Scene of the Crime

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "Is that your plan?" Frank asked. "To steal the jewels?"

  "Well," Driscoll considered, "they may not be as valuable as the Wedmont collection, but still they're worth millions." He thought about it some more. "And since we're here ... " He shook his head. "But, no, I'm not going to steal them."

  Frank and Joe gawked at him, then breathed sighs of relief. But their ease was short-lived.

  "You'll steal them," Driscoll said.

  Both Hardys glared at the saboteur, who threw back his head and laughed.

  "That's right," he told them. "You two bright boys have figured out so much, you should have no trouble finding a way to pull off the crime of the century for me."

  "We won't do it," Joe said. Driscoll just shrugged and called, "Ty!" The stuntman returned, pushing Janet ahead of him, a gun to her head.

  Glancing at his watch, Driscoll told them, "You have one minute to change your minds. If not, Ty will shoot Janet. Fifty-six seconds — "

  "Don't do it!" Janet shouted.

  Frank and Joe looked at each other as Driscoll counted down. "Ten — nine — eight — "

  "All right," Frank gave in. "You win."

  Driscoll seemed pleased. He whistled, and Wesley came out of the back with a big red sack over his shoulder. "Just like Santa Claus," Joe muttered bitterly.

  Driscoll took a pair of walkie-talkies from the bag, handing one to Wesley and keeping the other for himself. Next, he removed a set of blueprints, spreading them before Frank and Joe.

  "This is the floor plan of the Garfield mansion," he explained. "As you can see, the jewels are kept in a sealed glass case in the center of the main corridor. An electronic beam encircles the case. If anyone steps within five feet of the jewels, they break the beam and send a silent alarm to the cops. What's more, there's no way to dismantle it."

  "So the jewel case is impenetrable," Frank said.

  "No way," Driscoll said. "You haven't even tried to come up with a solution. Study the prints." He looked at his watch. "I'll give you ten minutes before we go up into the house."

  "Ten!" Joe gasped. "That's impossible!"

  "No, it's not!" Driscoll told him. "Our sack of goodies has everything you'll need." He opened it up and looked inside. "We've got rope, pulleys, flashlights, wrenches, and screwdrivers."

  Those were the items, Frank realized, that the captain had found missing from the stunt building.

  "Oh. That's a whole new ballgame," Joe said. "It's no laughing matter." Driscoll's expression turned stone cold. "I'll be upstairs with you, in touch by walkie-talkie with Wesley. Make any mistakes, or false moves, and Janet gets iced."

  "All right," Frank said, rising to his feet. "Let's get on with it."

  Driscoll uncuffed them, his eyes wide. "Can you get to the jewels?"

  "I have an idea." Frank frowned. "But I'll have to see the actual case to know for sure."

  Driscoll motioned for the Hardys to climb up the ladder in the corner of the wine cellar and open the hatch that led directly into the mansion. Joe went first, carrying the sack. Frank followed with the blueprints, and Driscoll brought up the rear with the walkie-talkie and gun.

  "Stick close and wait for my signal," Frank whispered to Joe as they moved up through the hatch.

  They found themselves in a pantry off the kitchen. Frank looked at the blueprints. "Okay," he said. "Through this door."

  As they crossed the kitchen into the hallway, Frank raised his arm for silence.

  Footsteps were coming, light but fast across the wood floor. Frank, Joe, and Driscoll ducked back against the wall.

  "They're coming closer," Frank whispered, his heart pounding.

  Two German shepherds padded forward, sniffing. Then their black eyes caught sight of the intruders.

  "Guard dogs!" Joe warned.

  Snarling, with saliva dripping from their fangs, the dogs sprinted toward them, closing in for the kill!

  Chapter 14

  As THE SLAVERING DOGS bounded for them, Gil Driscoll jumped back, pushing open the kitchen door. He and the Hardys piled inside. Desperate, Frank and Joe heaved against the door, keeping the barking, scratching dogs outside.

  "You're sunk, Gil," Frank said. "Every cop within a mile of this place must have heard that yapping."

  But Driscoll shook his head smugly. "All the cops are outside the mansion, and the walls are completely soundproof." He raised his revolver. "Let those hounds in. I'll take care of them."

