Frank and Joe spent the next couple of seconds ducking as shards of jagged glass flew through the kitchen. Joe then ran through the kitchen doorway, taking shelter in the hallway. Frank just dropped to the floor.
For a long moment, they stayed frozen in silence, waiting for another possible onslaught. Then Frank saw Joe peek into the room.
“What was that?” Joe asked in a whisper. “A bomb?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Frank said, cautiously heading for the window. Suddenly, he stopped and began laughing. “I guess you could call it a long bomb.” He picked up a basketball out of the sink.
Joe looked at the shattered glass all over the floor. “Looks like about a million-pointer,” he said glumly. “Hey, what’s that?”
Frank rolled the ball over in his hands, “There’s a note here, taped to the ball.”
Together, the Hardys read the typed words:
“Tonight was just a warning. Take a hint. Don’t play in tomorrow’s game.”
“Let’s have a look outside,” Frank suggested. “Maybe whoever tossed this our way left some clues.”
Frank was heading out of the kitchen when he heard footsteps in the hall, coming from the front door. Was the smashed window only a distraction to cover someone breaking into the house?
He quickly snapped off the kitchen lights and joined his brother crouching behind the table, The kitchen door slowly creaked open. Frank could see the figure of a man in a suit peering around.
Taking a deep breath, Frank brought the basket ball back, ready to hurl it in the guy’s face and rush him,
But a familiar scent tickled Frank’s nostrils. “Dad?”
“Frank?”
Fenton Hardy flicked the kitchen lights back on and stared at his sons.
“Lucky thing Aunt Gertrude gave you that stinky aftershave for your birthday, Dad.” Frank grinned at his father. “We thought you were a burglar.”
“That’s what I thought I was facing when I pulled up and heard glass breaking,” Fenton said.
Frank glanced upward. “I guess we should be glad all this ruckus didn’t wake up Aunt Gertrude.” He lowered his voice. “Otherwise, we’d have the police on the way, too,”
“Gertrude isn’t home,” Fenton said. “I was just coming back after dropping her off at a sick friend’s house.” He looked around at the wreckage on the kitchen floor. “Now, would you boys mind telling me what this is all about?”
Frank held out the basketball. “Somebody smashed this through the window.”
“And this was attached to it.” Joe. waved the note.
After shaking some glass off a kitchen chair, Fenton sat down and read the note. Then he looked up at his sons. “It looks as though basketball has become a lot rougher game since the days when I was playing.”
Frank peered out the broken window. “Whoever did this probably hopped the back fence.”
“Probably,” Fenton agreed. “I didn’t see anyone making a getaway from the front.” He looked at his sons. “Somebody obviously doesn’t want you play ing in tomorrow’s game. You boys want to tell me why somebody would go this far?”
While Joe went outside to look for clues to who threw the basketball, Frank told his father about getting pushed down the hill.
A few minutes later, Joe walked back in. “I found a set of footprints near the window,” he said. “They’re a perfect match.”
Fenton gave Joe a blank look. ‘A match to what he asked.
The boys finished up the story of finding the boot prints behind the rec center. Fenton leaned back in the kitchen chair, staring at the broken window, deep in thought. “So, you’re pretty sure it wasn’t the Slickers’ captain, Jake Berman.”
Frank nodded. “1 think he’s the type who’d brag about dumping me down the hill. The boot marks were exactly where I saw the reflection of light. But Jake was wearing his basketball sneakers when we saw him outside his house a little while ago.”
“This Glen Revelle you mentioned,” Fenton said. “It sounds as though he was under a lot of pressure to win that game.”
Frank nodded.
“You should have seen him when he lost yester day,” Joe said, “and when his father rubbed it in, Maybe Glen just snapped. He really wanted a basketball scholarship.”
Fenton took a deep breath. “You boys had better find something to block that broken window,” he said, “I think there are some boards in the garage”
Joe grabbed a broom from the utility closet and began to sweep up the mess,
“Do you think you could find out who made a 911 call, Dad?” Frank asked, explaining about the
Mystery caller who sent the rescue crew to Frank at the rec center.
“I might be able to pull a few strings down at headquarters. Fenton stood up and yawned. “But right now I just want to get some sleep. This case h, been one of my tougher ones.”
“What’s the status?” Frank asked.
“The fox is still on the loose,” Fenton said. “Clete Skratos, and his goons, Desmond and Vetch, aren’t talking, or else they don’t know who’s been pulling the strings.” Fenton suddenly frowned and
grew stiff.
