The Borgia Dagger (2 page)

"Look what you've done to my Lamborghini!" she cried out. "It's ruined!"

"Well, hardly that. I am awfully sorry about it, though," Callie said. "But I think you were the one — "

"Don't try to lay the blame on me! I — "

"Look," Frank interrupted, "the insurance companies will settle it. You have to exchange insurance information. The only important thing now is, how are you?"

The redheaded girl sneered. "I was fine until you came along. Now I have to call a cab and call my garage—and I'm late enough as it is!"

She marched back to the driver's seat and pulled a mobile phone out of the car. Frank tried to remember where he'd seen her face before.

"Hello, Harley?" she said into the phone. "Hello? I can't hear you. ... Yes, it's me. ... Tessa! ... Tessa! ... What? ... " With a frustrated cry, she threw the phone back in the car.

"It's broken!" she said. "What am I supposed to do now? Walk?"

Fighting an urge to tell her off, Callie said, "Well, my car is okay. Can I give you a ride?"

"Were you driving?" the girl asked bitterly.

"Yes."

"I'll go, but only if he drives," she said, waving a finger at Frank.

Callie shrugged her shoulders and headed back to her car, giving Frank a look of exasperation as she passed him.

Frank tried to take the girl's arm but she drew away. Throwing back her silky red hair, she walked toward Callie's car.

"By the way," Frank called after her, "aren't you Tessa Carpenter, the one I read about — "

" — in Personality magazine," Tessa said sarcastically, finishing Frank's sentence. "Yes, that's me. Ridiculous article, wasn't it? 'Bayport's poor little rich debutante — heiress to the famed Cliffside Mansion and the area's largest art collection ... but how has she survived the tragic loss of her parents?' " She rolled her eyes. "Now I suppose you want to be my best friend, like everyone else."

I wouldn't dream of it, Frank thought to himself as they both climbed into the car. But to Tessa, he just chuckled and said, "No, no, I was just interested in your story. Seems like a huge place for one person to live."

After making her phone calls from a nearby phone booth, Tessa climbed into the backseat cautiously, as if she were entering a garbage truck. "The Bayport Museum—and fast," she said to Frank.

By this time, Tyrone Grant had curled himself Into a ball in his half of the backseat, wrapped from head to toe in the blanket Callie had given him. Tessa peered at him over her sunglasses. "You didn't put me back here with a sick person, did you?"

Grant's only reaction was to shift slightly under the blanket.

"Well, not exactly," Frank said. "He's okay, probably just exhausted. What's happening at the museum? Checking on the Carpenter collection?"

Tessa smirked. "Not checking on it. Taking it back."

"Really?" Frank said. "Personality says the collection makes up about half the museum!"

"They're wrong," Tessa answered dryly. "It's about sixty percent. But it all belongs to me now, and I've decided the paintings would spruce up the house."

I wonder what the curator says about this, Frank thought.

He soon found out. As they approached the museum, they noticed a group of five men gathered around a truck at the side of the building. Four of them wore plain gray uniforms and were trying to load large crates onto the truck. The fifth was a stocky man in a dark blue suit and wire-rimmed glasses. As the workmen brought the crates to the truck, the fifth man was shouting and gesturing angrily, his thinning blond hair flopping in front of his reddened face. It appeared that he was trying to keep the men from working.

"This is the last straw," Tessa muttered under her breath. "I have to talk to the fat guy," she said to Frank.

Frank drove up a circular driveway to the side of the museum and Tessa hopped out. "Albert, Albert," she said, shaking her head. "What are you doing to these poor men?"

The man wiped his brow with a handkerchief and pushed up his glasses. "Miss Carpenter, may I remind you that this artwork is on permanent loan to the museum—as per our agreement with your family, signed thirty years ago by your grandfather! As curator, I cannot let these out of my sight!"

Tessa nodded patiently, "Albert, you yourself said you couldn't find this so-called agreement, remember?"

"You've got to give me some time! After the fire last year, we moved all our old files to the warehouse upstate, and many things got mixed up - "

"Look," Tessa said, continuing, "you've seen a copy of my parents' will. The collection belongs to me now, and I want it back. Besides, don't you think you've had these things long enough? Maybe it's time to redecorate."

"Redecorate? Young lady, we are talking about a museum, not a bedroom! These are priceless paintings and sculptures—the museum is nothing - without them!"

