Deadfall by Franklin W Dixon Read Free Book Online Page B

the young, well-dressed man. He looked the same as he had when Joe and Frank arrived the night before—small, bespectacled, and extremely serious. "When did all this happen?"
    "This morning," Callie said briskly, "while you two were dreaming."
    "So what's the plan for today?" Frank asked Edgar, reaching for the pitcher of orange juice.
    "I assume you three will continue your investigation," Edgar said, ''although that has nothing to do with me. My job was to get Stan out of jail and make sure our name hadn't been compromised. I'm done and returning to headquarters

    THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILES
    this morning. I'll come back, of course, if more trouble develops."
    ''Are you a lawyer or something?" Joe asked, squinting sleepily at the trim young man.
    ''A concerned citizen, that's all," Edgar said, *'doing my best for the trees."
    Frank grinned. He liked Edgar, even though he appeared a bit stuffy.
    Just then they heard a noise at the front door.
    ''It's him!" Callie said, hurrying to greet her uncle.
    A moment later Stan appeared in the kitchen doorway, his head just missing the top of the door frame. "Howdy, folks!" he said cheerily. "I see you've been celebrating my freedom. Think I'll join you."
    He sat at the kitchen table and helped himself to pancakes and juice as the others bombarded him with questions. Then they brought him up to date on the investigation.
    "Let me show you the photographs of the bootprints," Frank said at last, picking up the second set of prints from the kitchen counter. "They clearly show hobnailed boots, which you weren't wearing. If the sheriff buys our theory that whoever owns these boots killed Owens, then you'll have to be in the clear."
    "The only problem," Callie added, "is that the sheriff isn't likely to pay much attention to the theories of Uncle Stan's friends."
    While Joe and Callie removed the breakfast plates, Frank spread the photographs out over

    Deadfall
    the kitchen table and began explaining them to Stan and Edgar. Then Joe gave a description of the "accident" with the logging truck.
    "You three have done a magnificent job so far," Stan said when they were finished. "I'm reaUy stunned." He rearranged the photographs into a neat pile. "And that's lucky for me because it looks like there's a lot more investigating to do."
    "We're willing to help out at headquarters any way we can," Edgar put in.
    "Great," Joe said. "Can you do us some background checks and get some poHce records?"
    When Edgar nodded, Frank jumped in. "We need information on Mike Stavisky, a logger for Horizon Lumber; Rafe Collins, Johnson's foreman; and Vance Galen, one of your volunteers."
    "Why Vance Galen?" Edgar asked slowly. "Has he been causing more trouble?"
    "Not so far as we know," Frank said quickly. He didn't want to rat on Galen about his run-in with the loggers. "But a lot of the loggers think he had something to do with the explosion. Frankly, he's the only person we know who didn't like Owens."
    "We don't usually check our volunteers' backgrounds before we send them out in the field," Edgar admitted quietly. "We can't really afford to lose any of them. But I'll check on Galen and the others as soon as I get back to headquarters. Count on it."

    THE HARDY BOYS CASEFILES
    ''What about me?" Stan asked. "What should I do?"
    "You stay here and hold the fort," Frank said politely. "We need someone to take down the information Edgar comes up with. And I'd guess you must be tired and could use a little rest."
    "You bet I am. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind an hour or so of shut-eye."
    "Hey, no problem," Callie said, putting a hand on her uncle's shoulder. "And after your nap you can wash the breakfast dishes."
    Five minutes later Frank, Joe, and Callie had said goodbye to Edgar Morrison and Callie's uncle and piled into the Hardys' jeep.
    "Where to?" Callie asked from the backseat as Frank drove.
    "How about to Walter Ecks's?" Frank asked Callie. "You know—Buster Owens's foreman."
    "Walter?" Callie