Crime in the Cards (12 page)

“I wish we could do something,” Callie whispered to Frank.

“I wish we'd found his deck,” Frank said glumly.

With their playing hands depleted, each contestant began a final push. Daphne laid out a Titanium Titan. Pete responded with a Bargeist.

Chet's eyes narrowed and he glanced from the card to Pete's impassive face. Chet played an Emerald Enchanter—which allowed him to simultaneously bring his Fiery Phoenix into play. The move kept him in the game for another turn, barely.

Daphne nodded her head admiringly at the play. She checked the cards in her hand for a moment, then brought out her Cobalt Bishop—a powerful anti-magic card.

Pete thought for a minute, then said, “This'll mess up all those spells you guys are using. Read 'em and weep, kiddies.”

He placed the Coyote into his Creature army.

The crowd applauded Pete's move.

Chet went white. His eyes fastened onto the ketchup-stained corner of the card. He looked at Pete, who grinned back at him.

“That's my card!” Chet bellowed.

“You're crazy, Morton,” Pete sneered. “Certifiably crazy.”

The Hardys stood up, but before they could push through the crowd, Chet lunged across the table and tackled Pete.

Daphne grabbed her cards and cleared out as Chet and Pete tussled. They knocked over the table, and cards flew everywhere. The two of them rolled around the floor, wrestling.

Frank and Joe rushed forward, with Iola and Callie close on their heels. They dragged Chet and Pete apart just moments before tournament security arrived.

“Morton, you dope!” Pete shouted angrily.

“Thief !” Chet growled.

“Break it up! Both of you come with me. Now!” The security officer, a tall beefy man named Craw-ford, laid one big hand on Chet's shoulders and another on Pete's, and led them from the room. The Hardys and their girlfriends followed Chet out.

As they left, Ron Felix stepped up to the microphone at the front of the room. “Sorry for the disturbance, folks, but you can all get back to your games. Per the rules, both those players are disqualified. The tournament, however, will continue!” The crowd applauded and the noise from the disruption soon died away.

The security officer held Chet and Pete in the hotel office until the police arrived and took them to the Bayport PD. The Hardys drove their van to the station; Callie and Iola tagged along in Chet's car.

It took three-quarters of an hour before the brothers could get anyone to talk with them. Finally they spoke to Officer Chisholm, whom they'd met the previous morning.

“I wouldn't worry about this too much,” she said to the teens. “Security guards bring kids down here mostly to scare them. Big tournaments like this don't like the bad publicity an arrest would bring. They rarely press charges unless someone gets hurt or something's broken. Your friend is lucky the fight didn't go further. Con Riley told me that all of you were okay—even this Morton character. Why'd this happen?”

“Chet thought that Pete stole his cards,” Iola said.

“We're checking into that,” the officer said, “but—
right now—it looks like your brother made a mistake.”

“What about the cards themselves?” Joe asked.

“We've got them,” Officer Chisholm replied, “though we'll probably release them when we let Morton and the Kaufmann kid go—assuming we can sort the cards out that quickly.”

“You said earlier that Chet was mistaken about the card being his,” Frank said. “How can you be so sure?”

“The stain that Morton said was ketchup turned out to be a printer's error,” the officer said. “We examined it with a good magnifying glass, and you can see the printing dots in the red stain. That red blotch is
printed
on the card.”

“That's an odd coincidence,” Joe said, “since Chet's stolen deck contained a stained Coyote card.”

Officer Chisholm shrugged. “Life is full of odd coincidences. They make police work harder than it ought to be.”

“Could you make us a photocopy of that Coyote card?” Frank asked.

“I don't see why not,” Chisholm said. “I'll have our public assistant do it for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to do the paperwork for Morton's release.”

Twenty minutes later the PA brought Frank the photocopy he'd requested. Ten minutes after that, a forlorn Chet Morton met the group in the foyer.

“Did you get your cards back?” Iola asked.

