68This story has been written in it's entirety and will be posted up regularly. So there's no fear of me writing five or six chapters and then disappearing!
Note: If you are the type of person who leaves nasty messages in writer's review areas in order to have a bit of sport...don't bother as I won't be responding to you, just deleting. I'm too thick skinned to care about your small minded opinions. Frankly, I wouldn't want you reading my stories in the first place. So in summary = you'll get no satisfaction here, so move along!
Note: To the rest of you lovely people...I hope you enjoy! :-)
Boosting - Chapter 1
Frank Hardy heard the gentle knocking at his apartment door and dropped his head, feeling decidedly belligerent. He knew exactly who was going to be on the other side and he just didn't need another verbal wrestling match, not today of all days. Today he wanted to be able to concentrate on one thing and one thing only – getting his life back on track.
He limped to the door and opened up, leaning one palm on the doorframe, not realising that by doing so, he was sending an unconscious message to the person on the other side that they were unwelcome and he didn't want them to enter. As Frank had assumed, when the door was pulled wide, his brother Joe was there with his face forced into the widest and most ridiculous looking grin.
"Bro, you look like the Joker," Frank observed, his mouth kinking up at the one corner, despite the irritation he was feeling.
"Can I come in?" Joe asked.
"You've never needed to ask before," Frank muttered and moved back into the sitting room with his brother dogging his heels. "Why are you here so early this morning?" he asked, turning to find Joe standing so close that he found himself staring straight into his blue eyes. Frank stepped back a distance and dropped his gaze.
"Just doing the whole supportive brother thing—"
"So by 'supportive brother thing', you mean supporting me in my decision to return to work, or as in don't do it…danger…aaagh!" Frank flapped his hands in the air. "Cause if it's the second one, bro, you'll be wasting your breath, we've had this conversation and I'm not changing my mind."
"Dude, if it's what you want, you know that I'll support you one hundred percent. I want to be sure you realise what you're doing."
"Of course I know what I'm doing, it's not like I've not had plenty of time to make up my mind. Eight weeks is long enough. I need to get back to reality and work."
Joe went and sat down on the sofa and surveyed his brother thoughtfully. "What do mom and dad make of it?"
Frank sighed and slumped down onto the arm of the easy chair – this was going to turn into one of those conversations again, he could sense it brewing. "They're happy whatever I do so long as I'm happy, and before you ask, Nancy's not bothered either way as she works alone. In fact, she'll get to see more of me this way, so there's an added benefit."
"I think you're rushing things, you're burned out, Frank!"
"Yeah I am, totally burned out, and that's the whole point as to why I need to get back to some sense of normality."
"But seeing more of Nan and cultivating a sense of normality can't be the only benefits, surely?"
Frank rolled his eyes heavenwards and left the arm of the seat. He went to the dining table and took up an open portfolio and started sifting through its contents. "Let me show you something, Joe," Frank muttered and lifted out a sheaf of stapled papers and placed it down on the glass top. Joe approached and Frank turned the document towards him and tapped the bottom of the page. "That is another benefit."
Joe looked at what was being pointed at, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Okay, that salary would be a major benefit, I'll admit, but think of what you're givin' up. Being a detective is the only thing you ever wanted to be. It's your dream, Frank, the thing we've been planning and training for since we were kids. You can't simply turn your back on something like that, chucking all your hard work out of the window – it's in your blood! You won't get the same kind of job satisfaction by pushing a pen around."
"Nice speech, Joe, but you said it yourself, I'm burned out. I don't want to be spending the next however many years looking over my shoulder waiting for the next Pandora to come along; I'd become a liability to the agency, to you. Besides which, I doubt my leg will ever physically recover enough for me to be able to do the job effectively again."
"But the Network have those guys in custody so they won't be able to come after you."
"Yeah, well…that wasn't really the point I was making." Frank started to concentrate on trying to put the document back in the portfolio, but his hands wouldn't obey his command and he nearly folded it in half in his haphazard attempt to stuff it inside – the whole time hoping that his brother would get off the subject of the 'Pandora Posse' as Joe'd started calling them. No such luck—
"Frank, about the Pandora Posse, I wish you'd tell us what happened to them."
