A lieutenant received the Hardys in his office. “I’ve heard about your father’s detective work, and about the crimes you boys have solved,” he said with a smile. “What’s on your mind?”
Frank drew the gun from his pocket and handed it to him. The officer inspected it closely. After learning how Frank had obtained the weapon, he went to his file of licensed gun owners in Florida and slowly flipped through it.
“You’re in luck,” he said finally, pulling out a card. He handed it to the Hardys.
Frank and Joe stared in amazement.
“Why, it’s registered to Harrison Wester of Key Blanco!” Frank cried out.
“He’s the brother of the man who hired us to find a missing painting,” Joe explained and briefly outlined their case to the lieutenant.
“We’ll take the gun to Mr. Wester,” he added. “It must have been stolen from him.”
The officer nodded. “Harrison Wester has an excellent reputation. But I cannot return the gun unless he claims it as missing. Please tell him to call me when you get there.”
“We sure will,” Frank promised, then the Hardys left. They joined their friends and soon the group was rolling down Route 1 with Joe at the wheel and Frank following directions on the map.
“I wonder if Mr. Wester missed the gun,” Chet spoke up. “Maybe he knows those guys we tangled with. ”
“They could have bought it on the black market,” Frank observed.
“You mean, somebody else stole the gun from Mr. Wester and then sold it?”
Frank nodded. “Lots of crooks do that.”
Joe stepped on the gas and the car picked up speed as they approached the southern tip of Florida.
“Anyway,” he said, “the gun’s another clue leading to Key Blanco. Trouble is, we don’t know where to go from there. This case is certainly a mystery. ”
“Dangerous too, judging by our last encounter with Tom and Fatso,” Biff added.
“If there’s more danger, count me out!” said Chet hastily.
Joe chuckled. “Come on. We need you. We know you’re the bravest soul in Bayport!”
Chet grinned. “Okay, I’ll tackle the crooks,” he promised. “But you’d better be there to back me up. I can’t take on more than five at a time.”
Chet’s joke made the others laugh. They continued in high spirits until they reached a long bridge extending from the Florida mainland out over the water.
“Where are we now?” Biff asked.
“We’re crossing the Intracoastal Waterway,” Frank told him. “Key Largo’s straight ahead. It’s the longest of the Florida Keys, by the way.”
Joe turned south on the Overseas Highway linking the islands of the chain to one another. The boys sped from one key to the next, enjoying the sunlight, the warm air, and the blue-green water on either side.
“The Overseas Highway is the longest ocean-going highway in the world,” Joe commented. “So says our encyclopedia.”
“Great place for scuba diving,” Chet said, looking out over the wide expanse of water.
“We came here to solve a case, not for a vacation,” Joe reminded him.
“We-e-1-11,” Chet drawled, “couldn’t we go diving after we catch the crooks?”
Frank chuckled. “Maybe.”
U.S. Navy ships were coursing through the sea leaving trails of foaming white water in their wake. Navy planes roared overhead, and a group of Phantom jets zoomed down so low it seemed they might crash. The thunder of their engines sounded deafening in the car. On cue, the pilots maneuvered their craft up in one great arc, then raced into the distance until they were lost in the bright, blue sky.
The boys crossed the bridge into Key West, the last of the islands linked by the Overseas Highway. Slowly they drove down narrow streets between rows of closely packed houses. Near the southern end, they noticed a sign saying KEY WEST NAVAL BASE.
Just then, Chet spotted a blue compact moving along a side street. “Hey!” he cried excitedly. “There’re the smugglers!”
7
Stealthy Figures in the Night
“Where?” Joe asked.
“Around the corner!” Chet pointed to where he had seen the blue compact.
Joe quickly turned up the side street, and the boys noticed the car heading into a parking lot.
Under Chet’s prodding, Joe followed and stopped near the compact. Then the chubby boy opened the door.
“Wait a minute!” Frank exclaimed suddenly, after taking a closer look at the car they had just chased. But Chet was already outside and rushing up to the blue compact. His fists were raised as he stopped in front of the driver’s door.
