Crime in the Cards (4 page)

“From people in town?” Frank asked.

“Sometimes,” Felix replied, “but I get a lot more over the Internet—auction and trading sites and so forth. If I know a customer is looking for a card, I can usually turn one up within a week—unless it's really rare. I've got good connections.” He smiled proudly and checked his watch.

“What about the single cards you sell, where do those come from?” Joe asked.

“Same places,” Felix said. “A lot of them I get from collectors and traders. Other times, I'll open up a new carton or two to replenish my stocks. That's a little dicey, though, because you never know what you're going to get. Usually, I can count on getting a couple of rare cards in every box. The profit on those makes up for my selling the common cards cheap.”

“Sounds kind of risky,” Frank noted.

“Well, I wouldn't want to do it as an investment, the way some of these kids do,” Felix said. “You're practically begging to be ripped off. Prices on cards change quickly and you never know when the market might
crash. Remember when Bombo Bear trading cards were big?”

Joe and Frank nodded.

“Now . . .
nothing.
The Bombo cards are worthless. I can't give them away,” Felix said. “The only thing they're good for is starting fires. I'm just glad I didn't have a lot of money tied up in Bombo inventory. I could sell you three boxes for ten dollars.”

“No thanks,” Frank said. “Do you think the bottom might fall out of the Creature Cards market?” he asked.

“Not any time soon,” Felix replied. “Selling those cards is like a license to print money for Troy King and the other creators. And the game community is still strongly behind it. I wouldn't worry for another couple of years at least, but cards in a shoebox are no substitute for money in a bank account.”

“What about that Coyote you sold Tim?” Frank asked. “Where did that come from?”

“A private collector sold it to me,” Felix said. “I really shouldn't say any more. A lot of my customers want confidentiality. Game strategy, and all that.”

He walked behind the register and bent down to straighten a number of card boxes in a glass case. Frank and Joe checked out the displays. Some of the cards were mounted in Lucite containers, like tiny pieces of art. A hefty price tag adorned each frame.

“So, can I get you guys anything?” Felix asked hopefully.

“Not today,” Joe said. “We just came in to tell you about Chet's cards.”

“Maybe some other time,” Frank added.

“Okay. See ya,” Felix said. He smiled once more and then returned to straightening his displays.

Frank and Joe left the store. Night had fallen while they were inside, and a light fog was creeping through the city. As they buttoned their coats, Joe said to Frank, “Not much to go on there.”

Frank nodded. “Yeah. Did Mr. Felix seem nervous to you?”

“A bit,” Joe said. “But maybe he's used to dealing with players instead of ‘regular people.' ” He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled.

“Come on,” Frank said. “Let's head back home and call Chet to see how he's making out.”

He and Joe started up the street to the car. As they did, Joe glanced back toward the store.

“That's funny,” Joe said.

“What?” Frank asked.

“Mr. Felix just flipped the sign in the front window to Closed. But the schedule listed on the door said he'd be open another two hours,” the younger Hardy replied.

“Perhaps something came up and he had to leave suddenly,” Frank suggested.

Joe nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe something we said spooked him. Let's sit in the van for a while to see if anything happens.”

He and Frank got into the van and watched the building. A streetlight gave them a good view of the door to the shop. A few minutes later Mr. Felix came out lugging two big boxes marked Cards. He looked
around as if checking to make sure no one was watching, then he crossed the street and got into a beat-up sedan.

Felix stuck his head out the driver's side window and checked the street one last time before starting the car. The sedan's old engine roared to life and Felix drove off into the fog—with his headlights
turned off.

“Yeah,” Frank said. “Let's tail him to see what he's up to.” He started the van and followed Felix's car into the fog. Frank didn't turn on his headlights either.

“He was being pretty cautious,” Joe said. “You'd better hang back a ways.”

“As far as I can without losing him,” Frank replied, his brown eyes peering intently through the mist. Fortunately, the streets were deserted and fairly well lit. Driving without lights wasn't too hazardous.

Three blocks later Felix turned a corner and switched on his lights.

The lights made the car easier to see, so Frank could hang back a bit more. When he'd given Felix enough space, Frank switched on his lights as well.

“Mr. Felix doesn't seem to be in a hurry,” Joe said. “Maybe he just forgot to turn his lights on.”

