Crime in the Cards by Franklin W. Dixon

reassuring squeeze. “ Detective work is like war,” he said. “It’s long periods of boredom followed by short bursts of intense action.”
    Callie folded her arms across her chest and scowled playfully at him. “I think that ‘intense fear’ is the original quote,” she said.
    â€œWe’ll leave the research to you, Callie,” Joe said, smiling.
    Callie sighed. “I’ll have plenty of time for it,” she said.
    â€œWe both will,” Iola added.
    â€œLet’s head for home instead of getting ice cream,” Frank suggested. “I want to have time to prepare for tonight.”
    The others nodded their agreement.
    â€œI’ll try to check the Internet, too,” Chet said. “Maybe find that site Daphne mentioned.”
    â€œGood idea,” said Joe. “Though I doubt you’ll have time to pick up any cards tonight.”
    â€œI need to get some replacements soon,” Chet said, “or I’m sunk.”
    They gathered at Chet and Iola’s house just before nine. The Hardys arrived with Callie in their van. Callie brought a cell phone in order to keep in touch with the brothers. Looking at a map of the area, they picked a spot for the girls to wait with the van. Then they loaded Chet’s bike into the back; the brothers had put their bikes in earlier.
    â€œWhy not just walk from where we park?” Callie asked. “There’s a trail through the woods behind the mall. It cuts over into Magus Hills, a subdivision that’s close to where we’ll be waiting. I used to jog down that path all the time before the mall closed.”
    â€œI’d rather not walk an unfamiliar route at night if we don’t have to,” Frank said.
    â€œMe, either,” Chet added.
    â€œBesides,” Joe said, “we might need quicker transportation if something goes wrong.”
    Callie and Iola glanced uneasily at each other, but neither said anything.
    â€œLet’s roll,” Frank said.
    They piled into the van and soon they arrived at their parking spot: a small park about a half-mile from the mini-mall.
    â€œWe’ll call you once we’ve got the place under surveillance,” Joe said as he and the others got their bikes out of the back of the van.
    â€œGood luck,” Iola said, planting a kiss on Joe’s cheek. She turned to Chet. “Take care of yourself, big brother.”
    Chet smiled confidently. “Don’t worry. We’re the Team Supreme.”
    â€œKeep the bike headlight on all the way, Chet,” Frank said. “Joe and I will cut ours off at the top of the curve just south of the mall. We’ll hang back far enough not to be seen when you arrive. Take your time getting to the north entrance, so we can get into position.”
    â€œIf you need help,” Joe said, “yell and we’ll come flying.”
    â€œCheck,” Chet said.
    â€œYou guys remember to call if you need help, too,” Callie cautioned.
    â€œDon’t worry,” Joe replied. “None of us is about to get hurt over a deck of cards. We’ll holler real loud if the plan goes south.”
    With a final goodbye, Joe, Frank, and Chet got on their bikes and were quickly out of sight.
    The Benson Mini-Mall was in an older section of Bayport. It was one of many such malls that had sprouted up in the mid-1970s only to die from lack of business during the recession of the early ’90s. It sat on a hillside, surrounded by woods and sleepy subdivisions. Below the mall lay the waterfront, above it the affluent neighborhoods of Bayport.
    When they reached the sloping curve just south of the mall, Frank and Joe hit their brakes to let Chet build a comfortable lead on them. The brothers switched off their headlights. Friday night traffic was light, and there was little danger from oncoming cars.
    When the Hardys rounded the curve, they spotted Chet pedaling hard across the cracked and broken