The Case of the Psychic's Vision (2 page)

“Coach sure seems to think so,” Frank said as he turned onto High Street and headed the two blocks to Elm.

“Well, he may be right,” Joe mused. “Chet's got the shot put down. Tony Prito can beat anybody in the one-hundred meters. Phil Cohen never misses
a hurdle. And Biff Hooper keeps breaking his own pole vault records.”

“Good!” Frank said, as they turned into their driveway. “Dad's home.”

“Weren't you listening to me, Frank?” Joe complained. “This is very important, you know.”

“Yes, Joe, I was listening, and I know winning States in track and field is important,” Frank said as he parked the van behind their mother's car, “but I can't get that séance out of my mind. I have some things I want to ask Dad about it.” Fenton Hardy was a well-known and very successful private investigator in Bayport.

“Hey! The séance! I almost forgot!” Joe said as he jumped out of the van. “We're going to play that joke on the girls tonight.”

Frank didn't say anything. But something about Chet's plan was making him uneasy.

Inside the house, the boys quickly headed to the dining room. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude had already started eating.

“Sorry we're late,” Frank said.

“Our new track and field coach thinks we're headed to States,” Joe added. “He was just fine-tuning our techniques, and we lost track of the time.”

“No problem. We thought it was probably something like that,” Mrs. Hardy said. “Wash up and sit down before dinner gets cold.”

“You two have cell phones, don't you?” Aunt Gertrude said. “Since you're paying good money for the service, you might think about using them to let people know if you're going to be late.”

Joe looked at Frank, grinned, and rolled his eyes. They both loved their Aunt Gertrude, but she never minced words. You always knew exactly how she felt about everything.

“They were in our lockers inside the dressing room, Aunt Gertrude,” Frank explained. “We were outside on the track.”

“Yeah! The coach doesn't like us talking on cell phones during the middle of a practice, Aunt Gertrude,” Joe explained, then shrugged. “What could we do?”

Aunt Gertrude narrowed her eyes at him.

Fenton Hardy gave both the boys a look that said, “Let's drop this subject and eat.”

Since the boys had already showered and changed clothes at school, all they had to do was wash their hands, which they did at the kitchen sink, and sit down at the table.

“I'm starved,” Joe said. “Standing broad jumps really make you work up an appetite.”

Frank helped himself to some mashed potatoes and said, “Dad, what do you think about psychic detection?”

Aunt Gertrude had been taking a drink of water and almost choked.

“Gertrude! Are you all right?” Mrs. Hardy had come over to where Aunt Gertrude was sitting and was patting her sister-in-law on the back.

Finally, Aunt Gertrude managed to say, “Laura! You're beating me to death! Stop that! Please! I'm okay!”

“Sorry, Gertrude, but you scared me,” Mrs. Hardy said, and sat back down. “You were starting to turn purple.”

“Well, I'm okay now,” Aunt Gertrude said. She took a slow sip of water and looked at Frank but didn't say anything.

“Psychic detection,” Fenton Hardy repeated. “It's interesting that you mention that just now, Frank.”

“Why, Dad?” Joe asked.

“Well, a lot of police departments around the country, including the one right here in Bayport, will call in psychic detectives from time to time,” Mr. Hardy explained, “but they don't like to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Frank asked.

“There are lots of reasons,” Mr. Hardy said. “I think the main one is pride. Police departments like to think they can solve crimes on their own, using accepted police procedures.”

“What can psychic detectives do that the police can't?” Joe asked.

“From what I understand, and I'm really no
authority on it,” Fenton Hardy began, “psychics will experience clairvoyance, clairaudience, clairsentience, and clairolfactance all at the same time.”

Mrs. Hardy stood up. “This conversation is getting too spooky for me. Shall we, Gertrude?” she added.

“Not just yet, Laura,” Aunt Gertrude said. “I want to hear the rest of this.”

Frank looked at his aunt.
That's interesting,
he thought.
Usually, Aunt Gertrude dismisses things like this.

