by Mabel Maney
"Oh, dear," Uncle Nelly confessed. "Boys, we may have accidentally touched a few things when we were there earlier, and I'm pretty sure I remember running haphazardly across your lawn."
"That's okay, Uncle," Joe told him. "We'll fingerprint you and Willy and use the results to eliminate your prints, plus your carpet slipper prints and those from Willy's boots should be easy to spot."
He explained to Cherry the value of shoe prints when tracking criminals. "Often a criminal can be tracked down with just a shoe or tire print. The Federal Bureau of Investigation, or the FBI as we call it, has on hand photographs of thousands of different kinds of shoe plates. After we make a plaster cast of the shoe print using The Hardly Boys Mold Making Kit, I'll photograph it, make a quick print in the fully-equipped photographic lab in our basement and send it over our teletype to Bureau headquarters in Washington, DC. By morning, we'll know what size shoe the kidnapper was wearing, its make and model, and perhaps the very store where he made his purchase."
"Goodness," Cherry cried. "And I thought nursing was scientific!"
"Although our methods have improved vastly in the last fifteen years, it's still often the simplest thing that helps us get our man," Frank was forced to admit. "While crime detection has always been shrouded in deeps veils of mystery, the truth is that many an escaped criminal is brought to justice on as slim a clue as a single fingerprint."
"Jeepers!" Cherry cried. "But what if the kidnappers wore gloves? What then?"
"Yes, Nancy, what then?" Frank asked. Nancy shot him a thankful grin in the rearview mirror.
"Often even the most hardened criminal will slip up and take off a glove for a second, which is just enough time for him to leave his calling card," she explained, remembering how, in The Case of the Pilfered Pocketbook, the purse snatcher had left just one pinkie print on the patent leather handle-but it was enough!
"You see, Cherry, each of us has one thing that is ours alone, and that's our fingerprints. Although many attempts have been made to alter the telltale marks, they always grow back the exact same way," she explained.
"John Dillinger tried to change his fingerprint patterns by burning them with acid," Joe added. "But it didn't work!"
"How dreadful," Cherry shuddered.
"Since so many people were fingerprinted during the war as a national precaution to protect against invasion from within, a large number of people are on file at the FBI Identification Division," Frank interjected. "Over seventy million in fact. Just one fingerprint would be enough to identify the kidnappers and point us in their direction."
Cherry shivered. She was a little nervous about what they would find once they reached the Hardly residence. She glanced at the car behind them. Jackie was at the wheel of the Hardly jalopy. Cherry gave her a little wave, and was rewarded with a big grin from Jackie, who was keeping her eyes glued on the car ahead, and especially the attractive nurse in the front seat!
Somehow Cherry always felt better when Jackie was near. Was it her big, strong biceps or her quiet, confident manner that made Cherry go a little weak at the knees? Cherry blushed to the roots of her unruly curls. "Get ahold of yourself, Nurse Aimless," she scolded herself. "You're on a case-perhaps the most dangerous of your career. Now is not the time to swoon over some girl-not even one as handsome, good-hearted, sweet-natured and downright sensible as Police Detective Jackie Jones!"
* * *
CHAPTER 21
* * *
Torn Asunder!
"Oh, no!" Joe shrieked as they raced into the informal cozy living room of the Hardly home. "The overstuffed flower-patterned chintz chairs which blend happily with the ice-green walls have been turned over and their cushions tossed about in a disorderly fashion!"
"Look-our worn but still good wool area rug in a subtle shade of the deepest cerulean has mud prints all over it!" Frank gasped in alarm.
"And the honey-colored wood shelves stuffed with wellthumbed books and the modern hi-fi cabinet stocked with contemporary favorites have been plundered and their contents scattered about!" they chorused unhappily.
"What a colorful, cheerful room designed for contemporary living," Cherry exclaimed as she brought up the rear, firstaid kit in hand. She wiped her feet on the scatter rug just inside the door before remembering Joe's warning not to disturb anything at the scene. "Oops!" she blushed. Then she gasped when she got a good look at the room. "Oh, no!" she cried. "This modern house of today had been torn asunder!"
