CONTENTS

  1 SCIENCE FAIR COUNTDOWN

  2 MEET MR. ROBOTO

  3 OFF TO THE FAIR!

  4 THE SIX WS OF SOLVING CRIMES

  5 THE USUAL SUSPECT

  6 THE CHASE IS ON

  7 THE FURRY BANDIT

  8 A SECOND LOOK

  9 MYSTERY MAN

  10 THE RACE IS ON!

  Hardy Boys Comic Strip

  1

  Science Fair Countdown

  Joe moved around the cramped garage. He squeezed past cardboard boxes, a pile of rusty rakes and shovels, and the old kitchen table his mom had refused to throw out. The Hardys had two garages side by side. His father parked his car in one, and the other was the place the family stored all the things they didn’t use—like his dad’s collection of posters from old police movies.

  Joe grabbed the metal sled propped against the wall. “Look!” he yelled over his shoulder. “What do you think, Frank? I bet we could use this for finishing the robot’s back.”

  A voice crackled from outside the garage door. “This is Agent Hardy requesting Agent Hardy’s assistance. Come in?” When Joe turned back, he noticed a small walkie-talkie sitting on the grass outside the garage door. Frank’s voice sounded again. “Come in? Come in?”

  Joe took the sled out of the garage, careful not to step on any of the old knitting magazines his mom was saving. He dropped the sled on the grass and grabbed the walkie-talkie, pressing the button on the side. “Heard you loud and clear, Frank. Over and out.”

  “Requesting assistance at the back exit—” Frank said, his voice interrupted by static.

  Joe ran to the back door just in time to open it. Frank strode through, carrying a whole stack of flat silver pans. A few rolls of tinfoil were stacked on top of the pans. “Look what Mom gave me. They have to be good for something, right? Then we can see if Phil can use these old walkie-talkies to make the robot speak.”

  “This is perfect,” Joe said. He held up the sled. “I was thinking we could use this to cover its back, where some of the wires stick out. Now we just need to find that silver paint we were looking for. . . . ”

  Frank set the pans and foil on the lawn. They had enough to finish up the robot tonight. “I can’t believe the science fair is tomorrow. Those judges would be crazy not to pick us!”

  It was Friday afternoon, and at noon the next day was the Bayport Science Fair. Frank and Joe had spent the last three weeks working with one of their best friends, Phil Cohen, on their project.

  Phil had been obsessed with electronics ever since they were in first grade. He always had the latest computer or video game. Other kids from Bayport spent their afternoons playing baseball or camping out by the school jungle gym. But Phil took apart computers or helped his mom fix the broken appliances in his house. One time Frank and Joe came over after he had dissected his father’s old treadmill, just to see how it worked.

  With Phil on their team this year, the boys decided to make a robot. They’d finished up most of the robot’s insides, and they had already hooked up the parts that made its arms move. Plus, they had a cool feature. Frank had found a busted stereo in the attic, and after Phil fixed it and installed it, if you pushed a button, music came out of the robot’s ears! For the first time, they actually had a real chance of winning the fair.

  “I don’t know what Cissy is bringing to the fair this year,” Frank said, “but I sure hope we can compete with it.”

  Cissy Zermeño, one of their friends from their baseball team, won the science fair nearly every year. The year before, she’d won by finding out how plants respond to music. The year before that, she did an experiment where she used a plastic tennis ball container to speak underwater. Sometimes it seemed like no one could top Cissy’s projects. The judges, who worked at the Natural History Museum in the city, were always impressed.

  “I heard Adam is making another volcano,” Joe said. “It’s probably the same one he used last year.”

  Frank shook his head. Normally, he’d feel bad for someone who brought the same project to the science fair every year, but Adam Ackerman was different. He was the biggest bully in Bayport. Kids flinched every time they passed him in the halls. In the last two months he’d put a toad in their friend Callie’s book bag and had threatened to punch Chet Morton just because Chet “looked at him funny.” And he was constantly shoving Phil whenever he saw him. Adam spent so much time in the principal’s office that people joked he had a special seat reserved for him.

