The Missing Playbook

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “I’m going to have a long talk with him tonight,” he said.

  “Smile!”

  Frank was suddenly blinded by the flash of Chet’s camera. He hadn’t seen his friend approach, and now he couldn’t see anything at all! He blinked to try to clear the bright dots from his vision.

  “Hey, sorry!” Chet said. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Frank said. “Can you help me back outside, though? I don’t think I can make it on my own!”

  Chet laughed and took Frank’s arm. “Sure.”

  “Excuse me!” Mimi said.

  The boys moved aside to let her pass. She had two stuffed animals cradled in her arms and more nearly spilling out of her partially unzipped backpack. She led the other younger brothers and sisters to one of the bedrooms so that no one else would trip over them.

  Frank and Chet joined the rest of the Bandits outside, and soon they had finished cleaning the Zermeños’ yard. Coach Quinn told them how proud she was of their teamwork as they came back inside the house and took the pieces of cake that Mrs. Zermeño had waiting for them. Then they all gathered together so that Chet could snap a team photo. After thanking the Zermeños for the party, everyone said good-bye and headed home.

  Chapter 4

  PLAYBOOK PUZZLER

  The next afternoon was their first official practice of the new season. The team was brimming with excitement as they gathered in the dugout at the Little League field. Frank took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of fresh grass and leather. As far as he was concerned, baseball season was the best time of the year.

  Coach Quinn stood up in front of the team, her ever-present clipboard held in the crook of her arm, and everyone quieted down to listen to her instructions.

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news, team,” she said.

  Frank exchanged a worried look with his brother.

  “Remember the new playbook I showed you last night?” the coach said. “It’s gone missing.”

  The team gasped.

  “It went missing sometime during the party,” Coach Quinn said. “Did any of you accidentally take it home with you?”

  Frank looked at his teammates, but everyone was shaking their heads.

  Coach Quinn sighed. She looked disappointed. “Well, I want you to check when you get home just in case, okay? That playbook is very important.”

  Frank swallowed. As far as he knew, he’d been the last one to look at the playbook.

  “Okay, everyone,” Coach Quinn said. “Time to get to work! Please break into pairs and do some catching and throwing.”

  Frank ran up to the coach as everyone else took the field to start practicing.

  “Hey, Coach,” he said. “I’m really sorry about the playbook.”

  “Thank you, Frank,” she said.

  “I put it on the coffee table in the living room when I was finished looking through it,” Frank said. “Do you know if anyone else looked at it after I did?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure. All I know is it was gone by the time I was ready to leave the Zermeños’. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

  Frank nodded and went to join Joe on the field. They began to toss a ball back and forth, listening to Coach Quinn’s instructions about the best form to use as she weaved among the players, checking their progress.

  When Coach Quinn was out of earshot, Joe said quietly to Frank, “I bet the playbook was stolen.”

  Frank shook his head. “Someone probably just took it by mistake.”

  “Oh, really?” Joe said. “What about what you told me that Jupiter said to you? ‘You’ll be sorry’? What better way to get back at us for getting them in trouble than by stealing our playbook?”

  Frank thought about that. The boys’ father, Fenton Hardy, was a private investigator, and he’d taught them how to look at the world through a PI’s eyes. Frank thought back to the party and realized that the Jupiters players had been seated on the couch right next to the coffee table where he’d left the playbook. It would have been easy for one of them to swipe it when no one was looking, and Joe was right about one thing. It would be the perfect revenge.

  “I guess it is possible,” he said.

  “Yes!” Joe said. “A new case for us to solve!”

  Like their father, the boys had discovered they had a knack for solving mysteries. They’d already cracked several cases in Bayport and were always on the lookout for another. Frank wasn’t convinced that this was a real mystery yet, but he decided to humor his brother just in case.

  After practice was over, they returned home. But instead of going inside the house, they went to the woods out back where their father had built them a hidden tree house. They used it as their secret base of operations for all their investigations. Unless you knew what to look for, the tree house was perfectly hidden. Frank checked both ways to make sure no one was coming and then grabbed the rope they’d concealed behind a tree. When he gave it a tug, a rope ladder dropped down from the hidden tree house above. They climbed it quickly.

  “Okay,” Frank said once they were inside the tree house. He opened up the notebook where they kept track of clues for their investigations. “Let’s start with the Five Ws.”

  The Five Ws was something else their father had taught them about investigations. Finding them was the key to solving any mystery. Frank took out his notebook and wrote them down.

  “We don’t know the who,” Joe said, “but the what is the Bandits’ playbook.”

  “When is sometime between when I looked at it after the team meeting and when Coach Quinn got ready to leave and noticed it was missing,” Frank said. As he spoke, he filled in the answers in the notebook in his neat, straight handwriting. That was one reason he always took control of writing down the clues. Joe couldn’t even read his own handwriting half the time.

  “We should talk to everyone else who was at the party and see if anyone looked at it after you did,” Joe pointed out. Frank made a note of it on the right side of the page, next to the Five Ws.

  Who was the last person at the party to see the playbook?

  “The where is the Zermeños’ living room,” Joe said, “and the who and why are what we have to figure out!”

