Blood Money

by Franklin W. Dixon

  "Murderers don't reason that way," Ned said firmly. "Or maybe he's not going to marry Emily - I don't know. What I do know is that this seems to be over. We can tell our fathers to come home now."

  The phone rang. Ned answered it.

  "It's for either of you," he said, holding out the receiver.

  "I'll take it," Frank said. He grabbed the receiver.

  "This is Frank Hardy."

  "Frank, this is Detective Lewis. Just thought you and your brother would want to know. We ran a ballistics test on that gun. It's the same one that killed Daniel Carew." Lewis was silent a moment. "We're charging Tommy Poletti with murder one."

  "You're sure?" Frank asked.

  "Sure as we can get without a confession."

  Frank sighed. "All right - thanks."

  He hung up the phone and turned to his brother, who'd been unusually quiet all morning. The news of Poletti's guilt had hit him pretty hard.

  "They say they're going to charge Poletti," Frank told them.

  "It's over, then," Joe said.

  "I don't think so," Frank replied firmly. "What about this, Joe? Johnson said Emily Moran had asked him to find a way to invalidate the will - don't you think Poletti knew about that? Why would he risk his neck killing Carew and Delaney when the whole document might be nullified?"

  "It's over, Frank - face it," Joe repeated. "We're not going to find some magic clue the police overlooked this time."

  "I'm not looking for any magic clue," Frank said. "I'm looking for the truth - and if you're going to sit here moping all day, I guess I'll have to look myself." He stood up and grabbed his coat.

  Joe didn't move.

  "I'm going to try to talk to Emily Moran," Frank said. Without another word, he stalked to the front door and threw it open. He sucked in air and gave a low whistle.

  Framed in the doorway were two men. Carew's goons. He recognized one of them from the club.

  "Oh," the man said, smiling. "Now this is a pleasure we didn't anticipate." He drew a gun with one hand, and with the other he roughly shoved Frank back into the apartment.

  "I've been looking all over town for you - and you show up here." He pointed his gun at Frank. "I guess this is going to be my lucky day."

  Chapter 13

  His companion stepped in behind him and shut the door.

  "So you're Ned Nolan," the man said to Frank.

  "No, I'm Ned Nolan." Ned and Joe had appeared in the arch between the hall and the living room. "What's going on here?"

  "Frank, who is this guy?" Joe asked.

  "I'm his fairy godmother," the man said. "It don't matter who I am. What matters is this," he said, flicking his gun. He motioned Ned and Joe toward the door. "Let's go, all three of you."

  Joe shrugged and stepped forward, then suddenly stopped and planted his feet. He swung his elbow to the side and knocked the goon's gun out of his hand.

  In a flash his hand was inches from picking it up. He stopped half bent over when he heard the unmistakable sound of a trigger being cocked.

  Joe looked up. The second gunman had a revolver to Ned's head.

  "Leave the gun alone," the man said simply.

  Joe had no choice. He stepped back.

  "One more trick like that, kid," the first guy said, bending over to pick up his revolver, "and you'll be staying here - permanently. Now let's go."

  The three of them were taken back to Cosmos - and to the office Frank had seen the previous evening. Johnny Carew was there himself, waiting.

  "What's going on, Terry?" Carew asked the man who'd brought them there.

  "This" - he waved his gun at Ned - "is Nolan's son. And this" - he indicated Frank - "is that punk who was in here last night. I don't know who the other one is."

  "Ah, but I do," Carew said, carefully scrutinizing first Frank, then Joe. "You're Hardy's two boys, aren't you?"

  "That's right," Frank said.

  "Playing detective, are you? Hope to follow in your father's footsteps?" Carew asked the question with a smile, but there was underlying malice to his words.

  "Why are we here?" Joe demanded.

  "Feisty, eh? I like that." Carew laughed and sat down behind his desk. "All right, I'll tell you."

  "It has to do with Josh Moran's will, doesn't it?" Frank asked.

  "It does at that," Carew nodded. "Moran's will - and my son's death." He silently stared off into space for a moment. When he began talking again, his voice was lower, more intense.