Uncle Nelly and Willy jumped out of the way and let the detectives do their work. They stood in the foyer in wide-eyed wonder as the sleuths bustled about searching for clues. They felt, as antique dealers, there was little they could do to aid in the investigation. The men knew their job would come later, finding replacements for the damaged furniture.
"The shoe prints on the rug are crisp and clear," Nancy was quick to point out. "They're our first clue!"
But before Nancy could make her move, Jackie got to her knees and closely examined the muddy imprints. "They're men's shoes with a snub-toe. Because of the way the fibers of the carpet have been mashed down and judging by the length of the imprint, I'd say we're looking for a man between six feet and six feet, two inches tall, weighing one hundred and sixty to one hundred and sixty-seven pounds," she cried.
Cherry gasped. "Jackie, you're really something!" she said admiringly.
Nancy scowled.
Jackie grinned, then her smile faded. This was a kidnapping case, not a contest, she told herself. She must keep her head, something that was hard to do when Cherry was around!
"I'll dust," Nancy declared in an icy tone as she took her hankie from her pocket.
"No!" Cherry cried. "Remember what Frank said? We're not supposed to touch a thing!"
Nancy used the hankie to wipe her brow. "I meant dust for fingerprints," she informed Cherry tersely. She opened the Hardly Boys Fingerprint Collecting Kit and took out a jar of fine white powder. Using a soft brush, she began laying the powder on surfaces in the room. Her pretty face tensed as she concentrated on the task at hand.
"In here!" Joe cried excitedly from the den. Heeding the warning not to touch anything, Uncle Nelly and Willy could only look sadly at the damaged Federal writing table whose delicate legs were smashed beyond repair. Bullet holes riddled the top of the desk.
"The good news is that there's no sign of blood, which means no one was hit," Frank said grimly as he flung open the Hardly Boys Evidence Retrieval Kit. "The bad news is that this fellow meant business!"
Jackie used tweezers to pick up a slug from the floor. "This is from a .38," she announced.
Nancy took her gold-rimmed magnifying glass with its ivory handle from her pocket and made a careful inspection of the discharged bullet. "It looks foreign-made to me," she said with a smug little smile, making sure Cherry overheard. "See the unusual mark on the side?" she asked pointedly.
"But it's still a .38," Jackie said just as firmly. The two detectives glared at one another.
Frank and Joe exchanged nervous looks. Was there going to be a fight?
"Nancy, why don't you check the front lawn for shoe prints and the driveway for tire tracks while Jackie, Joe and I finish dusting for fingerprints," Frank suggested.
Nancy raced outside. The eagleeyed detective had spotted a set of distinctive prints below the dining room window and was eager to use her expertise to advance the case.
"I'll lift the prints in the living room while you boys dust the den," Jackie suggested. She quickly but thoroughly examined every visible print on the furniture and door jams, but soon realized her efforts were all for naught. She compared every mark she uncovered to a fingerprint roster from the Hardly Boys Detective Kit-they all belonged to members of the Hardly family.
Just then Nancy burst into the room, a big smile lighting up her pretty face. "I've got good news," she reported triumphantly. "I've found shoe prints that are sure to provide the first big break in this case. I'm making molds of them now; they should be re
ady shortly."
"That's a fine clue you've uncovered, Nancy," Frank cried. "You see, Cherry, criminals often slip up just like this. While this fellow was careful enough to wear gloves, he forgot about his shoes and left impressions that an average detective might have overlooked. But not Nancy. Why, it's hard to put anything past her!"
"I'll go see if my shoe print molds are dry," Nancy grinned as she raced out of the room.
"Wait a minute!" Jackie crowed with excitement a moment later. "I found something! There's a clear set of right-hand prints on the cover of this copy of Inside Russia Today, and they don't match any known Hardly prints. They're large, so they fit my earlier guess that the kidnapper was a tall fellow," Jackie pointed out.