Jot held the broom like a weapon, while Frank tried to peer into the darkness outside the window. “What is it, Dad?” he whispered.
“Just my detective’s instinct,” Fenton replied. “Someone outside?” Frank asked softly. Fenton shook his head and sniffed. “More like s in the toaster oven., and I think it’s burning.”
Frank was putting his books away in his locker after school when Phil Cohen walked up to him.
Good luck in today’s game, Frank,” Phil said, t him on the back.
‘thanks, buddy.”
How’s the injury?” Phil asked.
‘What injury?” Callie Shaw had just joined them and she looked concerned.
Phil ignored Frank’s warning look. “Someone pushed Frank down a hill last night.”
“Frank!” Callie exclaimed. ‘Are you all right?”
“Fine,” Frank lied. Actually his throbbing ankle had woken him up at dawn. He’d iced it, but it was still slightly tender.
“Let’s hope you don’t have to guard Berman,” Phil said.
“Joe drew that lucky assignment,” Frank said as he slammed his locker shut.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Callie said, grabbing Frank’s sleeve. “Someone pushed you down a hill. You mean, on purpose?”
Frank appreciated Callie’s concern, but he had an important game to play in less than an hour. He had to keep his mind focused. “I’ll tell you about it later, after the game,” Frank promised Callie.
Callie obviously wasn’t happy about having to wait for an explanation. She turned to Phil and asked, “Who told you this?”
“Some guy in the cafeteria.”
“And what exactly did this guy in the cafeteria say?” Callie pressed.
Frank left Phil to explain everything to Callie. He had purposely tried to tone down any stones about his injury. If Coach Moran knew about his damaged ankle, he might not let him play. And no way am I going to miss this game, Frank promised himself. It was the most important game of his high school career.
“Whoa, there!” a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Mr. Hooley, the school janitor. Frank had almost crashed into his cart of cleaning supplies.
“You’re one of the guys on the basketball team, aren’t you?” the custodian asked. “Principal Chambers would fire me for sure if I let you get hurt right before the big game.”
Where were you when I was getting pushed down that hill last night? Frank thought.
“Thanks, Mr. Hooley,” he said aloud. Frank was just heading for the stairs when a strange sound filled the air.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Frank turned to see where the high-pitched tweeting noise was coming from. He saw Mr. Hooley quickly clapping a hand to the electronic beeper on his belt.
The janitor glanced nervously at Frank. “I guess I better get going. Looks like, uh, the principal is trying to find me.” He gave Frank a lopsided smile. “If I’d known just how much work this job was going to be..
Chuckling, Frank continued his way down the stairs. It seemed as if high technology was even finding its way into low-tech labor nowadays.
Frank reached the locker room and changed into his basketball uniform. He was just finishing taping up his swollen ankle when Chet sat down on the bench next to him.
“Whooo! That is really nasty-looking.” Chet made a face. “Does the coach know you’re hurt?’
Frank knew that as the coach’s assistant, it was Chet’s job to keep an eye out for the players. But this was one time Frank wished his friend wasn’t so observant.
“If Coach Moran knows I’m hurting, he’ll keep me out of the game,” Frank said seriously. “And then whoever pushed me will get just what he wanted.”
“Who’ll get what he wanted?” Chet asked, con fused.
Frank told Chet about what happened the night before. Phil joined Chet and Frank on the bench just as Frank was saying, “Joe thinks Glen Revelle may have done it,”
“I don’t know about Glen Revelle doing some thing like that,” Phil said. “He’s a sore loser, but that’s carrying it a bit too far.”
“Unless he did it for his friend Jake,” Frank pointed out.
“I can see Berman doing it,” Phil admitted. “Todd told me he’s the biggest bully at Ocean City High.”
Frank glanced sharply at Phil. “Todd Coates?” Phil nodded, “He says Berman and his bully friends have been picking on him since day one.”
“Speaking of Todd, what exactly is his relation ship with his uncle, Marvin Coates?” Frank asked Phil,
“Not so hot,” Phil answered uncomfortably. “Todd’s parents travel a lot for business, so Todd lives with his uncle. He even works for him part me. I remember Todd telling me he has his own office at his uncle’s waterfront building. 8ut it’s not one big happy family. Todd and his uncle have never gotten along. At least that’s the way Todd tells it.”
“Marvin Coates seems okay to me,” Chet said.
