The Curse of the Ancient Emerald by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online Page A

other.”
    I vaguely remembered seeing something like that in the file, but by that time all the words had started to run together. I nodded, wondering where Joe was going with this.
    â€œIt says here that the cell mate was in prison for fraud, embezzlement, and forgery. Who better to set up a new identity for Kruger than someone who was in prison for that very crime? Someone he shared a cell with for years?”
    Joe was right! Kruger wouldn’t be careless enough to seek out someone he didn’t know. Especially when he already knew someone who could organize a new identity for him.
    â€œIs the name in there?”
    â€œRandall Trethaway.”
    â€œAddress?”
    Joe checked the files and nodded. “Dad kept his eye on Trethaway, too. His address is here.”
    â€œThen we’re in business.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    A half hour later I was studying Trethaway’s house from the sidewalk. It was a single-story home, white paint peeling from old wooden boards. The windows were covered in wire mesh that was falling away from the frames, and the garden was filled with weeds and cluttered with old newspapers.
    â€œCharming place,” muttered Joe sarcastically as we approached the front door.
    â€œI think this is what Mom would call a fixer-upper,” I replied, knocking on the door. A tall, bald man answered, wearing neon surf shorts and a vest.
    The man said nothing, just looked at us and took a big bite out of an apple.
    â€œAre you Randall Trethaway?” inquired Joe.
    â€œMight be. Who’s asking?”
    â€œMy name is Frank, and this is my brother, Joe. We’d like to talk to you about Jack Kruger.”
    Randall brightened at this, which surprised me. In my experience, no one was ever excited to talk to us about a case.
    â€œSo you’ve heard about my book?” said Randall.
    â€œUh . . . ,” I began.
    â€œYes,” Joe put in quickly. “We have.”
    â€œYou’re a bit young for reporters.”
    â€œWe’re trainees. First year,” explained Joe. “Hoping to . . . uh . . . break a big story.”
    Randall nodded seriously. “Well, you came to the right place. Come on in.”
    He stepped aside. I looked at Joe, who shrugged and stepped through the door. I followed, entering a sparsely lit living room.
    There was an old TV shoved up against one wall. A ratty couch sat in the center of the room, and opposite that was a steel table covered with newspaper clippings. Buried beneath all of them was an ancient-looking laptop.
    Trethaway looked around. “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “It’s the cleaner’s day off.” He chuckled at his joke.
    â€œUm . . . so, Mr. Trethaway. You were Jack Kruger’s cell mate for how many years?” I asked.
    â€œTen,” answered Trethaway. “Ten years sharing a cell with one of the greatest thieves in history.”
    â€œThat’s quite a claim,” Joe observed. “Is that the angle of your book?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œMr. Trethaway,” I said, “have you been in contact with Kruger lately?”
    Trethaway glanced briefly at his computer. It was the barest flicker of his eyes, but Joe and I knew to watch for things like that.
    â€œâ€Šâ€™Course I have. Wouldn’t be much of a book otherwise.”
    â€œI see. It’s just . . . we’ve tried to track down Mr. Kruger, but we can’t find him.”
    Trethaway smiled slightly. “Ah, well. It’s hard to find a man if he doesn’t want to be found.”
    Joe tried a different approach. “You were in jail for fraud,” he said.
    â€œYeah? So?”
    â€œMr. Trethaway,” said Joe, “I don’t want to be rude, but did you organize a new identity for Jack Kruger?”
    Trethaway smirked. “Now, boys, that’s not the kind of thing a man can go on record