.

“Do you think they were really trying to kill us?” Phil asked.

“I doubt it,” Frank said. “They came through only once.”

“They were just trying to scare us. Hurting us would have been a bonus,” Joe added.

Soon they were back in the van and on the road that led to Green's Salvage. When they got there, Frank pulled the van off the road opposite the driveway.

“Look at that,” Frank said, pointing at the entrance to Green's. “Fresh tire tracks.”

They got out of the van, and Frank went to inspect the tracks.

“Not much snow. They must have been here within the last hour or so,” Frank said.

“You notice something missing?” Joe asked.

Frank looked around and listened to the howling wind as it made eerie whistling sounds through the junked cars.

“Where's Red?” Frank asked.

Hank's dog wasn't barking.

“Red? Here, boy,” Joe called out.

Frank took the flashlight from Joe, went to the office, and shined the flashlight in the window. He saw the furniture and newspapers strewn about. Then he saw a slab of raw meat on the floor. Next to the meat was Red.

Frank continued looking. “There's something.”

Joe and Phil peered in and saw Red.

“He's just sleeping, right?” Phil asked.

Frank saw the dog's ribs moving. “He's breathing. My guess is he's been drugged.”

“Where's Hank?” Joe asked.

“We'd better look around,” Frank said. “Let's split up.”

They each walked down a different row of
broken-down cars, scanning the ground, looking for footprints in the snow. But there were so many prints it was difficult to tell which were fresh.

Many of the cars were crushed, stacked three and four high. Others had been burned down to the metal and were missing doors and bumpers and fender panels.

“I heard something,” Joe called out.

Frank and Phil came running.

“Did you hear that banging?” Joe asked.

“Where did it come from?” Phil asked.

They listened for a sound in the windy night. Then they all heard the banging.

“Hank? Hank, is that you?” Joe called out.

There were two loud knocks from a pile-up of old sedans. The windows were gone, along with some doors, Joe noticed. But all of the cars had their trunks intact, though dented.

“Over here,” Joe said as he ran to the cars.

The banging seemed to be coming from the trunk of the bottom car. Joe knocked back, but even that rather small shock sent the hulking remains of the big sedan on top of the pile rocking.

Frank shined his flashlight on the sedan perched precariously on top. “Take it easy, Joe. That one on top's going to fall,” he said.

“Get me out!” Hank's muffled voice came from inside the trunk of the car on the bottom.

“We'll have you out in a minute, Hank,” Joe called to him.

“Phil, go find a crowbar,” Frank said. “I think if we climb up, we can push that top one off.”

“If we step on the bottom one, that might shift the balance,” Joe suggested.

Frank examined the stack. “You're right.”

“We just have to go for it,” Joe said as Phil returned with a crowbar.

Joe leaned over the trunk in which Hank was locked. “Hank, we've got a problem. The car on top looks like it might come down.”

“Maybe we can use the crane to get that top car off,” Phil suggested.

“No!” Hank shouted from inside the trunk. “The crane doesn't work. I was going to fix it.”

“Well, then, here goes,” Joe said as he carefully wedged the crowbar into the space below the lid of the trunk. “Okay, Hank. Be ready to jump out of there,” Joe said as he began to pry open the trunk.

The metal made a sharp creaking sound, and the car dipped from the force of Joe's pressure.

Frank kept his flashlight trained on the car on top. The back end began to dip lower. “Joe, easy,” he called to his brother.

Joe eased up on the crowbar. “I'm going to have to use some force.”

“I know, just take it slow,” Frank said as the car on top steadied. “Okay, try again.”

Joe shoved the crowbar a few inches farther into the trunk and lifted, using a slow, steady motion and the power of his muscular legs. The lid of the trunk began to bend.

“Easy,” Frank called to him.

Joe kept the force steady, waiting for the top car to stop rocking.

“Okay, Hank, here we go,” Joe said.

He gave the crowbar another pull. The trunk door popped open. The second car lurched, and the one on top began to swing.

