"I didn't have a chance-he wasn't conscious."
"Then you may never be able to get a confession from him."
Fenton Hardy shrugged. "I may be able to. If Jackley regains consciousness
and knows he's going to die, he may admit everything. I intend to see him in
the hospital and ask him about the Tower robbery."
"Is he far away?"
"Albany. I explained my mission to the doctor in charge and he promised to
telephone me as soon as it was possible for Jackley to see anyone."
"You say he used to work near here?" Joe asked.
"He was once employed by the railroad, and he knows all the country around
here well. Then he became mixed up in some thefts from freight cars, and
after he got out of jail, turned professional criminal. I suppose he came back
here because he is so familiar with this area."
"I promised to call Mrs. Robinson," Frank spoke up. "Okay to tell her about
Jackley?"
"Yes, it may cheer her up. But ask her not to tell anyone."
Frank dialed the number and relayed part of his father's story. The accused
man's wife was overwhelmed and relieved by the news, but promised not to
divulge the information. Just as Frank finished the call, the doorbell rang.
Frank ushered in the private detective Oscar Smuff.
"Your pa home?" he asked.
"Yes. Come in." Frank led the way into the living room.
Smuff, although he considered himself a top-notch sleuth, stood in awe of
Fenton Hardy. He cleared his throat nervously.
"Good afternoon, Oscar," said Mr. Hardy pleasantly. "Won't you sit
down?"
Detective Smuff eased himself into an armchair, then glanced inquiringly at
the two boys. At once Mr. Hardy said, "Unless your business is very private,
I'd like to have my sons stay."
"Well, I reckon that'll be all right," Smuff conceded. "I hear you're working
on this Applegate case."
"Perhaps I am."
"You've been out of town several days," Smuff remarked cannily, "so I
deduced you must be workin' on it."
"Very clever of you, Detective Smuff," Mr. Hardy said, smiling at his visitor.
Smuff squirmed uneasily in his chair. "I'm workin' on this case too-I'd like to
get that thousand-dollar reward, but I'd share it with you. I was just
wonderin' if you'd found any clues."
Mr. Hardy's smile faded. He said, with annoyance, "If I went away, it is my
own business. And if I'm working on the Tower robbery, that also is my
business. You'll have to find your own clues, Oscar."
"Well, now, don't get on your high horse, Mr. Hardy,' the visitor
remonstrated. "I'm just anxious to get this affair cleared up and I thought we
might work together. I heard you were with the officers what chased this
here notorious criminal Red Jackley."
Mr. Hardy gave a perceptible start. He had no idea that news of the capture
of Jackley had reached Bayport, much less that his own participation in the
chase had become known. The local police must have received the
information and somehow Smuff had heard the news.
"What of it?" Mr. Hardy asked in a casual way.
"Did Jackley have anything to do with the Tower case?"
"How should I know?"
"Wasn't that what you were workin' on?"
"As I've told you, that's my affair."
Detective Smuff looked sad. "I guess you just don't want to cooperate with
me, Mr. Hardy. I was thinkin' of goin' over to the hospital where this man
Jackley is and questionin' him about the case."
Mr. Hardy's lips narrowed into a straight line. "You can't do that, Oscar. He
isn't conscious. The doctor won't let you see him."
"I'm goin' to try. Jackley'll come to some time and I want to be on hand.
There's a plane at six o'clock, and I aim to leave my house about five-thirty
and catch it." He thumped his chest in admiration. "Detectives don't have to
show up for a plane till the last minute, eh, Mr. Hardy? Well, I'll have a talk
with Jackley tonight. And I may let you know what he says."
"Have it your own way," said Mr. Hardy. "But if you take my advice you'll
not visit the hospital. You'll just spoil everything. Jackley will talk when the
times comes."
"So there is somethin' in it!" Smuff said triumphantly. "Well, I'm goin' over
there and get a confession!" With that he arose, stumped out of the room,
and left the house.
CHAPTER XIII
Teamwork
AFTER Smuff left the house, Mr. Hardy sat back with a gesture of despair.
"That man," he said, "handles an investigation so clumsily that Red Jackley
will close up like a clam if Smuff manages to question him."
At that moment the telephone rang. The boys listened excitedly as Mr. Hardy
answered. "Hello. . . . Oh, yes, doctor. ... Is that so? . . . Jackley will probably
live only until morning? ... I can see him. . . . Fine. . . . Thank you. Good-by."
The detective put back the receiver and turned to the boys. "I'll take that
six-o'clock plane to Albany. But if Smuff goes too, it may ruin everything. The
Albany police and I must question Jackley first."
"When's the next commercial flight after six?" Joe asked.
"Seven o'clock."
"Then," said Frank, "Smuff can take that one and question Jackley later.
Come on, Joe. Let's see what we can do to help Dad!"
"Don't you boys do anything rash," their father warned.
"We won't."
Frank led the way outdoors and started walking down the street.
"What's on your mind?" Joe asked as they ! reached the corner.
