“Okay, guys,” he said. “Tell me what I have to do.”

  “Stay in there,” Frank said. A little milk had spilled on the table. He used his index finger to draw patterns in it. “Try to take it easy.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Tony retorted. “Nobody’s trying to hang you by your thumbs. My mom and dad think I should sign and put the whole thing behind me. Maybe they’re right. How much hassle do I need? If I go in there tomorrow and tell Chambers I’m not signing, he’ll throw the book at me.”

  “Maybe not,” Joe said. “Look, the last thing they want is bad publicity. So far the only one talking about this in public is Liz Webling, on that cable show. She keeps trying to make it into a big story, but so far it hasn’t worked.”

  “Even her dad’s newspaper hasn’t printed a word about it,” Frank added. “I think that’s because at this point it’s only rumors. But if Chambers takes any more action against you guys, I promise you he’s facing a very messy court case. That will hit the papers for sure. No, I think they’re bluffing.”

  “Boy, do I wish I could believe that!” Tony said. “But I don’t know if I want to try them. I can just hear what my mom and dad will say if I tell them they need to hire me a lawyer.”

  Inspired by Frank’s example, Joe was doodling on a piece of paper he had found on the table. Now he looked more closely at it. It was a store receipt for six pairs of cushion foot socks.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, sliding it over to Tony. “You sure go through a lot of socks, don’t you?”

  Tony glanced at it. “That’s not mine,” he said casually. “It was in my backpack. I don’t know how it got there. I haven’t bought socks in months.”

  Joe stared at him. In his mind, he saw Tony pulling a plastic-wrapped booklet from his backpack and brushing a slip of paper off its front.

  “This was stuck to the SAB!” Joe exclaimed. “It must have been in your pack since Monday. With luck, it’ll lead us straight to the person who stole the test!”

  The three friends studied the slip. It was from a well-known sporting goods store and dated the previous Saturday morning.

  “Do you think a clerk would remember such a measly sale?” Joe asked.

  “It depends,” Frank said. “If our fellow’s a regular customer. . .”

  Joe borrowed an envelope from Tony and tucked the slip inside. “Why don’t you come along?” he asked. “This may be the last lap of the case. You deserve to be in on it.”

  Tony shook his head. “Sorry, guys,” he said. “I wish I could, but I’m still grounded.”

  As they drove off, Joe saw Tony at the window, watching.

  At school Joe maneuvered the van into a spot near the entrance to the staff parking lot. He and Frank settled down to watch the cars streaming in.

  “What if we miss him?” Joe asked. “Maybe he’ll be late. Maybe he’s already here.”

  “Then we’ll figure out some other way to tag him,” Frank said. “Let’s worry about that when we need to.”

  It was only a few minutes before first period when Frank sat up straighter and said, “There. That’s him.”

  “Where?” Joe asked.

  “The blue SUV waiting to make a left,” Frank replied. “Look at that. He’s wearing a parka the same color as his car.”

  “That clinches it!” Joe exclaimed. “I didn’t tell you, did I? That’s exactly the way the woman in the gas station described the guy who made the phone calls trying to sell the test.”

  Frank hurried into class. Joe waved to a couple of kids he knew and drove home to enjoy a relaxed second breakfast. At moments like this he wasn’t 100 percent sure he wanted his suspension lifted.

  The sporting goods store was just opening when Joe arrived. He went inside and asked to speak to the manager. A woman with short black hair came over. “I’m Ms. Kazakas,” she said. “How can I help you?”

  “My buddy found a package of socks in the parking lot of the mall,” Joe said. “They must have fallen out of a car. He was going to keep them, but then he saw this slip in the bag and thought maybe he could track the owner.”

  The manager eyed him sharply. Joe knew she thought he was the finder. Then she took the register slip. “Saturday morning,” she murmured. “Arnie made the sale. He might remember. . . . Arnie? A word?”

