The Dead Season by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

mine, right?" snapped the gunman. "Look at this. Don't you see what it means?"
    "No," sobbed Heather, sounding afraid.
    The Hardys rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs and sneaked a look out at the boat. There, in the light of the glowing torch, stood the gunman and Heather.
    They were about fifty feet away from the boat, and each of them was still holding a gun.
    The gunman was hovering over another skeleton, a second one, that was in a crouched position clutching a gun.
    "It's only fair," said the gunman.
    "What?" asked Heather.
    "That I get to keep all the jewels."
    "Why?"
    "It's obvious that Wiley could never have operated without my grandfather's help, and Wiley betrayed him."
    "I don't see it that way," said Heather, now raising her automatic at the gunman.
    "What you see doesn't concern me anymore," said the gunman, and he slowly raised the black mask to reveal his face.
    It was Brady Jamison.
    "We had a deal!" cried Heather.
    "Look at him," said Brady, pointing at the remains of his grandfather. "Wiley Reed did that."
    He knelt beside the skeleton and lifted the gun from its bony grasp.
    "This debt has to be paid!" cried Brady as he threw the old gun at Heather.
    Catching her off guard, he swung his gun in her direction. Laughing, he pulled the trigger at point-blank range.

Chapter 17
    The bullet grazed Heather on the arm, and she screamed and fell to the ground.
    Joe yelled an angry "No!" and charged straight at Brady, tackling him just as he squeezed off another bullet. The impact of Joe's charge caused the bullet to fly harmlessly up in the air, and the gun flew out of Brady's hand as he and Joe tumbled to the ground.
    Frank ran to retrieve the gun.
    Once again Brady would not surrender easily.
    He landed a quick jab to Joe's throat that stunned Joe momentarily, but adrenaline revived him almost instantly.
    He used his weight and strength to roll Brady over onto his back, and then Joe knocked the man out with a single blow.
    Joe slowly got to his feet and stood over Jamison. He stared at the killer for several seconds and then walked away in disgust.
    With gun in hand Frank helped Jamison to his feet and began to lead him back off the wharf toward the stairs.
    Joe approached Heather slowly.
    No matter what she had done, he still had feelings and cared for her.
    She lay on the ground, crying softly to herself. The wound in her arm was not serious. Luckily for her, Brady Jamison was not such a great shot.
    Still Joe said, "Are you okay?"
    She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and nodded her head yes.
    "Why?" Joe asked, shaking his head.
    Heather studied him for a long time and then said, "I'm not sure anymore."
    ***
    The next morning Joe was the last one down to the dining room for breakfast.
    Frank was sitting next to Callie on one side of the big table, and across from them were Gary and Janet.
    Joe was surprised to see that Sergeant Wrenn was also there.
    "Morning," said Joe as he walked to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of orange juice.
    " Good morning," they said in unison.
    Janet got up from her chair and said, "Can I get you some eggs and bacon?"
    "Yes, please," said Joe, and Janet smiled and headed for the kitchen.
    Frank said, "Well, now that Joe's here, we can get started answering Sergeant Wrenn's questions."
    "That would be helpful," said Sergeant Wrenn.
    He took a sip of coffee and put down his cup. He reached into a shirt pocket and took out a small notebook and pen. "I'm not exactly certain where we should begin," he said. "I hope you can clarify the many confusions I have."
    "We'll try," said Frank.
    Sergeant Wrenn began, "Well, I guess we should start with what we know. Brady Jamison was the person posing as the ghost running around Runner's Harbor."
    "Yes," said Callie, "but I'm not sure why."
    "Yeah," said Gary. "All along we thought Randolph Tyler was behind our problems. Say, why didn't he buy the hotel two years ago when we did?"
    "Actually," said Frank, "he just didn't have