Eye on Crime (6 page)

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After school Frank and Joe met at the van.

“Man, believe it or not, it was nice to be a student for a little while,” Frank said.

Joe climbed into the van. “I hear you,” he said with a nod. “History class almost took my mind off our girlfriends' being in jail.”

“They'll be out soon,” Frank said. “Robbery doesn't require them to be held without bail. I figure they'll be out by dinnertime.”

The rest of the drive to the Jewelry Exchange was filled with talk of classwork and studying. The brothers even quizzed each other to stay mentally sharp. It was an invigorating exercise that helped keep their minds ready for whatever might come their way, on or off a case.

“Ah, here we are,” Frank said as he pulled into the store's parking lot.

“I hope we're not underdressed,” Joe said as he looked at some of the people going in and out of the store's front door. Everybody he saw was wearing either a suit or a fashionable dress.

“Or underage,” Frank added.

Once the two were inside the Jewelry Exchange, all three of the shop's workers and most of its dozen or so customers turned a disapproving eye toward the Hardys.

“Maybe the thief hit this place because he doesn't like snooty people,” Joe whispered.

“Just try to be casual,” Frank replied. “We're here looking for a present for Mom or something.”

The two brothers split up, Frank moving toward the standing glass cases on the left and Joe heading over to the counters on the right. Both noted the locks on the cases and cabinets; they were standard medium-security locks, most likely hardwired to an alarm system. Frank concentrated on getting the rhythm of the clientele, but all he could observe was that he and Joe were the only ones who looked out of place. However, the store was awfully busy, especially for having been robbed two nights earlier. It made Frank wonder how the stock could have been replenished so quickly.

Joe moved toward the back of the store, near where he could see a door that probably led to some back rooms. The door was partially opened, only revealing a desk and door to Joe, whose field of vision was limited. Joe glanced down at a case of gold necklaces, so as not to appear to be staring at the door. When he chanced another look, he saw somebody move inside the office. Joe could
see only the person's pants leg, and he was sure that what he saw was not the standard slacks that someone would wear with a suit. The leg looked as if it belonged to work overalls.

“May I help you?” came a shrill voice from behind Joe.

“Uh, yeah,” Joe replied. He turned around to peer into the face of a thin, pale man with wire-rimmed glasses and a disapproving stare. “I was hoping to get something nice for my mother.”

“Well, that is certainly possible, depending on what price range you were considering.”

“I was thinking,” Joe began, but there was no way he could be heard over the sudden crash of glass and the wailing of the loudest alarm he had ever heard.

At the sound of the alarm, Joe immediately spun around to face the door. He glimpsed Frank out of the corner of his eye, but his vision was partially obscured by the half dozen or so patrons who were frantically heading for the exit. The first person to reach the exit slammed against the door with little result.

An auto-locking mechanism, Joe thought.

The alarm kept up its incessant wailing, so Joe knew the only way to communicate with his brother was to make his way over to him. He began to push past a couple of shoppers, when he saw that Frank was moving toward the door. Joe followed his brother's gaze and realized what he was looking at so intensely.

“Gun!” Joe cried as instinct took over in both of
the Hardys. They had spotted a well-dressed man who stood just to the left of the front door as he reached into his sports coat and drew out a silver handgun. Before the man could take aim at any target, both Frank and Joe were flying toward him.

Frank crouched low as he approached the man. At that same moment Joe, who was coming from the man's blind side, leaped forward through the air. Both brothers crashed into the man at the same instant, Frank wrapping his arm around the man's legs while Joe struck against his midsection. The man fell backward, landing in a heap with Frank and Joe entwined around him.

“The gun!” Frank yelled, and Joe heard him; the alarm had finally stopped ringing.

Joe reached up and pinned the man's arm to the ground. The guy was strong, but Joe had the advantage of surprise and leverage. The gun stayed in the man's hand, but he was unable to raise his arm to aim a shot.

