Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

Eye on Crime (13 page)

BOOK: Eye on Crime

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Frank placed the call. Joe kept pace with the sedan, which led them in vague circles around town. When Callie confirmed that she had picked up the trail, Joe dropped back and let the sedan make a sharp right turn. Joe drove straight.

“Oops,” he said. “We lost them.”

“We got them,” Chet said through the cellular phone. “They're heading for the outskirts of town on Mill Road. Take Peach Street and you should be able to make a left and get behind us.”

Joe followed Chet's directions. He hung back on Peach Street until he spotted the sedan and Callie's car pass. He waited another minute before he made a left onto Mill Road.

“We don't see you,” Frank said into the phone.

“Left onto Lirica Lane. It's a side street about a mile from Peach. Okay, they just made a right down an unmarked dirt road. We can see some lights in the distance, maybe a house.”

“Don't do anything until we get there,” Frank said. “Meet us on Lirica.” Frank clicked off the phone. Joe made the left onto Lirica Lane. He spotted Callie's car pulled off to the side of the road. He pulled the van up behind the car.

“Okay, where are Chet and Iola?” Frank asked as he got out of the van.

“Those boneheads walked down the dirt path toward the house,” Tony replied. “We told them to wait.”

“Oh, great,” Joe said. “We'd better try to catch them before they get into trouble.”

The four friends jogged down the dirt path. As they neared the house, they slowed and walked very quietly. The black sedan was parked in front of a small brown house. The car was empty. Joe
spotted Chet and Iola crouching next to the car. Suddenly the siblings stood up and walked around the side of the house. Joe wanted to holler for them to stop, but that kind of noise would certainly blow their cover.

Frank shook his head. He used his hand to signal the group silently to stay low and follow him. They all crept stealthily forward and knelt down beside the sedan.

Joe peeked above the hood of the car and focused on the front window of the house. He could see movement inside. The occupants of the house were moving from the front room out of sight. A minute later there were four figures inside the house. Joe recognized two in particular.

“Oh, man,” he said, slumping to the ground. “Why doesn't anybody ever follow instructions?”

16 Break In, Break Out

“Don't tell me,” Frank said. “They have Chet and Iola.”

Joe nodded. “They're all in the front room,” he whispered. “Iola and Chet are standing close together. Zybysko's got a gun on them.”

“Well, that cinches it,” Frank said. “I want to get in there before they get tied to chairs or something.”

“Yeah,” Joe responded. “We may need Chet's muscle. So, one more tangle with our favorite thugs.”

“What?” Callie whispered, not believing what she had just heard.

“We have to go in there,” Frank said. “We have to keep those goons from doing anything Chet and Iola won't live to regret.”

“How do we get in there?” Tony asked.

“Â âWe' don't,” Joe said. “Just me and Frank.”

Callie and Tony began to protest.

“You guys have to alert the police,” Joe said. “Go back to the car and use the cell phone.”

“Shouldn't I stay here to back you guys up?” Tony asked.

“We need police backup for this,” Frank said. “And I don't want to put anybody else in the line of fire.”

Callie began to protest again, but Frank shushed her. Reluctantly, Callie and Tony made their way back to the car.

“Where fools rush in?” Joe asked.

“Age before beauty,” Frank said as he stood up and headed for the front door.

“Hello in there!” he called out as Joe followed behind him. “We've come to call a truce.”

The brothers approached the front door.

“Come on, guys,” Joe shouted. “It's just us.”

A tan face appeared at the window. Then it disappeared and the front door opened.

“Get inside,” Zybysko said, pointing a gun in Frank's face.

“Take it easy,” Frank said as he entered the house with his hands up. Joe put his hands up and came in also. The tan thug closed the door.

“You guys really can't stay away from this?” Spicolli asked. Instead of the usually ill-thought-out
suit, Spicolli wore a green paisley shirt and striped slacks.

“I just can't let you walk around like that,” Joe said. “I came to take you shopping.”

“Enough of your wisecracks,” Spicolli said. He backhanded Joe in the face. Joe sprawled back against the couch.

“Joe!” Iola cried.

Zybysko trained his gun on the girl. Chet took two steps forward and stood protectively in front of his sister.

“Everybody calm down,” Frank said. “Look, these two have nothing to do with any of this,” he said, indicating Chet and Iola. “Let them go.”

