The Caribbean Cruise Caper

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Two levels up, he went out onto the walkway past the pilot house. Captain Mathieson, at the helm, waved and called, “Good morning.” At the front of the pilot house, a companionway led down to the bow. This was a working area of the yacht, not meant for passengers. Instead of comfortable seats and teak coffee tables, there were two big coils of inch-thick rope and a grease-specked power winch used for hoisting the anchor.

  Frank rested his arms on the metal rail. By leaning out, he could watch the wave of white foam cast up by the boat’s bow. The individual lines of bubbles constantly changed form, but the general shape of the wave remained the same. Like this case. The details changed, but the basic questions remained the same. Who was Chuck’s accomplice? What was on Lisa’s cassettes that was so dangerous to the conspiracy?

  A tiny island appeared off to starboard. A patch of grass no bigger than a tennis court, with a single wind-twisted tree ringed by a beach of white sand. Just beyond it, a thirty-foot sailboat swung at anchor. A man in the cockpit noticed Frank and waved. Frank waved back. Then he returned to his thoughts.

  The investigation the night before had been a bust. Everyone had been down to the cabin deck at some point before dinner. Anyone could have slipped in and taken Lisa’s cassettes. No one had seen anything suspicious. Finally, before turning in for the night, Frank and Joe had taken David and Bettina aside to propose a daring plan. The participants in the contest were all supposed to be talented teen detectives. Why not put them to work detecting?

  After half an hour Frank went to the galley and cadged a mug of hot coffee and a freshly baked cinnamon roll from Arnie.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Arnie told him as he sliced bacon for breakfast. “About Chuck. He’s not the guy who invented the wheel, if you get my drift. He must have had somebody else telling him what to do.”

  “You think so?” Frank replied, his tone casual. “Any idea who?”

  Arnie paused with his knife in the air. “Not specifically,” he said. “But I’d bet it was a guy. Chuck is a little backward in his thinking. He would have a problem taking orders from a girl.”

  “Did you notice him talking to any of the passengers?” Frank asked.

  Arnie shook his head. “Nope. Sorry.” He grinned. “We’re not supposed to fraternize. Company policy.”

  Frank grinned back. “Is that what we’re doing? Fraternizing? And I thought I was just stealing one of these awesome cinnamon buns . . . or two!”

  Frank refilled his mug and went back to the bow. An island was just peeping above the horizon, dead ahead. For the next twenty minutes or so, as it grew larger, he leaned on the rail and let his mind wander. Then he went in to make sure Joe was up and getting ready for breakfast.

  After breakfast everyone gathered in the salon. David seemed ill at ease as he said, “We have decided to do something a little different for today’s round in the teen-detective contest. In a minute I’ll pass out a booklet with summaries of all the incidents that have marred our cruise these last few days.”

  “You mean that’s the mystery we have to solve?” Elizabeth asked.

  David nodded. “Right. Your assignment is to decide what Chuck’s role was and whether he was working alone. If not, who was his accomplice? You should back up your opinions with reasoning and evidence.”

  Cesar raised his hand. “Are we limited to using the evidence in the booklet?”

  David glanced quickly at Frank, who shook his head.

  “No, you’re not,” David told Cesar. “Any information you have, you can use. But if it’s not in the booklet, you have to explain how you know it. We’ll reconvene in one hour.”

  Before the hour was up, the yacht arrived at its next port of call, Galleon Bay on the island of St. Mark. The town was built on three sides of the wide bay, which was thick with sailboats and motor cruisers. The Colombe d’Or, the biggest craft in port, was given a place of honor alongside a waterfront boulevard called the Embarcadero.

  When the time expired, everyone reassembled in the salon. David collected the five entries. Then he said, “At this point I’m going to turn the chair over to the Hardys. Joe, Frank?”

  “Who wants to go first?” Joe asked, looking around the circle.

  After an awkward silence Boris said, “I will. Chuck did not have an accomplice. The odds are against finding two conspirators in such a small group.”

  “Pure guesswork.” Elizabeth sniffed. “How could one person have done everything?”

