Free The Secret of Sigma Seven by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

away.
    â€œExcuse me, Mr. Morwood?” Frank said as he and Joe followed the dealer outside. “Can we talk to you again for a minute?”
    â€œNo,” Morwood snapped, walking at a rapid pace toward the parking lot. “I don’t want anything to do with you guys. Not after this morning.”
    â€œAw, give us a break, Mr. Morwood,” Joe said. “It wasn’t anything personal. We’re just investigating the theft of that film, that’s all.”
    â€œWell, you’ve got no reason to investigate me,” Morwood said in a huffy tone of voice. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, and that’s all you need to know. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”
    Morwood pulled open the rear door of a large van and placed the box of tapes inside. Then he closed the door and walked around to the front. He climbed into the driver’s seat, started up the engine, and drove away, leaving the Hardys alone in the middle of the parking lot.
    â€œWe’d better keep our eye on him,” Frank said. “If he’s got the film, he must have it hidden someplace. Maybe he’ll lead us to it eventually.”
    â€œMaybe he’s taking it away in that van right now,” Joe said.
    Frank shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said. “Not in broad daylight. He’d probably be afraid someone would see him.”
    â€œThis would be a good time to check out Morwood’s room, while he’s gone,” Joe said.
    â€œWe don’t know where he’s staying,” Frank pointed out. “He might not even be rooming in the motel.”
    â€œIt wouldn’t be hard to find out,” Joe said. “We’ll just ask at the desk and tell them that we’re friends of his. It’s an old trick, but it usually works.”
    â€œOkay,” Frank said, turning back toward the motel. “And maybe it’s about time we talked to Simon Devoreaux, too.”
    â€œWe should have talked to him before now,” Joe said as he followed his brother. “But the guy’simpossible to get close to. He’s always got those bodyguards around him. And he doesn’t look particularly friendly.”
    â€œWe’ll just have to figure out a way to get to him,” Frank said.
    The Hardys entered the motel. The registration desk was located next to the elevators, and it took the brothers only a minute to learn that George Morwood was in room 137. They thanked the woman at the desk and headed down the hallway past the elevators.
    When they reached Morwood’s room, Joe paused in front of the door. He looked both ways to see if anyone was watching, then pulled a Swiss army knife out of his pocket.
    â€œThis looks like a pretty easy lock,” he said to his brother. “Tell me if you see anybody coming.” He picked out the little screwdriver from the knife and poked it into the lock mechanism. A moment later there was a click. Joe turned the knob and opened the door.
    Joe stepped inside the room, followed by Frank. He closed the door carefully, then looked around. Morwood wasn’t much of a housekeeper, Joe noted. Clothes were scattered on the floor, on the dressers, and on top of the messy bed. Boxes full of videocassettes were stacked on the floor.
    â€œMaid service must not have been here yet,” Frank said.
    â€œThey ought to get time and a half for doing this room,” Joe said.
    The brothers searched briskly through the clothing and piles of videotapes but found nothing suspicious. Frank opened the door to the closet, but there was nothing inside except a few unused hangers.
    â€œA lot of good this did us,” Frank said. “If Morwood’s got the film, he knows better than to keep it in here.”
    â€œAnd I don’t see any sign of a porcupine costume,” Joe said. “Or an astronaut’s suit. Or the famous green medallion. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
    Joe led his