  “Callie won’t tell anyone what her project is, and Melissa and Todd are keeping theirs a secret too,” Frank added.

  “I can’t wait to see what Phil did,” Joe said. They were storing the robot a few blocks away in Phil’s garage. He’d found a used blender at a yard sale and had taken the motor out. Tonight, after they got the last of their supplies, they were going to help him put it in the robot’s neck. With one push of a button, it would make the robot’s head spin! “Who else could make a robot that plays music? Or whose head goes around in circles?”

  “Or one that can move its arms like this?” Frank stood perfectly straight, imitating the five-foot-tall robot. He bent his arms at right angles and shuffled around. The whole time he kept his body completely stiff.

  “I am the smartest robot on earth,” Joe said in a mechanical voice. He walked around the same way Frank did, each movement stiff. “I will fight you with my laser-beam eyes.”

  They kept walking around like that. “Robots will take over the world!” Frank yelled. He raised both his arms in the air. “Robots unite!”

  Joe karate-chopped Frank’s shoulder with one flat hand. “I’m a warrior robot from Mars!” he yelled. “I will ruin you!”

  They moved across the yard in slow motion and pretended to battle. The whole time Frank’s face never changed. It was perfectly still, like it was made of metal.

  “Am I interrupting?” someone with a familiar voice called out. The boys turned to see their dad, Mr. Hardy, standing on the back porch. He was holding a silver paint can. “Were you robots looking for this?”

  The boys froze in place, still pretending to be robots. Mr. Hardy didn’t miss a beat. He set the paint can down on the steps and jumped into position, his back straight as he shuffled past them. “I am father robot from Mars!” he said. “I will eat your brains!”

  The boys ran from him. He chased them around the yard, then tackled them in one of his big hugs. They laughed so hard their sides hurt. “We need our brains, Dad!” Frank yelled as he wriggled free of Mr. Hardy’s grip. “We have the science fair tomorrow!”

  2

  Meet Mr. Roboto

  A few hours later Frank and Joe were at Phil’s house. After many weeks of work, their robot was almost done. “It’s still not as good as I want it to be,” Phil said, pressing the tinfoil around the robot’s neck. He stood on a chair as he did it, using the last of the foil to cover the motor he had put in. “The head doesn’t spin around fast enough, and I can’t get him to really walk the way I wanted him to. The feet aren’t locked on tight enough either. . . . ”

  “It’s fantastic, Phil—really, it is,” Frank said. He painted the robot’s side with the silver paint their father had given them. “Don’t sweat the small stuff—that’s what our mom always says.” He glanced down at Joe, who was working on the robot’s feet—two remote-control cars that shot out from the body. They’d known Phil since kindergarten, and he’d always been a perfectionist. Even if he made a rocket ship that blasted to the moon, he would think it could’ve been better. They always tried to remind him how amazing his inventions were.

  “We just have to wait for the paint to dry,” Joe said. “Then it’ll be done!” They’d used a trash can for the robot’s body, with an old radio for the head. Phil had finished the last of the electronics. There was no way they wouldn’t win. The robot looked like he’d stepped out of a Hollywood movie!

  Phil kneeled down. He wedged the foot in, but it came loose again. “This won’t fit right,” he said. He tried to lock the car into the robot’s body, but it was still wobbly. “Maybe we should use something else—like bike tires?”

  “We might just have to leave it that way.” Joe shrugged. “But I don’t think they’ll notice after this. . . . ” He pressed two buttons on the robot’s front and the head spun around. Music blasted from the robot’s ears.

  “I’ve never seen anything so cool!” Frank said. He couldn’t stop smiling.

  A loud barking came from down the street. Phil’s house was at the top of a big hill. They could see all of Bayport from there. Wilmer Mack, an older man who was Phil’s neighbor, was walking up the road with his dog, Lucy. “Whoa, slow down, girl!” he yelled. “It’s not going to hurt you!” The dog broke free and ran at the robot. She stood in front of it, baring her teeth. She wouldn’t stop barking.