  "I had a funny thought last night, when the police were hounding me with questions about Billy Delaney." He lifted his gaze to Frank's. "I was thinking how funny it would be if one of the people the police would never think of questioning - one of the 'good guys' - had actually killed my son. Somebody who could really use Josh Moran's money - somebody like Hugh Nolan, for instance, or maybe even Fenton Hardy.

  "So I sent Terry and Monk" - he nodded at the men standing guard at the door - "to find those two and bring them here for a little talk. Instead, I got you."

  He nodded to Terry, who moved forward and laid a hand on Frank's shoulder and guided him, none too gently, into a chair in front of Carew's desk. Joe and Ned were also marched over and made to sit in chairs next to Frank.

  "So," Carew asked, folding his hands and leaning forward on his desk. "Where are they?"

  "We don't know," Frank said.

  "Come now - that won't do," Carew said, shaking his head. "Where are they?"

  "He just told you," Ned said. "We really don't know. Besides, haven't you been paying attention? The police have your son's killer - and Delaney's - in custody. Tommy Poletti."

  Carew waved a hand in dismissal. "That's a load of garbage."

  Joe did a double take. "You don't think Poletti killed your son?"

  Carew shook his head. "Tommy Poletti? A killer? Never. The police will figure that out soon enough. If they don't, they're even bigger fools than I thought."

  Frank leaned back in his chair and exchanged a look with Joe.

  "I don't know where my father is," Frank said. "That's the truth. But you're wrong if you think he's had anything to do with the killings."

  "Your father's a man of principle - is that it? Well, we're talking about ten million dollars here, sonny," Carew said. "That much money buys a lot of principles."

  "Not my father's," Frank said firmly.

  "Or mine," Ned added.

  At that, Carew laughed harshly. "Hugh Nolan? Not interested in money? You don't know him very well - do you, sonny?"

  "What do you mean by that?" Ned asked angrily, rising from his chair. He was upset enough to attack Carew with his bare hands.

  The gang lord studied Ned calmly for a second, then shook his head. "Never mind. All right, you say you don't know where your fathers are. I'll accept that - for now." Now Carew looked directly at Frank. "But the next time you want to play detective, you play with someone else, okay?"

  "We don't play at being detectives, Mr. Carew," Frank said calmly. "Especially where our father's life is concerned."

  "And I don't play around when it comes to whoever killed my son!" Carew slammed his fist down on the desk. "You make sure you understand that."

  He glowered at Frank for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Get them out of here."

  Terry and Monk escorted them down to the street.

  "Carew doesn't think Poletti did it either," Joe said, more to himself than anyone else. "Guess I'm beginning to believe the killer is still on the loose."

  "I told you," Frank said. "I'm going to see Emily Moran. You two coming?"

  Joe grinned. "You bet. Ned?"

  Ned shook his head slowly. "No, I don't think so." He was still clearly upset by Carew's accusation - an accusation Joe decided might be right after his discovery in the library.

  But in Ned's mind they were still just doubts - and Joe didn't want to upset Ned any further without real proof.

  "Well, we'll see you back at the apartment later," Frank said. "Come on, Joe - let's g
o play detective."

  ***

  This time, their reception at Emily's was slightly more pleasant. Emily Moran, even though she looked even more tired and upset than the last time they'd seen her, was happy to talk with them.

  "We appreciate your taking the time to see us, Ms. Moran - especially today," Joe said. Delaney's death had apparently enabled Emily to rid herself of the man's entourage as well. The house seemed deserted except for the three of them.

  She nodded distractedly. "Yes, I talked to Vance, and he said you were trying to find the killer." She forced a grin. "Besides, there's not much else I can do right now. The police are questioning Tommy again."

  "I hope you don't think this is rude," Joe began, "but - why did your father put Tommy Poletti into his will?"

  "Dad didn't exactly like Tommy," Emily said. "He was in jail of course when I first met Tommy, and he never approved of him. I think my dad wanted me to see someone who could help run his business." She stopped suddenly to look at her watch. "The police are supposed to call me when they're finished questioning him," she said, apologizing.

  "They take a long time sometimes," Joe offered sympathetically.

