The Ice-cold Case (7 page)

“I don't know,” Frank said. He closed what was left of the door. “We're going to have to fix this.”

“Let's first see if the van's still in one piece,” Joe said.

They made their way across the lake to where they had left the van.

“Unbelievable. No one touched it,” Frank said.

“Let's get home before someone does,” Joe said.

•   •   •

After school the next day, Frank and Joe went back to the lake with a small piece of wood to patch the door to Rizzo's shanty.

“Well, if it isn't the Hardy boys,” Ernie said as he came across the ice from the bait shop. “Stu said he saw you down here, but I didn't think you boys knew Rizzo.”

“We don't, really,” Joe said.

“Then what are you doing to his shanty?”

“Just a little patch job,” Frank said as he nailed the wood over the hole in the door.

“Ernie, did you see anyone on the lake last night?” Joe asked.

“Me? No, I stayed in. But you should ask Stu and Neil. They were out fishing most of the night. Not that they caught anything. Sometimes I don't know what they do out here,” he added with a shake of his head.

“Interesting,” Frank said. “We'll have to go see them later.”

“First, you have some work to do,” Ernie said. “Your patch job sure looks bad. I think you'd better replace the whole door.” With that, he turned and walked to his shanty.

When he was out of earshot, Joe turned to Frank, “Stu and Neil were out all night fishing and they didn't catch a thing?”

“Well, they may have caught us,” Frank said.

“Do you think Ray's friends are off the hook?” Joe said.

“I don't know, but where are they now? I thought they played hockey every day,” Frank said.

“Maybe they're avoiding the scene of the crime,” Joe said as he looked over the lake.

“We should go see Ray and find out if he's avoiding
us,”
Frank said. He finished nailing the patch to the door and stood back to survey his work. “I think Ernie's right. We'd better replace the whole door,” he said.

“First, let's go see if Stu and Neil have anything to say about last night,” Joe said.

They walked up to the bait shop. Stu was behind the counter, and Neil was arranging some reels on a rack nearby.

“Hey, remember us? Frank and Joe Hardy,” Frank said.

Neil said hello, but Stu just fixed them with a sullen stare.

“Ernie told us you guys were out fishing last night,” Joe said.

“So?” Stu said.

“We were out on the lake last night, too, and we
ran into a little trouble. I was wondering if you saw anything,” Frank said.

Stu looked at Neil before speaking. “If I tell you something, you promise to keep it to yourselves?”

“Sure,” Frank said.

“Well, Ernie's not too cool about us hanging out and partying in town, so we always tell him we're going fishing,” Stu said.

Stu looked over at Neil, who nodded his agreement. “We go out like we're going to fish, but then we hitch a ride into town,” Neil said.

“Where do you guys hang out?” Joe asked.

“Different places,” Stu said. “It's the only fun we get when we come to visit our grandfather. If you get us busted, you'll be sorry.”

“No problem,” Frank said as he and Joe turned to go.

They loaded their tools back into the van and headed over to Ray's house.

“They sure got nervous when we asked about where they go,” Joe said.

“Besides, how many places are open that late?” Joe asked.

“Not too many,” Frank said. “Let's check them out later.”

“You know what, Frank?” Joe said. “It really is cold in here.”

“So I've heard. We'll get Phil to rig something,” Frank suggested.

“Drive in slowly,” Joe said when they reached Ray's driveway. “I don't want to surprise Mr. Nelson again.”

“You and me both,” Frank said.

Ray was in the garage with his friends Vinnie and John. They were working on Ray's truck.

“Check that out,” Joe said as he looked at the jacked-up suspension and oversize tires.

“He works on it so much that I don't think I've ever seen it on the road,” Frank said.

Before Ray saw Frank and Joe, Vinnie came over. “What do you want?” he said with an edge to his voice.

“Hey, it's the hotshot Hardy boys,” John called from the garage.

Frank noticed the torn look on Ray's face. Ray needed their help, but he didn't seem to want his friends to know it.

“We're here to see Ray,” Frank said calmly, eager not to be drawn into a fight.

