"Who is it?" the Hardys heard the actor call from inside.
"Joe and Frank Harris," Joe shouted through the door.
"Never heard of you," Quinn shouted back. "Go away."
"We're the new stunt apprentices," Frank called out. "We're fans and wondered if we could meet you."
"Not now, I'm relaxing," Quinn said, a hint of laughter in his voice. "A fine actor like me needs his beauty sleep."
An idea came to Joe. "Couldn't you at least give us an autograph, Mr. Quinn?" he asked innocently. "My sister is really hoping for an autographed picture. She has a big crush on you."
The Hardys heard some movement from inside the trailer.
"Door's unlocked, guys," Quinn shouted after a moment. "Come right in."
Joe grinned triumphantly, opened the door— and stepped into a flash of blinding light.
Instinctively, both Hardys dodged back and raised their arms to protect their eyes. But Frank and Joe were still sent reeling by the force of a deafening blast.
Chapter 3
"You SHOULD HAVE SEEN the look on your faces!" Burke Quinn stood in the scorched doorway of his trailer, looking down at the boys on the grass. He roared with laughter, slapping his leg.
Frank and Joe staggered to their feet, stunned, wiping dirt from their clothes. Frank's tuxedo was splattered with mud.
"We nearly get blown to bits, and you think it's funny?" Joe looked ready to kill the actor.
"Relax, man," Quinn said nervously. "No harm done. It was all in good fun."
"I ought to knock you silly," Joe said.
"Cool down, Joe." Frank placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and forced his face into a smile. "After all, it was pretty funny."
Joe glared at him. "Are you out of — "
"Hey, Joe," Frank cut him off. "Have a sense of humor." He turned to Quinn. "Mind if we come in and clean up a bit?"
Quinn shrugged. "Sure thing. I promise, no more jokes. You guys have already made my day. That was one of my all-time best."
Frank and Joe went back up the steps. Frank grinned at his host, but Joe couldn't. He could see what Frank was up to, but still couldn't smile.
Inside, the trailer looked more like a penthouse than a camper. Plush beige reclining chairs and a circular couch rested on thick white carpeting. A television, a stereo console, and two large speakers covered one wall. In the back was an antique walnut desk with an executive chair, and beyond that a bedroom.
Frank and Joe walked carefully to the bathroom, making sure not to leave mud on any of the expensive furnishings.
"What was that explosion, anyhow?" Frank asked after he and Joe had cleaned up.
"A flash pot," Quinn explained. "A pal in special effects rigged it up for me. They make great fake explosions."
"If it was so fake, how come the trailer's been scorched?" Joe asked, pointing to the door.
"Hey, I can live with that." Burke Quinn waved away the damage. "Seeing you guys jump out of your boots was worth it." Then he jumped off his chair and went to the desk. "I nearly forgot. You wanted autographs, and you've definitely earned them."
Joe leaned close to Frank, whispering, "I'd like to tell him what to do with his autograph."
Smiling, Frank shushed his brother. "We can't thank you enough," he told the actor.
"What did you say your sister's name was?" Burke Quinn had a pen over one of his pictures.
"Sister?" Joe repeated. "Right. Her name is, urn — "
"Gertrude," Frank finished the sentence for Joe, grinning as Quinn signed the photograph.
"Thanks," Frank said enthusiastically. "Say, did you hear about my accident? I was driving the red Porsche."
"The red Porsche, you say?" Quinn's eyes revealed he knew which car Frank meant. "Smashed up pretty bad?"
"Totaled it," Joe said. "The stop cable didn't hold, and the brakes went out."
Quinn leaned closer to the Hardys, dropping his voice. "You guys are new here. Well, you didn't hear it from me, but I'll pass on this warning. Be careful. I've got bad vibes about this picture. The stunt team just isn't cutting it. There are constant accidents on this set." "Any caused by practical jokes?" Joe asked. Quinn gave Joe a cold stare. "I can see you and I aren't going to be best friends."
"Hey, Joe just heard a rumor, that's all." Frank smiled to ease the tension. "There's some talk that you were driving the Porsche after it had been checked out."
