Mystery of Smugglers Cove Read Free Page A

Mr. Wester?”
    Wester took another photograph out of his desk and handed it to Frank. “Here he is.”
    â€œCan you tell us anything else about him?” Frank went on. “Does he have a family and friends? Where did he live before he worked for you? Who recommended him to you?”
    Wester shrugged. “He’s been with me for a year. I hired him after his boss, an acquaintance of mine, passed away. I know nothing about his family or where he came from. He never mentioned it and I never asked.”
    The art collector could provide no further information about his secretary, so the boys left. On the way to police headquarters, they discussed the strange case.
    â€œHow do you like being called a crook?” Joe grumbled. “Wester is definitely suspicious of us. And why would he want to see us—alone—before telling the police?”
    Frank nodded in disgust. “I don’t trust that housekeeper of his. I bet she knew about the secret passage and locked us into that room on purpose. ”
    Joe shrugged. “She said she wanted to call Wester but that he was on the phone. And we saw he was when we went into his study.”
    â€œShe could have heard it ring and used it as an excuse,” Frank said, unconvinced. He parked in front of Chief Collig’s office, and the boys went inside to see their old friend, who had helped them on many of their cases.
    The chief, a tall, burly man with ruddy cheeks, happened to be at his desk when they entered. “Boys, what can I do for you?” he asked in a friendly tone.
    Joe placed the two fingerprints from the Wester house in front of him. “We’d like to know if these match.”
    The chief squinted at the young detectives. “You’re on another case, aren’t you? Want to tell me about it?”
    The Hardys described their visit to Raymond Wester’s home and mentioned Wester’s suspicion that they had had a hand in stealing his painting.
    Collig whistled. “That puts you in the hot seat, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll see what I can do to get you off.”
    He led the way to the police crime laboratory and placed the two fingerprints under a dual microscope that he adjusted until the prints meshed at the edges. For a moment he peered intently through the eyepiece, then said, “They’re not the same. See for yourselves.”
    Frank and Joe, who were skilled in the science of fingerprints, took turns at the microscope.
    â€œMorphy’s print is a loop,” Joe noted. “The print from the wall is a double loop.”
    â€œThey’re from two different people,” Frank agreed. “I wonder who the other one is.”
    â€œLet’s see if we have anything on that,” Collig offered. He went to his file of fingerprint cards and thumbed through them. After a few moments, he shook his head. “Nothing here. Your man is not a known local criminal. I’ll wire the print to the FBI in Washington. Maybe they can identify it for you.”
    The chief added that he would look into the robbery at the Wester house. The Hardys drove home feeling reassured by Collig’s support.
    Their father, a New York City detective turned private investigator, had just arrived a few minutes earlier.
    â€œI know Key Blanco,” he said after hearing their story. “It’s a center for smuggling in the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. But Frank and Joe Hardy, alleged crooks! That’s a new one in this family.” He chuckled.
    Mrs. Hardy frowned anxiously. “I think this case is too dangerous,” she said in a worried tone.
    Aunt Gertrude sniffed. “Laura, it happens all the time,” she said. “Frank and Joe can find danger anywhere, even in the house of a respectable banker.”
    â€œPerhaps Wester’s the crook,” Joe said, grinning. “He may have robbed his own painting.”
    Gertrude Hardy shook her head in mock despair, then smiled.