A Will to Survive (5 page)

Carl nodded. Pulling a blue bandanna from his hip pocket, he folded it over his nose and went through the doorway. Joe caught Frank's eye and gestured with his head. Holding their hands over their noses, the two Hardys followed Carl inside.

The caretaker went to the first of the high french windows. He used a small key on his key ring to unlock it, then flung it open wide. Immediately the smell was less intense than it had been.

“Give me a hand here, will you?” he grunted to the Hardys.

Joe and Frank helped him force open a reluctant window. “When was the last time this was opened?” Frank asked.

“Couple of years ago, I guess,” Carl replied. “They're always locked. It's a question of security. My bosses keep promising to put an alarm system in, too. Just as well they haven't got to it yet, though. If they had, we'd have been overrun with cops the minute I opened this window.”

Joe bent to peer under the furniture. If a skunk had found its way into the room, it was probably still there, he figured. It must be terrified. Would it let loose with another burst of spray? If so, Joe did not intend to be in the line of fire!

The only skunk Joe found had been there a long time. It was stuffed and in a glass display case, frozen forever in the act of digging for insects in a fallen tree trunk.

“You fellows keep an eye on things, okay?” Carl said. “Don't let any strangers in. I'll be right back. I'm going to go scare up a fan.”

“I'm glad he doesn't hold last night against me,” Joe said to Frank after Carl had left.

Frank didn't seem to hear. He was standing next to the skunk display, staring at the floor.

“What is it?” Joe demanded. “What did you find?”

Frank got down on one knee. “Look,” he said, pointing to the area of the floor just behind the display case. “I don't think we have to worry about chasing a live skunk from the room.”

Joe bent down. The skunk odor got stronger. He held his breath and looked to the spot where Frank was pointing. There on the floor was a small uncapped bottle lying on its side. The label showed a cartoon drawing of a grinning, winking skunk. Black thread encircled the neck of the bottle.

“The prankster strikes again,” Joe murmured. He scanned the area. Just across the doorway from the display case was an old-fashioned radiator. A length of black thread dangled from one of the legs. He pulled it loose and examined it closely. It wasn't ordinary cotton sewing thread. It looked like very fine black nylon fishing leader.

“So simple,” Frank said, when Joe showed him the second piece of thread. “The thread's across the doorway, invisible against the floor. The first person who walks through breaks it and tips over the bottle of skunk scent. You see what that means?”

Joe nodded. “Uh-huh. We had people back and forth through these rooms all morning. So the booby trap must have been set during the lunch break. But the building was closed then. The only people around were us—the interns and staff. That makes this definitely an inside job.”

“I wonder how hard it is to find skunk scent,” Frank said. “There's no brand or maker's name on the label, but it looks like something you'd find in a novelty shop. We'd better check around to see what we can find out.”

“Good idea,” Joe said. “Maybe the bad guy slipped up and left a trail we can follow.”

Carl reappeared, carrying a window fan in one hand and a bucket of powerful disinfectant cleanser in the other. He had a mop tucked under one arm.

“Here, will you take this?” Carl asked. Joe took the fan from him and set it beside one of the open windows, facing out. While he plugged it in, Frank showed Carl the overturned bottle.

“So it wasn't a real skunk after all,” Carl said. “You ask me, whoever did this is a lot worse skunk than any you're likely to find in the woods.”

He dipped the mop in the cleaning solution and went to work scrubbing the floor. “This disinfectant will clean off some of the spray and will mask some of the odor.”

Joe and Frank returned to the entrance hall. It was empty. Everyone had been driven outside by the smell. They stepped outside, too. Callie hurried over.

“Whew!” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You guys were in there too long! Better go wash and change, before some visitor gets a whiff of you.”

Tanya joined them. Joe noticed that she stayed a couple of feet away. “What terrible luck,” she said. “We'll have to close the interior for the rest of the day.”

“It wasn't exactly luck,” Frank said. He told her about the bottle of scent.