“Could be,” Frank replied.

Felix's car turned one corner, then another, then a third.

“Hey,” Joe said, “he's doubled back on himself.”

“Either he doesn't know where he's going, or he's trying to make sure he isn't followed.”

Joe nodded. “Why don't you cut over a block and get ahead of him.”

“Good idea,” Frank said. “It's harder tailing someone from in front, but not nearly as easy to get spotted.”

The next time Felix turned, Frank turned as well. He swung down an alley and then across a school parking lot. When Frank hit the main road again, Joe spotted Felix's car out the rear window.

“Good work, Frank,” Joe said.

“Help me keep an eye on him, Joe. Having another set of eyes is easier than using the mirrors all the time.”

“Check,” Joe replied. He left the passenger seat and sat, facing backward, on the seat behind his older brother.

With Joe's help, Frank kept the Hardys' van in front of the card dealer's car without arousing suspicion. Felix doubled back several more times, but— using his knowledge of the city—Frank stayed with him.

Finally, though, Felix turned down a street where Frank couldn't cut ahead of him.

“Don't worry,” Joe said from the backseat. “That
street heads through the woods near Waterfront Park. There aren't any turn-offs for a while. If you double back quickly, we can get behind him again.”

“Right,” Frank said. He pulled a U turn and traced back to where Felix had turned. “Do you see him?” he asked as they pulled on to the road through the woods.

“Not yet,” Joe said, taking the front passenger seat once more and buckling in.

“I'd hate to lose Felix after all this,” Frank said.

Joe nodded. He scanned the darkened scenery outside. Skeletal trees with only a few brown leaves clinging to their branches flashed by the windows. Joe saw footpaths, but nothing large enough for a car to take.

Frank kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, seeking the sedan's taillights. After a few more minutes he accepted defeat. “I'm afraid we've lost him.”

Joe was about to agree with Frank, when he spotted something. “That deserted parking lot on the left,” he said. “I think I saw a sedan sitting in there.”

“I'll pull over up ahead,” Frank said. “Get the binoculars out and we'll check.”

Joe went to the rear of the van and dug out the binoculars and two flashlights after Frank pulled over. They locked up the van and sprinted back to the parking lot entrance. A short driveway through the trees led to a large paved area adjoining a playground.

“That's Felix's car, all right,” Joe said, squinting into the darkness.

“Keep to the trees,” Frank whispered. “We don't want him seeing us.”

Joe nodded and the two of them cut into the woods by the side of the road. When they reached the edge of the playground they spotted two figures standing by a swing set on the far side of the clearing.

Joe put the binoculars to his eyes. “That's Felix,” he said. “But I can't tell who's with him—the person is wearing a hat and a heavy coat.”

“Let's get closer,” Frank whispered.

The two of them skirted the woods, trying to remain hidden. It was tricky maneuvering through the undergrowth in the foggy darkness, but the Hardys managed it without making much noise.

Drawing closer, the Hardys saw the two card boxes on a picnic table between the figures. Felix handed some cards to the other person; the person in the hat then gave Felix money. The Hardys couldn't make out any more details through the darkness.

Just then the card dealer tucked his boxes under his arm and headed back toward his sedan. Felix's customer jogged toward the woods on the far side of the swing set.

“You follow Felix,” Joe whispered. “I'll tail the other one.”

“Check,” Frank said. He cut through the woods, angling himself for the card dealer's car. Joe ran quietly in the opposite direction.

Frank reached the sedan at about the same time
Felix did. He walked up just as the card dealer was opening the door.

“Mr. Felix . . .” Frank said.

Felix nearly jumped out of his skin. “It's Frank Hardy,” Frank said. “I was wondering what you're doing out here.”

“I—I could ask you the same thing,” Felix stammered. He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief he retrieved from his pocket. “Were you following me?” he asked angrily.

“Why did you close up shop just after we left?” Frank asked. “Your sign said you were supposed to be open for another two hours.”

“I had some business to conduct,” Felix replied.

“In a park, at night?” Frank said skeptically.

“Look,” Felix said stiffly, “I don't owe you any explanation.”

“Well, with so many Creature Cards being stolen lately,” Frank said, “maybe you'd rather explain all this to the police.”

