The Ice-Cold Case (#148)

So I took it pretty easy on the last book, Trial and Terror, giving it some leeway because it seemed to be attempting to deal with a touchy subject with some subtlety. The Ice-Cold Case, on the other hand, will not get the same benefit of the doubt, even though its title correctly used a hyphen in a compound adjective.

Why?, you might ask. It’s simple: Frank and Joe are morons.

As the book begins, Frank and Joe drive Phil, Chet, Callie, and Iola to Sarah Kwan’s birthday party. (This isn’t what makes Frank and Joe morons; just give me a moment.) Now, given Hardy Boys’ depictions of East Asians and Asian-Americans, having a friend of Asian descent is kinda a milestone for the Hardys, especially since they don’t have any members of the Kwan family cross-dress to make their girlfriends jealous or Chet horny, like they forced Tom Wat to do in Footprints under the Window (#12). No, in this case, Frank and Joe attend a party at the beautiful lakeside home of the prosperous Kwan family, and —

Ha ha, no. Frank and Joe don’t attend the party. Mr. Kwan immediately dangles the possibility of investigating a series of robberies around the lake, and Frank and Joe are off like a shot — ignoring the party, their friends, the birthday girl, and even their proposed skating race. They get in the middle of a squabble between unruly hockey players and ice fishermen. The cops are called, a football teammate of Joe’s who’s a bit of a jerk but basically good freund is arrested, and the Hardys scarf down burnt burgers before taking off.

Now, this is usually where I would insert a reprobate roll call, but I’m not going to bother this time. The obvious suspects are obvious; since Frank and Joe waste their time on investigative avenues that are unlikely to pan out, the brothers come across as dullards. What are they overlooking? Very soon in the investigation, it becomes clear the thieves should meet certain criteria:

1. They must have access to the lake without motor transportation because the Kwans would hear a vehicle driving by;
   
2. They must be around the lake frequently, since the thieves react quickly to what the Hardys do;
   
3. They must be from out of town or have out-of-town connections, as the stolen goods haven’t shown up in any local pawn shop or with any fences; and
   
4. Their robberies are, for some reason, concentrated in the winter months.

Who meets those criteria? Not Ray Nelson, the jerk who played football with Joe; he has alibis for too many of the robberies, and besides, Ray claims to have helped the Hardys “find that kid who ran away … [and catch] Rob Dee stealing stuff from the gym lockers” (15). (We haven’t seen Ray before, but since Frank and Joe don’t contradict him, we should believe him.) Since Ray didn’t do it, his friends, John and Vinnie, are similarly in the clear; besides, they work at Burger World, which I don’t think any self-respecting teen thief would subject himself to. (Burger World: Circumnavigate your taste buds with Burger Flavor!®) The idea that the culprits are the Kwans, peripheral characters introduced only to serve as an entre for the Hardys into the case, is laughable. None of the fishermen are fleshed out enough to be the villain, except for chief ice hole Ernie Tuttle; however, Ernie is not a criminal — just a cranky old man who runs (and lives in) a fishing shop on the lake.

So who do these clues fit? Tuttle’s grandkids, Neil and Stu, who come up from Maryland every winter to help their grandfather with his fishing shop. They fit all the criteria. In my notes on the book, I’d decided they were the culprits before p. 20. But the Hardys take half the book before focusing on the Tuttles, and only on p. 132 does Frank admit “hesitantly” admit Ernie might have nothing to do with the crimes.

Come on, guys! You’re supposed to be good at this! I think it’s time to play the Moron Game!™ (modified version). Joe Hardy, why are you a moron?

“Joe wasn’t going to let go of the investigation for the sake of a birthday party” (20).

Well, that’s more inconsiderate than stupid. What about your opinion of the housesitter you beat up after breaking into the home he was watching?

“‘You think with all that’s going on around here, he’d be more appreciative that we were trying to protect him,’ Joe grumbled.” (48) Also: after the boys beat up the housesitter, Joe says, “He seemed to have an attitude” (52).