  “He didn’t,” Boris replied. “But he did not have an accomplice. Someone else was playing little jokes on his own . . . just as he did on the flight down, with his spiders. It was Evan who painted the skull and crossbones and hid Sylvie’s scarf under the couch where he later found it.”

  David pressed his lips together. Joe could see that he was furious about this attack on his son.

  “Aw, come on,” Cesar protested. “Are you saying Evan bought the syrup of ipecac, too? He wasn’t even ashore!”

  “Hold it,” Frank said. “Let’s hear what everyone has to say before we start arguing. Who’s next? Sylvie?”

  Sylvie twisted her fingers together and stared at the floor. “I think Chuck was working with one of us to wreck the contest,” she said in a low voice. “Most of us want very much to win and want very much for the contest to be a success. We would not wreck it. But there is one who seems to care nothing about the contest. I do not know why she would want to wreck it, but that is the only answer I can see.”

  Everyone turned to look at Elizabeth. Her face turned red. “Ridiculous!” she exclaimed. “Totally lame!”

  “What is your solution?” Joe asked her.

  “Chuck was working alone,” Elizabeth replied.

  “What about the times on the drugstore receipt and the pizza order?” Boris demanded. “How could he be in two places at once?”

  “He wasn’t,” Elizabeth said. “The cash register at the pharmacy had the time wrong, that’s all.”

  Boris gave a sarcastic laugh and said, “Talk about lame!”

  Frank turned to Cesar. “What about you?” he asked.

  Cesar was visibly troubled. “I don’t think I want to say anything,” he announced. “Solving mystery puzzles is fun. This is different. This involves real people. What if somebody accuses me? I will be very hurt, even though I know I am innocent. So how can I do this to someone else? I wrote down what I had to say. When David reads it, he can decide if it makes any sense.”

  There was a short silence. Then Jason said, “That leaves me. Yeah, there’s a conspiracy, all right. But Chuck has nothing to do with it.”

  Everybody started talking at once. Jason held up his hand. “Yo, let me say my piece! Okay, so Chuck ran away. What does that prove? Nada! You might do the same—if you figured out you were being framed by a couple of hotshot detectives.”

  “Oh, now, wait a minute,” Lisa said. “Are you trying to tell us—”

  “You got it, sister,” Jason said. “All those stunts were pulled by none other than Frank and Joe Hardy! They set up the whole thing so they could solve it and get their faces on the cover of Teenway. We have all been had!”

  “Any reaction to that?” David asked Frank.

  “Sure,” Frank said. “The best defense is a good offense.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Jason demanded.

  “If Chuck had an accomplice among our group, it means that one of us is not who he or she seems to be,” Frank said.

  Joe picked up the thread. “We couldn’t figure out who that might be . . . until the imposter blew his cover. Jason—last night you said the airport in your hometown is pretty ordinary.”

  “Yeah, so?” Jason replied. “It’s an airport.”

  “In fact,” Frank said, “the airport that serves Fort Worth is one of the two or three largest and most modern in the world. It’s bigger than the whole island of Manhattan. Fort Worth shares it with Dallas. How is it you didn’t know that?”

  “Big deal,” Jason
sneered. “Did you ever look at a map of Texas? Dallas and Fort Worth are practically the same town.”

  “Now I know you’re an imposter,” Joe said. “Anyone who’s really from Fort Worth would eat his boots and ten-gallon hat before saying his town has anything in common with Dallas . . . except that enormous airport you didn’t seem to know about.”

  “Another thing,” Frank said. “When we were in Fort William, you seemed to find your way awfully easily. Have you spent time around here before?”

  “This is a load of garbage,” Jason declared. “Why would I want to wreck the Teenway contest?”

  “Maybe it has something to do with this,” Frank said. He held up Jason’s portable CD player. Unsnapping the flap of the leather case, he continued, “There’s a name written on the inside. Your name. Your full name—Jason Mares MacFarlane.”