“Get off me, you goofs!” The man flailed his legs, but Frank held them fast.

“Drop the gun!” Joe demanded.

“Oh, my!” screeched a voice from the middle of the store. “Do get off him!”

Neither Frank nor Joe loosened their grip. The three continued to struggle on the floor.

“I'm security!” the man with the gun shouted.

“Yeah, right,” Frank said. “We'll just let the police sort this out.”

Joe felt a hand on his shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he could see the salesman who had questioned him just before the alarm had sounded.

“He really is store security,” the salesman said.

Frank and Joe looked at each other for a second. Then they loosened their grip. They cautiously got up off the man.

“Uh, sorry,” Frank said, extending his hand. The man hesitated. Then he lifted the gun and pointed it at the brothers.

“Whoa,” Joe exhaled. “We're the good guys.”

“We thought you were robbing the store,” Frank said.

“Robbing the store?” The salesman guffawed. “Mr. Friedman is here to provide security.”

Joe looked at the salesman. It was then that he noticed that there was a name tag pinned to his jacket: Jack Jones—Manager.

Mr. Friedman lowered the gun. He reached into the pocket of his now very wrinkled sports coat.

“Here,” he said gruffly. He handed a laminated ID badge to Frank. On it was his picture along with a company logo.

“Eye Spy Security?” Frank read. He handed back the badge.

“Yeah,” Mr. Friedman replied, getting to his feet. “We provide the security system here.”

“Which seems to be back in working order,” Mr. Jones said.

“Why did the alarm sound?” Friedman asked. “Did someone smash a case?”

“Nah,” came a voice from the back of the room. “Wiring overheated,” said a man in dark coveralls. The logo on his work clothes identified him as part of Eye Spy Security, too. “When it sparked, I dropped my drill, and it smashed through one of the cases I was wiring in back, setting off the screamer. I need some new pieces from the truck.”

The workman walked toward the front of the store. He keyed a code into the keypad on the wall next to the entrance. There was a click, and he pushed open the door.

“Uh,” said a middle-aged woman raising her hand, “can we leave now?”

“Are all cases still closed and locked?” Mr. Friedman asked the store manager. Mr. Jones gave a questioning look toward the three other workers in the store. They all nodded.

“Sure, you can go.”

Every patron of the Jewelry Exchange immediately exited the shop. In less than one minute the only people left in the store were Frank and Joe, Mr. Friedman, and the store staff.

“Great,” Frank said quietly to Joe. “We netted zero information.”

Joe looked at the front door. “We're not through here yet.”

“You have a plan?”

“I'm going to smooth-talk the manager to see what I can find out.”

“What should I do?”

“Help this guy with all those boxes.” Joe pointed through the front door as he backed away from his brother. Outside the door, the installation man from Eye Spy Security struggled to enter the store without dropping any of the several boxes he was carrying.

“Here,” Frank said as he pulled open the door, “let me get that for you.”

“Thanks, buddy.” The man balanced a large box against his shoulder.

“Let me take the smaller boxes,” Frank said as he took a few of the parcels from the man. Before the man could object or accept, Frank was already heading toward the backroom.

“I'll put these back here,” he said.

“Thanks,” the Eye Spy man replied as he followed Frank.

When Frank entered the backroom, he spotted a desk with a computer on it, a filing cabinet, and several chairs. Off to his left was another door.

“Just through there,” said the workman with a flick of his head.

“No problem,” Frank said. He headed through the interior door, which led him to another room, much larger than the office. In it was a long table against the side wall. On the table were a few open boxes, a worn-out toolbox, and some stray
wires. Next to the table was a ladder. Frank put the boxes on the table. As he passed the ladder, he looked up at the ceiling. A few panels were pushed open, revealing wires and electrical sockets.

The workman put the large box on the table and climbed the ladder.

“So,” Frank started, “a lot of excitement for one day—uh, what did you say your name was?”

“Bill,” the worker replied as he stuck his head through an open ceiling panel.