“Good try,” Zybysko said. “We're not stupid. If they walk out of here, they'll bring the cops.”

Joe stood up and held his hand to his chin. “So I guess that means we're as good as dead.”

“Oh, that's good, give the bad guys some ideas,” Chet said.

“All I mean is,” Joe said, “if you plan to kill us, the least you can do is fill us in on some of the details. You guys have had us chasing our tails since these robberies started. You might as well let us die with some good answers.”

“Fair enough,” Spicolli said. “Ask away.”

“How'd you get tied up with Monty Andrews?” Frank asked.

“That goof? He's an unwitting accomplice. He's
in so deep to Ronald Johnson, he'd dress like a duck if we told him to.”

“So Johnson's pulling the strings,” Joe said.

“He sets them up,” Zybysko boasted, “and we knock them down.”

“Sounds good,” Frank said, but Joe could tell his brother was listening to something else other than his captor's comments. Joe smiled.

“What theâ Sirens!” Zybysko yelled. He ran to the window. As he passed between Joe and Frank, both brothers stuck out their legs. The thug tripped and flew headfirst into the window, shattering the glass.

“Hey!” Spicolli shouted as he pointed his gun on Joe. His attention distracted for a moment, Spicolli failed to see the lamp that smashed against his face. He crumpled to the floor.

“Enough with the guns already,” Iola said as she kicked the firearm toward the other side of the room.

“Good work, Sis,” Chet said. He went to the window and kicked the other gun out of Zybysko's reach.

Just then the front door burst open and several police officers charged into the house.

“When are you guys going to learn some stealth?” Frank asked Con Riley.

“Who needs stealth with you two on the case?” Con smirked. “We're just here to mop up after you.”

“Well, there's quite a bit of mopping to do,” Joe said. He filled Con in on the goons' confession while the other officers handcuffed them and carted them away.

“If you lean hard enough, they might give up some evidence on Ronald Johnson,” Frank said. “Otherwise they'll do all the time for their boss's crime.”

“Also,” Joe added, “you should arrest Monty Andrews as an accessory. That should scare him enough to get him to testify against Johnson.”

“Will do,” replied Con. “Any more arrest warrants you want issued?”

“Can you arrest Ronald Johnson?” Joe asked.

“Not yet,” Con answered. “This Ronald Johnson is some character. He's put so many layers between himself and the actual crimes that he has a good chance of walking away scot-free. It's good to be the boss.”

“You can't let him get away with all of this!” Frank exclaimed.

“Oh, we'll get him,” Con said with a smile. “We'll put so much heat on these two goons and on Monty Andrews that they'll testify against Johnson just so they can all have another roommate in jail.”

After the police got Spicolli and Zybysko into a police cruiser, they searched the house. It didn't take them very long to find the huge stash of
jewelry and furs that had been stolen over the past week.

“It's good work if you can get it,” one of the officers said as he presented the valuables to Con.

“You'll all have to come down to make statements,” Con said to the teenagers.

“Can we do it tonight?” Joe asked. “We have a baseball game to play tomorrow. We missed opening day.”

Con laughed and led everybody out of the house.

â¢Â â¢Â â¢

The next day Frank was in his Bayport High baseball uniform, taking his warm-up throws from the pitcher's mound at Shoreham High. Roberto Rojas and Pepper Wingfoot, flanked by the whole Shoreham baseball team, walked out to the mound. Rojas was wielding a baseball bat.

Joe, fearing that his brother was in trouble, ran onto the diamond.

“Back off, guys,” Joe said as he got side by side with Frank.

“Hey, there's no trouble here,” Rojas said. “We have something for you guys.”

Wingfoot held up a baseball. “This is for you, Frank,” he said. “We know you put yourselves on the line to clear us of robbery. We wanted to say thanks.”

Frank took the ball. He saw that it was autographed by the whole Shoreham team.

“And this bat is for you, Slugger,” Rojas said, handing an autographed bat to Joe. “It took us sixteen innings, but without you two in the game, we beat Bayport on opening day.”

“Then you won't mind if we whip you guys today,” Joe said.

“Give it your best shot,” replied Wingfoot as the Shoreham players headed toward their dugout. “Give it your best shot.”

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.