"So what if I was?" Quinn's jaw jutted out. "I took a little spin. I'm the star. I can drive any car I want. And the brakes worked just fine for me. Who told you, anyhow? Kitt Macklin?"
"Doesn't matter." Joe shook his head in disgust at Quinn's attitude. "But we heard another rumor—that maybe someone who's into jokes would think it's fun to fool with the brakes before a stunt."
"I don't need to take this from a pair of apprentices." Quinn threw the door wide open. "There's a difference between jokes and killing people. Besides, if I had fooled with the brakes, how would that explain the cable not holding?"
Frank and Joe looked at each other. Quinn was right — the Hardys had no explanation for that. Quickly, they got up to leave.
"Maybe I should have a talk with Osserman about who works on this set," Quinn said. "And you can forget about any more autographs for your friends," he shouted at their backs.
"Sorry I blew it," Joe said as they walked away from the trailer.
"Don't worry," Frank told him. "We found out some interesting stuff. Burke Quinn is up for any kind of practical joke, even a dangerous one. And he has the run of the set — "
"And we know that he and Kitt are having some kind of lovers' spat," Joe added.
"Good deduction." Frank looked down. "Now let me change out of this muddy penguin suit." Joe laughed. "Wardrobe will love you." "What can I say? It's been a rough morning." Frank gave Joe a friendly shove. "I'll get back in my own clothes, and then we'll get back where we belong."
"Right. The stuntmen's area," Joe said. "Before we're missed."
The stuntmen had a large makeshift aluminum-sided shed tucked among the rows of equipment trailers in the center of the lot. They entered the building into a lounge area and grabbed a sandwich each from a platter. To the side of the lounge was a gym, complete with free weights and a Nautilus machine. Behind the lounge was an equipment room and a garage, where cars and motorcycles were fine-tuned, ready for upcoming stunts.
Frank and Joe were surprised to see Ed Kemble hanging out in the stunters' lounge. He was busy swapping stories with Gil Driscoll and two other men. The actor waved Frank and Joe over. "Meet Wesley and Ty."
Wesley was about six foot two, and as broad and tough as a middle linebacker. His head was completely shaved. When he smiled, Frank and Joe saw that all but two of his teeth were missing. Ty was about an inch taller and slim. The muscles of his forearms bulged even when relaxed. He had blond hair, a light complexion — and a sling on his right arm. Frank guessed that he'd also been the victim of a stunt gone sour.
"We've been talking about all the gadgets used in the profession today." Ed picked up a bottle from a table and smashed it over Wesley's head. The glass shattered in a million pieces, and Wesley's eyes glazed over as he hit the floor.
Horrified, Frank and Joe went to help him. But when they grabbed his arms, Wesley grinned and somersaulted to his feet. The others laughed heartily. Even Frank and Joe had to smile.
"Welcome to the trade, guys," Ed said. "It's breakaway glass, as you must know, one of the old-time inventions that are still with us. But nowadays they've added custom-made rubber suits and flame-retardant materials, exploding bullets, and roll bars on all the cars."
Ed shook his head in wonder. "Watch what these little darlings do."
From his pocket, Ed took out what appeared to be a small cherry tomato. He brought it to his mouth, then suddenly dropped the tomato to the ground.
Poof! A flash of light was immediately followed by a haze of thick purple smoke. In a moment, the smoke had cleared and Ed was gone!<
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"Over here, boys," he called out from behind the sofa. "Nice little flash-bang, huh?"
"Knock it off, Ed." Everyone turned as the captain leaned into the room from the side door.
"I'm trying to prepare Janet for the next stunt.
"So stop playing with the equipment."
The captain spotted Frank and Joe, and his gruff manner disappeared. "So there you two are. Follow me, I want you to see this setup."
Joe smiled and waved at Ed Kemble as they followed the captain into the garage. A half-dozen men and women were working on two sports cars, a pickup truck, and two motorcycles.
Frank and Joe overheard one mechanic say, "It's those actors," as they passed. "They don't care about anything. They're totally unprofessional." The man was working on the engine of a truck. "Burke, Kitt — even Ed Kemble," he went on. "They're all making us look bad."
"Yeah," the other agreed, "the set's just a playground for them. And if the stunts go wrong, it's an excuse for them if this movie bombs."