  Frank shook his head, still holding the door. "I wouldn't bet on the walls being that soundproof." He spotted a stool at the counter, grabbed it, and wedged it against the door. "Relax, Joe," he said. "That'll hold them."

  "Great," Joe said. "Only now we're trapped."

  Driscoll climbed onto the high counter, shaking his head in reproach. "I'm surprised at you, letting a pair of pups scare you off."

  Joe placed his hands on his hips. "Yeah? Do you have any suggestions for dealing with this?"

  "Other than shooting them," Frank added.

  Driscoll sighed, almost bored. "Check the sack, Joe — see what you've got to work with."

  Joe's eyebrows rose as he rummaged in the bag. At first, all he felt were the ropes and other tools. But at the bottom of the sack was something else.

  "Steaks?" he said, astonished, pulling them from the sack.

  "Laced with tranquilizers," Driscoll told him. "Toss the meat on the floor, tie a rope to the chair, and climb up here on the counter."

  Frank and Joe did as they were told.

  "It's a gag from a flick I worked on years ago, called Beware the Beasts," Driscoll said.

  Joe nodded. It was an Ed Kemble film he'd seen with Iola. She'd kept her head on Joe's shoulder each time Ed had confronted the pack of savage dogs.

  "Okay, Frank," Driscoll ordered. "Pull on the rope."

  Frank jerked it back, releasing the chair. The door swung open, and the two shepherds rushed into the kitchen.

  To Frank and Joe's dismay, the dogs ignored the steaks, leaping for the high counter. One nearly caught Joe's leg. The dogs kept jumping until, tired, they merely held their ground, barking and growling. Frank, Joe, and Driscoll remained quiet and still on the counter.

  At last the shepherds turned to the steaks. "They're well trained," Driscoll said admiringly. "Usually the pups go straight for the meat. These two held out."

  The dogs ripped the steaks to pieces, gobbling the meat. Then they yawned and lay down to rest. Soon their eyes closed, and they were fast asleep on the kitchen floor.

  "One obstacle out of the way," Driscoll said happily, climbing down from the counter. "Now there're just the silent alarms to avoid." "Sure," Joe agreed sourly. "Nothing to it." The path to the main corridor was now open. All that remained between the Hardys and the jewels was the eight-foot-high, cylinder-shaped glass case in the center of the room, with its supersensitive alarm system.

  Still, Frank, Joe, and Driscoll went slowly down the hallway. Frank kept his finger on the blueprints as they crept along. Every step of the way, Driscoll reported their movements back to Wesley via walkie-talkie.

  "Quit stalling," Driscoll ordered at last. "Let's get the jewels."

  Slowly they entered the corridor. The room beyond was dark. Only the gleam of the gems in their case provided any light. Frank and Joe stood motionless, staring at the precious stones.

  "Magnificent," Driscoll whispered. "And soon they'll all be ours."

  Joe took a step forward for a closer look, but Frank held him back. "See those little green lights?" He pointed up to the top of the eight-foot case. "That's where the electronic beam shoots down from."

  "No wonder the case is circular," Joe said. "The alarm covers all possible angles of entry."

  "Right," Frank agreed. "And that means we can't reach the jewels from in here."

  "So what does that mean?" Driscoll's face was hot with anger. "You figuring on getting the jewels from a store downtown?"

  "No." Slowly Frank pointed to the second-floor balc
ony. "We'll get them from up there."

  Driscoll led the Hardys up the stairs to the second floor. The main corridor had a cathedral ceiling, nearly forty feet high. The second-floor landing was a good twenty-five feet above the ground. Even the tall, circular glass case looked small from up there.

  "Okay." Frank observed the scene. "There doesn't appear to be an alarm system covering the top of the case. That's the vulnerable spot."

  "But how do you figure on reaching the case from up here?" Joe asked.

  "My question exactly," Driscoll said.

  "We'll run two ropes across, from one side of the landing to the other," Frank explained. "Then, we'll put pulleys on the ropes and glide over to the top of the case."

  Driscoll repeated Frank's idea to Wesley over the walkie-talkie.

  "Joe," Frank instructed, "go across to the opposite landing. I'll toss you the ropes. Tie your end tight around that center beam."

  Again, Driscoll repeated these instructions to Wesley. Then he took the ropes. "Let a pro take care of the lassoing. I've done enough cowboy films to do it right—and we don't want any clumsy throwing setting off the alarms."

