Darkness Falls

by Franklin W. Dixon

  The room seemed empty. The brothers tiptoed around, glancing in all directions for any sign of habitation. Frank saw Joe turn the corner to the bathroom area and started to follow him.

  Frank was caught up short when he heard Joe gasp. He stood stock-still for a long moment, listening, but there was no further sound. “Joe?” he called out. “Joe, are you all right?”

  Before Frank knew what was happening, Joe came back around the corner. His eyes were opened wide, and there was a gun at his head! The man holding the pistol emerged from behind the partition, his face tense with anger and fear.

  “I knew she’d send someone after me!” he growled. “I was ready for you! Ha! Now get out of here. Go tell Michele I didn’t take the money!” he shouted to Frank, a crazed expression on his face. “Get out now, or I’ll kill you both!”

  Chapter 8

  FRANK’S MIND was racing. The man certainly seemed capable of blowing Joe’s brains out. “Er, Mr. De La Rosa?” Frank began.

  “She sent you, didn’t she?” the man asked. “Admit it, or I’ll blow your friend to smithereens!”

  “No, sir,” Frank said, trying to keep his voice steady. “We came on our own.”

  “Don’t give me that baloney!” De La Rosa said, momentarily waving the gun Frank’s way before putting it back to Joe’s temple. “She’s out to get me, and that’s why you’re here. Now you’re going to tell me everything you know!”

  Frank nodded and said, “First of all, my brother and I were asked by Dr. Ebersol to be assistants at the eclipse. Then, when he was murdered, we decided to investigate. We have some experience as detectives, you see. So we went out to the Ebersols’ house this morning to talk to Michele.”

  “Aha!” De La Rosa shouted. “I knew it! And then she sent you to search my room, right?”

  “No, sir,” Frank insisted, trying to stay calm. “If you’ll just put that gun away, we can discuss this like human—”

  “Shut up!” De La Rosa ordered. “No way I’m putting this gun down till I get some answers!”

  “I’d just like to remind you, sir, that what you’re doing is against the law. I’m sure you don’t want to make trouble for yourself down the road.” Frank watched De La Rosa to see what effect his words were having. If the man had already killed Ebersol, being charged with another crime wouldn’t faze him. On the other hand, if he had only stolen money, he might not want to be charged with a violent crime as well.

  “Talk,” De La Rosa said, still holding the gun to Joe’s head. “What did she say about me?”

  “She said you belonged in jail!” Joe retorted. “She told us to ask you why. Care to comment?”

  Joe’s words had a strange effect on De La Rosa because without warning the man lowered his gun and collapsed into a chair.

  “Listen,” he said in a soft voice filled with urgency. “I didn’t steal any money from the foundation. I was the one who was trying to figure out where it was all going!”

  “What did you find out?” Frank asked eagerly.

  “Well, a lot went to support Jim Ebersol,” De La Rosa admitted. “I told Jim he couldn’t go on living the way he had been. His last book had disappointing sales, and his TV show had been canceled. But he refused to cut down on his expenses. Did you see the house they rented here? Three thousand a week!”

  “So that explains the missing funds?” Joe suggested.

  “Some of them, but not all,” De La Rosa said, shaking his head. “Even accounting for what they spent, there should have been a lot left over. Either Ebersol was giving it away in bunches without telling anyone, or somebody was stealing from the fund. There’s so little left that I had to tell Michele she couldn’t have the advance she wanted. That’s what we were fighting about this morning.”

  “What advance?” Frank asked. “For what purpose?”

  “She said she was going to take her husband’s place and that she wanted to make a big publicity push for herself. She was scary. I mean, the guy was just murdered!

  “Anyway, I told her I couldn’t sell enough stock from the Ebersol Foundation’s trust fund to advance her the amount she needed. There are bylaws that prohibit spending the trust’s capital beyond a certain point. And we’ve already reached that point. She blew a gasket when I told her. She threatened me with everything from murder to firing to a lawsuit. But if you want to know the truth, I think she’s the one who’s been stealing the money. Oh, sure, they both blamed me from the beginning. But it’s not my fault, and nobody’s going to make it my fault!”