  A blond guy who looked as if he spent a lot of time in the weight room came over. Ms. Kazakas explained. Arnie studied the slip and wrinkled his forehead. “Socks . . . Saturday . . . Oh, sure. I had a long conversation with the guy about the Stanley Cup. He really knows his hockey.”

  “Do you know his name?” Joe asked eagerly. “Can you describe him?”

  “His name? No,” Arnie replied. “As for what he looks like, he’s in pretty good shape. Barrel chest, powerful arms. I didn’t notice much more than that. Oh, and he has really bushy eyebrows.”

  • • •

  At two minutes to noon, Frank rushed out of school and jogged over to where Joe was parked.

  “We’re on,” Frank said breathlessly. “I called the athletics office half an hour ago. He’s got a lunch meeting off campus.”

  “We don’t know it hooks up with the case,” Joe said.

  “No,” Frank agreed. “But if we’re right about his scheme, today is critical. He’s bound to do something, at lunch or afterward. Oops, here he comes. Duck!”

  Joe slid down in his seat until the blue SUV drove out of the lot and turned east. Then he sat up and started after their quarry. A few minutes later they were speeding along the interstate. The miles clicked by.

  “Where’s he going?” Joe complained. “Boston?”

  The SUV’s right-turn signal started to flash. It took the next off-ramp. A mile farther along, it turned into the lot of a diner and stopped near the door. Joe pulled the van into a slot directly across from the front of the diner. He and Frank climbed into the back and settled down next to the rear windows.

  “There he is,” Frank said after a few moments. “Third window from the left. He’s with a man with gray hair and a mustache.”

  Before leaving home, Joe had packed a gear bag with binoculars and a telephoto-equipped 35-mm camera. He handed the binoculars to Frank while he focused the camera. The reflections off the diner’s window made for tricky picture-taking, but after ten minutes he was confident he had some good, clear shots of the two men inside.

  The lunch meeting seemed to drag on and on. Finally the two men left. Outside the diner they stopped to shake hands. Joe clicked off frame after frame.

  “I hope I’m not burning film on shots of him with his chiropractor,” Joe murmured.

  “Uh-oh,” Frank said.

  Turning away from his companion, their quarry had noticed the Hardys’ van. For a long moment he stared in their direction. Joe used the chance to take a great head shot. Then their target returned to the SUV.

  Joe and Frank switched their attention to the gray-haired man. He walked over to a black German luxury sedan and got in. As he backed out, Joe snapped several pictures of the car that included the license plate.

  “Okay, now what?” Joe asked urgently, dropping the camera into the gear bag. “Which one do we follow?”

  “Neither,” Frank said. “We go back to Bayport and get that film developed and printed. And we find out who the guy with the mustache is. We already know the most important thing about him.”

  “What?” Joe asked. “That he drives an expensive car?”

  “Not that,” Frank replied. “I’m talking about the decal in his back window. The one with the crossed hockey sticks and the words New Harbor Hornets!”

  15 To the Penalty Box

  * * *

  Mr. Chambers looked silently at each of the three students in the chairs facing his desk. When his gaze reached Frank, his frown deepened.

  “I invited you to this conference, Frank,” he said, “because your brother felt so strongly about it. But I’m afraid I don’t understand what your role is supposed to be.”

  “I’m here to help Joe,” Frank said.

  Chambers picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser end rhythmically on the desktop. “Hmm, yes,” he said. “Well, our goal here this morning is to assign and accept responsibility for the breach of security that occurred this week with respect to the State Achievement Battery. Apparent breach, I should say. Fortunately no actual breach took place. Tony, Joe, would you please give me the signed statements we discussed on Wednesday?”

  Tony’s eyes shifted in Joe’s direction. Joe took a deep breath and said, “No, sir. Those statements are not correct. We’d like to explain to you what really happened.”

  Chambers, cool to begin with, became icy. “I don’t have time to waste on charades,” he declared.

  “Then let’s look at some facts,” Frank said. “The sealed cartons containing the SAB tests were delivered to school last Thursday. We can show they were still sealed with a special security tape when they were put in a locked storeroom. By the way, neither Joe nor Tony has access to a key to that storeroom. Your office does, and Receiving, and the athletics department. By Monday one of the cartons had been opened and a test had been taken.”