“Joe Hardy, why don't you let me wipe you out in some no-rules hockey?” Vinnie taunted.

Frank wasn't in the mood for a game of dare, but he knew Joe wouldn't shrink from a challenge.

“Name the time and place, and you're on,” Joe said as he stood his ground before Vinnie.

“Today, at the lake. Two-on-two. No rules,” Vinnie said.

“First to score three goals wins,” John added.

“I'll be referee,” Ray said as he wiped the motor oil off his hands. “Come inside,” Ray said. “I'll be back in a minute,” he called to Vinnie and John as he led Frank and Joe into the house.

Ray's bedroom had posters of supersize trucks and motorcycles on the walls.

“I thought of something that might help you
guys,” Ray said. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a card with a picture of a monster truck.

“My friends sent it to me at Christmas last year when I was in Michigan. They all signed it.”

“Thanks,” Frank said.

“Do you happen to know where Vinnie and John were last night, around eleven?” Joe asked. “We got jumped at the lake.”

“They work the night shift at Burger World,” Ray said.

“Don't mention anything. We don't want to tip them off,” Frank said.

“They're not the ones,” Ray said vehemently.

“We're just narrowing down the list, Ray,” Frank said as they headed back outside.

“I'm going to wipe your hide all over the ice later,” Vinnie called when he saw Frank and Joe heading to the van. “They're going to need a snow shovel to get you home,” he added.

“Don't count on it,” Joe replied.

Frank took his brother's arm and pulled him along. “We'll settle this on the lake.”

“Be there in a half hour,” John shouted as Frank pulled the van out of the driveway.

“Unless you're too chicken to show up,” Joe shouted back.

“Save it for the ice,” Frank said to Joe. He pulled Ray's postcard from his pocket. “We'll check it when we get home. We've got to get our skates, anyway.”

When they compared the card to the note, they were disappointed to find that none of the handwriting matched.

“Just because Vinnie and John's writing doesn't match,” Joe said, studying the card, “doesn't mean they didn't do it.”

“Just because they like to give you a hard time doesn't mean they threw the rock through our window,” Frank countered.

“Just because they didn't send the rock through our window doesn't mean they aren't committing the robberies,” Joe reminded his brother. “So let's go nail them at hockey.”

They swung by their house, grabbed their gear, and drove out to the lake. When they arrived, Vinnie and John were already on the ice, slapping a puck back and forth. Vinnie and John were good hockey players, Frank noticed.

“Come on, let's get this game started,” Joe said.

“Wait up.” Frank took his brother's arm. “Let's watch for a sec.”

“Why?” Joe asked.

“Watch Vinnie's left side,” Frank said. “He's weak on the left.”

Sure enough, when John shot the puck to Vinnie's left, Vinnie nearly missed it.

“Good observation,” Joe said as Frank finished lacing up his skates.

Frank and Joe skated onto the ice where Vinnie and John were playing. Ray had set up two rocks to indicate goals at either end of a rink he had outlined with a few sticks.

“Hey, Joe, we have a cheering section,” Frank said as he pointed to the Kwans' house. Sarah and her father were standing by the lake, watching them.

“They're probably wondering what we're doing with these guys,” Joe said with a chuckle.

“Hey, you gonna play hockey or what?” Ray called to Frank and Joe.

Joe and Vinnie came together for the face-off. Ray counted to three and dropped the puck. Before Joe could even reach for it, John yanked Joe's foot from behind with his stick, sending Joe sprawling to the ice. Vinnie knocked the puck away and raced down the ice toward the goal. Frank jumped over Joe and chased after Vinnie, but John skated right at him and knocked him down.

“Score!” Vinnie shouted.

“What about the hooking?” Joe asked Ray as he got to his feet.

“No rules—remember?” Ray said.

“So that's how you want to play,” Joe said.

Frank knew that Joe was up for this kind of game, but he didn't like the idea that it could escalate into a brawl.

Joe was ready for the next face-off. At the count of two, he lunged forward and knocked Vinnie off balance. When the puck fell, Joe flicked it over to Frank. Frank took off down the ice, expecting John to trip him with his stick at any moment.

