The Prime-Time Crime (13 page)

“Our cover's been blown,” Fred said to his brother in a shaky voice. “We've got to get out of here—fast.”

“We'll take that kid with us,” Al said, pointing at Joe. “The other one can stay here. We only need one hostage.”

Fred walked over to Joe, while Al kept his gun trained on Frank.

Joe squirmed as Fred untied the ropes around his legs and retied the bonds on his wrists.

Frank's mind was racing. He had to think of a plan to get them out of here—and fast.

“Get up,” Fred ordered Joe.

When Joe had gotten to his feet, Fred led him back toward the door.

“Don't give us any trouble,” Al said to Frank. “We just want your brother, so that nobody'll give us any hassle getting out of here.”

“What's this all about?” Frank asked Joe. “What happened since I last saw you?”

“I'll tell you about it the next time I see you,” Joe said. “And believe me, I will see you again.”

“I wouldn't count on it, kid,” Al said, pointing the gun at Joe's head. “You know too much. Way too much.”

“So does this kid, now,” Fred added, pointing at Frank. “What should we do about him?”

Al raised his gun toward Frank. The elder Hardy didn't wait to see what he was going to do with it. Instead, he turned and leaped off the edge of the catwalk onto the top of a tall camera boom he had noticed only a few feet below. He hit the camera with a hard thump, but managed to keep a grip on it as the boom lowered to the studio floor under his weight.

“What in the world . . .?” Marcy Simons shouted
as Frank let go of the boom and landed on the floor next to her. “Where did you come from?”

“I'll tell you later,” Frank called out as he raced toward the studio door. “I've got an emergency to handle.”

Frank rushed up the steps to the second floor just in time to see Fred and Al leading Joe around a corner. As Frank followed, he saw them open a door and disappear into a stairwell.

Frank tiptoed quietly after them down the stairs. On the first floor, the Dunlaps led Joe down a back hallway, threatened the guard at the door with the gun, and proceeded out onto the loading dock. By the time Frank got to the door, Al was pushing Joe into the back of a truck parked at the loading dock. Al slammed the doors and hurried into the passenger side of the truck. The engine roared to life, and the truck began to pull away, with Fred at the wheel.

Frank noticed a narrow platform jutting out from the bottom of the doors. He shot forward and leaped onto the platform just as the truck began to pick up speed. He grabbed the back door handle so that he wouldn't fall off.

The truck raced out of the parking lot and into the street, almost hurling Frank to the pavement. But he clung tightly to the door handle and managed to hang on.

The Dunlaps hadn't had time to padlock the door. Frank pulled on the handle, almost falling off the truck as he did, and opened the door. Just as the
truck accelerated down an access ramp and onto the freeway, Frank eased himself around the side of the door and fell onto the floor of the truck.

Joe was lying amid piles of cardboard boxes, his arms still bound. He looked up at his brother. “What took you so long?” he asked with a smile.

“Got held up in traffic,” Frank replied, climbing awkwardly back to his feet. “Let's get you untied.”

As Frank began working at the ropes on Joe's wrists, he asked, “So what happened while I was gone? I see you decided that you could solve this case without my help.”

“I did solve it,” Joe said. “Even if I managed to get myself kind of tied up in the process.”

“So what's all this stuff in these boxes?” Frank asked. “More merchandise for the ‘Home-Shopping Extravaganza'?”

“Stolen merchandise,” Joe said. “That's what Clarence discovered, and it's why the Dunlaps stashed him away in the catwalks, until they figured out what to do with him. It's why they stuffed me away in the catwalks, too.”

“How do you like that?” Frank said. “The answer was staring us in the face all that time, and we didn't see it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Joe said. “I solved this mystery with the sheer brilliance of my deductive powers.”

“Please,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. “You're beginning to sound like Steve and Debbie. I'll have you know I figured out a thing or two myself while
the show was on. Okay, I think I've just about got your arms untied.”

Suddenly the brakes on the truck squealed, and the vehicle came to an abrupt halt. The engine died away, and there was a slamming sound as someone exited the cab. Then the Hardys heard quick footsteps as someone walked hastily around to the back of the truck.