  “To turn up later in the possession of Tony and Joe,” Chambers said, breaking in. “Which is the point of that statement I expect them to sign.”

  “Tony’s backpack was near another one just like it,” Joe said. “And somebody had tipped off the guards to search the other guy’s backpack at the exact same time Tony found the test in his backpack. Don’t you see? Somebody tried to frame this other student, but it didn’t work because the framer put the stolen test in the wrong backpack!”

  For the first time Frank saw a trace of doubt in the principal’s expression. “Who is this other student?” he asked.

  “Brad Austin,” Joe said.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Chambers said. “I know Brad. He is an upstanding young man and a fine athlete. I’ve recommended him for an athletic scholarship at the university I graduated from.”

  “What would have happened if a copy of the SAB had been found in his pack on Monday?” Frank asked.

  “We would have had no choice,” Chambers replied. “He would have been suspended while we tried to find out the facts.”

  “And Bayport’s hockey team would have lost to New Harbor next week,” Tony said.

  “Are you suggesting—” Chambers asked.

  “In the last few days,” Frank told him, “there’s been one incident after another connected to the hockey team. The only explanation that fits is that somebody—somebody here at Bayport—is trying to make sure New Harbor wins.”

  “I can’t believe that!” Chambers declared.

  Joe pulled out a close-up of the gray-haired man he had photographed the day before. “Do you know this man, Mr. Chambers?”

  “Why, yes,” replied the principal, who looked bewildered. “I’ve met him several times. He’s Julius Perrone, the CEO of an electronics firm based in New Harbor. He’s also a rabid hockey fan. What of it?”

  “I took this picture yesterday,” Joe said. “He was meeting in an out-of-the-way place with a member of the coaching staff of Bayport’s hockey team.”

  “I can’t believe that!” Chambers exclaimed. “Even if you’re correct, there may be a perfectly innocent explanation.”

  “Sir, would you mind asking Mr. Frechette and Mr. Dobeny to come in?” Frank requested. “Also, there’s a student named Liz Webling in your waiting room who has some valuable information to offer.”

  “You planned this whole thing,” Chambers said accusingly. “It’s a setup!”

  “Sure, we planned it,” Tony said. “We had to. We were in a tight place. But that doesn’t mean we’re trying to put one over on you. It’s the straight stuff we’re dishing out.”

  Chambers pinched his lower lip between his index finger and thumb while he thought. Then he reached for the phone. He told his secretary to get the two hockey coaches over right away and to send Liz in.

  Liz came in and took the seat next to Tony. She gave Frank a smug look. No wonder, he thought. Not only did she have an exclusive on a big story, but she was also getting a chance to act like a real investigative reporter, not just a repeater of rumors.

  There was a long, awkward silence while the group waited for Frechette and Dobeny to show up. Finally the office door swung open. The two coaches came in and looked with puzzlement at the lineup of students.

  “I’m sorry to break in on your schedule like this,” Chambers said. He motioned the coaches to two vacant chairs. “Some serious allegations have been made that concern the hockey program.”

  “Did these allegations come from the Hardy brothers?” Dobeny asked. “If so, you should know that they’ve recently gotten involved in a feud with some of our players. I’ve tried to keep it down, in line with our school policy on violence. But if you taunt one of my guys enough, he’ll react.”

  Chambers looked at Frechette. “Coach?”

  Frechette rubbed his chin. “I had to bench one of my starting players just yesterday for being involved in a fight with Frank Hardy. I don’t know about the other incidents.”

  Frank’s heart sank. Would Chambers believe the picture that was being painted? Of course he would. He already saw the Hardys as troublemakers. Their reputation as detectives wouldn’t help. There was nothing a school official disliked more than troublemakers.

  “Coach Frechette,” Frank said, “who started that fight?”

