A Skateboard Cat-astrophe

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Chet!” Joe sighed, rubbing the crumbs off his chin. “When don’t you think of food?”

  “When I’m sleeping,” Chet replied. “Unless dreaming about food counts.”

  His face suddenly became superserious. “Anyway, I’m here because Adam and his friends took over the tables outside the Easy Cheesy café truck.”

  “What do you mean?” Frank asked.

  “They’re celebrating Diesel’s big win at the skateboarding contest,” Chet explained. “He scored first prize and free mac and cheese for a whole year.”

  “Diesel won?” Frank asked with a frown.

  “Bummer,” Joe sighed.

  “Adam, Seth, and Tony are already giving Easy Cheesy a bad name,” Chet said angrily. “Worse than that runaway mouse!”

  Joe turned to Frank and said, “I think our next stop will be Easy Cheesy.”

  “For cheese balls?” Chet asked hopefully.

  “For goofballs,” Joe replied. “Adam Ackerman and his bully friends.”

  “Good idea,” Frank said. “If Adam ran the mouse past Skeeter, then he’s got to have the remote.”

  The brothers and Chet headed to the park and the Easy Cheesy truck. Adam, Seth, Tony, and Diesel were yukking it up around a café table. Diesel’s skateboard was parked near his feet.

  “Let’s get closer,” Frank whispered.

  The boys ducked behind a tree. They then flitted from tree to tree until they were only a few feet away from the bullies’ table. Carefully Frank, Joe, and Chet peeked out.

  “Something silver with buttons is on the table,” Joe whispered. “It could be the remote!”

  The boys leaned forward, listening in.

  “My skateboard never went so fast, dudes,” Diesel was saying. “No wonder I won the big kahuna of a prize!”

  “You won because my trick worked!” Adam insisted. “And because no one saw Seth hiding with the remote.”

  All three boys traded looks. Trick? Remote? Bingo!

  “That’s got to be the remote for the mouse,” Frank whispered. “We’ve got to get our hands on it.”

  “I know, Frank,” Joe whispered. “There’s just one problem.”

  “What?” Frank and Chet hissed.

  “If we get our hands on the remote,” Joe whispered, “Adam, Seth, and Tony will get their hands on us!”

  Chapter 6

  SQUEALS ON WHEELS

  Frank, Joe, and Chet silently watched Adam and his friends. How could they check out the remote with them sitting right there? Things looked hopeless until the sound of bells filled the air.

  “Hey, you guys!” Adam exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “It’s the ice-cream cart!”

  “Awesome!” Diesel exclaimed, jumping up too. “I want a coconut crunch bar!”

  “I want a fudge pop!” Seth said.

  “Ice-cream sandwich all the way!” Tony declared.

  The brothers and Chet ducked behind the tree as the bullies charged toward the ice-cream cart parked in the distance.

  “Some tough guys!” Joe scoffed. “They’re running for ice cream like a bunch of little kids!”

  “Dude. We ran after an ice-cream truck, like, yesterday,” Chet reminded him.

  “While they’re away from the table, let’s run for that remote,” Frank said.

  “You guys do that,” Chet said as they walked out from behind the tree. “I’m checking out the cheese dip they left on the table!”

  The cheese dip wasn’t all they’d left.

  “Chet, what are you doing?” Frank asked as his friend hopped up on the skateboard.

  “Hey, look, you guys!” Chet cheered. “I’m standing on the champ’s skateboard!”

  Frank and Joe were too busy examining the remote to pay attention to Chet.

  “It looks like a remote,” Frank pointed out. “But does it work with the mouse?”

  There was only one way to find out. Joe pulled the mechanical mouse from his pocket. He placed it on the table and said, “Press the green button, Frank.”

  But when Frank pressed the button, the mouse didn’t move. Instead—

  “Ahhhhh!” Chet screamed.

  Frank and Joe turned, their mouths dropping open. The skateboard with Chet was barreling forward at top speed!

  “That’s Diesel’s board, Chet!” Joe shouted. “Stop!”

  “I can’t!” Chet yelled. “It’s moving on its own!”

  Frank stared at the remote in his hand. “Joe,” he gulped. “This remote doesn’t operate the mouse. It operates Diesel’s skateboard!”