Felix rubbed his head. “I'm sorry if I've been rude,” he said, quickly back-pedaling. “But you frightened me. I thought I was alone here—aside from my client.”

“So you came here to sell cards?” Frank said. “Why?”

“This close to a tournament, some players don't want to be seen in the shop,” Felix said. “They're afraid that competitors will find out what they've bought. Knowledge of a player's deck can tip the balance in a Creature Cards game. For some of my better
customers, I'll make a personal delivery if the cards are valuable enough.”

“So, who's this client?”

Mr. Felix's face grew stern. “I won't tell you that,” he said. “This client is paying for confidentiality. You can take me to the police station if you want, but I won't answer that question. It would hurt my business if I broke faith.”

“Why didn't you go to the client's house?” Frank asked.

“My client didn't want to chance it,” Felix said. “This park is remote enough that no one should have found us.” He frowned at Frank, as if disappointed that his careful scheme had failed. “Well,” he continued, “I have other things to do. So, unless you're taking me to the police station, I'm going to leave.”

“I'll keep the police informed,” Frank said, “but you don't need to see them right this minute.”

Felix placed the card boxes on the passenger seat and slipped in beside them. Frank watched Felix's taillights disappear into the fog. Then he walked back across the park to where he'd last seen Joe.

A few minutes later the younger Hardy came jogging out of the woods on the far side of the playground.

“Did you catch him?” Frank asked.

Joe shook his head while he caught his breath. “No such luck,” he said. “There's another parking lot on the far side of the trees. By the time I got
there, I didn't see anyone. I did hear an engine driving away, though. It sounded like an ATV or a motorcycle.”

Frank rubbed his chin. “Hmm. A lot of people use ATVs and dirt bikes in this park during good weather,” he said. “With this warm snap, the sound you heard might not have anything to do with the case.”

Joe shrugged. “Hard to tell. I'm wiped out. Let's call it a day.”

Frank nodded and the two returned to their van. On the way home, Frank filled Joe in on what Felix had told him.

The next morning the weather was still unseasonably warm. When the Hardys pulled into the student lot at school, they saw several groups of kids sitting on the hoods of their cars, playing Creature Cards.

Daphne stood in one corner of the lot talking to Pete Kaufmann. She looked a bit forlorn; Pete a bit smug. The two chatted animatedly. Tim Lester approached them but turned away at some jibe from Pete that the Hardys couldn't hear. Tim joined another group of players nearby.

Gerry Wise roamed between the gaming groups, watching, and occasionally selling cards to some of the younger players.

The Hardys spotted Chet, Iola, and Callie hanging out on the far side of the lot.

“How'd you make out?” Callie called to the brothers as they approached. She smiled and the morning
sun made her blond hair sparkle like gold. Frank gave her a quick hug.

“Learned a little; wasted a lot of time,” Joe replied.

“Mr. Felix made a late delivery to one of his customers,” Frank said, “but he wouldn't tell us who that customer was.”

Chet nodded. “I've heard that he makes deliveries, but I've never spent enough money to earn the service myself.”

“How'd it go with you?” Joe asked Iola.

Joe's girlfriend rolled her eyes. “I spent a thrilling evening cataloging all things hideous with my brother,” she said. She smiled to show that she didn't really mind the job.

“At least I know what cards I need now,” Chet said. “I came up with a good idea to help find my stolen deck, too.”

Sam Kestenberg's voice drifted in from nearby, “What's your plan, Morton?” he asked as he walked over to the group. “You gonna cry until someone gives you your cards back?” Kestenberg laughed and adjusted the collar of his leather jacket.

Chet balled his hands into fists, but Joe stepped in front of his friend.

“I don't recall inviting you to join our conversation, Kestenberg,” the younger Hardy said.

Kestenberg sneered. “I don't recall needing your permission, Hardy. You guys need to get
real
lives. All this card stuff is making you soft.”

“Keep it up and you'll find out how soft we are,” Joe said.

“Did you want something, Kestenberg,” Frank asked, “or are you just spending your morning bothering people?”

“It's a free country,” Kestenberg replied.

“Come on,” Joe suggested. “Let's go inside. All of a sudden, the air out here stinks.” He turned and walked toward the school. Chet, Iola, and the others followed.

As they passed Kestenberg, the ex-football player stuck out his foot.