Trick-or-Trouble

by Franklin W. Dixon

  The three of them moved cautiously through the shadowy bookshelves, toward the back of the store.

  “This place sure is creepy with the lights out,” Callie said.

  “I think this could have been another attempt to add some ‘atmosphere’ to the treasure hunt,” Frank replied.

  “This is not atmosphere,” Joe said. “Look!”

  He shone his light into the ancient bank vault near the back of the store. The vault’s door stood open. Jumbled papers covered the room’s floor.

  “That’s where they keep the game clues, isn’t it?” Callie asked.

  “We better check it out,” Joe said. Then, in a lower voice, he added, “There might be someone inside.”

  Moving silently, the Hardys and Callie crept forward into the old vault. Frank crouched into a martial-arts stalking position. Joe followed, after handing his flashlight to Callie.

  When they entered the old room, though, they found only more scattered papers.

  “No one’s here,” Frank said.

  Callie let out a sigh of relief. “What a mess!” she said.

  As the words left her lips, the door of the old bank vault slammed shut behind them—trapping the Hardys and Callie inside.

  8 Vault of Horror

  Joe pounded on the door with his fist.

  “Who’s out there?” he called. “Let us out!”

  “If that’s you, Chet, this isn’t funny!” Callie added.

  Frank shook his head. “This isn’t Chet’s style.”

  “Let us out!” Joe said, pounding again.

  “Save your breath, Joe,” Frank said. “Whoever shut that door is probably gone.”

  Callie looked around nervously. The only light in the room came from the flashlight in her hand, and from the tiny, barred window set high in one wall. “How soon do you think the air will run out?” she asked.

  “Not before morning at the earliest,” Frank replied. “We could probably stay in here for days if we smash that little window.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” Joe said.

  “Hold on,” said Frank. “Let’s not break things if we don’t have to. Chances are pretty good that someone will come back to the store soon and let us out.”

  “What about breaking down the door?” Callie suggested.

  Frank shook his head. “The bolt on the other side is inch–thick steel. We’d only hurt ourselves trying to break through.”

  Joe pulled out the Hardys’ cell phone and dialed; Callie did the same with hers.

  “Nothing,” she said, frowning. “No service.”

  “Probably because we’re inside a metal vault,” Frank concluded.

  “Man, I hate waiting to be rescued,” Joe said, pacing around the small chamber.

  “It could be worse,” Frank replied. “We’ve got a little light, even without the flashlights—and plenty of air. At the worst, we’ll just spend an uncomfortable night here. Our parents are bound to find us in the morning, if not sooner.”

  “Do you think Bettis could have rushed back here and locked us in?” Joe asked.

  “I don’t see how,” Frank said. “The store was already dark when we were following him. Whatever occurred here happened before then.”

  “He could have had an accomplice,” Joe said. “We already know he’s working with someone—the guy he threatened. It’s not a big stretch to think he set us up.”

  “Mr. Blasko might have done it, too,” Callie said. “We don’t know how long he’d been here when we showed up. Maybe he was coming out of the Book Bank when we caught him, and not just looking around. He could have followed us after we came inside, and locked us in.”

  “It’s possible,” Frank said. He sat down by the door.

  “Where are Chet and the others, though?” Callie asked, sitting down beside him. “Do you think something’s happened to them?” She was clearly worried.

  “If anything has, there’s nothing we can do about it, as long as we’re trapped in here,” Joe said. He pounded his fist against the door one last time, then sat down amid the piles of papers. He leaned back against the brick wall and took a long, deep breath. “Do you think whoever did this got what he came for?”

  “No way to tell,” Frank said. “We must have almost caught him, though. Otherwise, why would he lock us in?” He smiled at Callie, then glanced at the flashlight. “We should save the light.”

  She nodded and turned it off. “I hope the Mortons and the Soesbees are all right,” she said.

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” Joe replied. “Chet and Iola are tough, and Daphne’s no pushover, either. There’s probably a logical explanation for why they’re not here.”

