Free Terror at High Tide by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

disappeared, and we can see whether Alicia’s reported him missing. I also want to get into the museum again.”
    When Frank signaled to the waiter to bring the check, Callie said, “The strangest development in the case is Alicia’s weird behavior. Why would she want you guys off the case? And what evidence does she have that her dad’s okay?”
    Joe shrugged. “I wonder if she sabotaged the sailboard—to scare us away. She knew we were coming over to the house. She could have planted the sailboard by the beach, knowing that one of us might take it out while we were waiting for her to come home.”
    â€œNo way, Joe,” Callie said hotly, her eyesflashing with annoyance. “Alicia would never hurt anyone. That theory’s even crazier than suspecting Mr. Ferrier of kidnapping.”
    â€œMaybe,” Joe agreed. “But you must admit that Alicia knows more than she’s telling. What if her dad stole something from the museum and then disappeared to make it look like he was kidnapped?”
    Frank looked at Joe with curiosity. “And Alicia’s helping him?” he asked.
    â€œEither she’s helping him, or she found out about his crime and doesn’t want to turn her own father in.”
    â€œYou guys,” Callie said, pushing back her chair. “Let’s get out of here. That lobster’s made you crazy.”
    â€œJust the opposite,” Frank said with a grin. “Your theory’s pretty sharp, Joe. I wish I’d thought of it myself.”
    â€œThanks, Frank,” Joe said, taking the check from the waiter. “All in a day’s work.”
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    â€œLooks like no one’s home,” Joe said from the sidewalk outside Roberto Scarlatti’s house. “There’s only one small light in the downstairs hall.”
    â€œGood,” Frank said as he scanned the mansion. He led the way up the porch stairs and tested the door. “Still locked,” he muttered.
    â€œLet’s see if we can find an open window somewhere.”
    Frank, Joe, and Callie explored the wraparound porch. “Here’s an open window with a screen,” Frank said from the side of the house. “Let’s see if I can pry it open.”
    Using the flat edge of his pocketknife, Frank was able to lift the screen, and he, Joe, and Callie crawled inside. Overstuffed living room furniture, faintly lit by the hall light, loomed up around them.
    â€œI sure hope no one’s home,” Callie whispered, taking a few steps toward the hall. “Whoa!” An unearthly howl pierced the silence as Callie stumbled. Frank reached to help Callie, his heart hammering in his chest.
    â€œI think it was a cat,” Callie said with a nervous laugh. “I felt something soft brush against my legs as I tripped.”
    A muffled thump came from the hallway, followed by a louder bang. “That’s no cat,” Joe whispered, moving quietly toward the sound.
    â€œIt’s coming from under the stairs,” Frank said as he followed Joe. “But I don’t see a closet door there.”
    â€œI’ll bet it’s Scarlatti’s secret passageway,” Joe said excitedly. “And Mr. Geovanis is stashed in there.”
    â€œIf it is a secret passageway, there must be abutton or a spring somewhere that opens it,” Callie said. “Let’s see if we can find it.”
    Callie ran her fingers over the molding under the stairs while Frank and Joe pressed the panels along the side of the stairs.
    â€œI think I’ve got it!” Callie exclaimed. Her finger rested on a piece of molding just above her head. “There’s a tiny button hidden here.” Callie pressed it, and a panel sprung open under the stairs. A faint moan came from inside.
    It’s got to be Mr. Geovanis, Joe thought. He peered inside, then gasped in amazement as someone fell into his arms.

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