"Joe—" Frank said, a warning tone to his voice. He didn't want to have this conversation, not at this juncture. Some things were just too raw.
"At least tell me how the Network ended up capturing them – what'd they do? Shoot 'em out of the sky?"
Frank's eyes zeroed in on the front door, looking for an out. He was starting to feel warm and cornered and Joe was standing between him and his escape route and there was no way he could outrun his brother. He started visualising himself and Joe fighting over the doorknob and squabbling, and then Joe was wrestling and forcing him back into the room to make him talk, and they were actually scrapping and it was getting ugly. "Uh-oh, I'm going to lose this fight! Joe's gonna beat me—"
"—Frank?" Joe said in a loud voice, breaking through.
"Uh?" Frank grunted, suddenly realising they'd been standing in silence for quite some time having strange thoughts.
"The Posse—?"
"Aw man! Joe, you're driving me nuts – as if I'm not nuts enough already."
"Frank, don't say stuff like that, you're not nuts!"
Frank sat down hard at the table and laced his fingers amongst his dark hair. "Whatever. Look, if it'll shut you up, I'll explain…the Network uncovered who the Posse's double agent was who had infiltrated their organisation. He was going to be the original pilot, but Gray jumped in and did the job for him and flew the gang away and into the Network's hands. Simple as that."
"And you knew all about it before you gave them the dummy memory stick?"
Frank sighed. "Yeah, I knew about it way before. All Gray had to do was await my signal to act and I activated him when I was on my way to get the Posse to release Nancy. Please can we drop it now? I don't want to talk about it any more."
"I suppose, but, wow, dude, you were one wily fox!"
Frank carefully slipped the job description back in his bag and changed the subject. "Anyway, let's face it, it's not like I'll even get the job, they'll most likely laugh me out of the interview, so this is probably a moot subject—"
Joe harrumphed. "You'll ace it, you know you will."
"I don't know anything. All I know is that I've had enough of sleuthing. I can't do it any more, it's not in me, it's gone. I'm hollow, spent, the end. I'm sorry Joe."
Joe changed tack. "Okay, what about this. Don't do anything rash, huh? Use some of the reward money you got from the government to go on vacation. Get out of here, have a change of scenery, grab some sun, do some travelling, have a rethink, take Nancy with you, get jiggy with her – it's not like you can't afford it."
Frank burst out laughing at Joe's tender phrasing of his and Nancy's still burgeoning relationship. It made him feel better. "Look bro, I appreciate what you're tryin' to do, I do. But it's time for me to move on and all you're accomplishing by standing there and haranguing me is to make me late." Frank grabbed his retractable chrome walking stick and shoved it into his bag. "Joe, please accept what's happening would-ya. I know you're disappointed and feel I'm letting you down, but—" Frank left the statement hanging, but knew by Joe's slight tilt of the head that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head.
Joe gave a long sigh. "You've not let me down, I'm worried about you. If nothing else, at least use the walking stick."
"I hate the freakin' thing!"
"I know you do, man, but you need to use it."
"I only have to use it if my knee starts to act up and it's not too bad this morning."
Joe shot him a doubtful look. "Cause the limping – that's a good sign, huh?"
"I promise I'll use it if I need to, deal?" Frank moved towards the door, indicating that he needed to leave. "How did you get here? Need a ride?"
"No, I drove. Thanks though," Joe said, and turned to glance back at his brother before they both left the apartment.
Frank knew what that briefest of looks meant; Joe didn't have to spell it out to him. He was disappointed, and it didn't make Frank feel great. In fact, it made him feel a bit sick. He respected his brother more than anyone, and doing this to him, breaking up the partnership, was eating Frank up inside. It didn't matter that it was for the best, as he'd become a burden to his own brother and to the agency. Joe didn't see it that way yet, but in time, Frank hoped he would. He tried not to look Joe in the eye because he knew that if he did, his resolve would crumble.
Reaching around his brother, Frank hit the elevator call button and started making small talk. "Did Vanessa get out in time to meet Nancy this morning?"
"Up earlier than me, as usual. Said mom had decided to join them as well, so there's almost a crowd."