  “It looked as though Carl made an unprovoked attack on you,” Frechette replied. “Of course I don’t know what may have led up to it.”

  “We don’t have time to quibble about side issues,” Chambers declared. “Let’s get to the point. You boys accused one of my staff members of disloyal behavior. That’s a very serious charge. You’d better be able to support it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Joe said. “Well, once we figured out that the stolen test had been meant for Brad, we tried to find out who’d put it there. Somebody was calling Bayport students, offering to sell them copies of the test—”

  “Outrageous!” Chambers exclaimed, slapping his palm on his desk.

  “Yes, sir,” Joe said again. “I tracked down the calls and got a description of the caller. It fits one of the hockey coaches. At that point we thought the object was to help Brad pass the SAB. But then why slip it in his pack, which was really Tony’s pack? Why not just hand it to him?”

  “Then, on Wednesday morning, a bunch of hockey players jumped us,” Frank said. “We think somebody put them up to it.”

  “I stopped that fight, if you remember,” Dobeny said.

  “That’s right, you did,” Frank said. “A wonderful coincidence that you came along at just the right time. That was one of the things that made Joe and me take a much closer look at you, Coach Dobeny. When you went to your lunch date yesterday, we followed you.”

  Dobeny’s face grew taut. He looked straight ahead and said nothing.

  “What’s this about lunch dates?” Chambers demanded. “I’m not going to put up with a lot of diversions from you, Frank.”

  “Here,” Joe said. He produced an enlargement of his photo of Dobeny and Perrone in the diner parking lot, shaking hands. Chambers looked at it and turned pale. He passed it to Coach Frechette.

  “Vernon, what’s this?” Frechette asked. “Why did you meet with this man? You know he is the biggest fan of our biggest rival.”

  Dobeny straightened his shoulders. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Sure, Mr. Perrone is crazy about hockey. That’s how I met him, at a hockey league dinner. I went to him with an idea, to set up a foundation to promote hockey in our area. He liked my plan, but I know he hates any kind of negative publicity. I just hope these boys’ interference hasn’t spoiled the deal.”

  Frank looked over at Liz and nodded.

  “At Frank’s suggestion, I interviewed Julius Perrone this morning by telephone,” Liz announced. “I told him the upcoming game between Bayport and New Harbor was stirring a lot of interest in high school ice hockey. I asked for his comments.”

  Liz reached into her bag and took out a digital audio recorder. She found the spot she wanted on the tape and turned up the volume. A strong, assertive man’s voice filled the room.

  “The Hornets will romp all over Bayport next week,” he said. “But that’s just the beginning. I’m busy creating an organization to encourage hockey among grade school kids. By the time they reach high school age, they’ll already be trained, experienced players.”

  “That sounds like an ambitious program,” Liz’s voice said.

  “You bet it is,” Perrone replied. “I don’t believe in doing things halfway. I’m going to make New Harbor a hockey powerhouse, not just in our area but nationwide. I met only yesterday with the man I’ve picked to head up this effort. I can’t tell you his name yet, but when we make the announcement next month, I guarantee it’ll rock the hockey establishment in our region!”

  Liz turned off the recorder and looked at Dobeny. “That doesn’t quite fit in with what you said, Coach,” she observed. “Any comments?”

  “It’s a difference in interpretation,” Dobeny said, his voice rising. “If my plans go through, it’ll be a boost to hockey throughout the area, including Bayport, of course. If Mr. Perrone wants to see this effort mainly in terms of New Harbor, that’s his privilege.”

  Frank went on the attack. “There’s no way to know what you might do in the future, Coach,” he said, “but we do know what you’ve done already. You tried to get your best player suspended, by stealing a test and planting it in what you thought was his backpack.”

  “Prove it!” Dobeny shouted.

  Joe held up a slip of paper. “When you put the test in Tony’s bag by mistake, you didn’t notice this stuck to the plastic. It’s a register receipt from Saturday, for athletic socks. The clerk who made the sale can identify you.”

  Dobeny looked wildly around the room, then stared at the floor.