“Clairvoyance is when a psychic sees things. Clairaudience is when a psychic hears things,” Mr. Hardy continued. “Clairsentience is when a psychic can gather certain information just by touching an object. This is more commonly known as psychometry. And clairolfactance is when the psychic gets information through smell.”

“Do you really believe all of this, Fenton?” Aunt Gertrude suddenly asked her brother.

“Do I believe this, Gertrude?” Mr. Hardy said. “Well, if I can't disprove it on my own, then I don't say I disbelieve it. I may be skeptical, but I always try to keep an open mind. That's what's important. I just don't know. I don't think anybody really knows.”

“Have you ever used a psychic to help you solve a crime, Dad?” Joe asked.

Frank thought he saw a slight blush come to his father's face, but he couldn't be sure.

Mr. Hardy smiled. “Well, as a matter of fact I did once,” he said.

There was an audible gasp from Mrs. Hardy, who had come back into the dining room.

“Fenton, I didn't know that,” she said. “You never told me. When did it happen?”

Mr. Hardy turned to the boys and Aunt Gertrude. “Your mother's reaction is typical. For some reason, psychics scare people. I think it's because we all have a fear of the unknown.” He turned to his wife. “It was a couple of years ago, Laura. I was really stumped by the Marston case.”

“I remember that,” Frank said. “Missing diamonds.”

“Right,” Mr. Hardy said. “I was talking to Chief Collig about it and he just happened to mention a psychic who had helped him solve a similar case two years before.”

“Chief Collig uses psychics?” Joe exclaimed.

“That information is not to leave this room, Joe,” Mr. Hardy said. “Chief Collig told me that in confidence and I expect my family to keep the confidence. I only mentioned it to you because you boys have been involved in solving a lot of crimes and you understand these things.”

“Right,” Frank and Joe said in unison.

“The psychic was a man named Wilson Chatham. He lives about thirty miles from Bayport, in Brand-stone,” Mr. Hardy explained. “I contacted him and
he agreed to use psychometry. That's when a psychic takes something that belonged to the victim, in this case, a leather drawstring bag that held the diamonds, and touches it to get information. Research has shown that in times of great stress, such as when somebody is stealing a fortune from you, your energy merges with the energy of the object, the bag, and leaves a memory trace. I don't know enough about this to explain it very well, but the psychic can pick up on that memory and give the police—or in my case, a private investigator—all kinds of clues.”

“It worked?” Joe asked.

Mr. Hardy nodded. “I got enough information from Chatham to locate the diamonds and return them to their owner.”

Just then, the telephone rang.

“I'll get it,” Joe said. He excused himself from the table and grabbed the extension in the kitchen.

“Hey, Joe! It's Chet! Are you guys ready?”

“Ready?” Joe said.

“We're going over to Callie's, remember?” Chet said. “We're going to make sure this is a séance they'll
never
forget.”

Joe couldn't believe that he had forgotten about the séance again, but just listening to his father talk about using psychics to solve mysteries had taken his mind off it.

“Yeah, sure! Frank's finishing up dinner,” Joe
said. “Are you coming by or do you want us to pick you up?”

“I'll be by,” Chet said. “It's just going to be the three of us.”

“What happened to the rest of the gang?” Joe asked.

“They chickened out,” Chet said. “I think they got spooked.”

I can almost understand that,
Joe thought. “Well, we're still on,” he said to Chet.

“I'll be by in about ten minutes,” Chet said. “I'll honk.”

“Okay,” Joe said and hung up the receiver.

He had just started back into the dining room, when the telephone rang again.

“What is it?” Joe said into the receiver. He was sure it was Chet again. “Do you want me to bring you what we didn't eat for dinner?”

But Joe heard only a crackling noise on the other end before a voice said in a low whisper, “Don't go to that séance. If you do, you won't leave there alive.”

Then there was a click and the line went dead.

Just then Frank came into the kitchen, carrying some dirty plates and bowls. “Who was that on the phone?”

“The first call was from Chet,” Joe said. “He'll be by to pick us up in a few minutes.”