Tanya's face grew hard. “I see,” she said, in a voice that oozed cold anger.

“We'll do what we can to stop whoever's behind this,” Joe quickly assured her.

“I know you will,” she said, with a little shake. “Thank you. Please excuse me. My board members must know about this latest outrage.”

She walked inside. A moment later Bruce came over. “You fellows,” he began. Then he made a face. “You both need a shower. Then I want you to tag along and help out with tours. Frank, I've assigned you to Wendy's group. Joe, you'll be with Rahsaan.”

Bruce sniffed a couple of times and continued, “I'll let them know that you'll be a little delayed. Our schedule's already out the window anyway. Oh—and when you change out of those clothes, seal them in plastic bags, if you don't mind.”

The Hardys went inside. “Funny,” Joe said as they started up the stairs. “I don't smell a thing!”

• • •

Half an hour before dinner, Frank, Joe, and Callie met outside the building.

“We need to make some plans,” Frank said.

“Let's go up the Red Arrow Trail,” Callie suggested. “We'll probably have it to ourselves this late in the day.”

The trail, which led through a marshy section of woods, was wide enough for the three friends to walk side by side. Its surface, a layer of wood chips, felt soft and springy underfoot.

“How did the afternoon go?” Callie asked.

Frank answered first. “I didn't have much time for detecting,” he said ruefully. “Wendy was guiding a bunch of ten-year-olds along one of the nature trails. What she had to say was interesting, but I couldn't really listen. I was too busy playing sheepdog, keeping the flock together. Those kids wander off the minute your back is turned!”

Callie laughed. “I know. I've had groups like that myself. I hope you didn't let any of them bother the animals.”

“It was touch and go,” Frank replied. “One boy wanted to throw pebbles at a woodchuck. He changed his mind when Dylan told him woodchucks attack people. Do they, by the way?”

“Certainly not,” Callie said indignantly. “They're the most harmless creatures around! Like any animal, they'll defend themselves if they're attacked. But if they have a choice, they run away. Dylan had no business saying a thing like that.”

“Who is he anyway?” Joe asked.

“A guy,” Callie said with a shrug. “He showed up one day a couple of weeks ago to take the tour. He and Wendy hit it off, and he's been hanging around ever since. How was your afternoon, Joe?”

“It had its moments,” Joe said. “We had this loudmouth in the group. Every time Rahsaan tried to explain something, he jumped in with his own version. Rahsaan kept his cool, though. I don't think I would have. The guy was a royal pain.”

“You get all kinds,” Callie observed. “Most people appreciate what we're doing. They come here to enjoy nature and to learn. I try to keep that in mind when I run into one of the other type. I think what Shorewood is trying to do is important. That's why I'm so furious at whoever's trying to wreck it.”

“We're getting somewhere,” Frank told her. He explained about the bottle of skunk scent. “So a visitor couldn't have set the booby trap. It had to be one of the people who was in the building during the lunch break. That means one of us.”

“Or Dylan,” Callie said. “I'm pretty sure I saw him during the break. But why would he rig up a stink bomb? For that matter, why would anyone?”

“We've already found one possible motive,” Joe said. “You were there when Sal told us about his uncle. Maybe he resents the way his uncle was treated. And some of the others may have links to Parent or the center that we don't know about.”

The path curved left and crossed a rustic bridge over a pond. As the three walked onto the bridge, they heard a series of
plops.
Ripples showed where frogs had jumped into the water from their perches on logs and lily pads.

Joe stopped and leaned against the log railing. Something about it felt odd. He looked more closely. “Hey,” he said. “This isn't wood. It's concrete. It's just made to look like a log.”

“Most of the bridges are like that,” Callie said. “I guess Parent thought they fit in better.”

“We should remember that,” Frank said. “In a case like this, nothing may be quite what it seems.”

• • •

The clock in the tower of the carriage house struck the hour. Joe counted to twelve and sat up. He listened to Sal's breathing. It was slow and steady. Stealthily, Joe pulled on black jeans and a black T-shirt and tiptoed from the room. In the hall he slipped his feet into rubber-soled sneakers.

