Disaster for Hire by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

police grab us?"
    Frank shook his head. "No, I'm inclined to believe what she said in the police car."
    "That she didn't want us to know who she really was until she was certain where we stood— and that she could trust us?"
    "Right, and until she was convinced Dad wasn't the one who murdered her father."
    Joe frowned. "That can be dangerous, playing detective the way Jenny is."
    Frank laughed. "That's what Sergeant Hershfield says we're doing. But he can't be too concerned with what we're up to. As far as I can tell, we haven't been tailed."
    "I haven't seen one either." Joe squinted, looking at street signs. "According to the hotel clerk, we ought to be fairly close to the Selva offices."
    There was a fenced-in parking lot next to the six-story brownstone building that housed the Seattle offices of the Selva Lumber Corporation.
    Earlier that morning the Hardys had phoned the company and learned that the man their missing father had contacted was named Curly Weber. They'd made an appointment to talk with him at eleven. It was six minutes shy of the hour when they stepped into the old-fashioned elevator cage and started up to the fifth floor.
    Curly Weber turned out to be a big, jovial man of about forty-five, without a hair on his head. His office was large and cluttered, with framed color photos of timberland and lumber mills on the walls. "I don't believe your father had anything to do with that killing," he said, shaking hands and showing them to chairs facing his desk.
    "Neither do we," said Joe.
    "On your office door it says Security Officer," Frank said. "Does that mean you're a sort of in-house policeman?"
    Weber chuckled, rubbing at his hairless scalp. "I guess I'm a cop, a private eye, the house snoop, and an all-around trouble shooter," he answered. "The lumber business isn't as wild and woolly as it used to be, but sometimes things can get pretty rough."
    Frank asked, "Why did Dad come to see you?"
    "I saw Fenton twice this time. We're old friends. Well, old friends who see each other once in a blue moon. I admire the way he does business, and the way he brought you two up."
    Frank nodded, all business and ready to continue. "Thanks. Can you tell us what you talked about?"
    "The first time we got together, the day he arrived in town, was just for a quick dinner and a talk about old times," said Weber. "Then the afternoon this Bookman guy got killed, Fenton dropped in here. His questions really started me wondering. But he wouldn't fill me in."
    Frank was looking up at the bright photos on the wall. "Did he ask if any of the Selva woodlands had been having trouble lately?"
    Weber sat up straight, staring at Frank. "How'd you know?" he asked.
    "A guess," said Frank.
    Joe narrowed his left eye, studying his brother silently. Then he said, "This is the second secret you've kept from me."
    "The third. I also figured out how Truett probably fits in," Frank said.
    "Truett?" Joe frowned. "Oh, yeah, the name we found on Dad's memo. 'Another Truett?' "
    Curly Weber cleared his throat. "Don't feel bad, Joe. This is all a mystery to me."
    Frank grinned at him. "Sorry, Mr. Weber."
    "Call me Curly."
    "Okay, Curly. What Joe and I are talking about is a note of my father's that we found. It suggested that what's going on here reminded him of a case he'd worked on about three years ago."
    Joe snapped his fingers. "Sure. The Truett Printing Company, in Wisconsin someplace."
    "That's the one," said Frank. "Somebody was sabotaging Truett's presses. It turned out to be their major competitor. I figured Dad either suspected that someone was sabotaging the biotech lab or that there was a lumber company being sabotaged. There's no evidence of any vandalism at Farber, so timber seemed more likely."
    "We're sure having problems," put in Weber, pointing at one of the framed photos on his wall. "Our pine forest some ninety miles east of here has been having trouble, expensive trouble."
    "With a blight?"
    Nodding, Weber answered. "Yes, some