Hank was struggling to sit up. He was moving too slowly. Joe dropped the crowbar and grabbed Hank's arm.

“Look out!” Phil shouted.

The top car was sliding backward. Phil ran to the side while Frank jumped to help Hank. Frank and Joe got Hank out of the trunk, and they all fell onto the snow just to the side of the stack of cars. The big sedan slid down the back of the pile of cars and crashed, sending clouds of snow and dirt up over the Hardys and Hank.

The top car was now standing on its end, its hood crunched into the frozen ground.

“Let's get inside,” Joe said.

“What made you guys come here?” Hank said. He was shivering and walking with a limp, numb from the cold.

“Someone came at us in your truck,” Joe said. “In the middle of the lake.”

As they approached the office, Hank began looking around frantically. “Where's Red?”

“He's inside. I think he's been drugged,” Frank said.

Hank ran into the office, with the others following along. When the boys got inside, Hank was already on his knees, scooping Red into his arms.

“What did they do to you, boy?” Hank said.

Frank went over to the half-eaten piece of meat.
He saw that there was white powder on the meat. “He'll be out for a while, Hank. It looks like someone sprinkled sleeping powder on this meat,” Frank said.

“I hope he's okay,” Hank said as he carried Red to the couch.

“I'll call the police,” Joe said.

“Why don't you heat up some cider for Hank,” Frank called to Joe.

“Coffee,” Hank called out. “Black. Boiling. Thanks.”

“Hank, who did this?” Frank asked.

“Two guys. I saw them just for a second. They put a bag over my head and carried me out.”

“They say anything?” Frank asked.

“Just warned me,” Hank said.

“Did you recognize the voices?” Frank asked.

“They were kind of familiar, but I couldn't place them,” Hank said.

“Hank, any chance it was Ernie's grandsons?” Frank asked.

Hank stopped petting Red for a moment. “Are you kidding?”

“No, but I don't have any proof yet,” Frank said.

“Honestly, I don't want to believe that, but yeah, it could have been them. They're about the right size. The guys were wearing black ski masks,” Hank said.

Joe and Phil returned with a cup of steaming coffee for Hank.

“The police are on their way,” Joe said.

“Hank, can I ask you some questions about the lake?” Frank said as he got the map of the locations
on the lake and showed it to Hank. “Do these spots mean anything to you?”

“What do you mean?” Hank asked as he examined the map.

“Are they good for ice fishing?” Frank asked.

“You want to talk about fishing spots?” Hank asked in disbelief.

“Ernie's grandsons had this list of locations hidden,” Frank said.

“You think it has something to do with all this?” Hank asked.

“We're trying to find out,” Joe said.

“All right, then, let's take a look,” Hank said. “Let me get my fishing journal.” He went to his desk and pulled out a tattered map of the lake from it. The map was covered with his scribbled notes.

“Well, let's see . . . no, no.” Hank looked at both maps side by side for a few minutes, shaking his head. “Are you sure this is for ice fishing?”

“No, we're not,” Frank admitted.

“Because I sure haven't had much luck in these spots. Some of them are downright treacherous. You see this one here?” Hank said as he pointed to one of the red marks on Phil's map. “There's a pretty strong current under there—makes the ice unstable. And this one gets a lot of sun late in the day.”

“So?” Joe asked.

“The sun melts the top of the ice and then it freezes again at night. That's weak ice. Not worth risking your life for a fish,” Hank said.

“So whoever's using these locations has them pretty much to himself,” Frank said.

“I'll say. But no one with any brains would use them. Maybe in a cold snap, with light equipment, you might be okay,” Hank said.

As they were folding the maps, the police arrived. The officers took Hank's statement, along with the drugged slab of meat. They also took statements from Frank, Joe, and Phil about what they had seen out at the lake.

“Well, if that's it, I'd really like to get home,” Phil said.

“Sure, we'll drop you off,” Frank said as they got into the van.