"We must figure out how to keep Detective Smuff in Bayport until seven
o'clock."
"But how?"
"I don't know yet, but we'll find a way. We can't have him bursting into that
hospital room and spoiling the chance of Dad's getting a confession. Smuff
might ruin things so the case will never be solved."
"You're right."
The brothers walked along the street in silence. They realized that the
situation was urgent. But though they racked their brains trying to think of a
way to prevent Detective Smuff from catching the six-o'clock plane, it seemed
hopeless.
"Let's round up our gang," Joe suggested finally. "Perhaps they'll have some
ideas."
The Hardys found their friends on the tennis courts of Bayport High.
"Hi, fellows!" called Chet Morton when he saw
Frank and Joe approaching. "You're too late for a game. Where've you
been?"
"We had something important to do," Frank replied. "Say, we need your
help."
"What's the matter?" asked Tony Prito.
"Oscar Smuff is trying to win that thousand-dollar reward and get himself on
the Bayport police force by interfering in one of Dad's cases," Frank
explained. "We can't tell you much more than that. But the main thing is, we
want to keep him from catching the six-o'clock plane. We-er-don't want him
to go until seven."
"What do you want us to do?" Bill Hooper asked.
"Help us figure out how to keep Smuff in Bay-port until seven o'clock."
"Without having Chief Collig lock us up?" Jerry Gilroy put in. "Are you
serious about this, Frank?"
"Absolutely. If Smuff gets to a certain place before Dad can, t
he case will be
ruined. And I don't mind telling you that it has something to do with Slim
Robinson."
Chet Morton whistled. "Oh, ho! I catch on. The Tower business. If that's it,
we'll make sure the six-o'clock plane leaves here without that nutty
detective." Chet had a special dislike for Smuff, because the man had once
reported him for swimming in the bay after hours.
"So our problem," said Phil solemnly, "is to keep Smuff here and keep out of
trouble ourselves."
"Right."
"Well," Jerry Gilroy said, "let's put our heads together, fellows, and work
out a plan."
A dozen ideas were put forth, each wilder than the one before. Biff Hooper,
with a wide grin, went so far as to propose kidnaping Smuff, binding him
hand and foot, and setting him adrift in the bay in an open boat.
"We could rescue him later," he said. The proposal was so ridiculous that
the others howled with laughter.
Phil Cohen suggested setting the detective's watch back an hour. That plan,
as Frank observed, was a good one except for the minor difficulty of laying
hands on the watch.
Tony Prito said, "and sign it with a skull and crossbones."
"That's a keen ideal" Chet cried enthusiastically. "Let's do it!"
"Wait a minute, fellows," Frank spoke up. "If Smuff ever found out who
wrote it, we'd be up to our necks in trouble. We could all be arrested!"
"I know!" Joe cried suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Why didn't I think of it
before? And it's so simple, too."
"Well, tell us!" Frank urged.
Joe explained that every once in a while he and Frank went down to Rocco's
fruit store to act as clerks while the owner went home to supper. He stayed
open evenings until nine.
"Rocco's is only a block from Smuff's house. Smuff knows Frank and I go
there, so he wouldn't be surprised to see us in the neighborhood. I suggest
that the bunch of us meet casually down near the store and one boy after
another stop Smuff to talk. Maybe we can even get him into the shop. You
know Smuff loves to eat."
"You can't hate him for that," Chet spoke up. "I'll be glad to invite him in
and buy him an apple for his trip."
"A fifteen-minute delay for Smuff is all we need," Frank said.
"I think it's a swell idea," Biff spoke up. "And I'm sure Mr. Rocco will
co-operate."
"Who's going to persuade him?" Phil asked.
"That's Frank and Joe's department," Jerry replied.
Rocco was a hard-working man who had come from Italy only a few years
ago. He was a simple, genial person and had great admiration for the Hardy
boys.
The whole group made their way toward the fruit store, but only the Hardys
went inside. The others spread out to watch for Smuff, who was expected to
leave his house soon. Each boy went over his part in the plan.
When Frank and Joe walked into the fruit store, they found the dark-eyed
Rocco sorting oranges. "Buona sera" he said. "Good evening. How you like
my fix the place?"
"Looks swell," Frank answered. "New bins. Better lights." Then he added,
"How does your neighbor Smuff like it?"
Rocco threw up his hands in a gesture of disgust. "Oh, that man! He make
me mad. He say I charge too much. He tell me I ought to go back to old
country."
"Don't pay any attention to him," Joe advised. "Say, Mr. Rocco," he went
on, "you look tired. Why don't you go home for an hour or so and let Frank
and me take over here?"
"You think I look tired? That worry my wife. Then Rosa say I must close up
early." Rocco sighed. "You very kind boys. I do what you say. Come back
six-thirty."
As Rocco removed his apron, he said, "I fix trash in yard to burn. You do
that?"
"Glad to."