A sound came from behind him. Joe spun around. Frank crept out of his room, holding a finger to his lips. He, too, was dressed all in black.

Silently the two brothers walked downstairs to the basement. At the kitchen door, they paused.

Joe put his head close to Frank's and whispered, “You're sure there's no alarm in this part of the house?”

“I cleared it with Tanya,” Frank whispered back. “She gave me a key, so we won't have to leave the door unlocked.”

Outside, Joe pulled a small but powerful flashlight from his hip pocket. Shading the beam with his fingers, he shone it on the path. He and Frank waited until they were a good distance from the building to speak again.

“You think Carl will come?” Joe asked.

“He did last night,” Frank replied. “As that pain in your neck should remind you. The question is, did he arrive before or after you heard the noise downstairs? Maybe he really was trying to catch the
prankster. But I'd rather know for sure. Here's the path to his place.”

The moment they entered the woods, the night seemed to close in. Joe's flashlight illuminated a small oval of ground, but that made everything around much darker. Rustling noises came from the bushes on either side. Joe knew they were probably made by field mice, but they sounded loud enough to be lions and tigers and bears.

Joe ducked as he sensed, rather than saw, something swoop past his head. A moment later, he heard a faint
whoo!
from a tree behind him. He was sure the owl was laughing at him.

“Uh-oh,” Joe said suddenly. “To the rear, march!”

“Huh?” Frank replied. “What is it?”

Joe tugged at his arm. “Up ahead on the path,” he said. “Bushy-tailed and black with a white stripe down its back. I'm
pretty
sure its face was pointing in our direction, but should we take a chance? We didn't bring enough changes of clothes with us to tangle with a real skunk.”

The Hardys retreated. If they patroled nearer the main building, they could still watch for Carl and keep an eye out for other intruders as well.

As they drew near the edge of the woods, Joe saw the paler blue of the sky through the gap in the trees. The reflection of distant lights turned the clouds a pinkish color. Near the horizon, beyond the clouds, a sliver of moon played peekaboo. The chorus of tree frogs swelled, then faded.

Joe and Frank followed the path onto the lawn. The three floors of the darkened main building loomed against the sky like a docked ocean liner.

“Should we—” Joe started to say.

The beam of a high-powered flashlight suddenly blinded him. A second light was aimed at Frank.

“Police!” a hoarse voice barked. “On the ground, facedown, both of you! Keep those hands in plain sight.
Move!”

Frank stretched his arms out to either side, palms forward. The police officer sounded edgy. It was not a good idea to do anything that might make him more so. Frank knelt on one knee, then used his hands to lower himself to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Joe was doing the same.

“Stretch those arms out in front of you,” the officer ordered. “Hold it just like that.”

Frank felt two hands pat him down for weapons. His head was turned to the right. He saw lights come on in the upstairs windows of the center. People inside must have heard the commotion, he figured.

“They're clean, Mike,” a new voice said.

“Okay, sit up nice and slow,” Mike ordered them. “Who are you, and what's your business here?”

Frank took the lead. He knew he could count on Joe to catch his cues. “We're both interns at the center,” he said. “I'm Frank Hardy, and that's my brother, Joe. We're outside tonight because we think the center should do an owl census. We want to make sure it's a practical idea before we bring it up.”

The front door of the center banged open. Frank glanced over and saw a little knot of people hurrying across the lawn toward them.

“An owl census?” the officer named Mike repeated in a sarcastic tone. “You wouldn't be pulling my leg, would you?”

“What is all this?” Tanya demanded. She gave her name, then added, “I am the director of Shorewood Nature Center. What is the problem?”

Mike identified himself. “Somebody called us to report a pair of prowlers,” he continued. “When we came to check it out, we caught these two guys coming out of the woods. They claim they belong here. They say they were out chasing owls.”

Frank heard suppressed laughter from the group of interns clustered behind Tanya.