The Mystery of the Black Rhino (2 page)

“We know the drill,” Frank said.

As they followed Al and Randy to their squad car, Frank explained where they had been headed when the purse snatching took place.

“We'll make this easy. We'll take you there, and on the way, Randy here can fill you in on this fencing operation,” Al said. “It's the least we can do for your help with breaking up this ring.”

As they headed to Fifth Avenue Africana in the patrol car, the Hardy boys gave the officers the full story.

“We had no idea we'd be breaking up a purse snatching ring,” Joe said. “We just weren't going to let them get away with taking that woman's purse.”

“Well, my dad always said that Fenton Hardy had the golden touch when it came to detective work,” Al said. “It seems he's passed it down to his sons.”

For the rest of the drive, the Hardy boys explained why they were going to Fifth Avenue Africana.

“Dad's been invited to speak at a conference of East African police organizations in Nairobi, Kenya,” Frank said. “We're going with him. We've never been to Africa before.”

“That'll be some trip,” Al said as he pulled up to a store. “This should be it.”

The front of the building had an ornately lettered
sign that read
FIFTH AVENUE AFRICANA
.

“Thanks for the ride!” Frank said. “Now we may be able to get Dads books and meet Chet on time.”

“Do you know how to get back to Pelham Bay Park?” Al asked.

Joe nodded. “We take the uptown Number Six at the Fifty-first Street Station,” he said.

“Right,” Al said.

The Hardy boys jumped out and thanked Al and Randy again for the ride downtown.

“Tell your dad that Big Al Fielding's son said hello,” Al said.

“We'll do that,” Joe said.

“If I have any more questions about the purse snatching,” Al said, “I'll call you in Bayport before you leave for Africa.” The police car pulled away from the curb and headed uptown.

Frank checked his watch. “We're in pretty good shape time-wise, Joe, but we need to hurry. Come on.”

The shop door made a loud buzzing noise when they entered, but the darkened interior didn't reveal any clerks or customers.

“Maybe there just aren't a lot of people in New York City who are interested in Africana today,” Frank observed.

“Maybe,” Joe said. “Anybody here?” he called.

When nobody answered, they decided to make their way toward the interior of the shop, thinking
that perhaps someone might be in a stockroom. They passed shelves of ornate wooden and metal African masks, intricately woven baskets, and carvings of all kinds of animals that people normally associate with Africa—especially elephants, lions, rhinoceroses, and giraffes.

“Where are the mounted big-game heads?” Joe asked.

“You've seen too many old movies,” Frank said. “With so many species nearly extinct, people go on photo safaris today They don't go to kill the animals.”

Joe was just about to call out again when they heard a door open.

“If you want it killed, then I'm your man,” a voice said. “Don't ever forget that.”

The voice belonged to one of the biggest men the Hardy boys had ever seen. He was dressed in a safari jacket and a hunter's hat.

As the departing man pushed past them, Frank could see that his skin was sunburned.
He looks like he's just come back from a safari himself,
Frank thought.

“Wow,” Joe whispered. “He looks pretty nasty!”

“You're telling me,” Frank agreed. “He wouldn't have to shoot big game. One look at his face and the animals would be scared to death.”

“May I help you?”

The boys turned toward the voice coming from the rear of the shop. In the dim light they could barely make out the form of another man. He was
smaller than the first one, and dressed in casual clothes.

“We're Frank and Joe Hardy,” Frank said. “We've come to pick up some books for our father, Fenton Hardy.”

Immediately the man's total demeanor changed. He almost rushed toward them with a smile on his face and his hand extended.

“Oh, yes! This is indeed a pleasure! I'm Donald Watson, the owner of Fifth Avenue Africana,” Watson said, as he grasped both of the Hardy boys' hands at once. “I wish your father could have come with you. I've always wanted to meet the famous Fenton Hardy.”

“Dad's got so much work to do—to get ready for the conference—that he couldn't,” Joe explained. “But he did send his best wishes and thanks for letting him borrow your books.”