  The brothers raced after Chet, pressing more buttons to make it stop. They only made things worse as the skateboard swerved in all directions.

  “Ahhhhh!” Chet screamed as the board headed toward the playground.

  “Why doesn’t he just jump off?” Joe asked.

  “He’s probably scared,” Frank replied as they ran.

  “Speaking of scary,” Joe groaned. “Look who’s back.”

  Both brothers slowed down as Adam, Seth, Tony, and Diesel charged over, ice-cream treats in their hands.

  “Give me that remote,” Adam ordered. He grabbed the device from Joe’s hand and flicked a switch. All eyes turned to Chet as the skateboard screeched to a stop.

  “Whooaaa!” Chet cried as he flew off the skateboard into the sandbox with a loud PLOOF !

  “Let’s see if he’s okay!” Frank told Joe.

  The brothers ran to the sandbox to help Chet. Adam and his friends raced straight to the skateboard.

  “No big kids allowed!” a three-year-old girl scolded Chet as he lay sprawled in the sand.

  Before Frank and Joe could step into the sandbox, they were surrounded by the bullies.

  “Stealing Diesel’s skateboard?” Adam sneered as he held his drippy chocolate ice-cream bar over Joe’s head. “Sour grapes because your tuna-breath cat’s a big loser?”

  Joe’s gritted his teeth as ice cream dripped on his head and down his forehead. Suddenly—

  “I’m afraid you’re the loser, kid,” a man’s voice spoke up.

  All eyes turned to see Lou Simonetti. The owner of the Easy Cheesy truck was walking over with a frown.

  “I heard and saw everything,” Lou said. “And electronic skateboards were against the rules of today’s contest.”

  “Against the rules?” Diesel asked through a mouthful of coconut crunch. “Who says?”

  “The rules say,” Lou replied. “Didn’t you read them before you signed up for the contest?”

  “Yeah, didn’t you . . . Champ?” Chet said, flicking sand off his shoulder in Diesel’s direction.

  “I hate to tell you this, Diesel,” Lou said. “But you’ll have to give up your title and prizes to the runner-up, Felicia Singh.”

  “What?” Diesel exclaimed. “No way!”

  “Diesel won fair and square!” Adam argued.

  “He won,” Lou said, raising an eyebrow. “But not fairly.”

  The brothers and Chet traded grins. Adam might not have run the mechanical mouse, but he was caught remote-handed!

  “Your trick may have worked, Ackerman,” Joe stated, “but now the joke’s on you!”

  Adam glared at Joe, but not for long. Lou wanted answers, and he wanted them now!

  “We’ll be going now,” Chet said with a little wave to the bullies. “Have a nice day!”

  “Are you okay after that crazy ride, Chet?” Joe asked.

  “Nothing that a fudge pop can’t help!” Chet said. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

  Chet left for the ice-cream cart. Joe opened his clue book and crossed Adam’s name off his suspect list.

  “Adam’s not guilty,” he said. “Sneaky, but not guilty.”

  “Let’s move on to our next suspect,” Frank suggested. “That would be Phil.”

  “I told you, Frank,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I don’t think Phil would do anything bad to Skeeter.” He closed his clue book and added, “Besides, Dad always says not
to accuse anyone unless we have enough evidence or clues.”

  “So let’s look for clues at the scene of the crime,” Frank agreed. “Give me the clue book. There’s something I want to figure out.”

  Joe followed Frank back to where the skateboard contest had been. The starting point was still chalked on the ground—the same spot where Skeeter had seen the mouse.

  “The mouse was heading in that direction,” Frank explained, pointing to the bushes where they’d found the mouse, “which means it probably came from the opposite direction.”

  Frank knew which way the mouse had come from, but he couldn’t resist doodling in the clue book. On a fresh page he drew an X to mark where Skeeter saw the mouse. He then drew two straight arrows going in opposite directions.

  Frank and Joe turned to see where the mouse had come from. It was another clump of bushes. They squeezed through the bushes and found themselves in a small clearing.

  “Look!” Joe said, pointing at two long, skinny track marks in the dirt. “Those tracks lead from here out of the bushes.”

