Scene of the Crime (5 page)

THE CAPTAIN'S EYES rolled back in his head and his grip on the ladder loosened. Joe lunged for the stunter, just as his hands uncurled and he started his fall to the ground. Frank was holding Joe back by the shirt to make sure he didn't leap off into space. But the captain fell, his limp body rolling directly onto the tracks!

"He'll be crushed when the engine comes around again," Joe shouted. "Stop the train!"

But the combined noise of the locomotive and the helicopter taking off again was too loud for the engineer to hear Joe or the shouting crowd. The train continued around the circle of tracks. In no time it had gone halfway around the small loop.

"I'll stop him," Frank said.

He sprinted at full speed, leaping from one car to the next.

Frank's not going to make it, Joe thought, staring at the short distance the train had to travel back to where the captain lay. Sy Osserman and members of the crew were also approaching the tracks, but they, too, could not be on time.

Joe leapt—right off the top of the train. He landed hard inside the circle of tracks. The force of the fall sent him sprawling across the dirt. When he got to his feet, the train was just rounding the final bend.

Joe bolted forward. His left leg ached from the fall, but he didn't think about that then.

Joe heard Frank yelling to him to stop, but he kept going. He reached the captain just as the train came within thirty feet of him. The engineer's jaw hung loose in utter surprise. He blew the whistle and hit the brakes, but the train was moving too fast to stop.

Diving just in front of the train, Joe grabbed the captain under the arms. Unconscious, the wiry stunt director seemed to weigh a ton. Joe shut his eyes and vaulted backward as the train squealed in.

The locomotive stopped about twenty feet farther along. But Joe and the captain were safe and out of the way. "He's alive!" Joe yelled as the crew members came running toward him.

The crew had called for a first-aid team, who ran up with a stretcher. An ambulance's siren sounded in the distance. It was ready to rush the captain to the hospital.

"You okay, Joe?" Frank asked, scrambling down.

"Sure." Joe smiled. "But let me tell you, that was a lot tougher than it looks in those old movies."

A sobbing Janet Wynn had pushed her way through the crowd. "Dad!" she cried, hugging her unconscious father. Finally the ambulance reached them and the medics lifted the captain onto the stretcher. Janet climbed into the ambulance with her father.

"I can't believe this is happening to me," Sy Osserman moaned.

Janet glared down at him from the open ambulance doors. "My father's almost been killed and you're complaining about your troubles!"

"But, Janet, honey — "

"I don't care about your closed set," she spoke over him. "My father warned you about sabotage, and you did nothing. Now I'm demanding a police investigation."

Two hours later Janet returned in the back seat of a large blue sedan, driven by a tall, heavy man in his early fifties. He was well dressed in a brown three-piece suit and even wore a matching brown fedora.

Frank and Joe had seen them pull up at the gate and rushed over to ask how the captain was.

"He's still unconscious," Janet told them. "But the doctors are confident that he'll live."

She looked tired and worn out. Her eyes were red from crying, and her blond hair was carelessly pulled back in a pony tail. Her jeans were rumpled now. And over a T-shirt, she wore a satin warm-up jacket with the logo for The Lost Princess, an adventure film she had stunted on the year before. Joe thought that was exactly what she looked like, a lost princess, and his heart went out to her.

"This is Chief Archie Fraser, of the Newbridge police," Janet said, introducing the heavy man to Frank and Joe. "I'd like you to tell Mr. Fraser exactly what happened."

"That's all very interesting," Fraser said after the boys finished. He scratched under his chin, where the flesh was loose. "But I'll tell you, I'm not certain what I'm here for. This sounds like an accident to me."

"I'd think like that, too — if this had been the only accident." Janet frowned. "But there have been too many on this set."

Fraser looked at her. "Young lady, before I go any further, I'd like to have a word with Mr. Osserman."

"We'll show you to his trailer," Janet said.

Sy was on the phone when they knocked. But when he saw Janet with the Hardys and the chief of the Newbridge police force, he hung up and invited them in.

"Archie, my man. How are you?" Osserman asked, shaking the policeman's hand.

