Read Online Trial and Terror by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page B

custody, even traffic tickets.
    Suddenly a flock of pigeons fluttered away. Looking up, Joe noticed a young man in a wornleather jacket standing near the bench. He had a smirk on his face and a very bizarre hairdo. Half his hair was dyed bright red, the other half bright green.
    â€œMind if I sit down?” the man asked.
    â€œNot at all,” Joe said, scooting over to make room at the end of the bench.
    But instead of sitting at the end, the man squeezed in between Joe and Frank.
    â€œDude,” Joe said, annoyed, “we’re having a private conversation here.”
    Very calmly, the man pulled out a knife from his pocket. He pushed a button, and a long blade shot out.
    â€œIs that right?” the man said, touching the blade to Joe’s throat. “Well, right now, I want you to have a little conversation with me.”

9 A Shred of Evidence
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    Frank thought about grabbing the knife, but the man turned to him, keeping the blade on Joe. “You make a move for me,” the man warned, “and your brother gets cut. Got it?”
    Frank nodded in response. “So, what is it you want to discuss?” he said as calmly as he could.
    â€œA very simple business matter,” the man said. “I’ve been instructed by a certain party to tell you two to stop being so nosy. If you don’t, I might have to cut both your noses off. Then you won’t smell so good. Get it?”
    The man with the red-and-green hair laughed a maniacal laugh. Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, he returned the knife to his jacket pocket and walked away.
    Joe sprang to his feet, ready to follow the man, but Frank held him back.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Joe said, his blue eyes flashing with anger. “He pulled a knife on me! Let’s go get the jerk!”
    â€œThat’s precisely why we’re not going to go get the jerk,” Frank said, holding Joe tightly. “Violence isn’t going to get us anywhere. But I think this helps us prove Nick’s innocence. Obviously the real culprit told this guy to scare us off the case.”
    â€œNot necessarily,” Joe said as he watched the red-green man disappear around the corner of a nearby building. “Maybe Garfein sent him, not because he tried to have Karen Lee killed but just because he doesn’t like us nosing into his affairs.”
    â€œMaybe, but I doubt it,” Frank said, finally releasing Joe. “Come on. Since I didn’t let you flatten that creep, I’ll buy you lunch.”
    Soon the Hardys were seated in a delicatessen that was noisy with conversation and clattering plates. Joe was devouring a sandwich piled high with pastrami, while Frank was working on a sandwich of turkey and Swiss cheese.
    â€œOkay,” Joe said, chewing away. “Even though I think Nick is guilty, I’ve come up with another theory. It’s far-fetched, but it makes some sense.”
    â€œLet’s hear it,” Frank said.
    â€œThose reporters said Lisa Velloni will do anything to get a story,” Joe said. “They hinted she might even do something illegal.”
    â€œShe also seemed eager to prove a woman can get a good story as well as a man,” Frank added.
    â€œWhen Lee first got her soap role last May, Velloni did a story on her,” Joe said, lifting a bottle of root beer. “Now, maybe, just maybe, Velloni staged a murder attempt on Lee. She probably didn’t intend to kill her. But she knew it would make a story as juicy as this pastrami. And she figured she could get exclusive rights to the story because she and Lee were already acquainted.”
    â€œI don’t know, Joe—” Frank started.
    â€œRemember,” Joe continued, “getting exclusive rights to Lee is a big break for Velloni. This trial isn’t a powder-puff piece, and Velloni has the inside track on it. She’s making more money than the other reporters, and when the trial’s over she