“Oh, it's my pleasure,” Watson said. “They're in my office. Come. I'll get them for you. Would you care for something to drink? I think I have some soda in the fridge.”

Frank glanced at his watch. Even after the detour to catch the purse snatchers, they were a little ahead of schedule. “Actually, I am kind of thirsty,” he said. “What about you, Joe?”

“Me, too,” Joe said. “ A little super fast running in Manhattan will do that to you.”

Watson gave them a puzzled look. As he removed two cans from his refrigerator, he asked, “Were you just jogging in the park?”

“Actually, we were running after some purse snatchers,” Joe said. “Up in Spanish Harlem.”

Frank explained what had happened. “For a while there, we weren't sure if we'd make it down here or not.”

Joe thought he saw a look of apprehension on Watson's face, but it disappeared almost as quickly has it had appeared.

“Well, what could I expect from the sons of such a famous detective as Fenton Hardy?” Watson said. He smiled at them. “Of course, I'm sure you must hear that a lot.”

Watson turned and started taking books off the shelf. “I've pulled all of the books from my collection that I think your father can use. I believe the two of you can manage them. I'll put them in some cloth shopping bags.”

“Who was that man leaving the shop when we got here?” Joe asked.

Watson's hand hesitated just a minute before pulling the final book off the shelf. “His name is, uh, Jackson. He's a very unpleasant man who I wish would stay away from my shop,” he replied. He turned and gave the Hardy boys a big smile. “What did you actually hear him say?” he asked.

“He was talking about
killing
something for you,” Frank said. “He looked pretty serious.”

“Well,
he
may be, but
I'm
not,” Watson said. “Did you see any mounted heads or animal skins when you came into my shop?”

The Hardy boys shook their heads.

“There's a good reason for that. I don't deal in such things,” Watson continued. “I won't be a part of the destruction of the world's wild animals.”

The Hardy boys had read all about how many of the wild animals in Africa were in danger of extinction because of unscrupulous hunters and poachers.

“That's one of the things Dad will be talking about,” Joe said. “He has some ideas that he thinks will help the police forces in East Africa deal with illegal hunters.”

“We need more people like your father, then,” Watson said. “The situation is getting worse, especially in certain countries.”

Frank glanced at his watch again.

“Well, we'd better be going or we'll miss our ride back to Bayport,” he said. He set his empty soft drink can down on a counter. “Thanks again for lending Dad the books, Mr. Watson. He'll probably deliver them to you in person when we get back from Kenya.”

“I'll certainly look forward to the meeting,” Watson said. He shook hands with both of the boys again. “Have a safe trip.”

“Thanks,” Joe said.

As the Hardy boys headed out of Fifth Avenue Africana, Joe took another look around. Even without big-game heads mounted on the wall or stacks of the skins of lions and leopards, there was something about the shop that filled him with excitement. He didn't know if it was because of all the old movies he had seen on television, but he knew the upcoming trip was going to be a wonderful experience.

Fifth Avenue was more crowded now than it had been when the boys went into the shop.

“People are starting to head home,” Frank said, “but I think we can miss the big rush. Come on.”

They hurried up to Fifty-first Street, then sped across Madison Avenue and Park Avenue. Finally they reached Lexington Avenue and the subway station that would take them back up to Pelham Bay Park.

They got their tokens and rushed to the uptown platform, getting there just as the Six train pulled in. The train was more crowded this time, so the Hardys had to stand—but they didn't mind. They rested the bags of books on the floor near their feet, and talked about some of the places they wanted to visit when they were in Kenya.

“I saw some great things in that shop that I'd like to get Iola, but I want to get them in Africa,” Joe said.

“Yeah! I think Callie would like some African
jewelry,” Frank said. Callie Shaw was Franks best girlfriend in Bayport, although they really hadn't talked about any dates beyond the next prom. “But I want to get it in Africa, too. At least now, though, I have an idea of what to expect.”

