The Mystery of the Black Rhino (13 page)

Just then Iola said, “I think somebody's coming!”

The Hardy boys cupped their eyes with their hands and peered into the shop window.

“It's Mr. Watson,” Joe said.

Mr. Watson looked out, smiled when he recognized the Hardys, and opened the door.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he said.

“We just got back from Kenya,” Joe said. “Dad wanted to return your books in person.”

“Oh, well, that's very nice of you,” Mr. Watson said. “I've always wanted to meet the famous Fenton Hardy.” He held out his hands to receive the books. “I hope they helped.”

“Yes, they did, very much,” Mr. Hardy said. When Mr. Watson continued to remain where he was, Mr. Hardy added, “If it's not an imposition, I'd like to see your shop. The boys were impressed with your stock.”

“Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking,” Mr. Watson said. He stepped away from the door to let them all come inside. “I just got back from a long trip myself, and I was trying to get some paperwork taken care of before I actually opened the shop for business.”

“Well, we appreciate your accommodating us,” Fenton Hardy said.

“Oh, I love this stuff!” Callie cried, browsing through the shelves.

“Me, too,” Iola agreed. “It's so different from what we see in the stores in our mall.”

Mr. Hardy told Mr. Watson about the offers he had had for the books that Mr. Watson had lent him. “I wanted to return them, in case some of the officials in Nairobi actually called you.”

“Well, that's very kind of you,” Mr. Watson said.

“Would you mind if my sons and I saw the rest of your book collection?” Mr. Hardy asked. “I'm thinking about starting my own.”

“Oh, well, no, I wouldn't mind,” Mr. Watson said. “I keep the rarest books in my office. It's this way.”

While Callie and Iola looked around the shop, Mr. Hardy and the boys followed Mr. Watson to his office.

Mr. Watson opened the door and turned on the light. They all went inside.

Suddenly Joe stopped in his tracks. He looked at Frank and nodded toward an old-fashioned coatrack in the corner of the room. There were three things hanging on it: a sweat-stained pith helmet, a safari jacket, and a wooden cane with a carved baboon head.

The Hardy boys looked at each other and nodded. They knew what they had to do.

“Uh, Dr. Douglas, how is your research in Swahili dialects going?” Joe said.

Watson whirled around, a look of total surprise on his face. “How did you . . .” He stopped and looked at the coatrack in the corner. He turned to Mr. Hardy. “I can explain that,” he stammered.

“Can you explain the death of the black rhino?” Frank demanded. “What have you done with the parts?”

“What are you talking about?” Watson demanded. “We didn't kill the black rhino. There were too many park police in the area. Somebody must have tipped them off.”

For some reason Frank and Joe believed what Watson was saying—but they had to know for sure.

“Do you have Dr. Malindis telephone number, Dad?” Frank asked. “I want to call him. There's something I need to ask.”

Mr. Hardy withdrew Dr. Malindi's card from his wallet and handed it to Frank. Frank calculated the time difference between New York and Nairobi. “It's not too late,” he said. “He should still be up.”

Fenton Hardy handed Frank his cell phone, since it was enabled to make international calls.

Dr. Malindi answered on the third ring. Frank identified himself and then said that he had some good news—but that he needed to ask Dr. Malindi a question first.

“By any chance have the authorities recounted the black rhino herd in the Aberdares National Park?” Frank said.

He listened for several minutes, smiled, then said, “Good. That's what I was hoping to hear. Oh, by the way, we've caught ‘Dr. Douglas.' Yes, that's right. I'm sure the police here will be in touch with you.” Frank listened for a couple of minutes, then ended the conversation with, “We appreciate all you did for us, too.”

“Well,” Joe said. “Let's hear it.”

“There are still sixty black rhino in the Aberdares National Park,” Frank reported. “The missing one was found several hours later, after we had already left Kenya, hiding in some thick undergrowth.”

“They're obviously smarter than most people give them credit for,” Joe said. “That rhino probably knew what was in store for him if he didn't do something like that.”

“See! Andrews and I didn't do anything wrong,” Watson said. “Now, I think you need to leave my shop.”

“Not so fast, Watson,” Fenton Hardy said.

“I guess you've forgotten about murder and attempted murder,” Frank said. “It's because of you and Harry Andrews that somebody pulled the life-support plugs on our friend Robert Namanga at the hospital in Nairobi.”

“And Frank and I could have died from smoke inhalation in the New Stanley Hotel, too. That was your doing,” Joe added. “Dr. Malindi said that the police have already closed down Mombasa Curios and have taken the shopkeeper and his wife into custody, and now they want to talk to you and Andrews. They're going to have you extradited to Kenya after the New York police have finished with their investigation.”

Watson paled. “What investigation?”

“I'm sure that if the police looked around this shop, they'd find some illegal animal parts,” Frank said.

Joe dialed a number on his cell phone. “And there's no telling what they'll find when they visit Harry Andrews at his house in Long Island City, either,” he added.

“Who are you calling?” Watson demanded.

“A friend of mine in the New York City Police Department,” Joe replied. “Officer Al Fielding.”

“Al Fielding!” Fenton Hardy exclaimed.

“Not the Al Fielding you worked with, Dad. It's his son,” Frank explained. “We forgot to tell you that we ran into him the other day.”

Fenton Hardy raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

Frank nodded. “We'll tell you all about it on the way back to Bayport.”

While Mr. Hardy kept watch over Watson until
the police arrived, Frank and Joe went into the shop to see how Callie and Iola were doing.

“Oh, Frank!” Callie said. “These carved animals are beautiful!”

“Callie and I have made a decision, Joe. We're all going to Africa together on a safari next year!” Iola said. “That way, we can see all of the
real
wild animals—and even sleep out under the stars.”

Frank and Joe groaned.

“Sorry, Iola. The closest I'm getting to Africa anytime soon is at the movies,” Joe said, and yawned. “In fact, there's a new one set in Kenya that opens tonight. I saw it advertised on a billboard near the airport. I'll take you to that.”

Iola sighed. “Well, okay. It's not exactly the same thing,” she said, “but I guess it's better than nothing.”

Callie looked at Frank. “What about us?”

“You want to go, too?” Frank said. He let out a big yawn. “Joe and I are both still on Kenya time. If we're together, we can keep each other awake. I don't want to suffer any more jet lag than I need to.”

“Oooh, this is going to be a
really
exciting date,” Iola said, smirking. “I can already tell!”

“I have a better idea,” Callie said. “Iola, why don't we go to the movie by ourselves and
pretend
the guys are there?”

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Frank said. “We promise to stay awake!”

“Sounds good. And who knows?” Iola nudged Joe in the arm. “If you keep your eyes open, you might find another mystery to solve on the way to the theater.”

Frank and Joe looked at each other and smiled. That was a definite possibility.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First Aladdin Paperbacks edition April 2003

Copyright © 2003 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

ALADDIN PAPERBACKS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster
Children's Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

The text of this book was set in New Caledonia.

THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

THE HARDY BOYS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Library of Congress Control Number 2002107370

ISBN 0-689-85598-2
ISBN 978-1-43911-395-0 (eBook)