It opened and a naval officer climbed out!
Chet’s eyes grew as round as saucers and his mouth fell open. Embarrassed, he dropped his hands to his sides.
“Is there something you want?” the officer inquired.
Chet blushed. “Er-r-r, no sir,” he stammered. “I’m afraid I mistook you for someone else.”
The officer shrugged and walked off in the direction of the Naval Base.
Chet rejoined his companions, his face red as a beet.
“You should have waited when I told you to,” Frank said. “I noticed the license plate. It’s not the same as the one we’re looking for.”
Chet nodded lamely. “Next time I’ll let you guys chase the crooks. ”
The boys continued through Key West, found a rent-a-car lot, and turned in their car.
“How do we get to Key Blanco?” Joe asked the attendant.
“Ferry. Three blocks east, then go left down to the water. The boat’ll drop you at Blanco City.”
At the dock, the Bayporters found they were just in time for the next ferry. Quickly they bought tickets and went aboard. About twenty other passengers were standing at the rail or sitting on long wooden benches.
The ferry pulled away from its slip and headed into open water. Key West dropped out of sight and the vessel pushed on through waves that grew heavier in a rising wind.
The boys went inside the main-deck cabin and stood by a window away from other passengers. As they discussed the Wester case in undertones, a tropical storm began to develop, causing the ferry to plunge up and down. Huge waves broke over the bow and sent clouds of spray splashing against the windows.
Chet turned pale and shuddered every time the ferry hit a wave. Looking queasy, he placed one hand on his belt buckle and the other against the windowsill in an effort to steady himself.
“I think I’ll sit this one out,” he croaked.
Staggering over to a row of empty seats, he lay down and after a few minutes was sound asleep. A loud, rhythmical sound came from his corner.
“Chet’s snoring.” Frank laughed. “Let’s not forget to take him along when we arrive!”
But their friend awoke on his own just as the boat was docking in Blanco City. The storm had subsided and Chet hurried to the head of the passenger line so he could be first ashore. The Hardys and Biff followed.
Frank asked the ticket attendant how to get to Smugglers Cove.
“One mile north,” the man replied. “Can’t miss it. There’s a big house on the cliff, the Wester place. You can walk along the beach.”
The four boys set out in a group, but Chet soon fell behind. He struggled to keep his footing in the sand. Sweat ran down his face, and he began to puff.
“This is murder,” he complained.
“Cheer up,” “ Frank replied. ”We’re almost there. “
Joe pointed to a house on a cliff up ahead. “That must be the Wester place.”
Steps made of heavy wooden logs led to the top of the steep incline. They climbed up and found themselves on a flagstone patio at the rear of the big house. From there they could see how Smugglers Cove was formed by a narrow beach that ran in an arc at the base of the cliff from one sandy headland to another.
Walking around to the front door, the boys noticed that the house faced a mass of mangrove trees and other tropical ve
getation.
Frank rang the doorbell. A maid led them into the living room, where Harrison Wester was inspecting a row of paintings on the wall. He was a medium-sized man with white hair, who limped badly, supporting himself with a stout cane.
“I injured my leg scuba diving,” he explained. “That’s why I don’t get around too well. My brother Raymond said the two Hardy boys would be coming down here. I see four of you.”
“Reinforcements, Mr. Wester,” Frank said. “Chet Morton and Biff Hooper. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. I’ve got plenty of room,” Wester replied with a chuckle. “As long as you find my picture. When Raymond phoned from Bayport to say the Bolivar portrait would be on its way in the care of two couriers, I couldn’t wait for it to arrive. But it never did, nor did the couriers. They must have stolen it.”
“Do you think the picture ever reached Key Blanco?” Joe asked.
Wester shrugged. “It’s possible. This island is notorious for smuggling, and the best thing for the thieves to do would be to ship the portrait from here to a place where it could be sold. It has probably left Key Blanco already, if it was, indeed, brought here. Anyway, I hope you boys can find it again!”