  15 Race to the Finish

  * * *

  “Give me that!” Jason shouted. He rushed Frank and grabbed the CD player. “You can’t mess with my property!”

  Bettina stared at him, openmouthed. “You’re Walter’s grandson,” she said. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re a lot like him. Didn’t you spend a day at the office with him a couple of years ago?”

  “That’s right,” Jason said, venom dripping from his voice. “That was just before you and your buddies stole his magazine and broke his heart.”

  “I can understand how it would seem that way to you,” Bettina said in a steady voice. “There were a lot of considerations involved that the general public didn’t know about.”

  Jason turned his back on her. To Frank and Joe he said, “Okay, gumshoes. What now? Are you going to have me arrested? For what—a couple of harmless practical jokes? That’ll look great when it hits the papers.”

  Frank looked over at Joe. They both remembered the reasons David and Bettina had given for letting Chuck go. All their arguments applied even more strongly to Jason.

  “What about my tapes?” Lisa demanded. “What did you do with them?”

  “Get out of my face,” Jason told her. “I wouldn’t touch your tapes with a barge pole. There’s nothing on them I care about anyway.”

  “Let’s just clear up a few things,” Joe said. “Were you the one who put David’s computer on the outbound luggage cart the day we arrived?”

  Jason laughed. “Sure! It nearly worked, too.”

  “And after the first puzzle, you broke into our cabin, didn’t you?” Frank said. “What were you after?”

  “Nothing in particular,” Jason replied. “I figured it would raise questions about the results.”

  “And you sent me that terrible article about the boat?” Sylvie asked. “Why me?”

  “No reason,” Jason told her. “I jabbed my finger at the list of finalists and hit your name.”

  “And the spiders on the cake?” Frank asked. “I can’t see how you did that.”

  “Simple—I didn’t.” Jason smirked. “On the plane I held on to some of Evan’s spiders, just in case I found a use for them. Then I passed them to Chuck. He’s the one who put them on the cake.”

  “And then he accidentally dropped one while he was painting that skull and crossbones,” Joe said. “And the ipecac—you bought it, he put it in the fruit. Then one of you shoved the paper bag, the receipt, and Sylvie’s scarf under the sofa for us to find.”

  “That was not nice!” Sylvie hissed.

  Jason spread his hands. “Hey, nothing personal. I saw the scarf lying there and I used it, that’s all. I didn’t even know whether it was yours or Miss Snobbo’s. Besides, that turned out to be a major goof. The receipt tipped off our heroes here that Chuck was working with somebody else. If they hadn’t found it, they’d never have figured it out.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Frank said. “By the way, how did you swing getting chosen as a finalist in the contest? Did you have help from somebody on the Teenway staff who still feels loyal to your grandfather?”

  “That’s enough,” Jason said coldly. “Here’s the program. I’m going to go get my pack and I’m going to walk off this tub without anybody hassling me. I’ll make it back to St. Hilda on my own. Got it?”

  Frank glanced at Bettina, then at David. Both nodded grimly.

  “Got it,” Frank said. Then, on his own, he added, “But you might not get the welcome you’re expecting. We’re going to call your grandfather and tell him exactly what you’ve been up to.”

  “Yeah,” Joe said. “You think he’ll jump for joy when he finds out you’ve been trying to wreck the magazine he founded and spent years making into a success? You think he’ll like it when he finds out his grandson is a little sneak?”

  “Shut up!” Jason twisted at the waist and cocked his right fist, ready to punch Joe in the face. Joe waited calmly. He wasn’t about to pick a fight with Jason, but he certainly wasn’t going to back away from one, either.

  Boris stepped forward and grabbed Jason’s wrist. Jason tried to pull loose, but Boris was much stronger than he.

  “If you’re going, you had better go now,” Boris said in his ear. “If you stay, we may prove to you how unpopular you have just become.”

  “I’m going,” Jason muttered. Boris released him, and he walked off toward the stairs without another word. What he had meant to make a triumphant escape had turned into a crushing retreat.

  Elizabeth turned to Sylvie. “I can’t believe you thought I was the one!” she declared.