The elevator arrived and they stepped on and began riding it down to the ground floor.
"Shopping, eh?"
"Woman love it, that's for sure." Joe said, and quickly followed it up with: "Frank, I'm—"
"What, Joe?"
Frank felt Joe touch his shoulder and then he was being turned until they were facing one another. Joe was casting his eye over him thoughtfully.
"What, bro?" Frank prompted.
"—Frank, I'm really gonna…have to fix your tie cause it's not straight." Joe reached up and adjusted the knot for him and then stood back and nodded. "Better." They reached the ground floor and Joe stepped out, leaving Frank to ride the lift down to the basement car lot. "Luck with the interview."
"Thanks Joe. Later."
"Later, dude."
Joe arrived at the agency at the same time as his father, but he was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice that Fenton Hardy was almost at the main door and passed by without even acknowledging his presence. He pulled the door open and stepped through into the hallway, letting it go before Fenton could get all the way through.
"Ouch!" Fenton muttered, catching the door with his elbow. "Hey, Joe. You okay, sport?" Fenton asked, rubbing his arm.
Joe's head snapped around surprised. "Oh! Yeah."
Fenton laughed softly. "A hundred miles away."
The trooped up the stairs together and Fenton let them into the office of the Hardy, Riley & Sons Detective Agency. Joe wondered how long it would be before the word Sons lost its second 's'.
Joe looked wistfully at Frank's neat desk, which had remained untouched during his extended absence. It was almost as though no one wanted to taint such a sacred place and even his pens had remained unmolested. There was a light coating of dust across the surface.
Frank hadn't stepped a foot inside the building since he'd been released from the hospital and it left Joe feeling decidedly unsettled. His absence had left a gaping chasm in the organisation that no one seemed to want to acknowledge – illustrated by the fact that Frank's chair hadn't been sat on since that last day he'd picked up, pushed it under his table and left with Joe on their surveillance mission before being simultaneously thrown headfirst into the Pandora case. It was almost as though a huge hole had been ripped from the heart of the place.
Joe made a mental note to spray some polish over Frank's desk later – which was more than he'd do for his own desk.
He turned his attention to switching on his PC but when he sat down, Joe was perturbed that, for the life of him, he couldn't locate his mouse among the debris. It was there somewhere but was hiding itself brilliantly. "Where are you?" he asked aloud, pushing swathes of items around the table. Admitting defeat, he finally picked his garbage basket and starting dropping unwanted junk into it in the assumption that his mouse would turn up under the rubble eventually.
"Joe!" Fenton suddenly shouted out incredulously from the connecting office. "What's the meaning of this?"
Joe left the basket on his chair and headed to see what his father was referring to. "What's what?" he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
"This?" Fenton asked again holding up a picture frame.
"Don't ask me, it's your photo."
"Yes, it's my picture frame all right, but it doesn't usually contain a grinning picture of Con Riley! The last time I checked, it was a picture of your mother – and don't try giving me your innocent face, it's got your hallmark stamped all over it!"
Joe burst out laughing. "Okay, I can't deny it, it was me. But it's been on your desk for over a day and you've only just noticed it. Call yourself a detective?"
"One of these days Joe, one of these days—"
The main door opened again and Con entered with an armful of bagels and sandwiches.
"What a hero, dude!" Joe said.
Con handed a bagel to Joe before tossing the other towards Fenton, who snatched it cleanly out of the air. "Something weird's happened. I think I saw Frank driving up the street, and get this, he was…wearing a suit!"
"You did see Frank with a suit on. He's got a job interview." Joe said, drawing out the words 'job interview' and wrinkling his nose in distaste. He unwrapped his late breakfast and started closely inspecting its contents.
"Oh I see. I've never seen the kid so spruced up before," Con said and slapped Joe on the shoulder as he went through to the other office to perch on the window ledge. "How's Frank's state of mind?" he asked. "Is he ready to venture out into the big wide-world again?"
"I'm not sure, but he's convinced he's much improved," Fenton answered. "He seems determined that a new job, and one not related to investigative work is the only way forward."
"What do you think?" Con asked.
"Doesn't matter what I think. He's an adult and can make his own decisions."