Chet nodded. “Yeah, but not the cards Pete stole.”

“Chet,” Frank said, “Officer Chisholm assured us that the stain on the Coyote card was a printing error.”

“I don't believe it,” Chet said. “The stain was
exactly
the same as the one on my card. If Pete has that card, he's got to have the rest of my deck somewhere. The police should search his house.”

“Chet, don't make a fuss,” Iola said. “Let's get out of here before they change their minds about holding you.”

Chet nodded and the five of them headed out the door. They went back to Chet's house, where Mr. and Mrs. Morton were waiting to speak with Chet and Iola. Not wanting to get into the middle of a family discussion, the Hardys and Callie agreed to meet Chet and Iola before school the next morning.

“Before we go, though,” Frank said to Chet, “could we borrow your cards?”

“We promise to bring them back in perfect condition,” Joe added.

“That'd be great,” Chet said, “because they're looking pretty beat up right now. If you could bring them back
perfect,
I'd be grateful.” He handed the deck to Frank, and the brothers and Callie went back to the Hardys' house, where Callie had left her car.

“Why'd you need Chet's deck?” Callie asked as they arrived.

“I wanted to check something,” Frank said. Callie crinkled her nose at him. “Don't be obscure,
Frank Hardy,” she said. “What are you looking for?”

“I think Frank wants to check the stain on the photocopy Officer Chisholm gave us against the stain on Chet's White Knight card,” Joe said.

“Right,” Frank said. “Chet said that the two cards got stained with ketchup at the same time along their edges. I want to see if the stains match up.”

“What will it prove if the stains match?”

“I'd rather not speculate until we've looked at the cards,” Frank said.

“Well, if you think I'm going home before you check it out, you're crazy,” Callie said. “Let's go.”

The three of them went into the Hardys' kitchen. Joe fetched some sodas while Frank riffled through the deck, looking for the White Knight.

When he found it, he laid the card on the table and placed the photocopy next to it. Then he carefully matched the two stains up like pieces of a puzzle.

“They fit!” Callie said. “But how can that be? Why would a printer's error match the stain on Chet's card so exactly?”

“There's only one explanation I can think of,” Joe said. “Counterfeiting.”

“You mean somebody's making
fake
Creature Cards?” Callie asked.

“Why not?” Joe replied. “Chet said that the cards were like printing money for the company that sells them. It makes sense that crooks would want to cash in as well.”

Frank nodded thoughtfully. “It could be that the
card thefts are just obscuring the larger crime. I think the thieves are reproducing the valuable cards—like the Coyote—and then selling the reproductions to unsuspecting kids.”

“It's a great scheme,” Callie agreed. “But how can you prove all this? I don't think the photocopy the police gave you will stand up as evidence. And who's doing the counterfeiting?”

“We don't know—yet,” Frank said. “Maybe Pete's behind the whole thing. Stealing other players' cards would both eliminate competition and give him a greater pool of rare cards. Counterfeiting would also give him extra money, allowing him access to even more cards.”

“Or maybe he's just greedy,” Joe suggested. “In any case, planting a stolen card in Tim's locker would cut down on Pete's competitors. Plus, since Pete had a copy of the Bargeist anyway, planting Chet's to frame Tim wouldn't be any disadvantage.”

“Pete seems like a pretty good suspect,” Callie said.

“But he'd need a lot of gall to play the stolen cards against Chet,” Frank said. “Plus, we could say the same about any of the other players, like Daphne, or the folks who just sell the cards, like Gerry or Ron Felix. Tim's not in the clear, either. With so many people trading and selling cards, it wouldn't take long for counterfeits to infiltrate the whole gaming community. That could make the culprit really difficult to track down.”

“Boy, this whole scheme really burns me up,” Joe
said. “Kids pay a lot for cards, then have them stolen, then pay again to replace them. Except, the replacements they're paying for may be counterfeits. It's a huge rip-off !”