  “I’m sorry,” Sylvie said. “It’s just—”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Elizabeth said, cutting her off. “It’s rather . . . exciting. I never saw myself as the adventurous sort. Maybe I should try it.”

  Boris went over to David. “Where is Evan?” he asked. “I want to apologize.”

  “The chef is giving him a fishing lesson,” David replied. “Since he didn’t hear you accuse him, there’s no need to apologize. Forget it.”

  “I will try,” Boris said. “It will not be easy. I do not like seeing myself be made a fool.”

  Lisa came running in. Frank had not noticed her leaving. “Hey, everybody,” she shouted. “I’ve got it!”

  “You found the cassettes?” Kenneth asked. “Where were they?”

  “No, I didn’t find them,” Lisa told him. “But I figured it out. If Jason didn’t take them, it must have been Chuck. But he didn’t have them with him when he jumped off the boat. So they must still be here somewhere. He must have hidden them.”

  “Okay,” Boris said. “The boat is only a hundred and sixty feet long and twenty-five feet wide, with four or five levels. If we start searching now . . .”

  “Cut it out. I know where to look,” Lisa said. “Once I figured out he’d taken them, I asked one of the other crew members a few questions. Guess what? After Chuck brought us back from the picnic, he volunteered to reorganize the supply closet in the galley. He must have hidden my cassettes there!”

  Everybody trooped into the galley. It was a tight fit. There was only enough room for one person in the supply closet. The others delegated Frank to do the search. The closet had shelves from floor to ceiling. Each shelf had an elastic cord across the front to keep things from sliding off in rough seas.

  Frank started at the bottom left and worked his way up and around. The third shelf held half a dozen boxes of fancy English crackers to serve with cheese. When he tilted one box forward, he saw a plastic freezer bag behind it. The bag was filled with tiny cassettes. They were not dated, but each one was numbered. Before announcing his discovery, Frank pawed through the bag, took out the cassette with the highest number, and hid it in his pocket.

  Lisa was overjoyed. “I told you we’d find them here!” she crowed. “You see, Joe? You’re not the only detective on this boat!”

  “Far from it,” Joe said with a glance at the four remaining contest finalists.

  Frank took David aside. “Am I right that you brought a microcassette recorder with you? May I borrow it for a few minutes?”

  “Sure
, it’s in my cabin,” David replied. “I’ll go get it. Do you want to come along?”

  Frank got the recorder, then collected Joe. They went to the top-level sundeck. As usual, it was deserted. Frank put the cassette in the recorder. “Assuming Lisa numbered them in order,” he explained, “this should be the most recent.”

  He pressed the Play button. The person speaking was in the middle of a sentence.

  “. . . Chuck talking to on the phone?”

  “That’s Cesar’s voice,” Joe said.

  “Shhh!” Frank hissed.

  “Good question,” Joe’s voice answered. “Offhand, I’d guess some friend who was in on his plans . . . .”

  Frank pressed the Stop button.

  “You see what this means, don’t you?” he asked.

  Joe nodded. “I sure do.”

  Two decks below, the lunch chimes sounded.

  The Hardys were the last to come to the table. As they sat down, Evan was asking, “Are we going to be here long?”

  “Why?” David replied.

  “We could go horseback riding,” Evan said. “Arnie says the trails are totally awesome. You can swim under a waterfall.”

  “With your horse?” Boris asked.

  “No, silly.” Evan laughed. “You get off the horse to go swimming. Can we, Daddy? It’s really fun here, but there’s not many places to go when you’re on a boat.”

  “We’ll see,” David said.

  There was a short silence while bowls of mussel salad and cracked crab legs were placed on the table. As people began to serve themselves, Frank said, “Lisa? When I found your cassettes, I took one of them out of the bag.”

  He handed it to her. She glanced at the label. Her face went white. “Did you listen to this?” she asked breathlessly.

  Frank nodded. “Is there anything you want to tell us?” he asked.

  Lisa coughed twice, then said, “Uh . . . Listen, people—I have to say something. Something important.”