“Watch your head, Frank,” Joe called out.

Sensing John coming up behind him, Frank pulled the puck close and came to a stop, crouching low with the long handle of his stick poking out a few feet behind him. John was too close to stop. His chest rammed into the handle of Frank's stick, and his feet shot out from under him.

Frank skated off to the far end of the rink and
gently tapped the puck in for a goal. From the distance, the Kwans cheered.

“One all,” Ray called out.

It wasn't long before the score was tied at two. Frank had scored by pounding away at Vinnie's weakness on the left. Vinnie and John scored when Ray dropped the puck at one instead of three at the face-off.

At the last face-off, John got the puck to Vinnie. Frank crossed in front of Vinnie so that when Vinnie tried to work the puck on his left side, Frank stole it and fired the puck down the ice to Joe. Joe was racing to break away from John, and for a moment he thought he might be in the clear.

“Joe, look out!” Frank shouted.

Joe realized that Vinnie and John were coming right at him from opposite sides. Neither of them seemed to be paying attention to the puck. They seemed more eager to cream Joe.

They skated as fast as they could, heads down, with the handles of their sticks pointing at Joe like bayonets.

Joe waited to the last second before passing the puck to Frank. In the same motion, he lunged headfirst onto the ice.

“Look out!” John shouted, but it was too late. He and Vinnie were going too fast to stop. They crashed into each other with such force that they bounced backward onto the ice.

Frank was the only one left standing. He skated casually to the goal, then stopped before gently tapping the puck through.

“Score,” he said quietly.

“The Hardys win,” Ray announced.

Joe got up and waved to the Kwans, who were applauding the victory.

Frank skated over to Joe as Vinnie and John rubbed their bruises.

“So, who's going to wipe who off the ice?” Joe said to Vinnie.

“You won. No big deal,” Vinnie said. “Sorry to cut short your victory, but we've got to get to work.”

“What time is it, anyway?” John asked.

Ray checked his watch. “It's nearly five.”

“You like working the night shift?” Frank asked.

“Would you like flipping burgers from six to two in the morning?” John said before he and Vinnie skated back to Ray's truck.

“Good game,” Joe shouted as he and Frank skated to their van. “Good for us at least,” he added under his breath.

“We should check the schedule at Burger World,” Frank said, hopping into the driver's seat. “If they were working when Lang was attacked, I'd say they're in the clear.”

“Let's go see if Hank can tell us something about the guy who owns that shanty we were locked in last night,” Joe said.

At Green's Salvage, Red greeted them, barking and wagging his tail. Hank came out of his office to see what Red was so excited about.

“Hey there—how're you doing?” Hank asked as Frank and Joe got out of the van.

“We just played some hockey, so we're feeling pretty good,” Joe said, still enjoying the win over Vinnie and John.

“Speak for yourself, Joe. I'm starting to feel pretty sore,” Frank said. He rubbed his side where John had rammed into him.

“How about some hot cider?” Hank said. “Come inside.”

They went into Hank's cluttered trailer and managed to pull three chairs up to Hank's table.

“I can't believe you ever find anything in here,” Frank said as he moved an air filter off a chair.

“Oh, I know where everything is,” Hank said. “Unless someone else comes in and moves something. Then I'm in big trouble,” he added, with a chuckle.

Hank took a pot off a little electric hot plate and poured three cups of steaming cider. Frank and Joe wrapped their cold hands around the hot mugs.

“So, what brings you here?” Hank asked as he sat back in his chair.

“We had a run-in with someone on the lake last night after you left,” Frank said.

“They locked us in one of the shanties,” Joe added.

“Whoever it was must have been expecting us. The shanty was all sealed up,” Frank said.

“Whose shanty was it?” Hank asked.

“Paul Rizzo's,” Frank said.

“There's no way that Rizzo is involved,” Hank said without a hint of hesitation. “Little guy, maybe seventy-five years old. He used to run the diner out near the highway with his brother. He comes to the lake only on weekends now,” Hank said.