“I've got an idea,” Frank whispered as he moved back behind a stack of boxes.

The doors, which Frank had carefully closed after he had fallen into the back of the truck, popped open. It was getting dark outside, but Frank could make out the menacing figure of Al Dunlap climbing into the truck. Dunlap pointed his gun at Joe and stepped closer to him.

“Okay, kid,” Al said. “This is the end of the line for you.”

At that moment, Frank lunged from behind the stack of boxes and grabbed Al Dunlap firmly around the waist. Frank slammed Dunlap against the wall of the truck. Dunlap tried to shout for help, but Frank had knocked the breath out of him.

He tried to aim his gun at Frank, but Frank managed to grasp Dunlap's wrist. He rammed Dunlap's hand several times against the wall, forcing him to release the gun. Then he grabbed Dunlap under the shoulders, pulled him forward, and shoved him out the back door. As Dunlap fell to the ground, his head struck a rock, and he sagged into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Joe had managed to shuffle off the
remainder of the ropes. He hurried to his feet and joined Frank by the back door.

“Come on,” Joe said. “Let's get out of here before Dunlap Number Two realizes what's happened.”

They both leaped out to the ground and looked around. The Dunlaps had pulled the truck off the highway and parked it on a dirt road surrounded by trees. The Hardys started to run back in the direction of the highway, but it was too late. Fred Dunlap came barreling around the truck with a second gun gripped in his hands. He pointed the gun at the Hardys.

He glanced down at his brother, then glared at Frank and Joe.

“I've had enough of you kids,” Fred said in a low, menacing voice. “You've really fouled everything up. In fact, I'm going to take care of you right now!”

Suddenly Frank heard the sound of a car engine on the dirt road behind the truck. He turned and saw a car approaching about fifteen feet away. It was beginning to grow dark, and the car's high beams prevented Frank from seeing who was driving.

“Police detectives! Throw down your guns! We've got you surrounded!” shouted a voice through the car window.

“What?” Fred screamed, spinning in the direction of the car. “Get away from me! You can't stop us now!”

Dunlap fired the gun directly into one of the car's
headlights, causing the glass to shatter. He took aim at the other headlight, but before he could fire a second shot, Joe grabbed his arm and wrestled the gun out of his hand. Defeated, Dunlap sagged to the ground between the Hardys and sat with his head in his hands.

“We almost made it,” he said, moaning. “We had such a great scheme going. Didn't have to pay for any of the merchandise. Had all that money coming in. And then Clarence messed everything up. Clarence . . . and the Hardys.”

“I don't think he's going to be much trouble,” Frank told Joe. “Keep an eye on him, though, while I check out these police detectives.”

Frank walked up to the car with the shattered headlight and looked in the window. To his surprise, he saw Steve Burke in the driver's seat. Sitting next to him was Debbie Hertzberg.

Steve looked out of the window at Frank, a wide grin on his face. “We saw you riding out on the back of that truck—” Steve began.

“So we thought it might be a good idea to follow you,” Debbie finished. “Hope you don't mind. Oh, and we called the real police, too. They should be here any minute.”

Frank stared at the pair in amazement. “Well, I never thought I'd say it, but I'm glad to see you two. I've got to give you credit. What you just did really took a lot of guts.”

“Hey,” Steve said. “If you're going to be a great detective, you've got to have guts.”

“You guys did all right, too,” Debbie said with a big smile.

• • •

The next afternoon, Clarence Kellerman sat in an easy chair in Marcy Simons's office and beamed at Frank and Joe. Marcy was pouring coffee for the group.

“I guess you two are just about the best buddies a poor kidnapped quiz show host could have,” Clarence declared with a big smile. “I don't know what I would have done without you. Gone off to that great TV studio in the sky, I guess.”

“Fred and Al,” Marcy Simons said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I never would have suspected them. All those years they've been selling stolen merchandise on their show, and nobody even knew.”