  “Stay calm, Mr. De La Rosa,” Frank advised. “We’re not accusing you of anything.”

  “How long has money been disappearing from the trust?” Frank asked.

  “About a year,” De La Rosa said. “Since just after I came on board. Several hundred thousand dollars is what we’re talking about. It’s put the foundation in serious financial trouble.”

  “Tell me how the foundation is set up,” Frank said.

  “Basically, Ebersol is—was—allowed to seek funding from the corporate sponsors of his TV show. The corporations would donate cash or stock to the foundation, and in return he would plug their message and their products on the show. Of course, that all fell apart when the show was canceled.”

  De La Rosa sighed in frustration. “I kept telling Jim that he had to reestablish his scientific credibility—spend less time on the talk show circuit and more time in the lab, working. And I’ll bet in addition to everything else, she’s even accusing me of his murder—am I right?”

  “No, sir,” Frank said, wondering what had made De La Rosa bring that up. “She didn’t say anything like that. Only that you belonged in jail.”

  “Besides,” Joe broke in, “they’ve already arrested someone for Ebersol’s murder. Why would she accuse you?”

  “I, er, I didn’t say that she did for certain.” De La Rosa backtracked. “I was only guessing—”

  “Tell us more about Ebersol and Michele,” Frank urged. “What were they like as people?”

  “That’s easy,” De La Rosa said. “They were two spoiled children who expected everything to be handed to them on a silver platter. They had no idea what anything cost. They just charged everything to the lab and expected money to appear in front of them.”

  “Is that how she behaved this morning?” Frank asked. “When she demanded the advance from you?”

  “Yes,” De La Rosa said, frowning. “You know, I don’t know why she should care so much about an advance when in a few days she’s going to collect a life insurance payment for Ebersol’s death.”

  “Wait a minute,” Joe said. “Are you implying that Michele had something to do with her husband’s murder?”

  “I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” the foundation manager said nervously. “Listen, I need to be alone for a while.” He walked over to the door and opened it. “Please leave.”

  “If you want to talk, we’re staying right here in the hotel,” Frank told him on their way out. De La Rosa nodded, but said nothing more, and closed the door firmly behind them.

  “I don’t know what to make of that guy,” Joe said as the boys walked down the one flight outdoors to the second floor. “He’s completely nuts! I thought he was going to kill us!”

  “Calm down, Joe,” Frank cautioned him. “You’re fine, and we just learned a whole lot.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Joe said, smoothing his shirt. “So where are we now?” he asked, leaning against the railing that overlooked the street.

  “At this point we’ve got a few suspects in Ebersol’s murder,” Frank said. “Michele, De La Rosa, MacLaughlin, and Wheeler. But of those four, only Wheeler and Michele had obvious motives, and they had the best opportunity to kill him, too. De La Rosa was in an airplane—at least as far as we know. As for MacLaughlin, he was with us in the tent when the murder happened.”

  “De La Rosa has a possible motive,” Joe pointed out. “If Ebersol knew he was stealing from the foundation, De La Rosa might
have wanted to shut him up: We have to check on his flight. Come to think of it, we should check in with Everett, too. He’s probably at the observatory.”

  “I don’t think so,” Frank said. “I see his van in the lot over there.”

  The Hardys found Everett in his room, surrounded by papers and charts, a pencil in his hand. Sheets of data from the eclipse were spread out all over the bed and floor.

  “There was too much commotion at the observatory, with the police and all, so I brought my data back here,” he told them. “The only time I’ve been out was for breakfast this morning to show Michele the data from my sensors. This is spectacular stuff! From the preliminary results, I’d say we have convincing proof of the exploded planet!”

  “That’s fantastic, Everett,” Joe said, slapping the research assistant on the back.

  “If only Dr. Ebersol were here to see this,” MacLaughlin said with a sigh.

