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parked cars.
    â€œWho are the rich kids?” Joe began to say, but again his words were drowned out by the blaring car horn.
    â€œShoreham is gonna show Bayport who’s boss!”
    The speeding car made its way into the row where the group of friends stood. They could all read a large sign that was being waved in the air by one of the car’s occupants.
    â€œShoreham baseball rules,” Frank read aloud.
    â€œThe nerve of those guys!” Chet said. “Coming to our turf before the season’s even started.”
    The convertible drove closer to where everybody was standing. As it approached the group, it began to accelerate.
    â€œWhooh! Yeah!” shouted a boy as the car sped past. He raised both arms and hurled two large, round, wobbly projectiles. The missiles careened through the air, straight at Joe and Callie. Before either of them could move, they were hit, leaving them soaking wet as the Shoreham students sped out of the parking lot.
    â€œWhy those . . .” Joe growled through gritted teeth.
    â€œWater balloons!” Callie shouted at the same time. “I’m soaked, and so are my books!”
    Frank reached into his gym bag and took out afresh towel and handed it to Callie. Joe just stood there dripping.
    â€œI guess I’ll have to get a towel from my locker,” he said. The group began to walk toward the front entrance of the school.
    Just then a police car pulled into the parking lot. It rolled to a stop at the foot of the steps. Con Riley, a senior officer with the Bayport police force, got out of the passenger side. The driver of the car, a uniformed police officer whom nobody recognized, stayed in the vehicle.
    â€œCon!” Frank called out to the man who had helped the Hardys break several cases. “Are you here chasing those punks from Shoreham?” he asked as everyone converged on the police car. “You just missed them.”
    A quizzical look crossed the man’s face. “What are you talking about?”
    â€œThose guys from Shoreham High who just came racing through our parking lot, hurling water balloons,” Joe said. He pointed in the direction in which the red car had driven off.
    â€œI have no idea what you’re babbling about, Joe,” Con said. “But I sure wish something like that was what brought me here.”
    â€œWhy are you here?” Frank asked. He cocked his head toward the patrol car.
    â€œI came as a favor to you and your brother.”
    â€œOh, no—has something happened to Dad?” Joe asked, a worried look crossing his wet face. Theboys’ father, Fenton Hardy, had been a New York City police officer, but years ago he had gone into private practice as a detective.
    â€œThankfully, no,” Con answered.
    â€œSo, what’s the favor?” Joe asked.
    â€œI thought it would smooth things if I was the one to do it, seeing as we’re all friends.”
    â€œCon, you’re scaring me,” Frank said. “Do what?”
    Con pointed a finger.
    â€œIola Morton and Callie Shaw,” he said, “you are hereby placed under arrest.”

4 Clueless at the Police Station
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    â€œWhat do you mean ‘under arrest’?” Chet shouted with shock.
    The uniformed Officer got out of the patrol car.
    â€œI’ll handle this,” Con said, calling over his shoulder. Then he looked at the group of friends. “Just what I said. I have to arrest them.”
    â€œCuffs, sir?” the uniformed officer, apparently a rookie, asked.
    â€œNot for these kids,” Con answered.
    â€œBut procedure?”
    â€œWon’t be necessary, Officer,” Con said through gritted teeth.
    â€œWhat is happening here?” Joe asked.
    Con ignored the question. Instead he turned to Callie and Iola.
    â€œYou have the right to remain silent,” he began.
    â€œFrank,” Callie said. Confusion crossed both girls’ faces.
    â€œJust do what he