A Will to Survive

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Well . . . at first, perhaps,” Tanya admitted. “Some neighbors were worried about increased traffic. Others didn’t like the fact that such a huge estate would no longer pay the town any taxes. But we brought them around. We built a new entrance for groups, which cut down on local traffic. And our studies showed that the growth from our presence here would more than make up for the lost taxes.”

  Frank scratched his cheek. “Callie said before that Walter Parent liked to change his will. There must be people who expected a legacy they didn’t get. Maybe they resent the center for getting the money they were counting on.”

  Tanya gave a wry smile. “Anyone who dealt with Walter knew not to count on anything,” she said. “I sometimes think that watching us jump through hoops for him was the only entertainment he got. Walter and I must have met dozens of times to draw up detailed plans for Shorewood Nature Center. Even so, I was not really convinced it would happen until after his death, when the will was read.”

  “Did he have any family?” Joe asked.

  “He had a distant cousin,” Tanya replied. “They were not on speaking terms and hadn’t been for years. It was some old quarrel, I imagine. In any case, how would destroying the work of Shorewood benefit a distant relative? It makes no sense.”

  “We’re just trying to make sure we cover all the bases,” Frank told her.

  “I understand, and I appreciate that,” Tanya said. “This means that you’re going to help us. I can’t thank you enough. When can you start?”

  Joe grinned. “Thanks to Callie, we came prepared. We’ve got our bags out in the van.”

  “We let our parents know we would be away for a few days,” Frank added.

  “Excellent,” Tanya said. She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Callie, will you take Frank and Joe to meet Bruce? I’ll let him know to expect you.”

  As they started for the door, Tanya said, “Wait a moment.” She rummaged through a file cabinet and took out some papers. Putting them in a manila envelope, she continued, “These are some of the letters Parent wrote me when we were planning the center. They may give you a clearer idea of his plans—as well as his quirky personality”

  As they walked down the hall, Callie said, “I’m going to hand you over to Bruce Rotan now. He’s the assistant director. Anything you want to know about the history of this place, Bruce is the guy to ask. He was Parent’s private secretary for years.”

  Joe thought that a former private secretary to an eccentric millionaire would be tall, thin, and middle-aged, with a habit of saying “Um” and “Er.” Bruce Rotan did not look as if he had hit thirty yet. He had thick black hair and an aggressive jaw. His tight yellow polo shirt showed off muscles that obviously owed a lot to work in the gym.

  “Welcome!” he said, offering his hand to Frank. Joe noticed that he squeezed harder than he needed to. When he turned to Joe, Joe was ready for him. He squeezed back every bit as heartily. Bruce’s smile developed a slight edge.

  “Let’s get you settled in,” Bruce continued, flipping through some papers. “Joe, you’ll be rooming with a fellow named Sal Politano. Frank, I’m putting you in a triple, with Jack Mainwaring and Rahsaan Jefferson. I’ll show you the rooms in a few minutes, and you can meet your roommates at dinner.”

  “We’ve already met Sal and Jack,” Frank said.

  “That’s right,” Joe said, keeping his voice neutral.

  “Oh? Good, that’s a start,” Bruce said. “Here’s a sheet with meal hours, house rules, important phone numbers, and so on. The way we work it, all the interns attend a seminar in the morning before the center opens to the public. We take up a different aspect of the center’s work each day. Don’t even think about skipping one!”

  “No, of course not,” Frank murmured.

  “Our interns get a lot of varied and valuable experience,” Bruce continued. “You’ll guide visitors around the house and grounds, go out into the community to make presentations, and help with ongoing ecological research. You might spend one morning learning forestry management and the afternoon shearing sheep.”

  “I don’t know how to shear a sheep,” Joe remarked uneasily.

  Bruce grinned. “You’ll learn fast. Our system is, ‘Each one teach one.’ Someone who doesn’t have a particular craft or skill will be paired with someone who does. Your first few days, you’ll simply observe. Then you’ll get to try what you’ve learned. You’ll be supervised, of course. If you do okay, after that you’re on your own.”