Rocco showed them a wire incinerator in the yard, then left the store. Five
minutes later there was a whistle from the street. A signal from Jerry I Frank
and Joe went to the front door to watch. Smuff was just backing his car out
of the driveway. As prearranged, Phil hurried over and stopped him.
The detective and the boy apparently got into an argument, but it did not last
long enough to satisfy Frank and Joe. The conversation took less than two
minutes, then Smuff backed around into the street.
"Hey, Frank," said Joe, "I have an idea. Go light that trash. Make it a
roaring fire!"
Without further explanation he dashed into the street, but Frank figured out
what was in his brother's mind. He dashed through the store and into the
yard. Quickly he lighted the papers in the incinerator in several places. The
rubbish blazed lustily.
Joe was intently watching the scene down the street. Smuff was now being
"interviewed" by Biff, and Chet came forward to urge Smuff to take some
fruit with him on his trip. The detective hesitated, then shook his head and
started off in his car.
Only five of the necessary fifteen-minute delay had elapsed I Joe hesitated no
longer. Running down the street, he held up one hand for the oncoming car to
stop.
"Come quick, Smuff!" he called out "There's a fire back of Rocco's!"
"Well, you put it out. I'm in a hurry!" the detective told the boy tartly.
"You mean you'd let all of Bayport burn down just because you're in a
Smuff winced, but still did not move. Joe said, starting back to the store,
"Well, Frank and I will have to take care of it alone."
This brought the detective to action. He realized he might be missing a
chance to become a hero! In a flash he drove his car down the street and
parked in front of the fruit store.
"Where's the fire?" Smuff cried out, nearly bumping into Frank who was
dashing from the front door of Rocco's.
"The fire-is-back there-in the yard." Frank pretended to pant. "You go look
and see if we ought to turn in an alarm."
Smuff dashed inside the store and hurried to the yard. By this time the
Hardys' friends had gathered in Rocco's fruit store. They asked excitedly
what was going on.
"Frank! Joe!" yelled Smuff from the rear of the store. "Where's Rocco?
Where's a pail? Where's some water?"
CHAPTER XIV
The Confession
"Rocco's not around," Joe replied to Smuff. "There's water in the sink-in the
back. Shall I call the fire department?"
"No, I can manage this," Smuff declared. "But where's a pail?"
Frank dashed into the back room and found a pail under the sink. He filled it
with water and handed the pail to Smuff, who hurried to the yard. He doused
the incinerator flames which hissed and crackled, then died.
"Some people have no sense," Smuff commented. "The idea of anyone
starting a fire, then going off and leaving it! I'll bet that was Rocco's work!
As for you boys-you had to call me. Didn't have the savvy to put out a simple
fire."
"Good thing you were around," Frank observed, suppressing a smile.
"I'll say it was," Smuff agreed. "And Chief Collig is sure goin' to hear about
this."
"Oh, please don't tell him about us," Joe spoke up, half closing his eyes so
Smuff could not see the twinkle in them.
"I didn't mean that. Oscar Smuff is no squealer. I mean Collig is goin' to hear
what I did." The detective chuckled. "One more notch in my gun, as the
cowboys say."
Suddenly Smuff sobered and looked at his wrist watch. "Oh, no!" he cried
out. "Ten minutes to six! I can't make my plane!"
"That's a shame," Frank said consolingly. "But cheer up, Smuff, there's a
seven-o'clock plane for Albany. I wish you luck in your interview."
Smuff stormed out of the fruit store and disappeared with his car. The
Hardys and their friends burst into roars of laughter which did not stop until
a woman customer came into the shop. All the boys but Frank and Joe left.
Rocco returned at six-thirty, pleased that so much fruit had been sold during
his absence. "You better salesman than Rocco." He grinned widely.
The Hardys went home, well-satisfied with their day's work. The six-o'clock
plane had left without Smuff. Their father could make his trip to the hospital
without the annoying detective's interference.
Fenton Hardy did not return home until the next afternoon. When the boys
came from school they found him in high spirits.
"Solved the mystery?" Joe asked eagerly.
"Practically. First of all, Jackley is dead."
"Did he confess?"
"You're not very sympathetic toward the poor fellow, Joe. Yes, he confessed.
Fortunately, Oscar Smuff didn't show up while Jackley was talking."
Frank and Joe glanced at each other and their father smiled quietly. "I have
an idea," he said, "that you two sleuths know more about this Smuff business
than you would care to tell. Well, anyhow, the Albany police and I had a clear
field. I saw Jackley before he died and questioned him about the Tower
robbery."
"Did he admit everything?"
"Jackley said he came to Bayport with the intention of robbery. He stole a
car, smashed it up, and took Chet's. Then he went to rob the ticket office.
When he failed in that he decided to hang around town for a few days. He hit
upon Tower Mansion as his next effort. Jackley entered the library with
gloves on, opened the safe, and took out the jewelry and securities." "What
did he do with the loot?" "That's what I'm coming to. It was not until Jackley
knew he was at the point of death that he did confess to the Tower affair.