  In seconds he had a lariat made, and sent it spinning out to Joe. It crossed the twenty-foot space easily, as did his second toss.

  "Now we attach the pulleys." Frank hooked them on and the mechanism was set. He wheeled the pulleys out over the jewel case on a practice run.

  "Do you think it'll hold the weight of a man?" Driscoll asked.

  "Two men," Frank said. "If we're going to open that case, both Joe and I will have to swing across." He looked hopefully at the saboteur. "Unless, of course, you want to try it yourself."

  "Not this time," Driscoll told him.

  "I think we're set," Frank told him. "Now we need flashlights, a screwdriver, and two pairs of gloves."

  "Absolutely." Driscoll handed out all of the necessary items from the sack.

  Frank pulled the gloves on. He tossed the sack over his back, stepped over the railing, and got a good hold on the pulley. "Okay," he said. "Here goes." Holding the pulley with both hands, Frank jumped off the railing and slid across the open corridor. Slowly he came to rest directly above the jewel case. The rope sagged under his weight, but it didn't break. "Your turn, Joe," he called out. Joe gave the thumbs-up signal. Like a sky diver, he jumped off the opposite railing and rolled his pulley across to Frank. The rope bounced him for a moment, and then was still. Frank handed Joe his pair of gloves. "This is the tricky part," he said. "Do you want to hold me while I unscrew the hinges on the top of the case, or should I hold you?"

  "You hold me," Joe said. "I think better on my head."

  Joe drew up close to Frank so that his brother could get a tight grip around his waist. Then he released himself from the pulley. Carefully, Joe flipped down to face the ground. The sight of the floor twenty feet below made him swallow hard. But after a moment he was set to work.

  "Okay, Joe," Frank told him. "When I lower you down, lock your legs with mine, just as trapeze artists do."

  "Easy does it, Joe," Driscoll cheered him on. "Easy."

  Joe locked his legs in Frank's. Joe released one hand, and when he was sure that his legs would hold, he let go of the other, to dangle above the glass case.

  "Here's the screwdriver," Frank said, handing it down. "I'm going to lower you down to the case. Remember, be careful not to break the invisible beam. Stay within the green lights. Once you've accomplished that, remove the screws on top of the case."

  Joe kept his arms close to his shoulders as Frank lowered him within the circle of green lights. He felt his legs stiffen as he balanced himself carefully against the glass and inserted the screwdriver into the first bolt. "One down, three to go," he whispered. Within five minutes, the cover was loose. "Okay, Joe." Frank's voice was tight. "Carefully lift it up and I'll put it in the sack. Remember, don't break the invisible beam." Joe handed Frank the pane of glass. The gems lay on a black velvet base. Their brilliant sparkle was nearly hypnotizing. Joe couldn't help but stare at them in admiration. At last he reached down, his gloved hand coming away with the first necklace.

  "He's got it," Driscoll said excitedly into his walkie-talkie. "He's got it!"

  One by one, Joe handed each gem up to Frank. Quickly Frank placed them in the sack.

  "Just one more," Joe said, grabbing a last gold watch and handing it up over his shoulder. "Okay, now how do I get out of this?"

  "I'll pull you up above the beam," Frank said. "Once you clear the green lights, swing up and grab hold of the rope."

  Slowly Joe rose back over the top of the glass case. Then, spreading out his arms, he heaved forward and whirled around, his legs releasing from Frank's. His right arm missed the rope, but just before he began the long fall to the floor below, his left hand clamped on.

  Frank led the way as they slid the pulley back safely to the landing.

  Driscoll was waiting for them as they climbed back over the rail.

  "Here are your jewels," Frank said, swinging the sack across. "Now we want Janet."

  "Jewels?" Driscoll actually seemed surprised. "You're the ones who stole them."

  Suddenly he shoved Joe. Frank caught him before he toppled over the balcony.

  The crook ran around the landing.

  "Come on," Frank cried. "We've been double-crossed!"

  Dashing around the bend, they closed in on Driscoll. But as Frank reached out to grab him, the saboteur pushed open a door and disappeared. Frank tried the handle. But the door was locked.

  ***

  "Hold it right there!"

  Frank and Joe froze. Joe closed his eyes. He didn't even bother to look.

