The Crisscross Crime by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

know? My wife just come from the bank. She’s real upset.”
    â€œDo you have any idea who passed you those bills?” Joe asked.
    The man nodded. He reached under the counter and pulled up a registration book. “I figure I got a good idea.” He ran his finger down the list of names. “That’s him, right there,” he said, turning the book so Frank could see.
    Frank read the name out loud. “Larry Gainy.”
    â€œLarry Gainy?” Joe said. “That’s the guy Dad talked about. His real name’s Herve DuBois.” He blew out a long breath. “So, that’s the hunch you had that you were going to tell me about. How’d you know?”
    â€œI didn’t, until now,” Frank said. “I thought Galatin might rent the car and the motel room under different names, but I had no idea it’d turn out to be this Larry Gainy, or DuBois, character.”
    â€œThe matchbook from Switzerland,” Joe said. “Now that makes sense, too. We’ve got to call Dad and let him know that Larry Gainy is here in Bayport!”
    Frank nodded. He handed the register back to the man. “You mind if we take a look in his room?”
    â€œThe rascal checked out this morning.” The man handed Frank a key. “I don’t figure he left anything in there.”
    The Hardys headed for Room 116, down at the far end of the motel.
    Frank worked the key into the lock, and Joe peeked in the window. The curtains were drawn tight.
    â€œStupid lock’s stuck,” Frank said.
    Joe had his face right up to the window. Suddenly the curtains parted. There was a face, inches away, staring back at him!

11 Death from Above
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    â€œWhoa!” Joe reeled backward. The face disappeared behind the curtains. “Frank! There’s someone in there!”
    Frank took a quick step away from the door. “You recognize who it was?”
    â€œNo, it happened too quick.”
    â€œHey, you two! You two fellows!” It was the front desk man, ambling down the walk from the office. “I forgot to warn you about Helen.”
    â€œHelen?” Joe said.
    â€œThe housekeeper,” the man said. “Is she in there?” He went right up to Room 116 and rapped on the door.
    Slowly, the door opened about eight inches. A timid face peeped out. “Yes?”
    Frank guffawed. “Hi, Helen,” he said. “I don’t know who was more scared, you or my brother, Joe.”
    Joe blushed. “Hi. Sorry I frightened you.”
    The girl opened the door all the way. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m almost finished cleaning the room. Give me ten minutes and it’ll be ready for you.”
    â€œOh, no,” Frank said. “We’re not staying.”
    â€œWe were looking for the guy who stayed here before,” Joe added. “Did you get a look at him?”
    â€œSure. He was a little shorter than you,” Helen said, nodding toward Joe. “Wavy black hair, kind of a movie star type. You know, that’s what I thought he was.”
    Joe raised an eyebrow. “A movie star?”
    Helen giggled. “Well, not a star exactly. I know a star wouldn’t stay here at the Bay View. But an actor, because of all the wigs and stuff.”
    â€œWigs?”
    â€œYeah, you know those Styrofoam heads that people use to hold their wigs? I saw two of those in his room when I cleaned it yesterday—a blond one and a real bushy red one.”
    Joe looked at Frank. “The redheaded man! It was Herve DuBois.”
    â€œYeah,” Frank said. “And Larry Gainy and Earl Galatin all in one.”
    Helen looked confused.
    â€œYou’ve been a big help,” Frank said to both Helen and the man. “Thanks.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    That night, after dinner, Frank asked his mother for their father’s number in Switzerland.
    â€œI already talked to him today,” she said, as Frank