Joe was looking out the window as the train pulled into a station. “This is Middletown Road Station,” he said. “One more stop before Pelham Bay Park.”

•   •   •

Chet and his aunt Joyce were circling the block in his borrowed convertible. He saw the Hardy boys from the corner, whipped expertly into the noparking zone in front of the subway entrance, and Frank and Joe jumped into the backseat.

“See! This was no problem at all,” Chet said. “Everything went off without a hitch.”

Frank and Joe grinned at each other. They decided to wait until the appearance of tomorrow morning's newspaper before they gave Chet a full account of their
uneventful
day.

•   •   •

The next day was unbelievably hectic. It started out with Chet showing up at the Hardys' front door just in time for breakfast, with a copy of
The New York Times
under his arm.

“What's the meaning of this?” Chet demanded. He had circled a story on the front page. “You guys
helped to break up a big purse snatching ring, and you didn't tell me about it?”

Frank and Joe grinned at each other.

“What's to tell?” Joe said. “It was all in a day's work.”

“How many pancakes would you like, Chet?” Mrs. Hardy asked.

“Oh, I'll take whatever's left,” Chet said.

“Don't your parents ever feed you?” Aunt Gertrude asked.

Everyone in Bayport accepted the fact that Fenton Hardy's sister said exactly what was on her mind—and she didn't spare the Hardys her honesty, either. In fact, most of the time, it was Frank and Joe who were the objects of her acerbic remarks. Despite this, they loved her dearly and teased her unmercifully. Their aunt's remarks never angered them.

Chet went back to complaining that he didn't appreciate having to read a newspaper—and an out-of-town one at that!—to find out what his best friends were doing.

“Seriously, Chet, we really didn't know what a big deal it was,” Frank admitted. “We just weren't going to let those punks get away with stealing that woman's purse.”

“We didn't want to sound like we were bragging in front of your aunt, either,” Joe said. “We decided just to let her think that you were more wonderful than we were.”

“Thanks, guys,” Chet said, rolling his eyes.

After breakfast some of the rest of the Hardys' friends arrived to help them get ready for the trip.

Iola was moping around, teary-eyed, until Joe finally said, “Look, Iola, we'll be back before you know it. It's not like we're leaving Bayport forever.”

“I know, I know,” Iola assured him. “I'm sorry.”

Frank had to assure Callie of the same thing.

At lunchtime Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude interrupted the preparations with some sandwiches, chips, and sodas. By midafternoon, they were finished packing.

“Our plane leaves Kennedy at eight
P.M
. It's a direct flight to Nairobi with one stop in Dakar,” Mr. Hardy said. “Chief Collig will be by in about an hour to take us to the airport.”

Ezra Collig was the chief of the Bayport Police Department and a good friend of the Hardys. He had offered to take them to the airport, since he had to be in Queens for an evening appointment anyway Frank and Joe thought it might also be because Chief Collig wanted to pick their father's brain about a case he was working on. Many of the crimes in Bayport were solved after Chief Collig made a visit to Fenton Hardy.

“I don't care what time it is here when you get to Kenya,” Mrs. Hardy said. “I want you to call me and let me know that you arrived safely.”

“We will, Mom,” Frank assured his mother. “But don't worry. We'll be fine.”

•   •   •

Chief Collig arrived promptly at the arranged time. Frank and Joe and their friends helped pack the police van Chief Collig was driving. They were taking two suitcases and one carry-on bag each.

Frank and Joe hugged their mother and said good-bye to their friends, promising to send postcards—even though they knew they'd probably beat the postcards back to Bayport.

They each gave Aunt Gertrude a peck on the cheek. “When you show up at Kennedy in that police van, people will think you're convicts who are being deported,” she said.

“Hey! That might be to our advantage,” Joe said. “Maybe nobody will want to sit next to us, and we'll have more room to stretch out.”

“You need to care more about your reputation than you do about sleeping,” Aunt Gertrude said.

Joe grinned at her and gave her another peck on the cheek. He loved pushing his Aunt Gertrude's buttons.