Joe glanced at Frank. They shared a common thought. It was interesting that the police chief and the director were on such friendly terms.

Fraser plopped down on the sofa and removed his hat. "Tell me about the suspicious accidents this young lady has reported," he said.

"Believe me, Archie," Osserman began, the picture of sincerity, "Ray Wynn's unfortunate fall was an isolated accident. I've already had my own people look into it — "

"What people?" Joe inquired.

"My people," the director repeated between clenched teeth. "In fact, we've concluded that the accident was Mr. Wynn's own fault."

"What!" Janet took a step toward the director.

Osserman shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry to say it. The rope ladder was held in place by electronic gears. The captain jerked too hard on the ladder. That made it roll out another length. He made the ladder drop down, and that started it swinging."

"That's a he!" Janet cried.

"Please, dear," Osserman said soothingly. "I know you're upset."

The chief grunted. Frank wasn't sure if that meant Chief Fraser believed the director or not.

Sy Osserman stood and smiled. "There's no trouble we can't handle here, Chief. Let me walk you back to your car."

The policeman stood, and preceded the director out of the trailer. Janet and the Hardys followed closely behind.

"Remember when we first discussed filming in Newbridge?" they heard Osserman say as he walked off with Fraser. "How you, the mayor, and the town council convinced us that this was a great, quiet, out-of-the-way place to shoot?"

"Of course I remember," Fraser murmured.

"Think of the positive aspects for the town," Osserman continued. "There's a special glamour in having a major motion picture shot in your town. Tourists will flock here for years looking at the sights. That is — if the film's a success."

The police chief's lips thinned. "So what's your point, Mr. Osserman?"

"My point is that we don't need negative publicity," Osserman said. "And neither does Newbridge."

The director grinned and slapped Fraser on the back as if they were two old friends in complete agreement. Frank thought Chief Fraser didn't appear so sure.

"All right, Mr. Osserman," he said, opening his car door. "For the time being, we'll keep our distance. But if there's any more trouble ... "

His words hung in the air as he drove off. Sy Osserman turned and walked back to his trailer with Janet in hot pursuit.

"I don't understand him," Joe said. "He hired Dad and us to find evidence of sabotage, then he tries to cover it up."

"He just doesn't want the police involved," Frank said. "Once they start investigating, the press will be all over him."

Joe nodded. "So we've got to get the evidence ourselves."

Frank snapped his fingers. "And I know just the place to start looking."

The Newbridge airport was located on the other side of town from the location. It was a small field, mainly used by private jets owned by Newbridge's richer residents. Two hangars stood a half mile from the end of the runway, at the east end of the airport.

"The chopper's got to be in one of those hangars," Frank said as he drove beside the runway. "If the ladder gear was tampered with, the evidence might still be in there."

In the first hangar, mechanics were busy at work fueling up a small private jet. No sounds came from within the second, and the hangar door was locked. Frank knocked, hoping that someone would answer, but no luck.

"I spotted one window around the side," Joe said. "Maybe we can get in that way."

The window, which was fitted with a heavy shade, was closed but not locked, and they had no trouble lifting it. Frank climbed in first, Joe following.

Silently, they crept along the wall, making their way across the grayness. Two small prop planes were parked at one end, and a helicopter sat at the other.

"That looks like our chopper," Joe said. "Maybe we should turn on a light. How are we going to find any evidence? It's too dark."

"Sssh!" Frank hissed, a finger to his lips.

They continued making their way toward the helicopter. Suddenly Frank stopped and held his hand out against Joe's chest. They listened for a moment — nothing.

"Just an echo, I guess," Frank said. "All this huge empty space."

He took two more steps.

"Look out!" Joe shouted.

Someone was jumping out of the shadows.

Frank turned—to see a thick wooden board swinging down at his face.

FRANK LURCHED BACK. The wooden club missed by inches, splintering against the hard concrete floor. As his attacker wound up for another swing, Frank raised his leg and lashed out with a karate kick. The large man bellowed as he doubled over in pain.

From out of the shadows two more thugs closed in on Frank and Joe. The Hardys moved back to back, ready to face attack from any direction.