  Chapter 5

  A FURRY FRIEND

  The boys joined the rest of the team on the field the next day for practice. Coach Quinn started the day off by asking them all a question.

  “Did everyone check their things for the playbook yesterday?” she said.

  The team nodded.

  “Did anyone find it?” she asked.

  Frank figured someone would say they had. It was a more likely explanation than the playbook having been stolen. But to his surprise, everyone shook their heads.

  “I knew it!” Joe whispered. “It was stolen!”

  “I guess you’re right,” Frank whispered back.

  “That thief better watch out!” Joe said. “The Hardy brothers are on the case!”

  The team took their positions to practice—which meant Frank behind home plate to catch and Joe at second base—so Frank didn’t have a chance to talk to his brother about the playbook again until they were packing up their things to head home.

  “Who do you think might have taken it?” Frank asked as he stuffed his mitt into his bag.

  “That’s easy!” Joe said. “We’re still missing a why, right? That will lead us to our who! The thief has to be a person who had a reason to do it.”

  “A motive,” Frank said. He and his brother started to walk across the park toward their house. “Either the thief wanted our playbook for themselves—”

  “Or they just didn’t want us to have it,” Joe said. “Neither motive fits for anyone on the Bandits.”

  “But both fit for the Jupiters players,” Frank pointed out. “Stealing our playbook is a great way to get back at us for getting them into trouble.”

  “Plus,” Joe added, “it would give their team an advantage to
know about all the special training ideas and plays that Coach Quinn put together.”

  “You’re right,” Frank said. “The Jupiters had the perfect motive.”

  Joe looked over at another team practicing at one of the other baseball diamonds at the park. “Hey, is that the Jupiters?”

  Frank followed his brother’s gaze. “Yeah, I think it is.”

  “Let’s go over there,” Joe said. “Maybe we’ll discover something!”

  Frank followed his brother to the field where the other team was practicing. Sure enough, it was the Jupiters. Frank would recognize Conor Hound anywhere, since he towered almost a foot above all the other kids on the team. Frank and Joe crept toward the dugout as the team practiced catching and throwing the way the Bandits had done the day before. As long as they stayed low to the ground, the team wouldn’t be able to spot them over the roof of the dugout, which stuck up several feet out of the ground.

  “Well, now what?” Frank whispered once they were crouched behind the dugout.

  Joe shrugged. “We wait? Maybe when they come back here to pick up their stuff after practice, they’ll talk about stealing the playbook.”

  “Maybe,” Frank said. “What would really be good is if we could get into the dugout and see if the playbook is in there. If one of them stole it, they probably would have brought it here with them.”

  “Yeah, but how do we get in there without anyone noticing?” Joe asked.

  “Uh, I’m still working on that part of the plan,” Frank replied.

  Joe sighed. “Well, let me know when you figure it out.”

  They watched the Jupiters practicing for a couple of minutes, Frank racking his brain for a plan. Suddenly there was a commotion in the far corner of the field. Frank shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand as he tried to see what was going on. Two players were running toward the back of the field and shouting, and in the distance Frank spotted Wilmer Mack. Mr. Mack often brought his dog, Lucy, out to the ball field for her daily walk, and Lucy loved playing fetch more than anything.

  “Hey, look!” Joe said, pointing. “It’s Lucy! She has their ball!”

  Sure enough, there was Lucy with a baseball in her mouth. The two Jupiters players who had been tossing it back and forth were running after her, trying to get their ball back. But Lucy just thought it was part of the game. She dodged away from them, leading them on a chase across the field. Slowly, more and more Jupiters players went to help until finally the whole team, Coach Riley, and Mr. Mack were chasing Lucy, who was having the time of her life.

  “Now’s our chance!” Joe cried, jumping to his feet and rushing into the dugout.

  “Joe!” Frank said. “Get back here!”

  But Joe was already looking through the dugout for the bright-red playbook. First he went through the coach’s papers, which were stacked on the edge of the bench. Then he grabbed Conor Hound’s backpack—which had his last name monogrammed on it in big letters—and began to look through that, too.

  “They’re going to catch you!” Frank warned.

  “No way,” Joe replied. “It will take them forever to catch Lucy. But if you come down here and help me, we’ll be done twice as fast!”

  Frank looked nervously out at the field. The team was still chasing Lucy, and they were now entirely off the field and halfway to the concessions stand. Someone could come back any second, but for now, the Jupiters were completely distracted.

  “Oh man,” Frank said, looking back and forth between his brother in the dugout and the Jupiters chasing the dog. “Fine! I’m coming!”

  Frank jumped down into the dugout with Joe and started looking through the backpacks and gym bags the team had left scattered around. He felt a little bad about it, but he reassured himself that he wasn’t hurting anything. Plus, the Jupiters had started it by vandalizing Speedy’s yard and stealing the playbook in the first place.

  “See anything?” Joe asked.

  Frank shook his head. “Just equipment, clothes, and homework.”

  “Same here,” Joe said.

  Frank looked back over the field. The team had finally caught Lucy, and Mr. Mack was getting the ball back from her.

  “We’ve got to go,” Frank said. “They’ll be headed back soon.”