  Joe pulled the mechanical mouse from his pocket. He compared the wheels underneath the mouse to the track marks on the ground.

  “They’re a perfect match,” Joe pointed out. “Too bad the tracks don’t tell us who ran the mouse in the first place.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Frank said. “Check that out!”

  Joe looked to see where Frank was pointing. Sticking out from underneath a bush was a dark-red Frisbee covered with brown polka dots.

  “Uh-oh,” Joe muttered under his breath.

  Frisbee . . . Frisbee-catching dog . . . Phil!

  Chapter 7

  REMOTELY IMPOSSIBLE

  “Phil’s dog does catch Frisbees,” Frank admitted.

  “But if Phil and Champ were back here,” Joe argued, “wouldn’t there be paw prints in the dirt? There are none!”

  Frank picked up the Frisbee and said, “Red with brown polka dots. What a weird color combo for a Frisbee.”

  Joe knew the arrows were starting to point to Phil. But he still hated writing his friend’s name on the suspect list. “I guess next we have to question Phil,” he sighed.

  “Let’s do that tomorrow,” Frank decided. “It’s getting late. Plus, you have chocolate ice cream in your hair.”

  Joe ran his hand through his sticky hair. “Then I’d better wash it out,” he agreed. “Mom and Dad said we might go out for dinner. I’m hoping it’s Leaning Tower of Pizza or Pizza Prince.”

  “We usually go for burgers Saturday nights,” Frank said.

  “I can’t explain it, Frank,” Joe explained, “but I suddenly have this weird craving for pizza with pepperoni!”

  “As long as it’s not mac and cheese,” Frank groaned. “I am so over that for now!”

  It was Joe’s lucky night. The Hardys shared a booth and two pies at Pizza Prince. One pie was pepperoni!

  “This place is packed tonight,” Frank said.

  “Yeah!” Joe said, shaking extra cheese on his slice. “Daisy must be happy about that.”

  “No one looks happier than Matty and Scotty,” Frank said. He nodded toward the twins in the corner of the restaurant. The boys were laughing and watching a cartoon on the hanging TV monitor.

  “Say, Joe?” Mr. Hardy asked, pointing to the mechanical mouse on the table. “Did you have to bring that thing?”

  “Dad, I bring my clue book wherever I go,” Joe said with a smile. “So why not my clues?”

  “Because that one happens to be gross,” Mrs. Hardy said.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Frank assured her. “We don’t have the remote that goes with it.”

  “Without the remote, that mouse isn’t going anywhere!” Joe added. He was about to continue eating when—

  WHIRRRRRRRRR!!

  Everyone’s hands froze on their pizza slices. The once-still mechanical mouse had begun spinning around and around on the table!

  “Holy macaroni!” Joe exclaimed.

  “How did that happen?” cried Frank.

  “Boys, please make it stop,” their mother insisted as the mouse started whizzing across the table. “It just knocked over the oregano!”

  “That’s just it, Mom!” Frank said. “Without the remote, we can’t make it do anything!”

  “Here’s one way,” said Mr. Hardy. He was about to grab the mouse when it came to a stop.

  Joe looked to see the other customers staring at them. Even Matty and Scotty turned from their cartoon to gawk.

  “Guys, are you sure that thing doesn’t run on batteries?” Mr. Hardy asked.

  Joe flipped the mouse over to show no battery compartment. “See, Dad?” he said. “You control it with a remote.”

  “Which means,” Frank said, leaning forward, “someone in this pizza place has the missing remote.”

  Suddenly—

  “Hey, Frank. Hi, Joe,” a voice said. “Cool mouse.”

  Frank and Joe looked up. It was Phil!

  “Today was awesome, you guys,” Phil called back as he followed his parents to a table. “Champ is still the number one pet in Bayport!”

  Chapter 8

  FETCHING FIND

  “Did you hear what Phil just said about Champ?” Joe asked Frank when Phil was out of earshot. “I didn’t want to think it—but maybe he did sabotage Skeeter.”

  “We didn’t see Phil at the skateboard contest,” Frank said, “but if he has the remote, he’s the one who just moved the mouse!”

  “His mouse!” Joe added. “Let’s ask him some questions before he goes home.”