“I don't know, Joe. Do you really think this is a good idea?” Frank asked. “Maybe we should be more serious about what psychics do. Dad certainly is.”

“Ask me about the second call,” Joe said.

Frank gave him a puzzled look. “Okay,” he said. “Who was the second call from?”

Joe shrugged. “I didn't recognize the voice, but whoever it was said if we went to the séance, we wouldn't leave alive.” He grinned at Frank. “So I'm
definitely going. No threat is going to scare me away from this now.”

Frank put the dishes by the sink. “Good call,” he said.

Just then, Aunt Gertrude and Mrs. Hardy came into the kitchen, so the boys cut short their conversation.

“We're going over to Callie Shaw's for a little while, Mom,” Frank said. “We'll be back later.”

“Okay, boys,” Mrs. Hardy said.

Frank and Joe headed through the house.

“Do you think we should tell Dad about the séance, nothing about the practical joke, but maybe just to let him know what's going on?” Joe said.

“Maybe we should,” Frank agreed. “I'd like to hear what he has to say.”

But Mr. Hardy had already gone into his study, closing the door, which was a signal to the rest of the family that he was hard at work on a case and didn't want to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. Frank and Joe both agreed that this probably wasn't an emergency.

They had just stepped outside when Chet pulled into the driveway. The boys ran out to Chet's car and got inside.

As Chet backed out of the driveway he said, “Are you guys ready for some fun? I've been thinking of all the things we can do over at Callie's house. We're going to freak those girls out!”

When neither Frank nor Joe said anything, Chet asked, “What's the matter?”

“Joe received a threatening phone call before we left,” Frank told him. “Whoever it was said we'd never leave Callie's house alive.”

“Yeah, right,” Chet said. He looked over at Joe. “Who do you think called?”

“I didn't recognize the voice,” Joe said. “The person was whispering.”

“I wonder if it was Colin Randles,” Frank said.

“Nella's brother?” Chet said.

“Yeah. We talked today,” Frank said. “I just haven't had time to . . .”

All of a sudden, headlights from behind blinded them.

“What's wrong with that stupid driver?” Chet said. “He's got his brights on, and he's tailgating me.”

“Speed up,” Frank said. “You're only going thirty and you can go forty-five on this street.”

Chet sped up. “I'll put an end to this,” he said.

He turned a corner rapidly, but so did the car that was following them.

Inside Chet's car, it was almost as bright as day.

“We can take the expressway to Callie's house,” Joe said. “You should be able to lose them there.”

“It's hard to see,” Chet said. “Maybe I should pull over and let them pass.”

“No! It could be a carjacking,” Joe said. “Dad said there was one in downtown Bayport just last week.”

“Joe's right, Chet,” Frank said. “You've got those fancy rims on your wheels; they might want those. I wouldn't pull over. I'd try to lose them.”

Up ahead, they saw the entrance to the expressway.

“Hold on, then!” Chet said.

He floored the gas pedal and shot ahead of the other car. But soon their follower was back on their tail again as they barreled down the expressway.

“There's no way these guys are going to get my rims,” Chet announced. “I used up almost all of my savings to buy them.”

Still, the car stayed behind them.

“Where's a patrolman when you need one?” Joe said.

“Callie's exit is the next one,” Frank said. “Don't signal. Just turn at the last minute.”

“Okay! Okay! We're almost there!” Chet said. “Hold on!”

He swerved his car onto the off-ramp and raced down to the service road.

“All right!” Joe shouted. “I think we lost them.”

Above them, on the expressway, they could see the car. It was a couple miles away, so they thought they would be long gone before the car made it back to where they were.

“Creeps. Low lifes!” Chet muttered. “Why can't they save their money and buy their own rims?”

“I've been thinking, Chet. Whoever that was may
not have wanted your rims after all,” Frank said. “It could be the same person who called Joe and told us not to go to the séance.”

“Colin?” Joe asked.

Frank nodded. “The telephone call didn't work, so maybe he thought something like this might.”

“I don't get it,” Joe said. “If it was Colin, then why is he so uptight about this séance?”