  "Don't I know it," Emily said, smiling. "You're talking to Josh Moran's daughter, after all." It was the first time Joe had seen her genuinely amused at something, and it made her look about five years younger.

  Suddenly Joe wanted very much for Tommy Poletti to be proven innocent.

  "I just wish there was something I could do to help him," Emily continued.

  "There may be," Frank said. "Announce that you've found a way to have your father's will nullified."

  Emily looked confused. "How will that help Tommy?"

  Joe explained. "By flushing out the real killer."

  "So you don't think Tommy's guilty?" Emily asked, her eyes glistening.

  Frank and Joe both shook their heads. "No," Joe said.

  "All right," she nodded firmly. "Give me a minute - I'll get my coat. Then we'll go talk to Vance to have him make the announcement."

  It was just after two o'clock when they reached Johnson's office. The place was completely deserted.

  "That's strange," Frank said, shaking his head. "I wonder where everybody is."

  "Out to lunch?" Joe suggested.

  "I don't think so," Frank said. "Look." He pointed at a half-eaten sandwich lying on the secretary's desk. Next to the sandwich, her computer was still running.

  The brothers exchanged a puzzled glance.

  Emily Moran crossed to Johnson's office door and rapped on it loudly.

  "Nobody in there either," she said.

  "I guess we come back later," Frank said. He turned to go.

  "Joe! Frank!" Emily Moran screamed. "Here!"

  She was standing next to a copier and pointing at the floor. Both brothers rushed to her side.

  Johnson's secretary - Mrs. Hunter - was lying on the floor, still and unmoving.

  Frank bent down and felt her wrist. "She's alive."

  "Get her some water," Emily Moran commanded, lifting Mrs. Hunter's head onto her lap.

  Frank scanned the area for a refrigerator or a water fountain. Nothing. Then he remembered the water cooler in Johnson's office. He ran for the door, reached out to yank it open - and pulled his hand back instantly.

  The doorknob was hot.

  "Look!" Joe said, pointing at the space around the door. A thin wisp of smoke was wafting out.

  "Oh, no," Emily said, a look of horror spreading across her face. "It's on fire!"

  Chapter 14

  "You two get her out of here," Frank said to Joe and Emily, taking off his jacket. "I'll see how bad the fire is."

  "Frank!" Joe yelled. "Wait - "

  Whatever else his brother had to say was lost to Frank as he grabbed the doorknob with his jacket and burst into Johnson's office.

  There was smoke everywhere. He'd barely opened the door before it was in his eyes, his nose, his throat. Frank coughed once, covered his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, and pushed into the room, closing the door behind him.

  From the right, waves of intense heat washed over him. He staggered toward his left, where he remembered the huge bay windows were. Frank groped along the wall, searching.

  His right hand touched glass, then the metal frame and the window crank. He turned the crank and opened the window. He leaned out and took a deep breath of fresh air.

  Looking down at the street below, he saw Johnny Carew's goons, Terry and Monk. They were standing on the sidewalk opposite the office, looking straight up at him. In the distance, he could hear the wail of fire engines approaching.

  The two men turned and quickly disappeared down the street.

  "Carew," Frank whispered, his eyes still tearing from the smoke. He must have had the fire set. Frank had to tell Joe. But first things first . . .

  He turned back to the office only to discover the heat and smoke were stronger than ever. The fire was spreading - partially because he'd fed it by opening the window and letting air into the room.

  He and Joe would never be able to put the fire out themselves.

  Taking a last, deep breath, he shut the window, and turned back toward the office door. He bumped into something heavy and solid behind him.

  The water cooler.

  Frank rammed it with all his strength, pushing the cooler toward the right of the room and the source of the heat.

  The huge glass tank hit the floor with a loud plop. Instantly the seams ripped and Frank heard water lapping out. Suddenly the room was full of billowing smoke.

  That's the best I can do, Frank told himself, and he dropped to the floor, where the smoke was less damaging. He moved on all fours toward the door.

  He was so intent on focusing on the doorway that he crawled directly into a body on the floor.

