Scene of the Crime

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "Janet was hurt?" Quinn's face showed real concern as he went to the phone. "I'll send her a dozen roses. That'll make her feel better."

  He was rude when he called a florist and placed an order for the flowers. Then he looked back at Frank and grinned over his shoulder. "She'll appreciate getting roses from a famous actor. What girl wouldn't?" After he hung up, he flopped down on the couch.

  "As for the movie," he told Frank, "if you stunt guys say it's too dangerous to shoot, let's not shoot. They can throw away the whole film for all I care. I only took this role because Kitt asked me to. But the movie stinks. I just hope it doesn't ruin my career."

  ***

  "Who cares about Janet Wynn!" Kitt Macklin shouted when Joe told her about the accident.

  Joe noted that Kitt's trailer was just as plush as Burke Quinn's—except Kitt's was completely decorated in pinks and yellows. A Persian cat hopped up on her lap and mewed to be petted. Joe noticed a framed picture of Burke by the windowsill.

  "I may not care about her, but I'm with you all the way," she said, stroking the cat. "Shut down the film. I'm beginning not to like it anyhow."

  "Why not?" Joe asked.

  "I just don't. That's all." Kitt shrugged as if she didn't need a reason. "I was the one who got Burke his role. Did you know that?"

  "No, I didn't." Joe could have said he suspected as much. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

  Kitt's expression turned to a pout. "And now all he ever talks about is Janet Wynn!"

  ***

  Frank and Joe met at the parking lot and compared notes. "Strange that none of the three stars cares about the movie one way or the other," Frank said, sliding behind the wheel of their van.

  "Especially when you think of all the money they're earning," Joe added.

  "Dad will be interested to hear about this," Frank said, looking at his watch. "His call will come through about ten. That gives us time for a good dinner."

  But the only inexpensive restaurant in town was an old burger joint on Newbridge's main street. When they finished, Frank and Joe rode the five miles to a motel, where Sy Osserman had reserved a room for them.

  "Just like the place in Motel Massacre," Joe joked, after seeing the run-down and shabby motel.

  "Thanks. I feel a whole lot better now," Frank said.

  Fenton Hardy's phone call came through exactly at ten. "The Grand Gambit is the hot topic in Hollywood," he said. "At first, everyone in the business was interested in the project, but now they're all trying to bail out."

  Frank and Joe told their father of the day's mishaps, and of their talks with the three stars.

  "Be very careful around Burke Quinn," Fenton warned. "He's done worse than practical jokes in his life."

  "What do you mean, Dad?" Frank asked.

  "He's the star of my background checks," Fenton said. "Before he became a famous actor, he was just plain Bob Quentin."

  "That's interesting," Frank said.

  "Oh, we haven't gotten to the good part," Fenton Hardy went on. "Bob Quentin spent over a year in the state pen for robbery and assault!"

  Chapter 5

  THE NEXT MORNING when Frank and Joe drove out to the set, a lineup of cars blocked the front gate. Joe stepped out of the van to see what was causing the delay. Several security guards were checking each car.

  "I guess reinforcing security was the least Sy Osserman could do," Joe said.

  Fifteen minutes later the van finally pulled up to the main gate. Four tough-looking guards motioned Frank and Joe to get out and hand over their passes. One took their IDs and checked them against a list, while another checked out the front of the van.

  "Airport security should be so thorough," Joe said as they drove in to park the van.

  Inside, crew members were running in all directions, meticulously preparing for the morning's shots. Equipment was double-and triple-checked to make sure that nothing could possibly go wrong.

  Instead of heading straight for the stunt building, Frank and Joe walked past the stars' trailers. "I wonder what they're up to at this time of the morning?' Frank asked.

  "Breakfast cooked to order by master chefs," Joe said, grinning. "Or maybe they're grabbing a few more minutes of beauty sleep."

  But as they passed Burke Quinn's trailer, Frank and Joe heard loud voices.

  "Flowers! How dare you send her flowers!" Kitt Macklin's voice quivered with fury.

  The door to Quinn's trailer swung open and the female lead bolted down the steps. Burke Quinn, a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand, stumbled out after her.