  “Maybe someone lured them away,” Frank suggested, “so he could ransack the place.”

  “But how?” Callie asked.

  “Hey! Listen!” Joe said. “Someone’s rummaging around out there.” He stood and pounded on the door again. “Hey! Let us out! We’re trapped in here!”

  Frank stood and positioned himself beside the door, ready to clobber anyone who came through. “Just in case,” he whispered to Callie. She came and stood beside him, ready to help. Joe continued to bang on the vault door.

  Slowly the door creaked open and light shone in from the bookstore beyond. A face appeared, silhouetted by the light.

  “Who’s in there? Are you okay?” asked a familiar voice.

  “Chet!” Callie said. “Are we glad to see you!”

  “Callie, Frank, Joe?” Chet said. “What are you doing in the vault? Did you guys turn off the lights in the store?”

  Joe shook his head as he, Frank, and Callie exited the vault. “They were off when we got here,” Joe said. “When we came to investigate, someone locked us in.”

  “Chet, where have you been?” Callie said. “Where are Iola and the Soesbees? We were worried.”

  “Iola had a headache, so she went home,” Chet said. “Daphne had to pick up some schoolwork; she’s been falling behind because of the contest. Her mom had to take care of some contest business with the Chamber of Commerce. They all left together.”

  “Which means you were left minding the store,” Joe said.

  Chet nodded. “Yeah. Then the Town Spa Pizzeria called, and said we needed to pick up the carry-out order we’d phoned in. So I stuck the ‘Back in Fifteen Minutes’ sign on the door and went out to get it.” He indicated the pizza boxes on the sales counter.

  “You left the lights on and the door locked?” Frank asked.

  “Of course,” Chet replied. “I was only going to be gone a couple of minutes.”

  “Whoever turned out the lights must have taken down the sign, too,” Joe said.

  “They probably didn’t want any contest-goers prowling around while they ransacked the vault,” Frank said.

  “Oh, man!” Chet said. “I was so busy wondering what you guys were doing in there that I didn’t notice. What a mess!”

  At that moment, the shop’s back door opened, and Daphne and her mom entered. Concern flashed over Ms. Soesbee’s face. “What’s going on here?” she asked.

  “I had to go out and pick up the pizzas you ordered,” Chet said. “While I was gone, someone broke in.”

  Both mother and daughter’s jaws dropped open.

  “What did they steal?” Ms. Soesbee asked, nearly frantic.

  “It doesn’t look like they took anything from the store,” Frank said. “The vault is a mess, though.”

  “Oh, no!” Ms. Soesbee said, peering inside at the scattered papers.

  “We arrived before the burglar left,” Joe said, “but when we went to investigate the vault, he locked us in.”

  “This is terrible!” Daphne said.

  “We should call the police,” Callie suggested.

  “No!” Ms. Soesbee snapped. “No police. Let’s figure out what’s missing first. The contest doesn’t need the bad publicity that calling the police would bring.”

  “You said you went out to pick up pizza, Chet?” Daphne sa
id.

  “Yeah. The Town Spa Pizzeria called to say it was ready, so I locked up and went to get it. If figured you must have forgotten about the order when you ran out. Sorry. I never would have gone if I’d known the place would get broken into.”

  “But we didn’t order any pizza,” Daphne said.

  “The pizza must have been a ruse to lure Chet away from the store,” Joe said, glancing at the steaming pizza boxes on the counter. “The question is, what was inside the vault that’s worth that much trouble?”

  “Only the contest materials have been scattered,” Ms. Soesbee said. “We’ll need to put them back before we can confirm what’s missing.”

  “We can help with that,” Callie said. Joe and Frank nodded.

  “Thank you so much,” Ms. Soesbee replied.

  They all went into the vault and collected the scattered clue envelopes. While the others worked, Chet stayed out front and dealt with customers.

  In a short time they’d stacked and counted the envelopes that had spilled on the floor. Ms. Soesbee frowned as they brought them back to the corner of the store that served as her office. “They all seem to be here,” she said, puzzled. “It doesn’t look like anything is missing. Of course, I’ll have to recheck the clues before sending them out.”