  "Oh, no," Frank said, rolling the man onto his back. Vance Johnson's eyes were shut, and Frank couldn't tell if he was alive or not. Frank struggled to his feet and backed out of the burning office, dragging Johnson under his arms.

  Joe was rushing down the hall toward Mrs. Hunter's office, carrying two small fire extinguishers. Behind Joe, next to the entrance to the stairwell, Frank could see Emily Moran sitting with Mrs. Hunter, who was now conscious and talking.

  "Forget it!" Frank yelled to his brother. "It's out of control! Just get out of here!"

  Joe dropped the extinguishers and gave Frank a hand with Mr. Johnson as the first of the fire fighters were arriving.

  ***

  A half hour later the blaze was under control, and both Johnson and Mrs. Hunter were conscious and being attended to by emergency personnel.

  "They'll be fine," one technician assured Joe. "We just want to take them to the hospital to make sure there's no real harm done."

  The EMS technicians stepped in front of Joe and lifted Johnson's stretcher.

  "I'll go with them to the hospital," Emily volunteered, climbing into the ambulance.

  Joe and Frank silently watched as the ambulance drove away. "We've got to find out who's doing this," Joe said angrily.

  Frank shook his head. "I know who did it - well, the fire, anyway." He told Joe about Carew's two thugs.

  Joe snapped his fingers. "Before he died, Delaney told Carew that Emily was trying to have the will nullified. If Carew didn't want that to happen, he might try to kill Johnson. Come on, let's find out what he's up to."

  "Wait a minute, Joe," Frank said. "I don't think it would be too smart to go charging into Carew's office by ourselves."

  "Who said anything about charging into his office?" Joe grinned. "I've got an idea."

  "So do I," Frank said.

  ***

  "That's right," Carew said, putting his feet up on the desk. "You can deal directly with my boys from now on - not Delaney's." He listened to whoever was on the other end of the line and laughed. "Don't worry. Moran's lawyer had an unexpected visit from the fire department today." Carew laughed. "I'll talk to you later. So long."


  He hung up the phone and leaned back, taking a long, satisfied draw on his cigar.

  From the skylight twenty feet directly above him, Frank was disconnecting the contact microphone they'd used to listen in on Moran's conversation. He turned to Joe.

  "It was him," Frank said to his brother, who was sitting next to him, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. At Joe's suggestion, they'd sneaked back into the old Schickelman building and onto the roof over Cosmos to eavesdrop on Carew.

  "And listen to this. Not only did Carew have his thugs start that fire so Johnson would never be able to challenge Moran's will in a court of law, he also thinks the fire destroyed some very special business contracts Moran had. He's going to take away Moran's territory without having to fire a shot."

  "All right," Joe said. "That solves one mystery. But what about the murders and the attack on Chief Peterson?"

  Joe was cut off by a crunching sound directly behind him - the sound of someone stepping on rooftop gravel.

  Both boys turned.

  Terry and the bouncer from Cosmos were standing there, guns raised.

  "I wouldn't be too concerned about those murders right now, if I were you," Terry said. "You've got problems of your own - like how you plan on staying alive."

  Chapter 15

  "You kids must think I'm dumb," Carew said. "Somebody took a shot through my skylight, and I'm going to leave it unguarded after that? Give me a break."

  "I guess that it was kind of stupid of us," Joe agreed. He and Frank had been marched into Carew's office, where they were now standing, side by side, in front of Carew's desk. "Maybe as stupid as you were to leave that skylight unguarded in the first place."

  "Hey!" Terry said, moving toward them. "You keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll - "

  "No, no, Terry, it's all right," Carew raised a hand, and his employee backed off. "I'll chalk up that outburst to his youth."

  "Of course, Frank, there is another possibility," Joe said. He raised a finger to his lips and pretended to be deep in thought. "Maybe Mr. Carew never left that skylight unguarded at all."

  Frank stopped to consider this. "Why - then how could anyone have gotten up there to kill Delaney? Wouldn't he have been seen? Oh, I get it," Frank said. "You're saying Carew did have someone up there guarding that skylight - someone who was up there to shoot Billy Delaney."