The Crisscross Crime by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

place,” Joe said when Sylvia had caught her breath.
    â€œI had to talk to you,” Sylvia said. “I was in Empire Federal when the robbery went down.”
    â€œWe know,” Frank said. “We saw you on videotape.”
    Joe crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why’d you take off?”
    â€œI knew the police would see the tape and decide that I had something to do with it,” Sylvia said. “I had to get out of there before they arrested me.”
    â€œWe could take you to the cops right now,” Joe said.
    â€œBut I know you’ll at least listen to me,” Sylvia said. “Remember I said I was coming downtown this afternoon to resign from Bayport Savings?”
    Frank nodded.
    Sylvia still held one arm over her stomach.“That’s what I did,” she said. “I closed out my bank account, too. The only reason I was in Empire Federal was to deposit my money there.” With her free hand she reached into her pocket-book and handed Frank a cashier’s check made out in her name. “I was waiting in line when the robbery happened, that’s all.”
    Joe didn’t believe her. “That’s a good cover,” he said. “Very professional.”
    Sylvia looked as though she was going to cry. “Here,” she said. She fished around in her purse some more. She handed Frank a black match-book. “The thief dropped it when you were fighting,” she said. “It landed right by my cheek, so I hid it under my hand until you chased him out.”
    Frank held the matchbook up. It read “Hôtel des Alpes: Geneve.” “Switzerland,” he said. “That’s where Dad is. You mind if I keep this?”
    Sylvia shook her head. “Give it to the police if you think it will help. They’ll take it seriously coming from you.”
    â€œWhere should we drop you off?” Frank asked.
    â€œMy car’s still in the Bayport Savings lot,” Sylvia answered.
    â€œWe can’t drop her off at her car!” Joe said in disbelief. “She’s up to her neck in this, Frank.”
    â€œYou’re not going to skip the country, are you?” Frank asked Sylvia.
    â€œNo. I wasn’t planning to.”
    â€œSee,” Frank said. “We know where to find her if we get proof she’s involved.”
    â€œYou mean when we get proof,” Joe said. “This is a big mistake, Frank.”
    Despite Joe’s objections, Frank nudged Joe over and climbed behind the wheel. He dropped Sylvia off at her car.
    â€œI still can’t believe you did that,” Joe grumbled. He watched Sylvia scoot off in her silver-colored sports car.
    â€œDon’t blow a gasket,” Frank said as they pulled out of the lot. “I want to check out the Bay View Motel, where the rental car company said Galatin was staying. I’ve got a hunch—about something Dad told you on the phone.”
    â€œAnd . . .”
    â€œHold on. I’ll let you know when we get there.”
    Ten minutes later the Hardys pulled into a rundown motel along the highway overlooking the bay.
    Frank led the way into the office. There, behind the desk, was a man reading a magazine. A fan on the counter blew full blast, but the little room was still boiling hot.
    â€œExcuse me,” Frank said. “We’re looking for a guy who’s supposed to be staying here. His name’s Earl Galatin.”
    â€œThe police were in here a while ago asking about that name,” the man said. “I told them, and I’ll tell you—I never heard of him.”
    â€œYou mind if we look over your register?”
    â€œNow, you know I can’t let you do that,” the old man said. “Got to protect the privacy of my guests.”
    â€œSure,” Frank said. “I understand. How about this, though? Did anybody pay in cash lately—counterfeit cash?”
    The old man scowled. “How’d you