The ice cold case, p.11
The Ice-cold Case,
p.11
Riley took Phil up to the bedroom where the paramedic and Mrs. Kwan were taking care of one of the other injured parties.
Ray took a seat near the fire.
“So, you did something good,” Joe said with a hint of anger in his voice. “Well, how about explaining to me why you left your post at the bait shop so those two could get to their snowmobile?”
Ray seemed to get a bit defensive. “Look, Joe, you’re a Hardy. A golden boy. Always a hero. So maybe I’m no courageous detective like you, okay? I figured if those two came out back, I’d be toast. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
“But you let them take the snowmobile and almost kill my brother, not to mention Phil. They’d have gotten us, too, you know,” Joe countered.
“Let me finish,” Ray said. “I didn’t want to fight them, just me against them, so I drained the gasoline from their snowmobile and went back to join you.”
Joe’s mouth dropped open. “You what?” A hint of a smile began to creep onto his face. “You what?”
“Why else did you think they suddenly stopped before they could bean your brother? Why else did they let the snowmobile stop on thin ice? They were out of gas!”
Joe felt like hugging Ray, but instead, he walked over to him and shook his hand.
“Aw, c’mon,” Ray complained. “I’m a hero, too, now!”
They gave each other big football-player hugs, hooting and shouting, “Victory!”
• • •
Soon all the invalids—the perpetrators and the victims alike—were seated by the fire, drinking hot chocolate and swapping stories of their near-death experiences. But Con Riley kept a close eye on Neil and Stu Tuttle.
When Mrs. Kwan and the paramedic gave the okay, the party broke up. Officer Riley slapped handcuffs on the Tuttles, and everyone went out to see them off in the squad car.
Just as Stu and Neil were about to duck their heads to get into the car, Ernie Tuttle drove up.
“What’s going on here?” Ernie shouted.
“That’s what I’d like to ask you,” Riley said. “What do you know about these boys and those robberies?” Riley asked as he grabbed Stu and Neil and made them face Ernie.
“Stu, Neil, what are they doing to you?” Ernie demanded.
“These two have been doing some breaking and entering on their visits, and hiding the loot in the lake,” Officer Riley said.
Ernie looked at Stu in disbelief. “Stu, is this true?”
Stu turned away from his grandfather without speaking.
“Neil?”
Neil hung his head.
“I don’t believe it,” Ernie kept muttering. But from the looks on his grandsons’ faces, Ernie knew it was true.
• • •
A few days later the Kwans threw a celebration party.
Once again Frank and Joe drove a vanload of their friends around the last bend in the road and saw the postcard panorama of the frozen lake, but the ice-fishing shantytown at the one end showed no signs of fishermen, and there were no hockey players at the other end. They had been the first guests to arrive at the party, though they stayed on opposite ends of the living room.
“Hey, it’s hot back here. Can you open a window?” Callie called from the backseat.
“Complain to Phil. He’s the one who fixed the heat,” Frank called back.
“There’s no pleasing some people,” Joe said with a laugh.
Even Ray’s dad had decided to come to the party, since he was sure Ernie wouldn’t show up.
Frank and Joe were standing by the fireplace when Chief Collig arrived.
“I have to thank you boys for cracking the case,” Collig said. The rest of the guests applauded.
“Thanks,” Frank said. “But we couldn’t have done it without the help of most of you in this room.”
“Especially the medical care provided by our hostess,” Joe said, waving to Mrs. Kwan.
Just as the fishermen were beginning to talk to Ray and his friends, Ernie Tuttle came in the front door.
“Excuse me,” Ernie said awkwardly. “I don’t mean to barge in. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about all the trouble my grandsons caused. I feel terrible about what’s been going on. If I’d had any idea, I would have straightened those boys out.”
“They’ll get their due in jail,” Chief Collig said.
Ernie looked around the room and saw Ray and his dad.
“I’ve also got to say a special apology to Ray Nelson,” Ernie said. There was a general gasp among the crowd. “Ray, I’m sorry I blamed you. I know you’re a wiseguy, but it was wrong of me to accuse you of anything worse.”
Ray came across the room and, much to Ernie’s surprise, reached out to shake his hand. “It’s okay, Ernie.”
The awkward silence that followed was broken as Ray’s father made his way through the crowd. “Excuse me . . . excuse me.”
Ray’s dad walked up to Ernie with his hand outstretched. “Ernie, we can go on hating each other if you want, but let’s not drag everyone else into our troubles,” Mr. Nelson said. The guests clearly could not believe what was happening.
The two men shook hands and the whole room erupted into cheers and applause.
“The truth is,” Ernie said, “I think maybe the reason the fishing is so good at my end of the lake is all the noise you boys cause at the other end with your hockey games. You scare all the fish right to my front door,” Ernie said as the fishermen started laughing.
“Maybe you should pay us to play hockey,” Ray said.
Chief Collig put his arm around Ray’s shoulder. “I don’t know about paying you, but there is the matter of your breaking into one of those houses. I know how much you like working on cars, so I’ll expect you to spend every Saturday for the next two months down at the police station tuning up police cruisers.”
Ray looked as though he’d just won the lottery. “Really? That’s great.”
Everyone relaxed and returned to their conversations and hot cider and chocolate.
“Hey, Hardys, who’s up for a game of hockey?” Ray cried.
“You boys serious about learning to ice-fish?” Ernie asked Frank and Joe.
“What about that speed race the two of you were going to have?” Callie asked.
Frank and Joe just waved the lot of them off and sat by the fire until it was time to go home.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN
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Franklin W. Dixon, The Ice-cold Case
