The Bombay Boomerang Read Free

“I’ll get it,” Frank said to his mother and aunt, who were in the living room sewing.
    Two men stood outside. They had a tough look about them, in spite of their fashionably-cut clothes. Frank sized them up. “Plenty of money,” he thought to himself, “but a couple of slippery characters all the same.”
    â€œWon’t you come in?” he said politely. Joe joined the group in the hall.
    â€œWe’d like to speak to Fenton Hardy,” declared the man in the trench coat and snap-brim hat.
    â€œYeah, important business,” said his partner in the windbreaker and beret.
    The boys said their father was away from home. They did not volunteer any information as to his whereabouts.
    â€œSince your father isn’t here, maybe you can help us,” the first fellow declared in a gravelly voice.
    â€œNot likely!” was the reply that occurred to Joe, but he held his tongue.
    â€œDo you have a Mercury for sale? We were told you advertised a second-hand job. If the price is right, we just might be willing to take it off your hands.”
    Frank and Joe answered that they had never advertised a second-hand car.
    â€œOh. Well, maybe we’ve got the wrong address.”
    As the two men went out, Snap Brim turned around and mentioned the name of a hotel on the Bayport waterfront. “If you hear of anyone with a Mercury that’s in shape for a long drive, let us know! We’re in Room 203.”
    The door shut behind them.
    â€œWhat do you make of those guys?” Joe asked his brother.
    â€œI don’t like their looks,” Frank replied. “Where do types like that get enough money to patronize the best clothing stores? If they have money, why are they living in a waterfront hotel? And why would they be interested in a second-hand car?”
    â€œSeems to me we should do a little investigating. Let’s go to the hotel and call their bluff!”
    Frank went along with that, but another thought occurred to him. “Wait a minute! Biff Hooper’s uncle has an old Mercury. Could be he’s in the market for a buyer.”
    Joe put in a phone call and came back with the report. “Affirmative. The old heap is available for the first guy with ready cash who turns up. You know what this does? It gives us a good excuse to visit our new friends—I use that last term loosely.”
    â€œNew enemies might be more like it,” Frank concurred. “Still, we don’t have much to go on, except appearances. It could be that the Mercury bit is merely a coincidence.”
    Joe chuckled. “Will our faces be red if those fellows really want to buy a second-hand car!”
    Deciding to take no chances, the Hardys asked their pals Biff Hooper and Tony Prito to accompany them to the waterfront. Both were ready, willing, and able.
    Biff, a blond six-footer, knew how to use his fists, and dark-eyed, olive-skinned Tony could always be counted on in a dangerous mission.
    The two roared up the driveway a little later in Biff’s car. “What’s the play?” Tony demanded, jumping out of the bucket seat before the vehicle jolted to a stop.
    â€œHow many desperadoes do we corral this time around?” Biff quipped.
    â€œDon’t crave too much action,” Frank advised. “You might get more than you bargained for!”
    Quickly the Hardys filled them in, after which the four headed for the waterfront. Biff parked on a side street near the hotel, a dilapidated building with shingles askew on the roof, and paint peeling off the walls. The neon lights had half the letters missing.
    The boys got out and advanced cautiously. The front door was open, revealing the small, dingy lobby. A sleazy clerk sprawled over the desk, reading a newspaper.
    After one look, Biff gave his verdict. “My impression is that we’re inspecting the place most likely to have a guest list made up of characters from the rogues’