Nightmare in Angel City Read Online Free
Author: Franklin W. Dixon
his tracks.
"My wallet. It's gone," he said with a note of disbelief. "That kid picked my pocket." "You mean that kid?" Joe said. The young man was creeping toward an alley.
"Right. Him," Frank replied angrily. He shouted, "Hey, you! Give me back my wallet."
The young man looked up with round, startled eyes and then darted into the alley. The Hardys - tore after him but stopped when they entered the galley. The young man was no longer fleeing; he was standing halfway down the concrete canyon, watching them defiantly. Cautiously, they move forward again.
As their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the alley, the brothers gradually picked out shapes moving in some of the darkened doorways. Joe and Frank slowed to a halt as, one by one, the shapes took human form and inched forward to surround them.
Frank clenched his fists. "Get ready," he muttered to Joe. "Looks like we're in for it."
Chapter 4
The Hardys pressed their backs together. "Take out as many as you can," Frank whispered to Joe, "before we make a break for it." From every direction the menacing figures continued to stalk them. Then suddenly they began to snicker among themselves, until the alley seemed to become filled with laughter.
"Okay, guys, that's enough!" cried a voice.
To the brothers' surprise, the people turned away as they were just an arm's length from the Hardys.
From a doorway stepped a woman. It was too dark to see her face, but in the light from the street the Hardys could see she was dressed in a ragged jacket and blue jeans. Her head, covered by a ski cap, appeared to be too small for her body. Then Joe realized that she, too, was wearing several layers of clothing. In her hands were several bulging shopping bags.
With a quavering voice the woman said, "So you think this poor boy has your wallet?"
Frank blinked and strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the bag lady's face. Despite the distorted way she had spoken, he knew that voice!
"Callie?" he said cautiously. Everyone broke into uproarious laughter again, and, grinning, Callie Shaw strode into the light.
"Callie Shaw!" Joe snapped angrily. "What are you doing? Frank's been going nuts wondering what's happened to you."
"Nice to see you, too, Joe," Callie said.
The circle of street people stepped aside, and Frank moved close to Callie. "What's going on here? Why are you dressed like that? Who are these people?" Involuntarily, he wrinkled his nose.
"The smell," Callie whispered. "I know. It took me a while to get used to it too." She gestured to the street people and raised her voice. "Everyone, these are my friends, Frank and Joe Hardy. Meet Adrienne, Frank and Joe."
A small woman, barely older than Frank, nodded slightly. She wore blue jeans, a sweatshirt, and old sneakers with the toes worn through. "Pleased to meet you," she said.
"Bob and Jimmy." Two men—the first black, wearing a short windbreaker and corduroy trousers, and the second, white and bearded—grinned and said, "Howdy."
An older man with cowboy boots and a three-day stubble leaned toward the Hardys. "I'm Charlie," he said. "You can call me Charlie."
Callie flagged forward the boy who had taken Frank's wallet. "Okay, Lewis. You can give Frank his wallet back. Don't worry, he won't hurt you." To Frank and Joe she said, "I needed some way to get you to come to me without showing myself."
The boy called Lewis moved toward them, the wallet stretched out before him. Frank took the billfold as Lewis backed away quickly into the darkness.
Callie watched Frank check the contents of his wallet. "Come on, Frank!" she said, annoyed. "They're not thieves, they're street people."
"We're artists," Bob corrected her. "Just down on our luck."
"You still haven't explained what you're doing here," Joe told Callie.
"Yeah, Callie," Frank said, angry now. "You told me on the phone you were in trouble. We were cut off with a clunk — I thought you might be dead."
"I'm sorry if I scared you. But I really am in trouble.
"My wallet. It's gone," he said with a note of disbelief. "That kid picked my pocket." "You mean that kid?" Joe said. The young man was creeping toward an alley.
"Right. Him," Frank replied angrily. He shouted, "Hey, you! Give me back my wallet."
The young man looked up with round, startled eyes and then darted into the alley. The Hardys - tore after him but stopped when they entered the galley. The young man was no longer fleeing; he was standing halfway down the concrete canyon, watching them defiantly. Cautiously, they move forward again.
As their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the alley, the brothers gradually picked out shapes moving in some of the darkened doorways. Joe and Frank slowed to a halt as, one by one, the shapes took human form and inched forward to surround them.
Frank clenched his fists. "Get ready," he muttered to Joe. "Looks like we're in for it."
Chapter 4
The Hardys pressed their backs together. "Take out as many as you can," Frank whispered to Joe, "before we make a break for it." From every direction the menacing figures continued to stalk them. Then suddenly they began to snicker among themselves, until the alley seemed to become filled with laughter.
"Okay, guys, that's enough!" cried a voice.
To the brothers' surprise, the people turned away as they were just an arm's length from the Hardys.
From a doorway stepped a woman. It was too dark to see her face, but in the light from the street the Hardys could see she was dressed in a ragged jacket and blue jeans. Her head, covered by a ski cap, appeared to be too small for her body. Then Joe realized that she, too, was wearing several layers of clothing. In her hands were several bulging shopping bags.
With a quavering voice the woman said, "So you think this poor boy has your wallet?"
Frank blinked and strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the bag lady's face. Despite the distorted way she had spoken, he knew that voice!
"Callie?" he said cautiously. Everyone broke into uproarious laughter again, and, grinning, Callie Shaw strode into the light.
"Callie Shaw!" Joe snapped angrily. "What are you doing? Frank's been going nuts wondering what's happened to you."
"Nice to see you, too, Joe," Callie said.
The circle of street people stepped aside, and Frank moved close to Callie. "What's going on here? Why are you dressed like that? Who are these people?" Involuntarily, he wrinkled his nose.
"The smell," Callie whispered. "I know. It took me a while to get used to it too." She gestured to the street people and raised her voice. "Everyone, these are my friends, Frank and Joe Hardy. Meet Adrienne, Frank and Joe."
A small woman, barely older than Frank, nodded slightly. She wore blue jeans, a sweatshirt, and old sneakers with the toes worn through. "Pleased to meet you," she said.
"Bob and Jimmy." Two men—the first black, wearing a short windbreaker and corduroy trousers, and the second, white and bearded—grinned and said, "Howdy."
An older man with cowboy boots and a three-day stubble leaned toward the Hardys. "I'm Charlie," he said. "You can call me Charlie."
Callie flagged forward the boy who had taken Frank's wallet. "Okay, Lewis. You can give Frank his wallet back. Don't worry, he won't hurt you." To Frank and Joe she said, "I needed some way to get you to come to me without showing myself."
The boy called Lewis moved toward them, the wallet stretched out before him. Frank took the billfold as Lewis backed away quickly into the darkness.
Callie watched Frank check the contents of his wallet. "Come on, Frank!" she said, annoyed. "They're not thieves, they're street people."
"We're artists," Bob corrected her. "Just down on our luck."
"You still haven't explained what you're doing here," Joe told Callie.
"Yeah, Callie," Frank said, angry now. "You told me on the phone you were in trouble. We were cut off with a clunk — I thought you might be dead."
"I'm sorry if I scared you. But I really am in trouble.
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