“Well, I was suspicious,” Clarence said, accepting the cup of coffee Marcy held out to him. “I've always wondered about those two. It was strange how they kept all those boxes of stuff locked away in that cage down in the basement where nobody else could get a close look at them. Never did trust those guys.”

“What finally tipped you off?” Joe asked. “How did you find out that they really were crooks?”

“It was this ring they were getting ready to sell on their show last Sunday,” Clarence said. “I stopped by the studio for a few minutes before my appointment with Matt Freeman, and Al and Fred had their merchandise already set up for the show. I thought
the ring looked awfully familiar. I picked it up and sure enough, it was my ex-wife's wedding ring. She had left it with me when we got divorced, and I'd kept it tucked away in a drawer for years. It was stolen a few months ago when my house was burglarized. You can imagine my surprise when it turned up on Fred and Al's show. It even had her initials inside.”

“So did you accuse them of stealing your ring?” Frank asked.

“I sure did,” Clarence said. “Next thing I knew, old Al had pulled a gun out of his pocket and was telling me to walk up to the catwalks nice and slow. Then they tied me up and left me there while they figured out what to do with me.”

“I put guards at all the entrances,” Marcy said, sipping her coffee. “That probably kept them from taking you out of the building.”

“And it's a good thing you did that,” Clarence said. “Those two were ready to do away with me for good. They just didn't want to do it inside the station, where they might get caught.”

“What time did all that happen, Clarence?” Frank asked. “My brother and I had a lot of trouble figuring out exactly when you got kidnapped.”

“It was right after I got in that morning, around nine o'clock,” Clarence replied. “I headed straight for the studio and then zap! Everything went wrong.”

“So Fred and Al were lying when they said they had seen Clarence at one in the afternoon,” Joe
said. “But Matt Freeman was telling the truth about Clarence missing their meeting.”

“By the way,” Marcy said, “Matt Freeman would like to apologize for all the nasty things he said about you Friday night.”

“I should hope so!” Clarence exclaimed.

“Are you and Matt still going to have that little talk?” Joe asked.

“We sure are,” Clarence stated. “We've got to clear up this business about Matt wanting to host my show. If Ted Whalen doesn't cancel the show first, I mean.”

“Oh, I think Ted might be persuaded to reconsider,” Marcy said. “You may not have planned to use that little incident on Tuesday night as a publicity stunt, but it got a lot of attention anyway. And publicity usually means better ratings. And more sponsors. The Four O'Clock Scholar' is looking better and better to Ted Whalen now.”

“Speaking of Ted Whalen,” Frank said, “does he still have orders out to shoot us on sight if he finds us around the studios?”

“Not quite,” Marcy said with a laugh. “He's still a little burned up about that last stunt Steve and Debbie pulled with the camera in his office, but he's willing to take into account the fact that you did rescue Clarence and catch a couple of crooks who were using the station as a front for a fencing operation. Even Ted can occasionally be forgiving.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Joe said. “I'd rather not
make an enemy out of someone who hangs around with big bodyguards who carry guns.”

“Before you go, Frank,” Marcy added, “I want to remind you that the championship tournament for ‘The Four O'Clock Scholar' has been moved to next Sunday. I'll expect to see you and Steve and Debbie right back here in the studios then. And, of course, Joe's always welcome, too.”

“Thanks, Marcy,” Joe said, as he and Frank stood up to leave. “And we'll look forward to seeing you again, too, Clarence.”

“Anytime, old buddy,” Clarence said warmly, extending his hand for Frank and Joe to shake. “Anything Clarence can do for you two, don't hesitate to ask.”

Outside in the hallway, the brothers spotted a familiar pair walking down the corridor toward them.

“Well, it looks like our friends Steve and Debbie have turned up again,” Joe said.

“You know, it's kind of hard to dislike them after they saved our lives,” Frank said.

As Steve and Debbie approached them, the Hardys noticed something slightly different about them—they were holding hands.

“Hi, guys,” Debbie said.

“How's it going, Frank, Joe?” Steve asked, with a slight touch of shyness in his voice.

“Just fine,” Frank said. “You guys look a lot friendlier than the other times we've seen you.”