  But as Frank and Joe began standing, Mrs. Hardy shook her head.

  “I don’t think so,” their mother said. “We have a rule, remember?”

  “No case should ever interrupt dinner,” Mr. Hardy reminded the brothers.

  “But Dad, you’re a private investigator,” Joe said. “What would you do?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to accuse a good friend,” their father admitted. “It’s a tough call, guys.”

  “That’s for sure,” Joe sighed before picking up his slice, “but we have to find that remote.”

  The next morning couldn’t come fast enough for Frank and Joe. After eating breakfast, they headed straight to the Cohen house.

  “Hi, guys,” Mrs. Cohen said after opening the door. “Phil just left to walk Champ around the block.”

  “Mrs. Cohen? Phil told us that yesterday was an awesome day for Champ,” Frank said. “What did he mean?”

  “Oh, Phil meant that Champ held on to his title as number one pet star in Bayport,” Mrs. Cohen said proudly.

  “How did he do that?” Joe asked, thinking about the mechanical mouse.

  Before Mrs. Cohen could answer, her cell phone rang. She told the caller to hold, then said to the boys, “Why don’t you wait for Phil in his room? There are lots of things up there to keep you busy.”

  Mrs. Cohen opened the door wide to let the brothers inside. She then turned back to her call.

  “Lots of clues to keep us busy, I hope,” Frank whispered to Joe as they made their way upstairs.

  “This can’t be hard, Frank,” Joe said when they reached the second-floor landing. “All we have to do is look for the remote that goes with the mouse.”

  But when the boys entered Phil’s room, they froze. They’d forgotten how many remotes he had—and how many gadgets!

  “Frank, check that out!” Joe said, pointing to a miniature black helicopter on Phil’s worktable. “I wonder how it works.”

  “Forget that,” Frank said. “Where do we start with all these remotes?”

  “There’s only one way to start,” Joe said. “We have to test all the remotes until we find the one that works the mouse.”

  “No way,” said Frank, shaking his head. “Remember what happened when we tested the skateboard remote?”

  “Chet went flying,” Joe sighed. “Got it.”

  As they looked around the room, Joe’s eyes fell on a shiny gold trophy on
Phil’s desk. The trophy was a statue of a dog with a Frisbee in his mouth.

  Joe read the words engraved on the base of the trophy: “ ‘First Prize, Fido Frisbee Fetch Tournament.’ ”

  “So?” Frank said. He pointed to more dog-shaped trophies on one of Phil’s shelves. “Champ has won lots of trophies for catching Frisbees.”

  “But I bet he won this trophy yesterday,” Joe stated. “And if Phil took Champ to the Frisbee Fetch yesterday, he couldn’t have been at the skateboarding contest.”

  “What makes you think it was yesterday?” Frank asked. “Is there a date on the plaque?”

  “No,” Joe said. “But this trophy is super shiny, like most new trophies. Plus, it’s on Phil’s desk, not with his other trophies on the shelf.”

  “Okay,” Frank agreed. “But that still doesn’t tell us when that tournament was held.”

  As Joe put back the trophy, he noticed Phil’s computer, open to YouTube.

  “Phil puts all of Champ’s Frisbee-catching videos on YouTube,” Joe said. “There’s the video from the Fido Fetch tournament!”

  Joe leaned closer to read the description. He smiled and said, “The date of the Fido Fetch was yesterday, Frank!”

  As Frank studied the video, he noticed something too. “The tournament was held at the Bayport Athletic Field,” he pointed out. “There’s the clock tower.”

  Joe enlarged the video full-screen to read the clock.

  “The time is eleven o’clock!” he stated. “That’s the time the skateboard contest started—which means Phil couldn’t have been there to trick Skeeter.”

  “The Fido Fetch is Phil’s alibi!” Frank said, happy to rule out their friend.

  “And that means none of these remotes belong to our mechanical mouse!” Joe declared. He held one up to make a point when—

  “Woof, woof!” Champ barked as he ran into the room.

  The bulldog jumped up on Joe, making him drop the remote.

  As the remote clattered on the floor, a strange whirring noise rose from the other side of the room. The boys turned to see the black helicopter rise toward the ceiling—then take off around the room.