“That's why we're going to stop this crook,” Frank said. “It's too late to do anything more tonight, but starting tomorrow, we're going to bring that counterfeiter's house of cards down around his ears!”

“We might be able to break this case, but we're going to need some cooperation from Pete to do it,” Frank said.

“What do you mean?” Iola asked.

“So far,” Joe said, “we're only speculating that Pete's Coyote is a counterfeit. The photocopy isn't good enough to prove anything. Plus, I want to look at his Bargeist, which we suspect might be a counterfeit as well.”

“Joe and I looked at Chet's Bargeist with a magnifying glass last night after Callie went home,” Frank said. “We found a number of minor scratches. If those scratches are printed on Pete's card, it would bear out
our counterfeiting theory. But we need to get a look at Pete's cards.”

“What if Pete won't show you his cards?” Callie asked.

“Then it moves him up on our suspects list,” Joe said.

Chet laughed ironically. “Good luck! After yesterday, I doubt that Pete'll want to talk to any of us.”

“Maybe I could help there,” Callie said. “Pete's sister, Lisa, is in some of my classes. I could try to arrange a truce.”

“Great,” Frank said. “If you can, Callie, let's meet at Pete's house this afternoon.”

The school day passed with only a few minor incidents. Daphne walked around the halls glowing with pride; she'd placed second in the tournament, right behind Steve Vedder. She bandied the words “ glorious combat” around as if she'd actually been in a war.

“She certainly came out on top in all this,” Joe whispered to Frank.

“Yeah,” the elder Hardy said. “I'm not sure she's our criminal, though.”

Pete avoided any contact with the Hardys and Mortons, as did a number of other gamers who'd seen the fight. They all seemed to blame Chet. Sam Kestenberg sniped unceasingly at Chet and the Hardys over the incident.

Callie succeeded in her plan, though, and at the end of the day, she, Iola, Frank, and Joe all piled into
the Hardys' van. Chet decided to take his own car, “In case I have to get out of there quick,” he said.

They drove to Pete's house, which was in the older section of the Magus Hills subdivision. They made their way up to the spacious, two-story house where Pete and Lisa lived with their parents.

Pete answered the door, and his eyes narrowed when he took in who was there.

“I know I agreed to this meeting, but you've got a lot of nerve bringing Morton with you,” Pete said angrily.

“I'm sorry I got us kicked out of the tournament,” Chet said quietly.

“Sorry doesn't cut it,” Pete replied. “I could have
won
that tournament.”

“Calm down, Pete,” Frank said. “We're all pretty ticked off about this whole affair. We think we know what's behind the trouble, but we need your cooperation to prove it.”

“Cooperation, how?” Pete asked.

“We need to compare a couple of Chet's cards to yours,” Joe said. “Specifically, the Bargeist and the Coyote.”

Pete frowned suspiciously. “Why?”

“Joe and Frank think the cards are counterfeit,” Iola blurted.

“Ha!” Pete scoffed. “That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”

“Think about it a moment,” Frank urged. “A counterfeiter could make a lot of money duplicating valuable
able cards—especially if he got to sell them back to people he'd stolen them from in the first place.”

“Okay,” Pete said. “I can accept that. You can come in. But if you're stringing me along . . .”

“Don't worry,” Joe said. “We can prove what we say.”

They adjourned to the Kaufmann dining room, and Pete fetched his deck. Chet and Pete pulled out the cards in question and examined them. Sure enough, Pete's Coyote matched the stain on Chet's White Knight. Plus, the tiny scratches on Chet's Bargeist had been faithfully reproduced on Pete's card.

“Counterfeit!” Pete gasped angrily. “I can't believe it! I can't believe those guys would rip me off!”

“Who ripped you off, Pete?” Joe asked. “Who'd you get those cards from?”

