The Shore Road Mystery Read Free

chair. “Sorry I couldn’t meet you fellows at the beach today, but I’ve been kind of busy with my work.”
    â€œYour work?” Joe repeated. Work was not one of Chet’s strong assets.
    He reached for an olive as Mrs. Hardy said, “How about some dinner? I’ll get you a plate.”
    â€œNot tonight, thanks, Mrs. Hardy.”
    Aunt Gertrude raised her eyebrows. Seldom did the stout boy turn down an offer of food!
    Frank and Joe hid smiles behind their napkins. Finally Frank urged, “Come on, Chet, something’s in the air. It’s not like you to—”
    Joe was not paying attention. He interrupted to say, “Listen! I just heard a noise from the driveway. It sounded like a door of Dad’s car being shut!”
    The three boys rushed out to the back porch. “Look!” cried Joe.
    A hulking figure was getting into Mr. Hardy’s sedan. Another man was already in the car.
    â€œStop!” Frank ordered.
    Tearing down the steps, the boys ran across the lawn. The men jumped out and dashed down the driveway to the street. In an instant they were picked up by a waiting car, which roared away. The boys gave chase but to no avail. Identification was impossible because the driver had put out the lights and the license number could not be seen.
    â€œPretty daring thieves!” Chet commented. The boys hurried back to Mr. Hardy’s automobile. Finding no damage, Frank drove it into the garage and locked the door.
    â€œThose guys sure had a nerve trying to steal a detective’s car,” Chet remarked as they re-entered the house. “Any special reason, do you suppose?”
    â€œThey probably didn’t know Dad’s away,” said Frank, “and thought this would handicap him if he should be working on the car thefts.”
    â€œThis may have been our first look at some of the Shore Road gang,” Frank concluded.
    After reporting the attempted theft to the police, the boys went to the living room, where Chet proceeded to explain his latest project.
    â€œI’m studying dietary survival.” He took a book from a pocket and tapped the cover. Chet brought a carrot from another pocket and bit loudly into it before tossing the book to Joe. Its title was Vegetable Survival in the Wilderness.
    â€œSounds interesting, Chet,” he said. “But what brought this on? You’ve always been the biggest eater in Bayport High.”
    â€œCommon sense,” Chet intoned. “You see, we live in a dangerous world, never knowing where our next meal may come from. So, I figure to learn a little botany in case I’m ever marooned on a jungle island or too far from a hot-dog stand. In other words, herbivorous survival.”
    â€œHerb—” Frank stared.
    â€œPlant eating, for you laymen,” Chet said, nibbling a second carrot. “I’ve decided to live on vegetables and fruits between visits to the museum and library to study.”
    â€œAnd how long is this going to go on, Chester Morton?” demanded Aunt Gertrude as she came in. “No more chocolate fudge cake—ever?”
    Chet shifted in his chair and swallowed. “I haven’t worked out the—er—details yet, Miss Hardy. It depends upon my—er—further research.”
    Frank grinned as his aunt shook her head in puzzlement and left the room. “Well, we sure wish you luck, Chet,” he said. “Sounds pretty austere to me.”
    â€œI’ll make it,” Chet declared. “Tell me about your swim.”
    The Hardys told their friend of all the adventures on Shore Road that afternoon, of their plans to help Jack Dodd, and of the theft of Jerry’s new car.
    Chet’s eyes bugged out. “Wow! I sure feel sorry for Jerry. I hope the police catch those thieves.”
    Later, as the boys were listening to a television newscast, the speaker said the police had not yet apprehended the thieves.
    â€œSure is a tough