  When Joe and Frank told him about the theft of their film from the tent, MacLaughlin was aghast. “This is a disaster,” he said. “We need that film to corroborate my findings!”

  “We did manage to save the roll of film that was still in the camera,” Joe told him consolingly. “We might get a few good pictures yet.”

  “Have you developed it?” MacLaughlin asked.

  “No,” Frank said. “It’s in the refrigerator in our hotel room. So far, we’ve been too busy.”

  “Too busy?” MacLaughlin said, his face flushing. “Which do you think Ebersol would have wanted you to investigate—his murder or the existence of a possible tenth planet? It’s science that matters, not whether any one scientist lives or dies!”

  “Take it easy, Mr. MacLaughlin,” Joe said. “We’re detectives, remember? We only got invited here because we did a science project.”

  “I don’t care why you think you’re here,” MacLaughlin said, acting more forceful than the brothers had ever seen him before. “The foundation paid for you to come here, and you’re responsible for certain things. I’m the head of this research project now, and I expect you to be at the observatory first thing tomorrow morning, getting that film developed. I want a report ready for our team meeting at four P.M. Understand?”

  Frank and Joe were stunned. Obviously, MacLaughlin didn’t know about Michele’s plans to drop him from the team and take credit for the discovery herself.

  “Yes, sir,” Joe said. “We’ll be ready.”

  “Fine,” MacLaughlin said, calming down a little. “Now go do something useful. I have important work to do.” With that, he dismissed them. Frank and Joe left the room without another word.

  “Well,” Frank said when they were outside on the stairs again. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day. How about you? Ready for a quick bite and a long swim?”

  “Definitely,” Joe said. They stopped at a coffee shop for a late lunch and then hopped into their rental car.

  “Let’s find the most deserted beach we can,” Joe said as they drove along the city streets in the hot afternoon sun.

  “Hey,” Frank said, as he glanced in the rearview mirror, “I think we’re being followed. Check out the black sedan behind us.”

  Joe took a quick glance over his shoulder as Frank made a right, then a left at the next corner. The black sedan was still there. “Oops,” Joe said. “I think you’re right, Frank. What do you say we give them a run for their money?”

  “Good idea,” Frank said, gunning the engine. Away they went, with the black sedan burning rubber to keep up with them. Frank tried speeding up, then jamming on the brakes, taking quick rights and lefts, even a U-turn at a not busy intersection. Nothing worked. “Hang on, Joe!” Frank shouted as he made a sharp right onto a side street.

  “Frank! Wait!” Joe shouted—too late.

  “What is it?” Frank asked.

  “You missed the sign back there,” Joe informed him, as a high brick wall loomed straight ahead of them. “It said DEAD END.”

  Chapter 9

  FRANK SLAMMED on the brakes, and the convertible fishtailed to a stop inches from the brick wall. No sooner had the brothers started to breathe normally again than the black sedan turned into the alley, blocking the only exit.

  Frank and Joe slid low in their seats, not knowing what they were about to face. Then they heard the voice of Captain Kanekahana shouting to them.

  “What do you two think you’re doing?” he raged, walking over to them as they stood up and got out of their car. “I ought to throw you both in jail for leading me on a chase like that. Somebody could have been killed!”

  “Well, sir,” Joe said, trying not to explode, “if we’d known you were the police, we might not have tried to lose you.”

  Kanekahana, flanked by two burly men in uniform, gave Joe a withering look. “All right, I’ll let it go this time,” he grumbled. “But while I’ve got you here, let me warn you again—this is no game. I got a call from Michele Ebersol, who told me how she’d taken a sedative and fallen asleep on a surfboard. She said you came along and saved her. Now I know you’re skilled detectives—but this murder investigation is dangerous. I want you out of this show now—understand?”

  With that, he got into the car with his men and backed out. Frank and Joe stood there for a little while, waiting to cool down. “I can’t stand that guy,” Joe remarked as they got back into the convertible and backed out of the alley.