  “Okay,” Joe said. “There’s nothing here anyway. Let’s go!”

  The two boys climbed out of the dugout and began to run back toward their house, in the opposite direction, just as the Jupiters started to return to the field to resume their practice.

  “Maybe the Jupiters players weren’t the ones who took the playbook after all,” Frank said.

  “Just because we didn’t find the playbook doesn’t mean they don’t have it,” Joe pointed out. “If it wasn’t them, then who was it?”

  Chapter 6

  PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

  Frank and Joe returned home and had dinner with their parents and Aunt Trudy. Frank had trouble concentrating on his mother’s story about what had happened at her job that day and Aunt Trudy’s story about the book she was reading, because he couldn’t stop thinking about the missing playbook. The Jupiters were the only people at Speedy’s house that night who had any motive to steal it. Plus, they had been alone in the living room with the book more than anyone else, which gave them plenty of time to swipe it. He thought about it as they ate dessert, as they cleaned the table, and as he started to wash the dishes (it was his turn). If the Jupiters had stolen the playbook, wouldn’t they have wanted to show it to their teammates and brag about what they’d done? Frank thought so. In that case, he and Joe should have found it in the dugout.

  “Frank?” Mrs. Hardy called, shaking him from his thoughts.

  “Yeah, Mom?” he said.

  She held the phone out to him. “It’s for you.”

  He wiped his hands dry on a dish towel and took the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Frank!” It was Chet on the other end of the line. “Do you and Joe want to come over and play video games tonight? My parents said it’s okay.”

  Chet! Frank suddenly remembered that Chet had been snapping photos throughout the party. Maybe somewhere in his pictures he’d captured a clue as to who had taken the playbook.

  Frank turned to his mother, who was drying the dishes he’d washed.

  “Hey, Mom, is it okay if we go over to Chet’s for a little while tonight?” he asked.

  Mrs. Hardy gave him a look.

  “Once I’m done with the dishes, of course,” he added with an extra-sweet smile.

  “I don’t know, Frank . . . ,” she said.

  “Please, Mom!” Frank pleaded. He had to see those photos. Chet might have even photographed the theft itself!

  “Is your homework done?” Mrs. Hardy asked.

  Frank nodded. “Totally done. My chores, too.”

  Mrs. Hardy thought for a moment. Frank crossed his fingers and, for good measure, tried to cross his toes as well.

  “All right,” she finally said. “Just be home by eight, okay? It’s a school night.”

  “I will,” Frank promised. “Thanks, Mom!”

  “Finish the dishes first!” Mrs. Hardy pointed to the sink.

  Frank nodded and got back to scrubbing.

  A few minutes later Frank and Joe walked over to the Mortons’ house. On the way, Frank told Joe about his theory that there might be clues hidden in Chet’s photographs from the party.

  “Thank goodness for Chet’s new hobby!” Joe said, and Frank laughed.

  When they arrived, Chet answered the door and invited them into the house.

  “I just got this new race-car game, Ultimate Driver,” Chet told them as they went into the living room. “It’s so cool. You’re going to love it!”

  “Not yet, Chet!” Iola said. She and Mimi were sitting on the carpet in front of the television, watching an animated movie about a horse. “Mom said you have to let us finish our movie before you can play.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Chet said to Frank and Joe. “They
got here first, so we have to wait.”

  “That’s okay,” Frank said. “We were actually wondering if we could look at your pictures from the party.”

  “Sure!” Chet said. “I think they turned out pretty well. They’re on my dad’s computer. Follow me.”

  Chet led them upstairs, to a spare bedroom that Mr. Morton used as his home office. Chet sat down in front of the computer and jiggled the mouse to wake it up while Frank and Joe pulled up chairs. Chet opened up a folder, and a file with dozens and dozens of pictures in it came up. Frank exchanged a look with his brother. Going through Chet’s pictures to look for clues was going to take a lot longer than he’d thought!

  Chet started to click through the pictures. They started at the beginning of the evening, when everyone was in the Zermeños’ backyard, eating and playing games. Joe asked Chet if he could skip ahead.

  “What are you looking for?” Chet asked.

  “Well, we want to see if there are any clues about who took the playbook Coach Quinn showed us that night,” Frank said.

  “Someone stole it?” Chet asked.

  Of course, Frank realized. Chet wasn’t on the team, so he didn’t know that the playbook had gone missing. Frank explained to him that the playbook had disappeared at some point during the party.

  “So you two are on the case, huh?” Chet asked.

  Joe grinned. “Of course we are!”

  “Well, let’s see if I can help,” Chet said. He clicked quickly through the pictures until he came to one of Coach Quinn standing in front of the team in the Zermeños’ living room, holding the playbook in her hands. “I took this during the team meeting. This was the first time you saw the playbook, right?”

  Frank nodded. “Yeah. Keep going, Chet.”

  Chet clicked slowly through the pictures. There were a couple more of the team meeting, then one of Ezra Moore and Tommy Dawson high-fiving. In the background, Frank was looking through the playbook. In the next picture, Speedy was laughing with first baseman Jason Prime. Frank had disappeared from the background, and the playbook was sitting on the coffee table where he’d left it.