“I'm Frank. So, it must be a pretty sophisticated security system here, Bill.”

“Hand me that flathead screwdriver?” Without removing his head from the hole, Bill reached down toward Frank. “The one we're installing now is a top-notch system all right. The store should have gone with it in the first place.”

“Who provided the first system?” Frank handed Bill the screwdriver.

“We did,” Bill replied, indicating Eye Spy Security. “But to cut costs, the store went with an older model. Sure, it had cameras, alarms, and sensors—the whole nine yards. But the electronics weren't the greatest. That's why the cameras malfunctioned the other night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, all but one of them. The one that caught those two kids robbing the place.”

“How did they even get in here?”

Bill ducked his head out and handed Frank the screwdriver.

“Some number two blue cable.”

“They used what?” Frank asked. “What's number two blue cable?”

“I need some,” Bill said, pointing his finger. “It's in that box over there.”

Frank turned to the table and retrieved the wire the workman had asked for.

“Anyway,” Bill continued once his head was back up in the ceiling, “from the way most of these wires were cooked, I figure they must have sent a huge electrical pulse through the whole system.”

“How'd two kids figure out how to do that?”

“Who knows? These days, they probably found the instructions posted somewhere on the Internet. Anyway, they were so confident of their handiwork with the security system they didn't even wear masks when they pulled the heist.”

Bill made a grunting sound. “There,” he said as he descended the ladder. “Ready for the new cameras. Hey, thanks for the hand, Frank,” Bill said, patting Frank on the shoulder.

Frank went back into the store and found Joe.

“Learn anything?” Frank asked as they went out to the van.

“Bits and pieces. Eye Spy Security agreed to replace the security system for free. If the jewels aren't recovered, insurance will cover the cost.”

“So we could be looking at some sort of insurance scam,” Frank said. “Maybe the robbery was a cover. Steal the jewels, sell them elsewhere, and claim the insurance money.”

Joe started up the van. “But how does that involve Rojas and Wingfoot?”

“The store's owner could have brought them in as fall guys. Promise them some fast, easy cash, have them rob the place, and then double-cross them so they take the rap for it.”

“Guess that points us to our next stop,” Joe said. “Let's chat with the suspects. Shoreham started baseball practice today, so Rojas and Wingfoot should be at the school.”

While they drove to Shoreham High School, Frank filled in his brother on what he had learned at the store. Joe was intrigued by Bill's comment about the thieves not wearing any masks.

“From the few times we played against Rojas and Wingfoot, I'd definitely take them as the confident type. But to have the know-how to short out an alarm system? That takes some advanced skill. And then to make a bonehead move like not wearing a disguise? Well, I never did mistake them for geniuses. But if they thought they were pulling a foolproof job, for instance, if they were told that the security system and cameras would be turned off, then they wouldn't have needed masks. Add it up and it gives some weight to the insurance scam plus frame-up theory.”

“It sure does. Or they're just bad criminals. Can't always cover all the bases,” Frank said. “Speaking of bases, it looks like the baseball team is still on the field.” Frank pointed to the diamond as the van approached Shoreham High School.

“I wonder why they started practice a week before the other schools,” Joe observed.

“They have a state championship to defend.” Frank drove the van into the school's parking lot. Very few cars were there at this time of day, so Frank pulled into a spot close to the gym. From this vantage point, although they couldn't see the baseball diamond, they would be sure to see Rojas and Wingfoot leave the locker room after practice.

“Do you think we'll get anything out of them?” Frank asked.

“Why wait?” Joe replied. He got out of the van.

“Where are you going?” Frank followed his brother.

“To snoop. Maybe our two electronics wizards—the ones not savvy enough to wear masks to a robbery—have something hidden in their lockers.”

Frank smiled as he followed his brother into the gym. A few people were playing basketball on the center court, a few others were in the weight room, and still others were just milling about. Nobody paid much attention to the Hardys.