"Fabulous," Joe enthused. He popped a close-up lens on his patented Hardly Boys Special Evidence Camera and expertly photographed the imprint. "I'll race downstairs to our scientific darkroom and put this film in quick developer, then make a print on fast paper and send it over our teletype to FBI headquarters to see if they have a match on file," he announced.
"Perhaps we can help you with your photographic work," Uncle Nelly offered. He was quite an accomplished amateur photographer, and although his work was typically confined to shots of antiques and some interesting natural studies of Willy, he certainly knew his way around a darkroom.
"Swell," Joe declared. "Frank, I'm leaving you in charge of the investigation."
Frank grinned and shot his younger brother a snappy salute. Joe, Willy and Uncle Nelly went to the basement laboratory where the Hardly detectives tested many of their own theories.
"Let's check out the den for more clues," Frank suggested.
Cherry and Jackie followed him to the back of the house and into an enchanting room sure to provide a pleasant atmosphere for many pleasurable hours of fun. Although the room was windowless, it was cheery nonetheless, what with its knotty ponderosa pine paneling, big comfortable easy chairs covered in sturdy blue and white Boucle, Oriental rug in subtle shades of indigo and salmon, and built-in shelves crammed with crime novels and historical fiction. One wall was decorated with nicely framed certificates of appreciation, awards and merit badges attesting to the popularity and expertise of the Hardly family.
While Jackie bent over an oak table, piled high with books, to dust for more prints, Cherry put her hands in her pockets so she wouldn't be tempted to touch anything. "Goodness, your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hardly, certainly are a comely couple," Cherry cried as she looked at a silver-framed photograph on the fireplace mantle. "Although, Frank, neither you nor Joe really resemble them or your Uncle Nelly, for that matter. Still, as a nurse I know that certain physical characteristics can skip a generation. You must take after your grandparents.
"That's not to say you aren't a handsome lad," she added hastily.
Frank grinned. "Oh, Joe's the beauty queen in our family," he joshed as he continued inspecting the carpet with his magnifying glass, looking for fibers and dust particles that could provide valuable leads.
"Now, Frank," Cherry scolded lightly. "You know that's not at all true. Why, either one of you could be a queen. You should have seen the way people swooned over Midge at the Dog Show the other day, thinking she was you. Luckily, Midge is true blue when it comes to matters of the heart."
"Just like Father," Frank enthused. Although the handsome and charming Mr. Hardly could have his pick of any partner at the Feyport Country Club dances, he only had eyes for Mrs. Hardly.
Cherry took a closer look at the snapshot. Mr. Hardly, a fine-boned man with a trim build, had sharply chiseled features and well-groomed, slicked-back hair. His broad shoulders provided an elegant frame for his dashing tuxedo. Mrs. Hardly had soft curly dark hair worn loosely around her shoulders, wide, light-colored eyes, a button nose and a perfect rosebud mouth. She was clad in an elegant evening dress of shimmering sea-foam chiffon.
"By the look on her face you'd think she was floating on air; she's so happy," Cherry murmured. "I wonder if I'll ever again gaze at anyone with that look of devotion-besides my patients, that is?" She snuck a peek at Jackie. She could imagine gazing into her eyes that way, Cherry realized as she blushed hotly.
"That picture was taken at the Midwest Detective's Ball a few years ago," Frank explained. "Father was honored for his role in cracking The Case of the CornFed Felon. He was awarded that bronze trophy, shaped like an ear of corn, on the mantle."
"Your family has been honored many times," Cherry said as she examined the various trophies and statuettes bearing the good name of Hardly. "And what a lovely candelabra," she cried as she admired an ornate silver candle holder at one end of the mantle. "Although, I hope your mother trims these extra-long wicks before lighting these candles. This is a perfect example of the kind of careless thing that causes houses to go up in flames," Cherry told Frank.
"I'll remind her," Frank promised, throwing a little grin Cherry's way. His grin faded, though, when he saw what Cherry was talking about. He jumped up, snatched one of the thick red candles and examined it. A queer expression came over his face.
Jackie gasped when she saw what Frank had in his hand.
"That's dynamite!" the two detectives chorused.
"The thug who kidnapped Mother and Father must have been planning to blow this house sky-high, but was thwarted in his efforts!" Frank quickly deduced.