Tessa let out a lighthearted laugh. "Oh, please don't take it so seriously! You should just be glad you had them for so long!"

"Glad we had them! Why, your actions are illegal. Your parents would never have allowed this."

As the man stammered in shock, one of the workmen tried to push past him. "Come on, Mr. Ruppenthal, this stuff is heavy. Listen to the girl." -

"Over my dead body," Ruppenthal said, shoving the workman back.

Thrown off balance, the workman fell onto the ground. "Okay, buster," he said as he picked himself up, "if you say so."

With that, he let loose with an uppercut that caught Ruppenthal squarely in the jaw. After Ruppenthal fell, three museum officials rushed out of the building to come to his aid. One of them sank a fist into the workman's stomach, sending him flying into a crate.

Rubbing his jaw, Ruppenthal yelled, "Watch it, Felipe! That's the Rodin statue!"

Instantly a melee broke out — workmen against museum staff. Ruppenthal darted around, trying to move the artwork out of the way.

Frank watched the scene in amazement. "I'm going to try to stop this! You call Joe from the corner pay phone!" he said to Callie, and he ran toward the fight.

He pulled Felipe off one of the workmen. Then he spun around just in time to see another workman running toward him with his fists balled.

"I don't believe we've met," Frank said, extending his right hand. The workman uncorked a haymaker, which Frank easily ducked, sending the man tumbling.

"Ease up, fellas, let's talk this over!" Frank shouted to no avail. A museum worker jumped on him from behind, trying to wrestle him to the ground. But Frank remained upright, lifting the man off his feet and hurling him in the direction of Tessa, who was watching wide-eyed while backing away toward Callie's car.

Within moments came a welcome sound — the high-pitched wail of a police siren. Frank looked up the driveway to see two familiar sights — the patrol car of Officer Con Riley and the Hardy brothers' black van.

"All right, boys, playtime is over!" Officer Riley's voice barked over the patrol car's megaphone. The men all let go of one another and tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

Officer Riley, his partner, and Callie walked up to the scene. They were followed by Frank's brother Joe, who had hopped out of the van.

"All right, Ruppenthal," Officer Riley said. "What happened here? Does this have to do with the Carpenter items?"

"That's right, Officer," Ruppenthal answered. "These men are forcibly trying to remove this artwork!"

"Or are you 'forcibly' trying to prevent them?" said Officer-Riley with a knowing look. "Miss Carpenter already called me about this. I'm afraid that unless you can produce an agreement that says the artwork belongs to you, you'll have to let these men do their job."

"But — but — "

"You can protest all you want in court, my friend. Not here."

As Ruppenthal and Officer Riley argued, Joe joined his brother. He glanced around at the group of burly men, all of whom were now disheveled.

Joe whistled in awe and ran his fingers through his blond hair. "Whew, looks like I missed a big one," he said. "How was it?"

"Fine," said Frank with a smile, massaging a bruised arm. "But we missed you."

With a mischievous grin and a gleam in his blue eyes, Joe moved closer to his brother and said softly, "By the way, who's the redhead in the jumpsuit?"

Frank chuckled. "Believe me, you wouldn't be — "

Suddenly a loud scream ripped through the conversation. All heads turned to the end of the driveway.

There, up against Callie's car, Tessa Carpenter was frozen in fear. Around her neck was a pair of hands. Her body shook as the strangler repeatedly slammed her against the car.

Frank and Joe raced up the driveway, with Callie right behind. "It's Grant!" she cried out in disbelief. "He's trying to kill Tessa!"

While Frank went to help Tessa, Joe grabbed Grant by his still-soggy collar and pulled him backward. "Tessa, are you okay?" Frank asked.

"I'm—fine," Tessa said with both hands on her throat. "Just a little dizzy."

"I've had enough, Tessa Carpenter!" Grant shouted, gesturing wildly at Tessa. "I had hoped to escape your mocking glance for good! But no — still you torment me!"

Frank slid in front of Tessa, who cowered in fright. Grant tried to lunge for her again, pulling against Joe's tight grip. Within seconds, Officer Riley and his partner arrived. They yanked Grant away and slapped handcuffs on him. Callie and Joe stood by Frank.

"Forgive me, Officer," Grant said, his voice cracking with emotion. "She has forced me to do things I'd never dreamed of!"