  "I didn't mean anything," he pleaded. "Janet got hurt. Sending flowers was a nice thing to do. That stunt guy, Frank Harris, suggested!—"

  "Sure, I bet he did," Kitt cut him off.

  "Look, I don't even know the girl." Burke Quinn hunched his shoulders as though he knew his lie wouldn't be believed. He turned then and spotted Frank and Joe. Quinn's eyes lit up.

  "There's Frank now." He rushed to Frank and pulled him over to Kitt. "Frank, didn't you tell me about Janet's accident?" he asked desperately.

  Frank didn't want any part in this fight. "Yes, but — "

  Kitt stepped up and grabbed Frank by the collar, as if she were about to haul off and deck him. "But you didn't tell him to send flowers, did you?" she asked accusingly. "And you didn't tell him to talk all day about the great Janet Wynn, did you? And I'm sure you didn't tell him to follow that stunt girl all over the set."

  Frank was speechless. He had rarely seen such fire in anyone before. After a moment Kitt pushed him aside. "No," she concluded. "I didn't think so." Abruptly, she turned and walked away. "But, Kitt," Burke Quinn meekly called after her. Then he glared over at Frank. "Well, thanks a lot. I thought guys were supposed to stick up for each other."

  Frank held out his open arms, showing there was nothing he could do.

  Joe leaned against the end of the trailer, an amused look on his face. "She has your number, Burke," he said. Burke Quinn's eyes popped wide. He gritted his teeth and a snarl worked its way up from his throat. He stepped toward Joe.

  Frank stopped the actor with a hand firmly placed on Quinn's chest.

  "Keep your cool," Frank said. "Joe doesn't mean anything by it." "I'll teach him to laugh at me!"

  Joe placed his hands on his hips. "Sure, Burke," he said. "Try beating me up — maybe you'll rob me, too — as Bob Quentin used to."

  Immediately, Quinn's face went pale. He backed away, all the fight gone out of him. "How'd you find out about that?"

  "We've got friends in L.A.," Frank replied. "We heard you did a year for assault and battery."

  Quinn shrugged and turned away. "The charges were all trumped up. When you're down and out, trying to make it in Hollywood, every cop is out to get you."

  "That's not how we heard it," Joe said. "And with everything going wrong on the set, you've got to wonder what Sy Osserman would think if he heard about it, too."

  "You wouldn't dare!" Burke Quinn yelled. "I told you yesterday I had nothing to do with those accidents." He waved his arms in frustration, then ran up the steps to his trailer. Turning in the doorway, he glared down at Frank and Joe.

  "What I did was nothing," he defended himself. "Lots of actors sometimes have trouble with the law. If you want to know about real trouble, why don't you go talk with Ed Kemble?"

  Before either of the Hardys could ask what he meant, Quinn slammed the door in their faces.

  Frank turned back to Joe. "I wonder what this Ed Kemble stuff is about?"

  Joe shrugged. "He's probably jealous of Ed, and accusing someone else seems the easiest way out."

  "Could be." Frank shook his head. "Anyhow, that's another lead we'll have to check out."

  Back at the stuntmen's headquarters, morale was at an all-time low. No one was working out or practicing for upcoming stunts. Instead, the team sat around listlessly. Wesley looked up from a magazine and nodded at Frank and Joe when they walked in.

  The calm was shattere
d by two booming voices in the next room.

  "Don't tell me how to do my job," the captain yelled.

  "I don't care about your job," they heard Ed Kemble reply in a level tone. "But I am worried about our safety."

  "All you're doing is undermining my authority!" the captain bellowed.

  Frank and Joe went over to the doorway and peered in the equipment room. The captain was on his feet. Ed was as calm and as cool as he always appeared in his movies. But the captain's eyes were wide with fury.

  "I'm not trying to undermine anyone," Ed stated. "But two near-fatal accidents in one day could be a record."

  "Listen, Ed," the captain snarled. "Don't go blaming them on me or my safety procedures. Someone wanted them to happen."

  Ed Kemble laughed. "Come on, Captain. That's pretty lame."

