Read Online The Crisscross Crime by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page B

place. And he had sunglasses and a mustache.”
    â€œWhat’s so creepy about that?”
    â€œIt all looked fake, like the hair was a wig. The mustache didn’t look right either.”
    â€œHey,” Joe said, under his breath. “That must be him.”
    Frank and Biff followed Joe’s gaze out the window. They watched as a redheaded man dressed in a cheap-looking business suit stepped out of an alley between a jewelry store and the bank.
    â€œThat’s him!” Biff confirmed.
    The man stopped outside the bank doors. He glanced around before quickly disappearing inside.
    Joe jumped up. “Yeah, he looks like he’s about to make a mighty big withdrawal.”
    â€œBe cool,” Frank warned as he and Biff followed Joe out. “We don’t want to make a mistake and bust some guy for just looking funny.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Joe said. “If looking funny were a crime, you’d get a life sentence.”
    Biff chuckled out loud.
    The three friends crossed the street quickly, then slowed as they carefully approached the bank. With the afternoon glare, they couldn’t see anything through the smoked-glass windows. The street was nearly deserted.
    â€œHere’s what we do,” Frank whispered. “I’ll walk in like a regular customer. If there’s nothing wrong, I’ll act like I forgot something and walk right back out. If I don’t come out in ten seconds, you know something’s up. Call the police.”
    Joe and Biff nodded.
    Frank set his facial expression on neutral, just a normal guy running a bank errand. Then he walked through the first set of double doors.
    Pausing in the space between the two sets of doors, he felt a cool breeze from the bank’s air-conditioning. Trying to see through the second set of doors, he thought he could make out the shapes of people moving around inside. Things looked normal enough.
    He pushed through the second set of doors and into the bank. The sight inside sent a chill down his spine.
    Five or six bank customers lay on the floor, their hands clasped behind their heads.
    Two tellers rushed around behind the counter, dumping trays of cash into a cloth satchel. One of them sobbed quietly as she worked.
    The redheaded man stood in the center of the room, a gun raised over his head.
    He spotted Frank instantly. “Get down!” he shouted. He took a step toward Frank and brandished the gun in his direction. “Get on the floor—now!”

9 Hit Batsman
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    Outside, Biff and Joe waited. The seconds ticked past.
    â€œSomething’s wrong,” Joe said. “We’ve got to get in there.”
    Biff put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Frank said to call the cops and wait.”
    â€œNo,” Joe said. “That could take too long. Frank might be in trouble.” He took off, leaving Biff with a bewildered expression on his face.
    Joe sprinted across the street to the van. He yanked the sliding door open and pulled out two baseball bats.
    A woman coming out of an ice-cream store stopped and stared at him.
    â€œCall the police!” Joe called to her as he ranback across the street. “Empire Federal’s being robbed.”
    The woman dropped her yogurt to the sidewalk and dashed back inside the ice-cream store.
    Joe tossed a bat to Biff. “I’ll go around to the side,” he said. “Give me ten seconds, then go in the front, fast.”
    Joe ran to the side entrance, counting to himself. He barely had time to catch his breath before he reached ten. Lowering his shoulder, he slammed into the door, hitting it so hard that it swung back into the wall. The glass shattered, showering the floor with tiny glass pellets.
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    Inside, Frank had done as he was told and was lying on the floor, his fingers locked behind his head.
    He felt the redheaded man looming over him, making sure he was complying. When Frank saw the