“The Black Knight got back in touch with me after I saw you guys on Saturday,” Pete said. “He said there'd been a mix-up, apologized, and I bought the Bargeist from him the next night.”

“And you still didn't recognize him?” Chet asked.

Pete scowled at Chet. “No. Like I told you before, he always wears a bulky motorcycle outfit.”

“What about the Coyote?” Frank asked. “Who'd you get that from?”

“I got it from that little weasel Gerry Wise,” Pete said. “I ought to go over there right now.”

“I'll go with you,” Chet offered. “Those guys
really
caused our trouble at the tournament.”

“No,” Joe said. “Frank and I will go talk to Gerry.
You keep out of it. Another incident could land both of you in jail—for real.”

“But I can't just sit around,” Chet complained.

“You don't have to,” Frank said. “You and the girls go back to your house and get on the Net. We know the Black Knight's dealing bad cards. Check with his Web service provider, find out who runs that site.”

“Right,” Chet said, performing a mock salute.

“Joe and I will get in touch after we talk to Gerry,” Frank concluded.

“Hey, you'll keep me in the loop on this, right?” Pete said. “I've got some big payback coming!”

“Don't worry,” Joe said. “We'll let you know what happens.”

While Chet, Iola, and Callie headed for the Mortons' home, Frank and Joe drove the short distance to Gerry's house.

Gerry smiled at the brothers when he answered the door.

“Hey, Hardy bros,” he said, “what's up? Come on in.” He led the brothers downstairs into the family room. Creature Cards lay strewn across a pool table in the center of the room. “Are you gonna get into the game?” Gerry asked.

“Not really,” Frank said grimly.

“More like we've come to
raid
the game,” Joe added. Gerry's face fell. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You've been selling people counterfeit Creature Cards, Gerry,” Joe said. “That's not very nice.”

Gerry shrugged, shook his head, and smiled again.
“I have no idea what you're talking about, man,” he said.

“We're talking about people getting ripped off,” Frank said. “About kids losing cards, money, and—in the case of Pete and Chet—getting disqualified from the Creature Cards tournament.”

“As of this moment,” Joe said, “all the evidence points to you. You set up the game where Daphne won Chet's stolen White Knight. You sold Pete the counterfeit Coyote. For all we know, you might even
be
the Black Knight.”

“Whoa, man,” Gerry said. “That's just too weird.” Sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“The cops take a pretty dim view of robbery and counterfeiting,” Joe said. “Our next step is to bring them in on this case, unless you can give us a good reason not to.”

“I can't believe this,” Gerry said. He held his forehead in his hands and began to pace the room. “It's like some nightmare. I didn't do anything wrong.”

“Where'd you get the Coyote card you sold Pete?” Frank asked.

“I can't remember, man,” Gerry said. “I get cards from a lot of places.”

“Think,” Joe urged.

“I get some cards over the Net, and some at conventions, and some from other kids at school,” Gerry said, a note of panic creeping into his usually calm voice.

“Did you get any from the Black Knight?” Frank asked.

“No way,” Gerry said. “I don't trust anyone whose face I can't see.”

“So you've met him?” Joe asked, keeping the questions coming at a rapid clip.

“Once. But I got bad vibes from the dude,” Gerry said.

“You could be lying,” Frank countered. “Maybe
you're
the Black Knight. “We've seen you in a black jacket and motorcycle helmet.”

“But the Knight's bigger than me, a lot bigger.” Gerry's voice was almost pleading now.

“Then tell us where you got that card!” Joe said.

Gerry sank into a nearby sectional couch and closed his eyes. “It's too hard to remember,” he said. “I've sold so many cards!”

“But this Coyote you sold in the last few days,” Frank said, “and you had to have bought it since Chet's deck got stolen.”

Gerry opened his eyes and looked up at the brothers. “I remember,” he said.

“Who'd you get that card from?” Joe pressed.

“Sam Kestenberg,” Gerry said. “I bought the Coyote from Sam Kestenberg.”