CHAPTER V

The Mob Scene

"whew!" Chet whistled. "A warning! I knew this was coming!"

The Hardys' faces showed a combination of anger and perplexity. Who had written the note? Someone with a sardonic sense of humor, certainly.

"Let's not say anything about this," Frank suggested. "But we should report that the plane door was open. I'm sure the person who delivered the note is responsible."

"Yes. The hangar is out of the way," Joe agreed. "He might have sneaked in here any time, especially during the night. He knew we'd go over Grafton's plane sooner or later."

"This proves that our movements are being watched a lot more closely than we realized," said Frank soberly, pocketing the note. "I think it's time to check with Dad. Let's go!"

39

40 Mystery of the Desert Giant

The boys learned that Grafton's plane had indeed been broken into and would be more carefully guarded in the future. Back in their motel room, Frank put through a long-distance call to Bayport.

"Hello, Mother! . . . Yes, we're all right. . . . Everything's fine. We're enjoying ourselves very much. . . . Can you put Dad on, please? . . . Oh!"

Covering the mouthpiece with one hand, Frank told his companions, "Dad's case has taken him out of town and Mother doesn't know where to reach him. He left us a message.

"Go ahead, Mother," Frank resumed. For the benefit of Joe and Chet, he repeated the note as Mrs. Hardy read it to him.

"Hold up work at Blythe. . . . Proceed to Los Angeles. . . . Investigate Grafton's business and interview his family. . . . Hope to see you before long. Dad."

The next morning as the three boys loaded their rucksacks, Frank grinningly whispered some order, then they went to the motel office.

"Leaving so soon, boys?" the manager inquired.

"Yes, the country doesn't agree with our friend's appetite," Joe replied.

"No place like home," Chet Morton added.

"If we've left anything behind, will you send it to our address in Bayport?" Frank asked.

"Certainly. Sorry you don't like it here."

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It was not until the three friends had taken off from the county airport that the subject came up again. Then, with a grin, Joe said, "Did we look dissatisfied enough? I was trying to play my part, but I almost burst out laughing instead."

"I think that manager will remember us all right when somebody asks him about us." Frank chuckled.

"He'll say we were in a mighty big hurry to leave Blythe and go back East," Chet joined in the joking.

"Which is just what we want," Frank declared. "Meanwhile, we'll be in Los Angeles digging up clues!"

The flight was a brief one. Soon Frank, Joe, and Chet were installed in a spacious room in one of the city's older downtown hotels. While the brothers unpacked, Chet fussily inspected their quarters.

"Good solid metal fire escape," he announced, glancing out one of the windows.

Chet announced he was going on an errand and went out. An hour later, as Frank and Joe were discussing a plan of action, he returned.

"No more detective work for old Chet today," he announced brightly. "Here we are in Los Angeles, the movie capital of the world. I don't know about you fellows, but I'm going out to a lot and watch them make movies. Behold!"

With a flourish he produced three passes to a

42 Mystery of the Desert Giant

motion-picture lot. "I called up an uncle who lives here in town," he explained. "What about it, fellows?"

"You go ahead, Chet," Frank suggested. "Joe and I will see what we can find out about Grafton and Wetherby at police headquarters, and show the warning note. Meet you back here later."

At headquarters the Hardys spoke to the detective sergeant who had been assigned to the case. "We're really stumped on this Grafton disappearance," the man admitted ruefully. "Nothing to go on. And we don't know much about Wetherby except what the Blythe police could give us."

"Do you think Mrs. Grafton would see us?" Frank inquired.

"Oh, yes. Poor woman, she'll be grateful for your interest. You might stop at Grafton's electronics plant, too. A manager operates it now."

When the detective had finished, Frank revealed what the boys had learned so far, and produced the threatening note.

"You're on to something, all right," agreed the sergeant. "Keep me posted. And call on us any time, day or night, if you're in danger!"

The brothers thanked the sergeant and went back to their hotel. Chet Morton had not returned, but the two movie-lot passes were still on the table. Joe slipped them into his pocket.

"Why not go and meet him?" he suggested. "I

The Mob Scene 43

wouldn't mind seeing a movie in the making myself!"

"Okay," Frank agreed. "We can call on Mrs. Grafton this afternoon."

The movie studio was fairly easy to find. Inside, an attendant checked the brothers' passes and directed them to the proper set, where a picture about Mexico was being filmed. However, they couldn't see the bulky figure of Chet Morton among the other spectators.

In the middle of the set itself a great many people were milling around. Most of the men wore tall, wide Mexican hats. Some were in faded blue jeans with blue denim jackets, while others had on gaily embroidered outfits with silver buckles and beautifully tooled leather belts and boots. All the women wore bright-colored costumes.

"Getting ready for a mob scene," Frank remarked.

Suddenly Joe, whose eyes had been roving over the set, noticed two actors talking earnestly together in a corner. As the two parted, Joe was astonished to see that one was Chet, who was wearing his brand-new sombrero.

"Hi!" the stout boy called out as he spotted the Hardys. He hurried over.

"Who's your friend, Chet?" Joe inquired. By now the man had disappeared in the crowd of actors.