  "It's the truth," the captain said. "And I've got proof."

  "Proof?" Ed's tone told the Hardys he was hardly convinced. "I've got no problem, if you've got real proof."

  The captain shrugged and glanced away. "It's not much yet. Just a few pieces — "

  "Just as I thought," Ed cut him off. "Nothing substantial."

  "It will be," the captain assured him. But he was only talking to Ed's back.

  "I don't think we should be here now," Frank whispered to Joe. "Let's go."

  By then it was too late. The captain had spotted them before they were out the door.

  "You two," he commanded. "Don't move."

  Frank and Joe froze. The captain walked over, looking them up and down. "Can I tell you boys something?" he said.

  The Hardys nodded.

  "You went through a lot yesterday, and I think I can trust you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Now I want to show you something."

  He waved them along as he walked over to the far end of the room. "Until I find out more, I don't want either of you to breathe a word of this," he said.

  The captain opened a large trunk full of special protective stunt costumes. From the top of the pack he removed the black leather motorcycle jacket Janet had worn the day before.

  "Look at this," he said, handing the jacket to Frank.

  Frank inspected the jacket. But there didn't seem to be anything odd about it. He handed it to Joe, who shook his head. "Wait a minute." Frank took the jacket back, holding it up to his nose. That was it! An odor coming from the sleeve. He touched it and felt a sticky substance on his fingertips.

  "What is this stuff?" Frank inquired.

  "The remains of jellied gasoline," the captain said.

  "No wonder Janet caught on fire so fast," Joe concluded.

  "There's more," the captain added, leading the Hardys from the building. Moments later they were at the fence. It had been left standing, although most of the wood was charred. Still, the fire had been put out before the entire fence was destroyed, and the captain guided Frank and Joe over to the least destroyed area.

  "In all our stunts we try to keep the flames confined to one area. But look at this."

  Joe ran his finger over the fence and sniffed. "Kerosene."

  "Right," the captain said. "But we don't ever use regular kerosene for stunt fires. This part of the fence shouldn't have been on fire at all. Remember, it was supposed to collapse."

  "Someone wanted the entire fence to burn down," Frank figured out loud. "That would destroy any evidence of tampering."

  The captain pulled his cap down on his head. He smiled at his two apprentices.

  "Now you're catching on," he said. "But I think there's more. Whoever set this up had to do it right before the stunt. Otherwise the kerosene would have evaporated." He pointed to where the camera had been. "Now, if the sabotage was done just before the shot — "

  Joe's eyes lit up. "You think it might have been captured on film?"

  "Why don't we view yesterday's rushes to find out?" Frank suggested.

  "That's just what I was thinking," the captain said.

  The screening room was in a long building near the director's trailer. It was like a small movie theater, where Sy Osserman and others viewed rushes—scenes that were shot each day.

  Rows of soft cushioned seats were set up before the wide screen. A makeshift projection booth was in the back. Through the small open window, the boys could see the large 32-millimeter projector pointed at the white screen.

  The captain motioned for Frank and Joe to sit. He went to the back room to locate the reels and thread the film through the projector.

  "No popcorn?" Joe joked.

  Suddenly the back door opened and the captain came running down the aisle. There was a worried, desperate look on his face. Frank and Joe saw that his hands were shaking.

  "Yesterday's rushes," the captain gasped. "They've disappeared!"

  Chapter 6

  FRANK AND JOE jumped from their seats and ran back to the projection booth. Frank snatched up a copy of the script, which sat beside the projector, and started riffling through the pages.

  "Here's Janet's stunt," he told Joe and the captain. "Scene number two-forty-two."

  Shelves full of labeled metal film cans lined one wall. The labels showed the filming date and, since the movie wasn't shot in sequence, gave the scene number from the screenplay.

  Joe ran his finger along the canisters of film, reading down the labels. "Reel two-forty-two is definitely missing."

  "Hold on." Frank narrowed his eyes and consulted the script. "My crash yesterday into the porch of the Garfield mansion was two-twenty-nine."

  "Not here," Joe said, double-checking.

