A Killing in the Market Read Free Page A

spell. With a start Frank and Callie pulled away from each other.
    "What the — " Frank said angrily. He turned and was confronted by a shiny black slab, which he immediately recognized as the side of the Hardy van.
    "I see you in there," Joe's voice rang out. "Even though the windows are all steamy."
    Callie slumped back into her seat.
    "Sorry, Callie," Frank said. He stuck his head out the window and called, "Thanks, Joe, for the ride home from Callie's house! If I'd waited for you, I'd still be there."
    "Doesn't look like you minded too much!" Joe answered with a grin.
    They were interrupted just then by a strangled-sounding scream from inside their house.
    "Trouble!" Joe burst from the van, tearing for the house. Callie threw open her door and started running, too, closely followed by Frank.
    "Hope this isn't like the last time we dashed to the rescue," Frank muttered.
    It was. They found Aunt Gertrude standing in the middle of the kitchen, trembling. On the floor, splattered around and on her, was a huge mound of spaghetti with red clam sauce.
    "What happened?" Frank asked. "I thought you were having dinner with Mr. Bayard tonight."
    Aunt Gertrude looked furious. "That's what I thought too," she said through tight lips. "Five o'clock. That's what he said. It's almost six. But is he here yet? No!"
    "Is this what you were going to serve him?" Joe asked, looking at the mess.
    "No, we were going out! But I was going to whip together a little something for you and Frank. And now look what happened. He's got me so angry — "
    Frank thought back. It had been a rocky two weeks since Aunt Gertrude had started seeing Mr. Bayard. At first everything had gone smoothly, but lately Mr. Bayard had stood her up a couple of times. Even though his excuses had always been good, Aunt Gertrude was beginning to feel hurt.
    "Oh, I was so mad at him last week. And then — " Her eyes began to water, and she turned away from her nephews. "Then we took a nice walk last night, and everything seemed fine."
    "Maybe he was called in to his office, like that day last week," Frank suggested. "They may still be in."
    He went to the phone, got the number for Colt Fadiman from Information, and called Mr. Bayard's office.
    "Colt Fadiman, Mr. Bayard's line," a cheerful voice answered.
    "Hello, may I speak to him, please?"
    "I'm sorry, Mr. Bayard is on vacation."
    "Uh — yes. But is there any chance that he might have come in today?"
    The person at the other end chuckled. "Oh, I doubt it. He's been touring Europe for the past few months — "
    "Thank y — Wait a minute, did you say Europe?"
    "Yes, sir. Until at least December first. May I leave a message?"
    Thinking fast, Frank asked, "Well, uh, maybe you can help me. I met several investment counselors at the, uh — convention last month, and I'm not sure I have the correct person. Is Mr. Bayard a tall, thin, gray-haired gentleman?"
    "Oh, no, sir," the other voice chortled. "Mr. Bayard would be so flattered. To tell the truth, he doesn't have much hair left, and he's only five foot seven—and rather, how should I say, heavy-set — "
    "I see," Frank said. "Well, I guess I must have gotten his business card mixed up with someone else's. Thank you."
    "What was that all about?" Joe asked after his brother hung up.
    Frank tapped his fingers on the kitchen table. "Something's very wrong here. The secretary's description didn't match Mr. Bayard at all."
    "What?" Aunt Gertrude said. "I don't understand."
    "Let's go pay our Mr. Bayard a little visit."
    Once again they took the route along Bay Road to Mr. Bayard's place. The cottage was pitch-dark. Frank grabbed a flashlight from the glove compartment, and he and Joe helped Aunt Gertrude and Callie out. The four of them walked silently toward the front door.
    "Not even a porch light," Aunt Gertrude whispered. "Maybe he did spend the day in New York City."
    Frank flicked on the light and boosted himself up to peer in through the front window. "Well, wherever he