  "Archie Fraser," he moaned, shaking his head.

  The heavyset chief of police puffed up the stairs, followed by about half his force. "Caught you red-handed," he proclaimed.

  "And this time you'll be going away for a long, long time!"

  Chapter 15

  ARCHIE FRASER LEANED back in his rickety chair, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling. "We searched both mansions, like you asked," the chief said. "The only crooks we found were you two!"

  "They must have escaped before you got to them," Frank said. "After all, they made their way in without your men spotting them."

  "That's a really wonderful tale!" Fraser exclaimed. "Too bad you didn't stay in the movie business instead of becoming jewel thieves."

  Joe jumped up. "But it's all true!"

  "And we can verify it," Frank said. "Just call Sy Osserman. He'll back us up."

  "Oh, of course." Throughout the interview, Fraser had spoken in a mock-pleasant tone that indicated he found everything Frank and Joe said to be farfetched. Still, the chief dialed the director's number and told the Hardys' story. All Frank and Joe could do was watch as Archie Fraser grinned and nodded to Sy Osserman's responses.

  "I have the Harris brothers right here in my office," Fraser said at last. "I'll put you on the speaker phone so that they can hear you." He pushed a button, then Frank and Joe heard the director breathe heavily through the speaker box.

  "Mr. Osserman," the chief began. "Did you hire a Frank and Joe Hardy to work as undercover operatives on your set, under the aliases of Frank and Joe Harris?"

  "I don't know any Frank and Joe Hardy," Osserman stated.

  Joe shot up from his chair, but Frank placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him back.

  "We hired Frank and Joe Harris as stunt apprentices," Osserman continued. "They had good union credentials."

  "Credentials he forged for us," Joe shouted.

  Fraser merely glared at him. "Thank you, Mr. Osserman. Now, these fellas also claim they provided you with filmed evidence of Gil Driscoll sabotaging a stunt. Do you have such a film?"

  "Why, no." Osserman sounded perplexed.

  "And Janet Wynn. They claim she's been kidnapped," the chief went on. "Have you seen the young lady in question?"

  "Of course I have." Now the director sounded astonished. "She perfor
med a stunt this evening."

  "It happened after the stunt," Joe roared.

  "Has anyone reported her missing? Or did anyone report witnessing a struggle?"

  "No, sir," Osserman assured the chief. "I must compliment you on bringing our troubles to an end. Now that you've caught these two, I'm sure we'll have no more problems on the set. But for the sake of the picture, can you please keep this matter out of the press till we finish shooting?"

  Fraser agreed, hung up, then called in two of his officers. "Let these two make their phone calls," he said, "then lock them up."

  The officers took Frank and Joe roughly by the arms.

  "Too bad it's now Saturday morning, guys," Fraser told them with a nasty grin. "The judge won't be behind the bench until Monday."

  Frank turned and stared at the chief. "You mean we can't make bail over the weekend?"

  "Sorry." The chief didn't sound all that sad. "For the next forty-eight hours you'll reside in a Newbridge jail cell."

  As the officers started marching them out, Frank held back a second, looking at the chief. "Okay, you've got us," he said. "There's just one thing I don't understand. We pulled this job perfectly. I'm sure we didn't trip the alarm. So how'd you know we were in the mansion?"

  The chief grinned. "Oh, I have my ways." "What ways? We really want to know." Frank smiled. "It's for the book about the heist we'll spend the next twenty years in prison writing." Fraser raised an eyebrow. "The what?" "Should we call you Archibald Fraser," Frank went on, "or just plain Archie?"

  "A book, huh?" Fraser laughed. He leaned back in his chair and thought it over. Clearly, he liked the idea. "Well, to tell you the truth, the crime was perfect. I'd even say brilliant." "Then how'd you catch us?" "By an anonymous tip."

  The officers allowed Frank and Joe to make their phone calls. Frank dialed the emergency number that Fenton Hardy had given them. But their father wasn't there. The best they could do was leave a message for him and hope that Fenton would find a way to get them out of jail.

  After the call, Frank and Joe were fingerprinted and photographed — they'd already been searched at the mansion. Then they were taken back to their cell. "I'm beginning to get used to this place," Joe said, straight-faced. "Still, I wouldn't want to call it home."