  "What! Can't be!" Frantically, the captain began pulling the reels off the shelf.

  "The first gunfight's gone." His voice shook. "We're missing a scene at the cliff, and the high dive into the pool is gone as well." Reels spilled onto the floor. "All our hard work—gone."

  "Have all the stunt scenes been stolen?" Joe asked.

  "All the major ones so far," the captain told him grimly.

  "More importantly," Frank added, "all the stunts that were sabotaged have disappeared." "Quiet," Joe whispered.

  They heard someone walking into the screening room. The captain turned off the booth lights as the Hardys waited, their backs against the wall on either side of the doorway. The intruder whistled cheerfully as he pushed open the door.

  Frank and Joe both made their move. "Got him!" Joe cried.

  The stranger let out a short, frightened scream.

  The captain hit the lights, then sagged back onto the stool. "Let him go, Joe," he ordered. "It's only Cal, our projectionist."

  Joe released the wiry, blond-haired young man. "Sorry about that. We thought you were our thief," he explained.

  But Cal wasn't listening. His eyes were focused on the floor.

  "Aaah!" This time his scream was bloodcurdling. "My film! You've destroyed my film!"

  Cal dropped to his knees, gathering up as many reels as his arms would hold. Frank, Joe, and the captain looked down at the mess they'd made, then joined Cal on the floor. Before long all the reels were back on the shelves.

  Cal counted off the canisters and checked them against a list he kept on his desk. He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief and rechecked the list. "Almost a dozen reels are missing!" He stared accusingly at Frank and Joe.

  "We know," Frank said. "We were in here looking for them when you showed up."

  "Somebody's taken the stunt scenes — do you know who it might be?" Joe asked.

  "Only Sy Osserman, the captain, and the three stars have access to the daily rushes," Cal said. "Anyone else has to get permission."

  "Anybody ask in the past few days?" Frank inquired.

  Cal considered. A smile came over his face. "Wait a minute. You said the stunt rushes are missing? Ed Kemble always views them."

  "Kemble, huh?" the captain snarled.

  "Sure," said Cal. "I had them out yesterday to run for him — they looked pretty scary."

  "I'll say," Frank murmured.

  Frank and Joe convinced C
al and the captain to give them some time locating the missing reels before informing Sy Osserman they'd been stolen.

  "If we find the film," Frank explained, "we've got our saboteur."

  "I'll give you one hour," the captain said. "Then I have no choice but to tell Mr. Osserman."

  Frank and Joe ran off to chase down their first lead. But Ed Kemble's trailer was locked, and the star was nowhere in sight.

  "What next?" Joe asked.

  " 'Round up the usual suspects,' " Frank said, repeating a famous line from an old movie, Casablanca.

  Joe grinned. "Burke Quinn is sure going to be happy to see us again."

  Quinn wasn't in his trailer either. Frank and Joe did find him just behind the trailers along a path that eventually led out to the Newbridge cliffs. He was dressed in a bathing suit and was carrying a picnic basket. Joe nearly did a double take when he saw Janet Wynn walking beside the actor.

  The Hardys kept off the path, staying close to the trailers and buildings where they hoped Quinn wouldn't spot them.

  "There you are!"

  Burke Quinn stopped dead.

  Kitt Macklin stood before him and Janet, arms crossed, her eyes glittering with menace.

  "So this is your idea of a picnic lunch." Kitt looked at her watch a full thirty seconds. "I wait for you for an hour, and where have you been? Out playing with your new girlfriend."

  "I just met Janet on the way to your trailer," Quinn explained. "We were only talking."

  Kitt's lips were a thin white line. Her hands shook, and tears welled up in her eyes. "I just hope the two of you will be very happy." She choked back a sob.

  "Frank! Joe!" Janet Wynn exclaimed, spotting the brothers behind a trailer. "There you are!"

  Her expression revealed just how happy she was to see them, to get her out of this jam. Sheepishly, the Hardys joined the others.

  Janet took them each by the hand and kissed them both on the cheek. "I'm so glad you finally made it." She turned to Kitt. "These are my dates for lunch," she explained.