  Daphne gave a half smile. “This is as far as you three go, unless you want to work with the contest instead of on the contest.”

  “Were all the clues in the vault?” Joe asked.

  “All but the ones we’ve already distributed,” Ms. Soesbee replied.

  “Why go to all the trouble of breaking in here and not take anything?” Callie asked.

  Daphne shrugged. “You can’t claim a prize without the proper chain of clue envelopes—so just checking some clues wouldn’t do any good.”

  Frank rubbed his chin. “Well, it might give you some advantage,” he said, “but you couldn’t cash in on it unless you could obtain the right clue later. That seems like a big chance to take. It would have been easier just to steal the clue you wanted.”

  “What are the colored dots on the corners of the envelopes for?” Joe asked.

  “There’s a different color dot for each day of the contest,” Ms. Soesbee said. “We put out a different batch of clues each day.”

  “Clues are easier to understand during the last days,” Daphne added.

  Frank shook his head. “I don’t think there’s anything more we can do here—except get ourselves disqualified from competing. I still think you should call the police, though.”

  “We will, if anything turns up stolen,” Ms. Soesbee said. “But maybe this is just someone’s idea of a prank.” She looked around the store. “There are plenty of valuables out here, in plain sight. A real burglar could have taken any of it.”

  “Picking the front door lock is a lot of trouble to go to for a prank,” Joe said.

  “Let us know if you find anything gone,” Frank said. “Come on, Joe, Callie. We better get back to the contest if we’re going to have any chance at the big prizes.”

  “Good luck,” Daphne and Chet said simultaneously. They laughed.

  The Hardys and Callie walked in the direction of Java John’s, hitting a few stores for clues as they went.

  Allison Rosenberg drove by once and beeped at them. She was seated behind the wheel of a classic, orange VW beetle. “Like it?” she called, pulling over. “I just collected it for solving the scarab riddles.”

  “Congratulations,” Frank said.

  “I hope this means you’re retiring,” Joe added.

  Allison laughed. “Not on your life.” She put her foot on the gas and zipped away.

  “I don’t think we’ve even seen the scarab riddles,” Callie said.

  After an hour they stopped at Java John’s to get some drinks and gather their wits.

  Callie sipped her mocha latte and read one of their new clues. “Where blanket boy might meet a most sincere wicked witch,” she said, then sighed. “These aren’t getting any easier.”

  “Hang on,” Joe said, “that might tie in with a clue we found yesterday.” He hauled it out and read, “Orange, orange all around, carving clues are often found.”

  “How does that fit?” Callie asked.

  “Seeing Allison in that VW made me think about a big pumpkin,” Joe explained. “Get it? These two riddles could both be about pumpkins.”

  Callie’s eyes brightened. “The boy would be the kid from ‘Peanuts’ who sat in the pumpkin patch. What about the witch, though?”

  “Maybe it’s a location of some kind,” Frank said. “If orange is all around you in a pumpkin patch, what patch—of all the ones in Bayport—might you meet a wicked witch in?”

  “The patch of the Wicked Witch of the West!” Callie said, her face lighting up. “Farmer West’s pumpkin patch is out near the interstate!”

  “That’s a long, purposeless drive if we’re wrong,” Joe said. Then he smiled. “But I don’t think we’re wrong. Let’s go!”

  They ran back to the car, and quickly drove out to Farmer West’s Country Restaurant and Farm. When the friends got there, the restaurant was bustling with activity. Cars and motorcycles lined the parking lot.

  The farm had self-guided tours through a big corn maze stretching away from the restaurant and into West’s fields. “The pumpkin patch is on the far side of the maze,” Callie said.

  They cut between the rows of dried corn—ignoring the paths of the maze—until they came to the broad swath of moonlit farmland beyond. As they emerged from the rustling stalks, they saw a huge orange, pyramidlike shape.

  “That’s got to be it,” Joe said.