“We have a good clue,” Joe revealed. “One thief left his fingerprint in Bayport when he took the picture from the wall. His name is Ignaz Nitron. Do you know him, by any chance?”
Wester shook his head. “Never heard of him.”
“There’s another clue,” Frank put in. “We found your gun in Homestead.”
Wester looked startled. “What do you mean, my gun?”
Frank explained about Tom, the tall man who had been Nitron’s accomplice in stealing the picture. He described how Tom and Fatso had been sent to Bayport to get the Hardys off the case, how they had jumped Raymond Wester at the Bayport Hotel, and how they had been shadowed by the boys from Miami to Homestead, where Tom had dropped the gun during their struggle in the alley.
“We took it to police headquarters, and they informed us that the weapon was registered in your name, sir,” the young detective concluded.
Wester, looking bewildered, checked the bottom drawer of his desk, which proved empty. “I don’t know anything about these men,” he declared. “And I have no idea how they got my gun. I haven’t missed it because I haven’t done any target practice in the last few weeks, and that’s all I use it for. Otherwise it stays here,” he said motioning to the drawer. “I can’t imagine who could have stolen it!”
“What about Mark Morphy?” Chet spoke up.
“My brother’s secretary? No way.”
“He’s an accomplice of the thieves,” Biff pointed out. “Tom mentioned that fact to Fatso on the plane. ”
“And Morphy hasn’t been seen since the disappearance of the picture,” Joe added.
Wester was flabbergasted. “This is all news to me!” he said, greatly disturbed. “I never would’ve believed it of Mark Morphy. My, you can’t trust anybody these days!”
“This is Smugglers Cove,” Chet said. “Do you think the crooks are operating out of here?”
“Hardly, Chet,” Wester replied. “Smugglers Cove was known for that kind of thing in the days of piracy. Nowadays no one could get away with transferring contraband down there. They’d be spotted from this house.”
Chet seemed disappointed.
“The island, however, is still known for illegal activities,” Wester continued, noticing the look on Chet’s face. “But the smuggling goes on in areas far away from where people live. ”
“We’ll have to check those out,” Chet decided.
Wester nodded. “I hope you’re successful,” he said. “Do you see that landscape over the fireplace? It’s the same size as the Bolivar portrait. That’s why I intend to hang them side by side. That is, if you find the Bolivar portrait for me. In fact, I can just see it hanging there right now,” Wester added, chuckling quietly.
“We’ll find it,” Joe vowed.
Wester showed the four around the house, balancing himself on his cane, and assigned them rooms on the second floor. “Make yourselves at home,” he offered. “I’ll see you at dinner. After that, I’ll leave you to the mystery of the missing picture.”
He limped downstairs while his guests inspected their accommodations, then gathered in Frank’s room to discuss a plan of action.
“Let’s keep our moves secret,” Frank warned. “We’ll go underground as smugglers without telling Mr. Wester, because he might spill the beans inadvertently. The less he’s involved, the better.”
“That should be no problem,” Joe said. “All he wants us to do is find his picture. He doesn’t care how we do it.”
The others agreed. Just then the dinner bell rang, and the boys joined Mr. Wester in the dining room. Hungry after their long journey, they dug into the chicken and dumplings with gusto.
“I suggest you start your investigation in Blanco City,” Wester announced. “You might find a clue there.”
“Good idea,” Frank said.
“Well, you know more about detective work than I do,” Wester went on. “Make this house your headquarters. There are snacks in the refrigerator if you get hungry, and you can use the stereo in the living room if you want to. ”
He stood up from the table and limped into his study. The boys strolled into the living room and listened to country music until bedtime. Then they retired to their rooms and went to sleep.
In the middle of the night Frank suddenly woke up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Floor-boards creaked as someone moved stealthily past his room. Frank got out of bed and quietly opened the door. He peered into the hall.
A figure was tiptoeing toward the stairs!