The hangar was too dark to make out faces, but the Hardys could see their shadowy attackers were big, athletic men, one taller than the other. Both had long switchblades that caught the light.

Joe jumped aside as the taller man lunged in, his knife arm extended. Joe caught the man by the forearm, yanking him forward, and spun him around, pinning the arm behind his back. A painful twist sent the knife skittering on the floor. Then Joe pushed his prisoner into the path of his companion. Both men were down, sprawled on the concrete.

"Sure, don't leave any work for me," Frank said with a smile.

But he spoke too soon. Back on his feet, the first guy with the club slammed at them with what was left of his weapon. Splintered wood swooped wildly about as Joe and Frank dodged back.

Now the other two returned to the battle, and the Hardys lost their advantage. Joe's anger rose as the three attackers closed in.

"I've had enough of this," he roared, throwing a roundhouse right that caught the taller man completely off guard.

The blow landed solidly on the guy's jaw, and down he went. Frank followed suit with a karate chop that caught the shorter man on the side of the head. He dropped, dazed, his knife slipping away.

That left the guy with the club. Only now he wasn't so certain he wanted to fight. He shot a quick glance at his accomplices on the floor. They were shaking their heads, crawling away. Suddenly the man dropped his club and all three made a run for it.

"Come on!" Joe moved in hot pursuit.

They chased the men past the chopper, down to a door at the end of the hangar. The three assailants fled through the door, slamming it in Joe's face just as he reached it.

When Joe and Frank ran out into the sunlight, the men were already pulling away in a black four-door Jaguar. Tires spewed gravel as they turned down the airfield road.

"We'll chase them," Frank said, running ahead of Joe and jumping in behind the wheel of the van. As Joe slammed his door, Frank floored the gas and took off after the Jaguar. "Those guys have no respect for the speed limit," he said as the needle rose past seventy.

The Jaguar roared out the airport gate onto the highway. Frank couldn't close the distance between them.

"I wonder where they're off to," Joe said.

"Don't be surprised if they drive straight to the movie set," Frank replied.

The road was almost free of traffic. Unfortunately, no cops were around to catch the speeding Jaguar. For five minutes Frank kept pace, but couldn't gain any ground.

"They're heading down Mansion Row," Joe said as the Jaguar squealed off the exit ramp.

The Hardys followed seconds later, but the Jaguar was nowhere in sight. Frank sped down Mansion Row, hoping to spot the black car before it turned off onto a side street.

"Over there!" Joe half leaned out the window. The Jaguar was empty, parked at the curb in front of the wooded area separating the Garfield and Wedmont mansions. A dirt path wound among some trees.

"They must have taken this path," Frank told Joe. "Let's remember the license plate number."

They dashed down the path, keeping an eye open for a possible ambush. But none came, and soon Frank and Joe found themselves on the wide green expanse of the Garfield mansion's back lawn.

"They can't be hiding out there," Joe said, scanning the carefully clipped grass. "Where is the movie crew?"

"They must have shut down for the day — there they are." Frank pointed at the opposite corner of the house as the last of the three assailants rounded it.

The Hardys raced after them, straight across the back lawn. But before they got to the far corner of the house, two uniformed police officers shouted from behind them to stop. They turned to see revolvers drawn and aimed at them.

"Uh - oh," Frank said.

Sirens wailed as two police cars pulled up in front of the house.

"I think we're in trouble," Joe whispered as two more police officers jumped out, revolvers drawn.

Inside the police station, in a swivel chair that was too small for him, Chief Archie Fraser sat behind his gray metal desk.

"Why, it's Frank and Joe Harris." He motioned for them to sit.

"Please inform me why you were running along the back lawn of the Garfield mansion when filming was canceled for today?" Fraser asked. "Planning on robbing the place?"

Frank explained how he and Joe had gone to the airport, and all the events that followed. Fraser folded his hands and listened politely. His mouth turned up to one side, as if he wasn't quite convinced.

"Three thugs. And you say you saw them headed around the corner of the house." He shook his head. "Well, that's impossible."