“You know I'm available to help,” Phil said.

“I thought you hated the cold,” Joe said.

“I told you I can fix the heat in here,” Phil said.

“I meant the cold on the lake,” Joe said, and they all laughed.

Frank drove carefully through the snow-swept streets of town and dropped Phil off before heading home. Frank and Joe went over their clues.

“It's got to be Neil and Stu. Who else could have gotten into the junkyard on foot?” Joe said. “There was only one set of tire tracks at Hank's.”

“Who else could have seen us on the lake in that snow?” Frank added. “I wouldn't mind getting another look inside Tuttle's shanty. We just need to think of a plan.”

When they got home, it was late and everyone was in bed. Their folks had left the porch light on for them. As Frank and Joe came up the front steps, they saw something rolled in a piece of newspaper by the door.

“What do you think that is?” Joe asked.

Frank got closer. “It stinks.”

“This whole thing stinks,” Joe agreed.

“No, really—smell it,” Frank said.

Joe leaned over and caught the unmistakable stench of dead fish. “Yuck.”

Frank kicked the newspaper. As it rolled down the steps, it unraveled and made a jingling sound. A large fish fell out. There was a set of keys dangling from its mouth.

“Keys?” Joe said.

Frank took the keys out of the fish's mouth. He read the faded lettering on the key ring: “Green's Salvage.”

“I think Hank's truck took a dive,” Frank said. “It's swimming with the fishes now!”

“Let's call the police and tell them about the keys,” Frank said as they went into the house.

“You think Hank's truck is at the bottom of the lake?” Joe asked.

“That's my guess,” Frank said.

The police took the information and sent an officer over to the Hardys' to pick up the keys and the fish.

“We'd better call Hank,” Frank said.

“Like his day wasn't bad enough already,” Joe said.

But much to their surprise, Hank took the news fairly well.

“I'm okay and Red's okay. I can always get another truck,” he said when he heard his truck was at the bottom of the lake.

•   •   •

The next day at school, Frank and Joe ran into Sarah and Phil between classes.

“How are things with your folks?” Frank asked Sarah.

“My dad's still freaking out about all the stuff going on by the lake. Are you guys getting anywhere finding out who's been doing all this?” she asked.

“Yeah, we're getting somewhere,” Joe said.

“Can I tell my dad who it is?” Sarah asked, her face bright with excitement.

“We can't say anything yet,” Frank said.

“I've been thinking about the other night,” Phil said. “Maybe we didn't find anything because that snowstorm messed up the GPS readings.”

Sarah looked at Phil as if he were speaking another language. “Well, good luck,” she said, before running off to class.

“I feel lousy about her family's getting threatened,” Frank said as he, Joe, and Phil went to class.

“We'll wrap this up in the next few days for sure,” Joe said.

“We'd better,” Frank said. “Hey, I've got an idea about how we can get into Ernie's shanty. We'll go to replace the door to Rizzo's cabin. That'll give us an excuse to do some snooping.”

After school they picked up a piece of plywood and then stopped at Hank's.

“Have you recovered from last night?” Joe asked him.

“I was old and stiff before they locked me in that
trunk, and I'm still old and stiff now that I'm out,” Hank said with a chuckle.

“Any word on your truck?” Frank asked.

“Not yet. The police are checking the lake,” Hank said. “So, is there anything I can do to help out?”

“Actually, there is,” Frank said. “We're going to do some looking around, and we need you to distract whoever is in Ernie's shop. Maybe you could talk fishing with Ernie for a while.”

“Sure. Whatever you need,” Hank said.

“Would you mind if Ray Nelson went with you?” Joe asked.

“Ray Nelson? Don't you think that's going to look kind of strange?” Hank said.

“Who else would he learn ice fishing from? His dad won't set foot in the area, and Ernie won't give him the time of day,” Frank said.

“Ray's not such a bad guy and we may need some help out there today,” Joe added.

“Well, all right, if it'll help put an end to all this,” Hank said.