I’d better see what this guy’s up to, Frank thought. Must be a burglar. Silently he followed as the figure descended and went into the living room.
“Maybe he’s after the pictures on the walls,” Frank muttered to himself. But the figure continued on through the dining room into the kitchen. He’s stolen what he came for and is about to escape through the back door! went through Frank’s mind. I must head him off!
In a flash, the young detective raced to the rear door and turned the key in the lock. Then he snapped on the light. The stealthy figure was standing next to the refrigerator.
“Chet!” Frank exclaimed.
Chet grinned. “I’m after a snack, like Mr. Wester said. I guess that’s why you followed me. You want one, too!”
“A snack!” Frank cried indignantly. “I thought you were a thief sneaking through the house in the dark like that!”
Chet laughed. “Do I look like a thief?”
“Why not? There are fat thieves, you know.”
“Come on! I’m not fat. Only well-nourished.”
“Chet,” Frank said in exasperation, “it’s past three o‘clock in the morning. I’m not going to argue about your physique. I just wish I hadn’t woken up!”
Chet had taken two slices of pie out of the refrigerator and put them on plates. “Here, have some. It’ll make you feel better.”
Frank couldn’t help but laugh. “Morton’s remedy for all occasions. Thanks.”
When they were finished, the boys cleaned up and went back to bed. Some time later Frank was again woken by footsteps in the hall. I wonder if that’s what Chet does at home, the Hardy boy thought grumpily, get up every couple of hours to eat! He did not feel like leaving his bed, but his detective instinct would not let him go back to sleep. Perhaps it was not Chet, after all. He rose and opened the door. The stealthy figure was already at the stairs.
Frank followed quietly so as not to wake anyone else. He was about to go directly to the kitchen to head Chet off at the refrigerator, when he saw the figure go to the front door and open it.
The sun had just risen and the morning light afforded Frank a clear view of the stranger. “Hey!” the boy called out. “Wait a minute!”
The intruder turned for a moment, then rushed out the door, slamming i
t behind him.
“Mark Morphy!” Frank gasped.
8
Clever Disguise
For a moment the closed door delayed Frank’s pursuit. When he emerged from the house, Morphy was already heading toward the steps to the beach. Frank ran after him as fast as he could and chased the man down to Smugglers Cove, where Morphy dashed toward an outboard motor-boat drawn up on the sand. Being barefoot gave Frank an advantage. He quickly cut the distance between them, and finally grabbed Morphy near the water’s edge.
The two fell down and rolled over and over in a wild wrestling match. Morphy broke free and bounded to his feet, only to be tripped by Frank, who pounced on him again. They fought desperately until suddenly Morphy scooped up a handful of sand and threw it into Frank’s face!
Blinded, the young detective wiped his tearing eyes. He regained sight in time to see Morphy push the outboard into the water, jump aboard, and start the engine. The boat chugged away from shore, turned left around an outcropping of rock, and disappeared, its sound dying away in the distance.
Frank was furious. With burning eyes, he stared after the intruder, angry at himself for not catching the man. Then he went back to the house and washed the rest of the sand from his face in the shower. No one was up yet except for the household help. Frank dressed and went into the living room, trying to calm himself by looking at magazines.
When Wester and his friends came down for breakfast, Frank briefed them about what had happened. Wester looked shocked. “Morphy’s never been here before! I’ve only seen him in Raymond’s home in Bayport. Are you positive it was him?”
“Your brother showed us a picture. There is no doubt in my mind that he was the man I chased out of this house this morning.”
“But why would he come here?”
“He knows you have a number of valuable paintings,” Joe put in. “Perhaps he came to steal another one.”
“But what was he doing upstairs?” Chet asked.
“He may have been looking for my Degas!” Wester said excitedly. “It’s the most valuable painting I own! For the longest time I had it in the dining room, then I moved it to my bedroom because I like to look at it before I go to sleep. ”
Mystery of Smugglers Cove Page 4