  He glanced at his watch. “I’d better get you moved in. Go get your things and meet me in the entrance hall. You’ll just have time to unpack before dinner. When you hear the bell, head for the dining room. It’s in the basement.”

  The dorm rooms, on the third floor, were furnished simply but comfortably with a single bed and small dresser for each occupant. “No bunk beds,” Joe observed. “That’s a relief. I don’t know which is worse, the top bunk or the bottom bunk.”

  “The bottom,” Frank said with a chuckle. “Take my word for it—anyone who’s had a little brother tossing and turning on the top bunk when they were kids will tell you that.”

  Frank neatly ducked Joe’s punch, then said, “Let’s put away our stuff and do some more exploring before dinner.”

  A few minutes later, they started down the stairs. At the second-floor landing, they met a tall, thin guy in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt with the logo of a famous designer on the front.

  “Hey!” the guy said. “You must be the newbies I heard about. I’m Rahsaan. Which of you gets the honor of sharing a room with me and Jack?”

  “That would be me,” Frank said. “Frank Hardy. And this is my brother, Joe.”

  “Frank and Joe Hardy . . .” Rahsaan wrinkled his forehead. “Do I know you dudes from somewhere? You don’t look familiar, but . . . Oh well, it’ll come to me.”

  Joe exchanged a glance with Frank. Did Rahsaan know them? Had he heard stories about their previous detective work? If so, would he blow their cover? They would have to keep a close watch on the situation.

  “Where’re you headed?” Rahsaan asked them. As if in answer, a bell clanged two floors below.

  “Dinnertime,” Rahsaan said. “Hey, you want to see something really cool first?” He walked a few steps down the corridor and pressed against one of the wood panels. A section of paneling swung inward.

  “Wow!” Joe exclaimed. “Look at that—a hidden staircase! Incredible! I love stuff like that.”

  “Me, too,” Rahsaan said. “Back when these places were built, the servants weren’t supposed to be seen or heard. They had their own network of hallways and stairways. That way, they could get wherever they had to go without disturbing the high muckety-mucks. Wouldn’t you love to play hide-and-seek around here? The game could go on for weeks!”

  Joe and Frank followed Rahsaan down the narrow, dimly lit stairs. At the bottom was a bright corridor with bare plaster walls. From the right they could hear the clatter of pots and pans, and from the left, the rattle of dishes and the hum of voices. They turned left.

  The staff dining room was a big, high-ceilinged space dominated by a long wooden table. Glassfront cabinets stacked with china and glassware reached nearly to the ceiling. Half a dozen people were standing around. Joe recognized Sal and Jack.

  Callie hurried over. “Oh, great, you found your way,” she said. “I’m on carrying duty tonight—we all take turns—but come meet my roommate, Wendy Chen.”

  Wendy had a welcoming smile and long black hair that kept drifting in front of her face. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt from the most recent tour of a hot new band. “Come on and sit down,” she said, after greeting Joe and Frank. “Breakfast and lunch are buffets, but dinner’s served family style. It’s a great way to get to know everyone.”

  Joe noticed that Tanya, Bruce, and two other adults sat at the far end of the table, while the teen interns clustered at the near end. He took the place next to Wendy. Sal was across from him.

 
; “I hear we’re roommates,” Joe said in a friendly tone.

  “Um,” Sal replied. “Yeah.” He seemed preoccupied.

  Joe spent the rest of the meal talking to Frank, Wendy, and Rahsaan. Afterward, everyone helped clear the table, then went to another room furnished with chairs, sofas, game tables, and a big TV.

  Joe tried again to make some contact with Sal. He had no more luck than he did at dinner. He decided to use his energy getting to know some of the others instead. Before very long it was time to turn in.

  • • •

  Joe tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. Finally he sat up in bed. The glowing dial on his watch said 3:14. Maybe a glass of water would help him sleep. He slipped into his clothes and tiptoed toward the door. As he passed Sal’s bed, he noticed it was empty. So he wasn’t the only one who was having trouble sleeping!

  Joe stepped into the hallway. Suddenly he stopped and stood motionless, listening intently.