"Sy doesn't know what he's doing. He's not in control," said a woman who was tuning up a motorcycle.
Frank and Joe nodded thoughtfully. The accidents were the talk of the crew, and clearly, everyone was under suspicion.
"Cut the chatter," the captain shouted. "Let's keep our minds on our work."
A motorcycle engine revved by the open garage door. Janet Wynn was astride the chopper, wearing a tight, black-leather motorcycle suit. She smiled at Frank, Joe, and her father as they approached.
"Everything checks out, Dad," she said. "I'm ready to go."
The Hardys followed as Janet and the captain rolled the motorcycle outside to a short strip of road that had been laid just for the film. A thick wooden fence was rigged at the end of the road, blocking it. "The fence will be on fire as Janet rides the motorcycle straight through," the captain told Frank and Joe. "It's a breakaway wood frame — it'll be like riding through paper."
Sy Osserman and the crew were already in place. Sy nodded slightly at Frank and Joe, then took his seat behind the camera. Frank noticed that the director had his fingers crossed.
Off to the side, sitting on a canvas director's chair with her name stenciled across the back, was Kitt Macklin. She also was wearing a black motorcycle outfit. Just then she seemed more interested in combing out her long, silky blond hair than in the action.
Kitt looked up and caught Joe staring at her.
"Hello, there," she said in a sexy voice. "I haven't seen you before."
"Joe Harris." He held out his hand. "I'm just a stunt apprentice."
"Actors bore me," Kitt said, smiling into Joe's eyes. "I like men of action."
"Okay," Sy Osserman said. "Let's roll."
Janet put on her motorcycle helmet, straddled the bike, and revved the engine twice. She gave a thumbs-up sign.
At that moment a special-effects person carried a torch over to the wooden fence. He touched one board, and the whole fence burst into flame. There was no time to lose. The crew had only one take to get the shot — or rebuild the fence. ' 'Action!" the director growled. Janet roared off. She picked up speed and leaned back, pulling her front wheel off the ground. For fifteen feet she rode out the "wheelie." Frank, an expert rider himself, marveled at her control.
The front wheel touched down, and Janet ducked her head, preparing to crash through the burning barricade—but the wood didn't give.
Janet hit hard. The bike flew out from under her.
She pinwheeled on the ground, a human fireball.
Chapter 4
EVERYONE STOOD FROZEN, staring at the flames licking at Janet.
But Frank was already moving, scooping up blankets left out on a nearby chair for emergencies. He pushed past the crew to Janet, who was silent and not moving.
Joe joined Frank, and together they covered Janet with blankets, to smother the last of the flames. Finally they removed Janet's helmet, and she stirred and groaned.
"Janet! Janet!" The captain's voice was tight as he dropped to his knees beside his daughter. "Are you all right?"
Janet nodded. "Fine," she managed. "Just a bit out of it."
"What about burns?" Joe kept the blankets tight around her. "We'd better get a doctor."
"I'm fine." She grinned up at him. "My suit is made out of Nomex. It's flame retardant. This isn't the first time it's saved my life."
Frank and Joe helped Janet up and led her back from the still-blazing fence. "It's my own fault," she said. "A good stunter always scoops out the whole gag from beginning to end. I forgot to check the fence."
"Well, we can forget that now," Frank said, staring at the flames.
"I should have looked it over," the captain said. "I know on this set nothing goes as planned." He turned and glared at Sy Osserman. "Don't look at me," the director said defensively. "I'm sorry about this accident, but checking that fence wasn't my job."
The captain stomped over to Osserman. "Yeah? Your job is to call all the shots around here. Last week Ty nearly had his arm chopped off. This morning Frank and Janet almost got killed. Now she nearly gets burned alive."
The captain looked away—and for a moment he seemed very old. Then his deep brown eyes flashed back and peered sharply into Osserman's. "I know there's sabotage on this set. You know it, too. If we don't find out who's behind it, someone's going to get hurt — bad."
He pulled off his cap and ran a hand through his white hair. "When that happens, you won't be able to keep it quiet anymore," he said in a low growl.
