Mystery of the Flying Express Read Online Free

“We’ll only be tied up with Given for a few runs!”
    â€œThere’s not much you boys can do for me at this point in the case. I won’t have a clear picture until I’ve snooped around Shark Island. However, it would be a good idea for you to keep in touch. Here’s my phone number.” Mr. Hardy handed Frank a slip of paper.
    â€œAlso,” he went on, “you’d better activate the electronic beeper on the Sleuth. Even though there haven’t been any thefts up here yet, the gang might expand at any time.”
    Frank nodded. “And we certainly don’t want to lose our boat!”
    Mrs. Hardy packed her husband’s bag. She was a slender, pretty woman who had long since learned what a detective needed in the field. Disguises, bugging devices, emergency rations—all went into the suitcase before she snapped it shut.
    Shortly afterward Fenton Hardy was on his way to Shark Island.
    At breakfast the next morning the phone rang. Joe reached for the instrument with suppressed excitement. “If it’s Dad, perhaps he’s got an assignment for us already!”
    The voice of Chet Morton bubbled through the receiver. “Guess what? Lady Luck is really smiling today. I’ve got a job!”
    â€œNo kidding? As an astrologer?” Joe asked.
    â€œOf course not. I wanted to work for the summer, so I had applied at the Starfish Marina in Cape Cutlass a while ago. Naturally I didn’t expect any answer while the Cancerian conjunctions weren’t right.”
    Joe whistled. “I see. But now they are?”
    â€œYes sir. The moon is marching on through the Zodiac. The owner phoned and told me to report immediately. That’s what I meant yesterday when I said I might only need a one-way ticket.”
    â€œWell, that’s great, Chet. But what about our sleuthing on the hydrofoil? If you’re leaving right away—”
    â€œWho said I won’t wait till tomorrow?” Chet pretended to be hurt. “I promised you I’d come along. I’m a man of my word!”
    â€œOkay. We’ll see you in the morning, then.”
    Frank and Joe started out early the next day to pick up their friends. Callie and Iola were waiting in front of the Morton farm.
    â€œChet left already,” Iola called out. “He said he had some sleuthing work to do—on his own!”
    The two girls were attractive in different ways. Iola Morton, a brunette, had mobile features, sparkling eyes, and a lot of vitality. She was wearing a pink suit. Callie Shaw was blond, tall, and slender. She wore a yellow skirt and striped jacket.
    As they were driving toward the dock, Iola remarked, “I think it was just swell of you boys to invite us along on the Flying Express.”
    â€œI think so, too,” Callie declared. “How did you ever manage to get the tickets?”
    Joe did the explaining while Frank drove. Callie sat up straight, her hands in her lap, and stated primly, “Well, we might have known! Whenever Frank and Joe take us out, we’re bound to end up in the middle of a mystery!”
    â€œI’m not complaining.” Iola laughed. “A ride on the Flying Express is worth a mystery!”
    Frank parked the car and the four got into the line of passengers boarding the hydrofoil. Joe presented the tickets that Spencer Given had provided, and they stepped onto the deck.
    Everything was new and shiny, an attractive combination of fiberglass, chromium, and highly polished wood. The pilot, a salty man about thirty, sat behind the wheel. Given stood beside him, beaming with satisfaction.
    â€œI hope Chet gets here on time,” Joe remarked. “Didn’t he tell you anything about where he was going?”
    Iola shook her head. “No. He said he’d meet us on the Flying Express. He was sure he wouldn’t have any trouble getting aboard, since Given invited him.”
    Frank and Joe walked around the narrow rear