  From somewhere in the distance came a scraping noise. It sounded like something heavy being dragged across the floor. It was coming from downstairs.

  Joe hesitated. Should he wake Frank? No, there was too much risk of waking Frank’s roommates as well. Joe ran quietly down the stairs to the entrance hall. The heavy silence was unbroken, and the dim security lights did not reveal anything suspicious.

  Joe stepped inside the first of the exhibit rooms. As he did, he sensed a presence near him. He started to turn. At that moment, a muscular arm wrapped itself around his neck, then tightened.

  Joe struggled for breath. A red film started to descend over his vision.

  3 The Secret in the Wall

  * * *

  Joe reached up and clamped both hands on the arm that was strangling him. He tensed, preparing to drop to one knee and throw his attacker over his shoulder. Then he recalled that the room in front of him was filled with glass display cases. Could he take the risk of destroying dozens of precious museum specimens?

  On the other hand, could he take the risk of allowing somebody to throttle him? If he didn’t do something at once, he might not have the strength to save himself!

  To buy time, Joe lifted his right foot and stamped down where he thought his assailant’s foot must be. He aim was perfect, but he had forgotten he was barefoot. The other guy wasn’t. From the pain in his heel, Joe guessed the other guy was wearing steel-toed work boots.

  Joe let himself go limp and slump forward, as if starting to pass out. His attacker leaned forward with him. Instantly Joe used his powerful neck muscles to thrust his head backward. The back of his head struck something with a satisfying crunch, followed by a gasp of pain.

  The arm around Joe’s neck loosened just enough for him to force his fingers under it. He drew in one quick, welcome breath. Then, before his attacker could recover, he threw all his weight and all the strength of his linebacker’s legs into a backward push. After two steps, he felt the other guy slam into a wall. The arm fell away from Joe’s throat.

  Joe hurled himself away. Spinning on one foot to face his opponent, he dropped into a defensive posture. He raised both hands, ready to strike out with devastating force.

  The lights clicked on, blinding him for a moment. A voice he recognized as Tanya’s shouted, “Carl! Joe! What’s going on here? Stop it at once!”

  Tanya was standing in the entrance hall, with a small group behind her.

  The man who had tried to choke Joe was a balding six-footer with powerful shoulders and a thick neck. The sleeves on his frayed khaki shirt were rolled up above the elbow, showing a sharp border between his deeply tanned forearms and pale upper arms.

  “I caught this fellow prowling around, Ms. Sovskaya,” he said. “He wouldn’t come quietly.” He reached up to rub a bright red patch on his left cheek.

  “I woke up and heard a noise down here,” Joe explained. “I came to see what it was. This guy jumped me from behind and tried to strangle me.”

  Frank pushed through the crowd and came over to Joe’s side. “Are you okay?” he asked in an undertone.

  Joe massaged the side of his throat. “I’ll probably be a little sore tomorrow,” he said cheerfully. “But not as sore as that guy.”

  “I see,” Tanya said, raising her voice. “This is all an unfortunate misunderstanding. Carl, that is Joe Hardy, a new intern. Joe, Carl is our caretaker. He is in charge of the upkeep of the house and grounds. As you can see, he takes his job very seriously.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” Joe said. To himself, he wondered if Carl’s duties always involved lurking around the house at three in the morning.

  “All right, everyone,” Tanya continued. “The excitement is over. Please return to your rooms. We have much to do tomorrow.”

  Joe shot Tanya a quick, imploring glance. She noticed and understood.

  “Joe, Frank,” she said, as the others started drifting upstairs. “Will you stay for a moment? I need to speak to you. Carl, you may go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  After an unfriendly look at Joe, Carl left the Hardys alone with Tanya.

  In a low voice, Joe said, “I did hear something down here. It sounded like furniture being shifted around. I’d like to know what it was.”

  “So would I,” Tanya agreed. “Will you and Frank see what you can discover? I’ll wait here, in case anyone else returns and wonders what you’re doing.”

  “We weren’t in this room during our look around earlier,” Frank told her. “Can you tell us if anything catches your attention? Don’t work at noticing, just let your eyes and your mind roam.”