"It sucks the big one!" Joe spat, in no mood to mince his words like his father was. He picked a piece of tomato out of his bagel and tossed it into the garbage. "I wish he'd come back. I'm fed up with not having my partner and you two are no fun."
"Buddy, I'm hurt!" Con said. "I'm a laugh a minute."
"I think Frank's making a huge mistake and I've told him so." Joe quickly realised he'd said something wrong when there was a heavy pause and Fenton slowly turned to him and cocked a brow.
"Just exactly how did you tell him, and when?" his father asked, testily.
Con started to inspect his feet.
Joe emulated his father by peaking a challenging eyebrow back. "Don't worry Dad, I didn't get all heavy on his ass, I just told it like it was. Saw him this morning actually—"
"This morning!" Fenton gasped. "You had a conversation with Frank this morning, knowing he had a job interview? Joe, you have all the tact of a baseball bat!"
"Don't sweat it, I didn't send him to it all riled up or anything. I even straightened his tie."
"There are other, more subtle ways of dealing with this that don't involve verbally battering away at him you know, son."
"Such as?"
"Use your imagination. Go and talk to Nancy, swap notes, maybe between you, you can both come up with a course of action. Think outside the box."
Joe leaned back against his desk and started to munch on his bagel as he mulled over his father's advice. "Yeah, thanks Dad, I'll get onto that."
He was still considering the subject at hand, when Con finally moved and turned to pick up the other half of his sandwich, catching sight of something. Joe secretly smiled as Con said: "What on earth—?" and leaned forward to pick up a photo frame from his desk. "Where did this come from?"
"A 'welcome to the office' present," Joe said.
Con gazed back at him with a look of blank incredulity.
"—And you're welcome!" Joe sarcasmed, upon failing to receive a 'thank you'.
"Did you also put the picture of Fenton in it?"
"Can I be held to blame if you two have your own brand of special love?"
Fenton turned his own photo frame around so Con could see its replacement picture and despite themselves, they both started chortling. Then Fenton's phone rang, so he answered it and all three of them decided to get down to work.
Joe returned to his desk to resume his clear out and rummaging. He was starting to get fairly worked up over the location of the errant cordless mouse until he finally slid open his drawer and there it was, shut inside and shoved right to the back under an old sports magazine. "Huh?" he wondered, lifting it out. A muffled snigger made him look up to find the other two men had been watching him.
"Two can play at the practical jokes, Joe," Con said and leaned across his desk and exchanged a hearty high-five with Fenton. "Nice one, Flash. Told you I'd get him to tidy up his desk!"
"Hey—" Joe objected.
Fenton laughed. "Thanks Zarkof." Fenton said in return. "I've been trying to get him to clean up his act for the last six months."
Con sniggered again. "You don't share an office full of cops for so many years without picking up an odd trick or two." He tipped his thumb in Joe's direction. "The boy's small fry in comparison."
Joe grumbled. "This means war!"
"Bring it on—"
Slumping back in his chair, Joe ignored the older men still sharing a laugh at his expense and started working on a press release, which was to announce Con's change of job role from the Bayport Police Department to the Hardy, Riley & Sons Detective Agency. He knew that if he pitched it at the right level, a couple of the local papers would pick up on it, and before long, he'd have another press cutting or two for the album and some free advertising.
It had been a bit of a coup-d'état on Fenton's part, finally getting Con to accept the partnership. Con Riley was a popular public figure within Bayport, and coupled with his experience and history within the police force as a Lieutenant, Joe was confident that he could pull in some extra work by mentioning that he was now with them.
While he was busy doing that, though, Joe was allowing his mind to drift along with the Frank problem, and suddenly was hit with a burst of inspiration after revisiting the conversation he'd had with his brother earlier that morning. He grabbed the phone and put a call through to Nancy Drew who agreed to meet him at a local eatery for a late lunch.
"I gotta go," Joe called out to the other two and started to switch off his computer.
"Where're you going?" Fenton asked.
"Taking your advice," Joe answered. "Meeting with Nancy."
Fenton's phone started to ring and he answered it as Joe was reaching for his jacket and opening the door. "See you later," Joe called out and shot through.