Thick as Thieves Read Free

to check out the decorating. They ran for the living-room door and rushed into the lit space.
    In the middle of the living room was a lamp, trained on the window. Between the window and the light was a record player, its turntable moving round and round. Riding around was a cardboard cutout shaped like a woman's head and shoulders. The shadow cast by the light seemed to move back and forth across the curtains. Cords from both the light and the record player ran to a small portable generator in a corner of the room.
    That was it — there was no sign of Charity.
    "A trick!" Joe roared. "She's not here at all."
    "What's that noise?" Frank cut across Joe's yelling. From somewhere came a low hum, like that of a giant electric fan that was growing louder and louder.
    "Outside!" Joe dashed for the front door.
    "I've got a bad feeling about this," Frank said, following on the heels of his brother. "Remember old man Miller, back when we were kids? How he used to entertain at fairs?"
    "Barnstorming," Joe recalled. "He did flying tricks in an old biplane."
    "And his barn is built to store a plane," Frank said, leading the way now, to the barn. "That's how she's going to get out of here! She has a plane stashed here."
    They flung open the barn doors, and a blast of air hit them in the face. The single engine of a biplane roared in their ears. The boys rushed in, raising their arms to keep the blowing dust out of their eyes. They could just make out a woman sitting in the pilot's seat.
    "Charity," Joe yelled, but his voice was drowned by the engine noise. There was a grinding of machinery behind him, and he turned—too late—to see the barn doors closing. There wasn't enough space for them to get out.
    "Frank!" Joe shouted. "The doors!"
    They rushed over and pressed their hands against the doors, struggling to keep them open, but strong motors forced them shut. Charity stuck a remote control out the side window, and on her lips she plastered a smile.
    Bits of straw were sucked into the propeller and were shredded. As Frank and Joe pressed back against the barn door, the plane began to move forward.
    The propeller, slicing everything in its way, was aimed straight at them.

Chapter 3
    "SCRAMBLE," FRANK YELLED, diving to the ground to avoid the whirling blade. Joe rolled under a wing as the plane passed over him.
    With a laugh, Charity aimed the remote control at the barn doors again and pressed a button. They swung wide open, and the plane rolled away from the Hardys and out into the night.
    "Stop her!" Joe yelled. He leapt for the tail of the plane, which rolled along on a single wheel. He was too late. The biplane was already in the air.
    Charity was out of reach.
    "It figures she'd be able to fly a plane," Joe said, brushing himself off after his hard landing. "She's an expert at everything else. We'll never catch her."
    "Maybe," Frank said, every bit as annoyed as Joe by the escape. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't try. She's obviously been using this place as her base of operations. Maybe she left something behind to trace her by." They went back to the house.
    A search of the bedrooms and kitchen turned up nothing. Neither did a check of the record player.
    As Joe moved the lamp that had shone on the window, a tiny scrap of paper fluttered out from under the bottom of it and settled near his shoe. He picked it up and studied it. It looked like a duplicate from an order form, with serial numbers on it.
    "I think I found something," he called to Frank.
    Frank walked over to Joe and took the paper from him. "I'd say it was a piece of a receipt. It looks vaguely familiar, but I'm not sure why or where it's from."
    Joe sighed. "One thing I am sure about is that there's nothing else to find here. We'd better get back to town and give them the bad news."
    The mood back at the museum was bleak. A line of police officers barricaded both ends of the street that the museum was on, keeping reporters and TV camera crews out. Frank and Joe were