Hide-and-Sneak

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Hide-and-Sneak Page 9

by Franklin W. Dixon


  Frank spoke up. “I’ve been talking to one of the officers.” He lowered his voice. “They were all ready to throw the book at us when a call came in reporting the theft of the jet boat.”

  “So Andy came through,” Chet said.

  Frank nodded. “And because of that, well, I thought maybe we could cut him some slack.” He smiled. “Buckmaster gave that kid a pretty stern lesson.”

  “Not to mention his having his dad’s boat sunk,” Chet added.

  The police whisked Sara and Buckmaster away. They took the boys’ statements right on the pier. The marina was soon quiet again, except for the eerie clanging of riggings against the aluminum masts.

  When the questioning was over, Joe, Frank, and Chet walked along the pier toward dry land. Joe noticed his pal’s shoulders had begun to droop. “What’s the matter, Chet?”

  Chet sighed. “I broke my neck to get into this movie thing.”

  “And ours too,” Joe added, jabbing Chet in the ribs.

  “It was an adventure,” Frank said.

  “Yeah, but the best stuff I did was never caught on camera!”

  Joe had to admit Chet had a point. He’d staged a daring rescue, found the knife that freed them, and cut Frank loose, and his rocket comment sparked the plan that got the attention of the harbor police. But Sprock Kerwin hadn’t been around to record any of it.

  “I think Sprock, Melody, and Zack will be even more bummed than you are,” Frank said. “Not only did they miss a thrilling climax for their film, but their whole project has turned out to be a scam worthy of a Hitchcock mystery movie.”

  “Hide-and-Sneak is totally dead in the water,” Joe said. “Andy’s boat is ruined, and Willow’s jet boat is in police custody.”

  “And the Sleuth will be laid up for repairs for a while,” Frank added.

  At the end of the pier Joe noticed a newspaper vending machine. “Hey, look,” he said, “the new issue of the Bayport Alternative is out.”

  He got a copy of the paper and opened it. “I see the little theater group is looking for actors. They’re doing South Pacific. Sailors, nurses—and you don’t have to bring your own boat.”

  Chet looked at the article, then closed the paper. “I don’t know . . .”

  “What?” Joe said. “By tomorrow you’ll be a local hero!”

  “Yeah, who became one by sailing on the bay,” Frank said.

  “You’ll be sure to get a part,” Joe said.

  “You think so?” Chet’s eyes began to gleam. “Hey, I’ve got an idea! Let’s all try out!”

  The Hardys exchanged a swift look. “Nope, sorry.” Joe shook his head. “I’m all acted out.”

  “Me too.” Frank smiled at Chet. “Besides, if you’re going to be a star, it’s best to shine alone. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said as they walked toward a phone booth to call home. “That’s show biz.”

 

 

 


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