  “I’m not too fond of him myself,” Frank said.

  “Well, there’s just one thing to do,” Joe said, a sly smile lighting up his face. “Let’s catch the killer and present him—or her—to Captain Kanekahana.”

  “Gift wrapped and tied with a bow,” Frank said, nodding his agreement.

  The next morning, after showers and a huge breakfast, the brothers took the film canister out of their refrigerator and drove up the mountain to the observatory.

  There were a surprising number of people still there. Some were taking down their tents and packing their equipment, while others were using the observatory’s extensive facilities to process their data or develop and analyze their film. In the hallway that led to the observatory’s darkroom, a crowd of scientists stood waiting their turns.

  “It’s good we got here early,” Frank said. “As it is, we’re likely to be on this mountain-top all day,”

  “Oh, well,” Joe said, “we have to meet MacLaughlin here at four o’clock anyway. I figure we’ll be just about done by then. I brought two packs of gum. Do you want one?” he asked, pulling out the gum.

  The scientists just behind them were arguing their conclusions about the data they’d gleaned from the eclipse. Most of the talk was over the Hardys’ heads, but when the subject turned to Ebersol’s exploded planet theory, they listened closely.

  “I’d like to know if Ebersol found the ring of planetary debris he was looking for,” said a tall, middle-aged woman in a lab coat. “How ironic it would be—his greatest discovery, and he didn’t live to see the proof.”

  “I’d hardly call it his discovery, even though he was playing it for all it’s worth,” said a young man who Joe thought was about thirty.

  “You’re right about that. I guess he needed something new because his TV show was canceled,” a woman wearing khaki shorts and a T-shirt added.

  “As far as I’m concerned, the real work on the exploded planet theory was done by MacLaughlin,” the man said.

  This caught Joe up short, and he could tell Frank was equally surprised to hear this.

  “Well, I suppose you could say that,” the woman in the lab coat agreed. “But I’m not talking about the donkey work, all the figuring and calculations—I mean the really creative work, the actual theorizing.”

  “I know that,” the young man shot back. “And I’m telling you, it’s been Everett MacLaughlin all along. If you read the theoretical papers carefully, you can see the hallmarks of his style. Go back and read his Ph.D. thesis and you’ll agree with me. It’s as clear as day. Ebersol is—or was, I should say—a media st
ar, not a brilliant theorist. He just knew how to steal the show—and the credit.”

  “Maybe it was more of a symbiotic relationship,” the woman in shorts suggested. “Ebersol needed MacLaughlin’s tenacity and determination, and MacLaughlin needed Ebersol’s salesmanship.”

  Frank and Joe had refrained from saying anything, not wanting to stop this very revealing conversation. But now it was their turn to enter the darkroom. As they turned the temperature down to chill the room so their film wouldn’t be spoiled and got the developing chemicals ready, they discussed what they’d just heard. The air conditioner roared to life then, and it became so noisy that the boys could barely hear each other speak, even though they were shouting.

  “Do you believe what they said about MacLaughlin?” Joe shouted to Frank.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Frank confessed, speaking right into Joe’s ear. “Everyone’s got a different story. Most people seem to agree that Michele is ruthless and ambitious, and we know she plans to cut out MacLaughlin and De La Rosa. But could she really have stabbed her husband while she was calmly talking to us over the intercom?”

  “On the other hand, how could she have missed seeing the killer go into the tent?” Joe wondered.

  “Easy,” Frank said. “She was staring up at the sky the whole time, not at what was happening on the ground.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Joe said, shutting off the lights before taking the infrared film out of its protective canister. Frank flipped the switch that turned on the red light outside, indicating that there was exposed film inside and not to open the darkroom door.

  “Ready to go?” he asked Joe as he carefully felt his way along the table to the first tray of chemical wash.

  “Ready,” Joe said.

  Before Joe could unscrew the top of the protective thermos, there was a loud blast from somewhere outside—loud enough to be heard even over the noise of the air conditioner.