When Officer Riley had a good look at Grant, his face lit up. "Say, aren't you the fella in the new flick? What's it called — Horror High School, right?"

Grant turned red and looked at the ground. "A cameo role," he said, grimacing. Frank turned to Tessa. "Sure you're okay?" Tessa leaned against Frank's broad chest to steady herself. "Yes, I think so," she said faintly. She glanced up at him, her eyes filled with relief and admiration. "Thanks to you."

Joe rubbed his hand. The outline of human teeth — Grant's teeth—was beginning to rise up in a welt. Great, he thought, I get rabies, and Frank walks off with the glory. "It was nothing!" he called out. "We're happy to help you—"

Tessa just looked at him blankly and turned back to Frank. "How can I possibly repay you for saving me from that horrible man — "

"I heard that, Tessa!" Grant called out. "Funny how your opinion of me has changed over the years!"

"Calm down, Mr. Grant," Frank said. He looked back at Tessa. "You know this man?" Tessa gave Grant an icy stare. "You bet I do. And his name isn't Grant either. It's Edwin Squinder. He used to work for my parents — "

"Bless their souls! I don't know how those two marvelous people could have created a monster like her," Squinder said. "For twenty years I was their chauffeur—on call, day and night. But was I unhappy? No! The Carpenters treated me like family! I lived on the grounds of the mansions — even took care of Tessa when she was little. For them, I gladly gave up a promising career in the theater!" He looked squarely into Tessa's eyes. "And in return, they left her money to retain me for life!"

"Your act isn't working, Edwin," Tessa said. She shook her head with scorn and turned to the others. "How could I retain someone who wouldn't do his job? Who spent day and night in front of the TV set, instating actors in old movies?"

"Who refused to drive you to parties on his one night off a week! That's all it was!" Squinder shouted. "A year ago she fired me—and all her other servants—because she's spent almost all her inheritance on clothes, cars, wild parties—"

"Okay, okay, enough of this," Officer Riley said. "Miss, do you want to press charges?"

Squinder suddenly looked frightened. "Please, Tessa. If you have a heart, don't do it. You know I'm not a violent man. I just—flew off the handle. Times have been rough."

Tessa sighed. "No, Officer, I can't be bothered. I think Mr. Squinder will know better than to mess with me again."

Officer Riley looked surprised, but let go of Squinder and unlocked the handcuffs on his wrists. "If you say so."

"Thank you," Squinder said softly. He brushed himself off, lifted his chin high, and walked away.

"I'm not sure we should let him go," Frank said. "A few hours ago he was about to commit suicide."

Tessa nodded. "I'm not surprised. He does this every few months — but only when he knows people are around to stop him. It's his eccentric way of dealing with his failure as an actor. He's crazy, but harmless."

' When Squinder was out of sight, Officer Riley said, "I don't like the looks of him. Be sure to call us right away if there's any more trouble.

Frank, I think you or your brother ought to give Miss Carpenter a ride home." With a smile and a wink, he tipped his cap and walked back to the squad car with his partner.

Callie thought she sensed a special meaning behind Officer Riley's wink, and she wasn't so sure she liked it. Especially when she caught a glimpse of the way Tessa was looking at Frank.

"You know, Frank," Tessa said, flashing a warm smile, "you handled Squinder beautifully.

And I just couldn't believe how you single handedly took on all those men by the truck!"

"It was nothing," Frank mumbled, feeling uncomfortable under Callie's burning gaze.

"Listen," Tessa went on, touching Frank's hand, "I'm having a big party tonight in my house — sort of a celebration for the arrival of the artwork. I'd love for you to come!"

Frank cleared his throat and cast a nervous glance at Joe and Callie. "Oh!" Tessa said, following Frank's glance. "You can bring your friends too."

At that, Joe stepped forward with a broad smile and an outstretched hand. "I'm Joe Hardy, Tessa — Frank's brother."

"Nice to meet you," Tessa replied. "And is this your sister?"

Callie looked as though a chill had shot through her. "No," she said dryly, "I'm just the driver.'

"This is Callie Shaw," Frank added quickly "She's — "

Joe could barely contain himself. "We'd be happy to come to your party, Tessa! Listen, I'm free right now. Can I give you a ride home?"

Tessa's smile fell slightly, and she looked over at Frank, as if expecting him to offer her a ride too.