  Mr. Mack walked up to the garage door and put his hands on his hips. “Well, I’ll be!” he said. “That’s the neatest robot I’ve ever seen.” As he spoke he grabbed Lucy’s collar to pull her back.

  “We built it for the science fair tomorrow,” Phil explained.

  Frank clasped his hands together. “We want to win, but we have some tough competition. Cissy always has the coolest projects. She usually comes in first.”

  Mr. Mack smiled. He was about to say something, but Lucy caught sight of a squirrel in his front yard. She started toward it, yanking Mr. Mack away. “I’d say good luck,” he yelled over his shoulder, “but you guys don’t need it!”

  More hopeful than ever , Frank and Joe watched Mr. Mack go. Tomorrow, at the Bayport Science Fair, they might finally take first place.

  • • •

  The next morning Frank and Joe practically ran to Phil’s house. They kept imagining the judges’ faces when they saw the robot. They would ooh and ahh as the robot’s head spun. They’d watch its arms move and how it rolled forward and backward on the remote-control cars. They had to love it. The robot was incredible. Even Mr. Mack had said so! They had worked on the robot after dinner the night before, putting the walkie-talkies in so they could make the robot speak. How could they not get a ribbon this year?

  As they ran up the big hill they saw Adam Ackerman coming down it. He was holding his project, but it was covered in a sheet. It looked like a papier-mâché volcano was hidden underneath. “Hi, Adam!” Frank called out quickly. They didn’t want to ignore him, but they didn’t want to stop to talk either. Sometimes it seemed like Adam had nothing nice to say.

  “See you later at the fair!” Joe called over his shoulder. “Good luck!”

  Adam looked down at the project beneath the sheet and scowled. “Whatever,” he said. “I have something better than anything anyone’s ever seen. Get ready to lose!”

  Frank and Joe shared a look. They doubted Adam had come up with anything besides a volcano. The year before, he’d used baking soda, vinegar, and some food coloring to make it spew blue lava. He thought that made it a completely different project from the year before that.

  “I think we have a real chance,” Joe whispered. “Even if Phil was nervous about it, his parents were so impressed.” Mr. and Mrs. Cohen had looked at the robot last night after they were done. Frank and Joe had eaten dinner at Phil’s house, and Phil’s parents couldn’t stop talking about it. Mrs. Cohen loved the music best, and Mr. Cohen loved the way its arms moved.

  Frank raced out in front, running up the hill to Phil’s house. The road was so steep his legs hurt. When they turned the corner, they noticed Phil was outside. His face was bright red. His mom and dad were right next to him. Frank and Joe hadn’t seen him this upset since he’d spilled water on his computer keyboard.

  “What’s wrong?” Frank yelled.

  Phil was pulling at his dark brown hair. He looked like he might cry. That’s when they noticed the garage behind him. It was completely empty.

  “Someone must’ve stolen it!” Phil said. He was out of breath, like he’d just run a mile. His mom put her hand on his back to calm him down. “Our robot is gone!”

  3

  Off to the Fair!

  I left the garage door open last night so the paint would dry,” Phil explained. “I went to bed around ten o’clock, and when I woke up this morning it was gone. We looked everywhere. Someone must’ve taken it. It didn’t just disappear!” The boys followed Phil through the school lobby. After searching everywhere for the robot, they’d come to the gymnasium. There were only fifteen minutes before the science fair would begin.

  “I hope Principal Butler can help,” Frank said. “We just need some time to figure this out.”

  The front entrance to the gymnasium was decorated with colorful balloons. A giant banner hung over the door. BAYPORT SCIENCE FAIR, it read. Joe tried to stay calm as they pushed inside, without their project. The tables were set up in front of the bleachers. People wandered about, looking at the different projects. Each project looked more impressive than the one before.