44 Mystery of the Desert Giant

"Oh-just one of the 'extras,' " Chet explained. "He has a walk-on part in all of the mob scenes. When he saw my sombrero he said maybe I could get a job as an 'extra' too. But I can't," the disappointed Chet admitted sadly. "I asked the director. What a thrill it would have been, tool"

"Let's go, then."

After the three left the lot they passed a bank on the street near the studio. Chet called a halt. "I want to go in here a minute, fellows. That poor actor you saw with me can't leave work before the banks close, so I cashed a check for him."

"Say, you want to be careful whose personal checks you accept," Joe observed.

"Oh, this one's okay. It's a United States government check for fifty dollars. It had been made over to Al Van Buskirk-that actor I was talking to-and he endorsed it to me," Chet reassured him, and went into the bank.

A few minutes later the door opened again, but instead of Chet, a uniformed bank guard confronted Frank and Joe!

"Friends of Chester Morton inside?" he asked them gruffly.

When they said yes, the guard asked them to come into the bank. He said Chet was in trouble.

"You're my witnesses, fellows," Chet burst out in a worried voice. "Tell the cashier you know me and I'm honest."

The Mob Scene 45

Briefly, Joe corroborated this statement. The cashier and guard appeared satisfied.

"But what about my money?" Chet wailed. "That check cleaned me out of cash."

"I'm afraid you're out of luck," the cashier said. "We'll turn the counterfeit check over to the Treasury Department, of course."

"Counterfeit!" Frank exclaimed.

"That's right," the cashier said. "A mighty good one, too."

Frank and Joe looked at each other and instantly thought of their father's case. By any chance could Chet's counterfeit check have anything to do with it?

"Say, Joe," his brother whispered, "I think we ought to go back at once and check on that actor."

"Right."

Chet was more than willing. "That guy can't do this to me! Just let me get my hands on him!"

The three boys raced up the street. They dashed past the astounded attendant, who tried to demand their passes. They pounded along the studio pathways, straight into the set and the crowd of extras dressed like Mexicans.

"I want my money back!" Chet bellowed.

Women in the crowd shrieked. Two men were sent sprawling by the sudden charge. Cries of surprise and anger arose from all directions. Someone began to fire blank cartridges. The

46 Mystery of the Desert Giant

shrieks redoubled. Whistles blew. Orders were barked.

On one side an excited little man wearing a blue beret jumped up and down and shouted "Cut! Cut! Cut!" at the top of his lungs.

Meanwhile, Chet was rolling on the ground, wrestling with a big actor who had objected to being run into so hard. When the two had been disentangled, and order had been restored, the small wiry man in the blue beret approached the boys with eyes blazing.

"My gosh-the director!" Chet moaned. "Now we're in for it!"

The little man stepped up briskly and looked Chet up and down. "Mag-nificent!" he exclaimed unexpectedly, clapping the astounded Chet on both shoulders. "Remarkable! The very thing we wanted! Mob violence! Disorder! Wild confusion!"

"You mean . . . you're not mad at me?" Chet faltered.

"Mad at you? No!" The director snapped his fingers enthusiastically. "I'll use that scene."

"You mean you're really going to put all that in a movie? But I still want to find that actor who gave me a phony check-his name is Van Buskirk."

The director looked around the set. "He's gone. We finished the scene he was in just before you stormed the place!"

The Mob Scene 47

"That means I'm broke," Chet said mournfully. "I'll have to sell my infrared camera equipment."

"What are you talking about?" Joe demanded. "We need that in our work."

Frank slapped his woebegone friend on the back. "We'll stake you to the rest of the trip."

Chet grinned. "That's swell of you. But I still want my money back."

"Where does this Al Van Buskirk live?" Frank asked the director.

"I don't know. Ask at the office."

But the office did not know. The man was a wanderer, merely dropped in once in a while, and was paid cash for each job. Disappointed, the young sleuths went out and headed for a restaurant. After a hearty meal, Chet set off to visit his aunt and uncle, while Frank and Joe took a taxi to Willard Grafton's home.

Mrs. Grafton received them graciously. She was an attractive woman, somewhat younger than their own mother, but her husband's disappearance had added lines of sorrow and anxiety to her face.

A brown-haired, freckle-faced boy of about nine came in and eyed the Hardys uneasily. A younger brother, about seven, trailed him a moment later.

"Steve and Mark miss their father very much," Mrs. Grafton explained as she introduced them

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to the Hardys. "I'm bewildered myself," she confided to Frank and Joe when her sons had left the room. "If you only knew how grateful the three of us would be, if you could find my husband- or even discover what happened to him!"

"We'll do our best," the brothers promised.

They learned nothing new from her, except that Willard Grafton had taken no extra clothes with him, which seemed to prove he had no intention of being gone long.

Frank and Joe left the house and proceeded to the new, modern industrial building where Grafton's company still manufactured electronic self-starting devices. The boys climbed to the second floor, where they located a door bearing Grafton's name. They knocked.

A blond secretary opened it about three inches and asked suspiciously through the crack, "Who is it? What do you want?"

"Excuse me," Frank began, "we want to ask some questions about Mr. Grafton."

Before Frank could finish, the heavy door slammed in the boys' faces.