Phil shrugged. “Todd’s a strange guy. I bumped into him last night. He was asking me a bunch of stuff about you and Joe.”
Frank raised his eyebrows questioningly. “What exactly did he want to know?”
Oh, the usual when guys hear stories about you being investigators. Todd wanted to know if you
as good detectives as his uncle was making you nut to be.’’
“Why would he want to know that?” Frank As much as possible, Frank and Joe liked to keep their status as detectives under cover. It was easier to work on a case if no one knew the truth about them. But now Todd knows Frank thought. That’s not good news.
“I don’t know,” Phil said with a shrug. I haven’t i to the guy in ages, and the first thing he asks
me about is the famous Hardy brothers.”
“How did his uncle know we were detectives?”
“You know how it is. Marvin Coates is a big
enchilada in this town,” Phil said. “He knows everything about everybody.”
“I have a theory about Todd,” Chet said. “You know how everyone’s making a big deal about Marvin Coates’s donation to Bayport High if the Bombers win and all?”
“I’ll say,” Phil broke in. “A lot of people think Coates made the offer just for the publicity, be cause he’s thinking of running for mayor. But from what I’ve seen of him, I think the guy is for real. He cares about Bayport. He wants to develop the bay front so local people can get more jobs. He’s a hard worker, judging from the bags under his eyes when I saw him at the center last night.”
“You were at the rec center?” Frank said. “I didn’t see you.”
“Maybe you guys should look past the hoop court and the weight room,” Phil said. “Some of us have been trying to set up a little computer center, building a couple of Dumpster PCs.”
Frank frowned. “I don’t know that brand.”
“It’s not a brand name,” Phil said with a laugh. “These are computers pieced together from components that have been thrown out. It’s amazing what people will toss when they get a new system—mother boards, disk drives, cases—”
“Excuse me for butting into your little techno talk, guys,” Chet burst out, “But you may remember that I was about to reveal my theory on what’s going on.”
“Sorry, Chet,” Frank said. “Reveal away.”
“Todd Coates shoved Frank down the hill,” Chet announced confidently. “And the reason is simple. lit’ wants to sabotage his uncle, What does Uncle Mary want most in the world? For the Bayport Bombers to win today. That way he can supply us with the new scoreboard, and that could help him get elected mayor. Take Frank out of the game and the Bombers don’t win, They’re underdogs as it is. And don’t forget, Todd goes to Ocean City. He’s a Slickers fan, so he’d like to see the Bombers bomb,
Frank’s brain rushed into high gear as he thought over Chet’s theory. It made sense, Maybe the glitter he’d seen after being pushed had been light reflecting off Todd’s wire-rimmed glasses, He turned to Phil, “When exactly was Todd asking about us?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“At the rec center.”
“He was there last night?” Frank asked. “What time?”
“Around eight-thirty or nine,” Phil answered, “He’d heard of our computer project, and brought over a hard drive from a computer he was scrap ping. He got an upgrade—”
“Never mind that,” Frank interrupted. “What was he wearing?”
Phil shrugged. “Jeans, I guess. What he always wears.”
“And does he always wear a hooded sweatshirt?” Frank asked.
Phil thought for a second. “Sorry, Frank. I just wasn’t paying much attention to any fashion statement Todd might have been making.”
“What about his shoes. Was he wearing boots?” Frank persisted.
Phil’s eyes lit up. “Yes, he was! Those dippy old work boots he always slops around in,”
Just then Coach Moran poked his head inside the door. “Team meeting in the locker room in two minutes, Chet. Let everyone know.” He gave Frank a concerned look. “You all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Coach.”
“I thought I saw you limping a little.”
“Just a kink, I worked it out,” Frank lied. Coach Moran nodded and smiled. “Good. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, Coach.” Frank stood up, ignoring the sharp stab of pain from his ankle.
Joe led the team onto the basketball court for the pregame warmup. After sinking a ball, he turned to Frank and said, “Check out who’s sitting behind our bench.”
Frank looked over to see Todd Coates staring back at him. Jamal sat a few rows over. . . right next to Glen Revelle.
“I’ II be right back,” Joe said suddenly, striding toward their bench.
“Don’t start anything,” Frank warned.
Joe grinned back at his brother. ‘I just left my sweatband in my locker. Chill out.”
Joe jogged back to the locker room and retrieved his wristbands. He was just about to head back to the gym when he heard arguing in the hallway outside the locker room. Joe stopped and listened.
“I warned you before!” an angry voice rang out “Someone could have been killed!”
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