  “Very well.” Tanya walked to the center of the room and slowly turned, letting her gaze move from one corner of the room to another. Finally she said, “The elk. I don’t think its head always pointed exactly in that direction.”

  Frank followed the direction of her eyes. The stuffed elk was hard to miss. It was mounted on a solid platform painted to look like grass. Its head was raised, as if listening for danger. Its antlers reached almost to the ceiling.

  Frank and Joe crossed the room. Joe peered down at the floor. “Look, Frank,” he said excitedly. “Those scratches are fresh!”

  A series of parallel scratches showed yellowish on the dark polished floorboards. Frank estimated that the scratches were a bit under a foot long. It looked as if someone had shoved the front of the elk’s stand over, pivoting it on the rear part.

  “Give me a hand,” Frank said. He and Joe knelt down to push the elk’s platform. There was a teethgritting screech as the metal scraped across the wooden floor. They stopped at once.

  “That’s the sound I heard earlier,” Joe said. “So somebody moved the elk . . . but why?”

  The two detectives studied the placement of the elk. “The only reason I can come up with,” Frank said slowly, “is to get to the wall behind the exhibit. I wonder . . .”

  With his knuckles, Frank tapped on the carved wooden paneling. He started as high as he could reach and slowly moved down toward the floor. When he got to chest level, the sound changed.

  “It must be hollow behind this spot!” Frank exclaimed. He felt the borders of the panel with his fingertips. Was that a crack? He tried to get his thumbnail into it. There was a faint click. The panel swung outward. Behind it, built into the wall, was a cabinet with two shelves. Eagerly Frank leaned forward to peer inside. All he saw was a furry layer of dust and a few dead flies.

  “We’re too late,” Joe said bitterly. “If only I’d gotten here a couple of minutes sooner!”

  Frank took a closer look at the shelves. “Give yourself a break,” he said. “Getting here sooner wouldn’t have helped. Nothing’s disturbed this dust for a long time.”

  Glancing over his shoulder at Tanya, Frank asked, “Did you know this compartment was here?”

  Tanya shook her head. “This one, no. But it doesn’t surprise me. The house has many secret doors and stairways. There is a compartment like that in my office I use to store checks.”

  “Does every
body know about these secret cabinets?” asked Joe. “I mean, that they exist.”

  “It is part of the lore of the place, like the servants’ stairs,” Tanya told him. “It’s not a secret, exactly, but an unusual and interesting feature.”

  “Hmm.” Frank scratched his chin. “Is there a blueprint of the building that would show us where they are?”

  “We have the plans that were drawn up when we converted the mansion,” Tanya replied. “But they indicate only those compartments that our architects knew about. This one, for example, is not shown.”

  “Still, we should look at the plan in the morning,” Frank said. He added, “I don’t know that we can do much more now. And we don’t want the others to wonder what we’re doing down here.”

  As Frank and Joe started up the stairs, Joe stopped his brother. “I didn’t want to tell you this with the others around. When I got out of bed, I was careful not to wake Sal. But the moonlight coming in the window was shining on his bed . . . and he wasn’t there.”

  “You think he—” Frank began.

  Joe finished the thought. “Was downstairs hunting for the secret compartment? Could be. We’d better keep a careful eye on him.”

  “And who better to do that than his roommate?” Frank said, slapping Joe on the shoulder. “Starting right now!”

  • • •

  After breakfast only a few hours later, Frank and Joe joined the other interns in the seminar room. The speaker was a marine biologist from the state university. She spoke about the many life-forms that make their home on the strip of beach between the high-tide and low-tide marks. Colorful slides and videos illustrated the talk. By the end Frank knew he would never look at a beach the same way again. It was so much more than just a place to lie on the sand and bag some rays!

  Bruce caught up to Frank and Joe as they left the seminar. “Wendy is leading a junior-high-school group around the indoor exhibits this morning,” he said. “I’d like you two to join the group. You’ll get a good introduction to the center and pick up some pointers on handling this kind of assignment at the same time.”