Just then Joe raced in with a wet photograph in his hands; Nelly and Willy were hot on his heels. Before Frank could say a thing about his own find, Joe waved the image in Frank's face and cried triumphantly,
"We've happened upon a most important clue! These fingerprints, when blown up four hundred times their original size, reveal a distinct pattern I'm sure I've seen before," Joe announced with glee. "But where could it have been?"
Frank peered over Joe's shoulder at the telling exposure. "Joe," he said a moment later in a tremulous tone. "I think it's time to break out The Hardly Boys Spy Book, for I fear the foes we're fighting are foreign!"
The boys exchanged a swift, anxious glance. "Father's working for them again!" that look said.
Joe wordlessly went over to the hi-fi, removed a record and returned it to its protective sleeve. He then unscrewed the turntable to reveal a secret compartment. Inside was a thick leather-bound book.
"These are prints of every known foreign agent currently operating in the United States. A select number of respected and trusted detectives are issued this book each year. They're asked, as professionals and patriots, to keep an eye on suspicious activity. Father checks each fingerprint he stumbles across in his cases against this book," Frank explained.
Jackie nodded. They had a similar book under lock and key at police headquarters in San Francisco.
Frank took a magnifying glass from his pocket and flipped through the pages. Suddenly, he got all excited. "See for yourself, Detective Jones," he cried as he handed his magnifying glass to Jackie. When Jackie finished with her examination, she declared Frank's evaluation top-notch. What she said next almost shook Cherry out of her sling-back shoes.
"Boys, what on earth do the Russians want with your parents?"
* * *
CHAPTER 22
* * *
Foreign Foe?
"Russians?" Uncle Nelly cried. "Oh, dear!" He swooned into Willy's arms. Just then Nancy raced into the room, a plaster mold in her hands. "You'll never guess what I've found!" she cried excitedly. She took a deep breath, then exclaimed, "Russian agents are responsible for this terrible crime!"
Nancy was a bit surprised when her dramatic announcement drew no reaction from her chums. "They must not believe me," the young sleuth realized.
"I'll prove it," she said aloud. "I found prints from United States government-issue shoes outside the house," she announced. "When I was working on The Case of the Sensible Shoes, I became somewhat of an expert in identifying different kinds of sturdy footwear," she explained modestly, "especially shoes worn by police officers, G-men and secret agents. While this snub-nosed, heavy
-heeled, thick-soled shoe would lead some to think that it was an American law enforcement agent assigned to serve and protect us peeking through the Hardly window earlier today, I know better!"
Nancy pointed to a tiny moon-shaped impression on the heel of the print. "If you look closely, you'll see a telltale sign. See what it says? Made in America."
Still no one said anything.
"Don't you see?" Nancy queried them. "The owner of these shoes made one mistake. Instead of taking his shoes to a government-sanctioned repair shop, as any United States agent knows to do, he took them to the same kind of ordinary shoe shop John Q. Public frequents, the result being the shoemaker used heel plates bearing the proud words we see on so many of our fine goods, from precision engineered hi-fi stereos to the safe automobiles that give us Americans the freedom to travel our vast land in style. It could only be the work of the Russians, given their love of sensible shoes."
Nancy gave them a smug smile. Why, everyone had been stunned into silence by her keen detective work! That weekend seminar covering Special Agent Shoes had really paid off, she realized.
"We already know the Russians did it," Joe informed her. "Jackie found some fingerprints that matched those of a notorious Russian spy."
Nancy bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. "I must go wash this plaster dust from my hands," she gulped as she fled the room.
"But why would the Russians want your parents?" Cherry cried aloud. "Your father's not a secret agent!"
"There's only one answer to that question," Frank feared. "Father's working on another top-secret mission for the United States Government!"
"What a relief," Cherry exclaimed. "Then the Federal Bureau of Investigation is sure to find your parents in no time at all. I bet they've already been found and are on their way back here this very minute. I'll tell you what," she suggested cheerfully. "I'll tidy up while you boys call the Bureau headquarters."