Sy Osserman opened his mouth, but the captain had already turned and was striding away. The director headed in the opposite direction with Frank following him. "The captain is right," he said in a low voice. "Sabotage is the only possible explanation."
Osserman glowered at Frank.
"You thought so yourself," Frank added. "That's why you hired my father, isn't it?"
"I hired your father and you two boys to get proof," Osserman said. "Hard evidence."
"Will getting someone killed convince you?" Frank retorted. "I know there'll be more accidents before we get to the bottom of this."
"So what's your point?" Osserman asked.
"I think all filming should temporarily shut down," Frank told him.
The director thrust his moonlike face close to Frank's, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Sure," Osserman said half hysterically. "We'll shut down, send everybody home. The investors and the studio will love that. What do I tell them? Frank Hardy suspects sabotage, so you're out thirty million dollars? No proof yet, but Frank Hardy suspects. That'll go over real big."
His right eye twitched. "Tell you what — I'll keep shooting and you keep investigating."
Frank watched as Osserman stormed off. "What was that all about?" Joe asked, when Frank rejoined him and Janet.
"I told him the captain was right," Frank said. "And I asked him to shut down the set."
Joe made a face and shook his head. "Fat chance, right?"
"Right or not," Janet told the Hardys, "Dad shouldn't have shouted at Osserman."
"Well, watching his daughter catch fire probably shook him up," Joe said.
Janet nodded. "More than you know." She started off with the boys flanking her on either side.
"Stunting is a family tradition," she said. "My grandparents were pioneers in the business. And my mom was a top pro."
"Really?" Frank's eyebrows rose. "Is she retired?"
"No," Janet whispered, her voice catching. "My mom's last stunt was running through a burning building. In those days, safety equipment wasn't nearly as good as it is today. Mom," — her voice broke — "my mother never made it out of the flames."
Joe shuddered. He'd seen his girlfriend, Iola, disappear in a flaming fireball, from a terrorist bomb meant for him.
Janet went on, "I was just a kid. When I have to do a fire stunt, I put the tragedy out of my mind."
They were silent then, each lost in individual thought. Finally Frank broke the silence. He looked from
Janet to Joe. "I'll tell you what I'm thinking," he said. "If Osserman won't take this sabotage seriously, maybe his stars will."
After leaving Janet at her trailer, Frank and Joe went looking for Ed Kemble. They found him sitting on a deck chair in front of his trailer, holding a reflector to improve his already dark tan.
"Grab a chair, guys," he said. "Cop some rays beside the old star."
Frank and Joe pulled up two chairs on either side of Ed. The actor's eyes were closed, and he hummed an old cowboy song. Joe recognized it as the theme of an early Ed Kemble movie.
"Janet Wynn just had another accident on the set," Frank began.
Ed opened one eye. "No! That's something. The girl really knows her craft, too."
"She's a great stunt woman," Joe said. "But she almost got barbecued."
"Two accidents in one day. Let's see, five in the past two weeks." Ed calculated, shaking his head. "You heard about Ty almost losing his arm?"
Frank and Joe nodded.
"This film isn't worth it to me. My role is too small — a joke compared to what I used to do. I only took the part as a favor to Sy."
"So you wouldn't mind shutting down production until all the problems are straightened out?" Frank asked.
Ed thought that over, narrowing his eyes. "Sy would mind. But it's all right with me. In fact, it's great. Safety first is my motto."
He smiled at Frank and Joe. "I think I'll suggest it to Sy in the morning."
Leaving Kemble, the Hardys split up to tackle the two young stars separately. Frank didn't think Burke Quinn would enjoy seeing Joe again. And Joe knew Kitt Macklin would give him a warm reception.
"My natural charm," he told Frank. "Girls understand me. They go for men of action."
"Uh - huh." Frank shook his head doubtfully. "Just don't overplay it, Romeo."
***
Frank was especially careful when he knocked on Burke Quinn's trailer door. The actor answered immediately, pulling the door wide open. To Frank's surprise, nothing exploded.
Frank could tell Burke Quinn was disappointed to see him — he seemed to be waiting for someone else. Still, the actor invited him in. Frank filled him in on the latest accident.
Scene of the Crime Page 2