  Cissy stood beside a giant life cycle of a butterfly. She made each stage out of wire and papier-mâché, showing how the insect grew in its cocoon. Ellie, a freckle-faced girl with blond hair, was their teammate on the Bandits. She’d made a poster titled “Why Is the Sky Blue?” with colorful pictures and diagrams. Chet tested how plants grew under different-colored lights. Iola, his younger sister, had a glass aquarium filled with hermit crabs. There, at the last table, was Adam Ackerman with his latest volcano. This one spit out green lava. He looked more miserable than ever.

  “Look at what Cissy did!” Joe whispered to his brother. “Or Chet!”

  But Frank didn’t respond. He kept his eyes on Principal Butler. She was standing under the basketball hoop with three other adults. Frank could tell by their clipboards that they were the judges. He recognized a woman with a gray streak in her hair from the year before.

  “Principal Butler!” Frank called out. “Can we speak with you?”

  Before she could say anything, Phil jumped in. When he got nervous or excited about something, he spoke really fast. “Someone stole our project!” he said. “We’re sorry, but we don’t have it. We may have to forfeit the fair this year.”

  “Unless you can give us some time,” Joe said. “We just need to figure out what happened.”

  Principal Butler glanced at the three judges. They looked more serious than the boys remembered them. One man, the head of the planetarium, had a long black mustache that curled up a little at the ends.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Principal Butler said. “I’d love to help, but the science fair begins in fifteen minutes.” She pointed to the clock on the wall.

  “We need more time than that,” Joe explained. “We’ve been building this robot for weeks. And this morning, when Phil went to get it from his garage, it was gone.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” Phil said. He was so nervous his hands were shaking. “It was like it just disappeared.”

  The woman with the gray streak in her hair looked at them over her tiny glasses. “That is quite the problem. I wish we had more time, but I’m afraid we don’t. We have to start the judging on time. . . . ”

  “We just need a little more time,” Frank said. “Please? Maybe we could be judged last. . . . ”

  Principal Butler glanced sideways at the judges. “One minute,” she said quickly. They huddled together, whispering. Joe and Frank could’ve sworn they heard them say something about proof. If proof was what they wanted—proof was what they would get.

  After a few moments Principal Butler turned back to them. “All right. You’ll be judged last. They have to leave at five o’clock, though. So you’ll have to be back here before the scoring at quarter to five with your project to be entered into the fair. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal,” Frank said. He turned and started toward the door.

  “I don’t know if we have enough time. What are we going to do?” Phil asked.

  Frank pulled out a notebook from his pocket. Joe handed him a pen. The Hardy boys were good at building robots. But they were even better at solving mysteries. Frank’s notebook was bent and worn from being carried in his pocket all the time. It held the record of every crime they’d ever investigated. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “But first we have to go back to the scene of the crime to gather evidence.”

  “We better hurry,” Joe said, racing past the tables of projects. He pointed to the clock that hung above the doors. It was nearly twelve o’clock. They had to be back in the gymnasium, with Mr. Roboto, by four forty-five. “Time is running out!”

  4

  The Six Ws of Solving Crimes

  Joe inspected the floor of the garage. Right by the door there were a few pieces of tinfoil, some screws, and chips of silver paint. “This is all that’s here,” he said. “Whoever took him didn’t leave much behind.”

  Frank and Phil searched the rest of the garage, but there were no other signs of Mr. Roboto. Frank inspected the pieces in Joe’s hand. “Those came from his foot,” he said. “Especially those screws. Phil used them to connect the remote-control cars.”

  “Those were the exact ones!” Phil said. Since they’d left the auditorium he’d been talking nonstop, wondering if it could’ve been someone he knew, or if it was kids from another school.

  Joe copied down the evidence in his notebook, writing foil, screws, and paint from robot’s feet. Found inside the garage door. Frank and Joe’s dad had worked for years as a private investigator with the Bayport police department. Growing up, they’d spent so much time watching him solve cases. They learned about detective work. Their father taught them how to gather clues and narrow down the list of suspects. The first step, after you surveyed the crime scene for evidence, was writing down the six Ws—Who, What, Where, When, Why, and How.

 

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