  Sprinting forward, they discovered a twenty-foot-tall pyramid built out of pumpkins. Dried fields of corn came right up to the pyramid on three sides. Several big old logs had been set nearby as makeshift benches. Frank smiled and shook his head in admiration. “It must have taken someone a long time to build that pyramid,” he said.

  “The clue!” Callie called. “I found the clue!” She stooped down to pick up the fist-size, ceramic pumpkin. The brothers raced to her side.

  As Callie held up her prize, the cornstalks rustled in the wind.

  Suddenly, a rumbling filled the small clearing. All three teens looked up. The pumpkin pyramid was toppling toward them.

  9 Sincerely Smashing Pumpkins

  All at once a mountain of bright orange squash rained down on them. The brothers and Callie threw their hands over their heads for protection.

  “Run!” Frank called. But it was too late.

  The pumpkins pummeled the teenagers’ bodies and tripped them up, sending them sprawling into the dry field. A cry came from the other side of the falling pyramid.

  The rumbling avalanche seemed to last forever, though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. When it subsided, a huge cloud of dust filled the air where the pyramid had been, and sticky orange pulp from shattered pumpkins covered the ground.

  Frank Hardy slowly got to his feet and waved the dust away from his face. “Joe! Callie! Are you all right?”

  Several coughs came in reply—one from further across the jumble of orange carcasses. Spotting Callie’s slender hand amid the pulpy rubble, Frank made his way to her side and helped her up. Almost simultaneously, Joe started to get up.

  “I’m okay,” Callie said. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

  “Me, too,” Joe added. “And these pumpkins have seen better days.”

  A shadowy figure emerged from the other side of the pumpkin patch. “You guys owe me!” the shadow croaked.

  Frank pulled his flashlight out and shone it on Brent Jackson. The football player looked battered and slightly soggy with orange pulp. “You did this to keep me from claiming the prize!” Jackson growled. “You owe me restitution!”

  “What are you talking about?” Joe asked angrily. “We already got the prize.”

  “Had the prize, you mean,” Callie said. “Sorry, guys. I lost it when the pyramid fell.
”

  “It’s got to be around here somewhere,” Frank said, “even if it’s buried under pumpkins.” He began to look through the pumpkin wreckage.

  “I saw it first,” Jackson said. “You guys did this to keep me from getting it.” He bent over and started rooting through the remains of the pyramid.

  “Get lost, Jackson,” Joe said. “We had that prize fair and square.”

  Jackson stood up. “Why don’t we settle this here and now, Hardy.”

  “Why don’t we,” Joe replied. He tossed aside a piece of pumpkin shell and balled up his fists.

  “This has to be the stupidest-looking thing I’ve ever seen,” said a woman’s voice.

  All of them spun to see Missy Gates and Jay Stone, dressed in jeans and leather “Kings” jackets. They were standing at the edge of the cornfield.

  “What are you doing here?” Jackson snapped.

  “Looking for prizes,” Missy replied. “Same as you. Find any, or are you just having a big pie fight?”

  “We found one,” Callie said, “but lost it when the pumpkin pyramid fell.”

  “I found it first!” Jackson said.

  Missy laughed. “Is this what you’re looking for?” she asked. She walked over between two rows of dried corn and picked up the broken pieces of a ceramic pumpkin.

  “Is the prize envelope with it?” Frank asked.

  Missy shook her head and tossed the pieces on the ground.

  “Looks like someone beat you dopes to the punch,” said Jay Stone.

  “Maybe that someone was you!” Jackson snarled.

  “He’s right,” Joe said. “Someone toppled those pumpkins on us—and you two seem likely candidates.”

  “As if we’re dumb enough to stick around after pulling something like that,” Stone snorted.

  “Someone who’s smart might divert suspicion by sticking around and playing innocent,” Frank said. “Though I suppose that smart part leaves you two out.”

  “Very funny, Hardy,” Missy said. “It just so happens that I saw someone hightailing it out of here through the corn rows as we arrived.”

  “A likely story,” said Callie.