That’s … an unrealistic reading of the situation, Joe. You can’t expect beat up someone and have them thank you. It just doesn’t work that way.

Maybe you can show your wit (or lack thereof) through humor, when Phil offers to help despite his aversion to being outside in the freezing cold?

“‘You know I’m available to help,’ Phil said.
‘I thought you hated the cold,’ Joe said.
‘I told you I can fix the heat in [the van],’ Phil said.
‘I meant the cold on the lake,’ Joe said, and they all laughed” (118).

That’s not a joke. That’s the result of carbon monoxide leaking into the van’s passenger space.

Well, we’ve always known Joe was the intellectual weak link. So, Frank, are you a moron? When someone might be shooting at the house you’re in, what do you do?

“Frank threw open the door and flew out in a spiral” (103).

There’s a fine line between stupid and incomprehensible, and that sentence lands on both sides of the line. I can’t imagine how a human being can run in a spiral, let alone fly in one — does he spin out of the house like a thrown football, or is he trying to run in overlapping circles to confuse the shooter? (Think about walking out your front door and walking to the street or mailbox “in a spiral”; you’d look like a total nimrod.)

Well, what about when Joe asks, “How many [nightspots for partying] are open ... late?”

“‘Not too many,’ Frank said. ‘Let’s check them later’” (69).

So you’re telling me that a city of 50,000 doesn’t have a plethora of spots where people can come to your town and help you party it down? And more to the point, you want us to believe you know anything about those places? (The boys find Officer Con Riley hanging around the Dew Drop Inn, which probably has an active nightlife. I’m assuming it’s a little redneck-looking joint and that Con is waiting for a scuffle involving a longhaired hippie chasing five big dudes, including a faithful follower of Brother John Birch, around the parking lot in his mag-wheeled, four-on-the-floor Chevrolet.)

Let’s expand this to the Hardys chums. Chet Morton, why are you a moron?

“Chet was a longtime friend of the Hardys and was used to such abuse from them” (23).

Abuse! Come on, Chet, have some pride, and just walk away from them! You’re more than just a reliable vessel for their horrible comedy stylings.

Hey, Phil Cohen, what do you have to say when you and your friends are almost run down by a stolen truck, which misses Frank by inches?

“Do you think they were really trying to kill us?” (111).

Frank doesn’t believe so, but as we’ve established, Frank may be a moron!

What about the cops? Con Riley, why are you a moron?

“Frank hoped Riley wouldn’t realize he was being grilled and clam up on them” (18).

Riley doesn’t realize a pair of teenagers are transparently pumping him for information, and he gives the boys an update on the investigation without getting anything from them. Later on, he equates a broken van window in severity with arson. On the other hand, he’s getting teenagers to do his work for free, so maybe he’s not as big a simpleton as I think.

***

It all ends up fine, of course. The Tuttle kids are captured, Ray is cleared, and he and Joe “gave each other big football-player hugs” (143). (I … I don’t think that’s a thing football players do, usually, but I admit I never played high-school football.) The Kwans throw an old-school party to celebrate the Hardys’ success, and since Frank and Joe don’t have to share the spotlight with a character who will never be seen again, they are quite willing to be part of the festivities rather than looking for something more interesting to do.

The book does have a bit of drama; when Joe manages to fall through thin ice — the brothers claimed to have been lured onto the thin ice, but they have no one to blame but themselves — the author manages to put some real drama into his rescue and recovery. Joe is dragged to the Kwans’ house, where Mrs. Kwan, a nurse, treats him. Part of the treatment involves submerging Joe in a warm bath, and Mrs. Kwan insists Joe remove all his clothes before going into the bath. This may be the first time a non-blood-related female has seen either of the brothers naked. A milestone! And honestly, I figured both brothers were never-nudes, taking showers in their jean shorts.

Later, Joe’s hanging around the Kwans, waiting for his clothes to dry while dressed only in a bathrobe and heavy socks. Joe “had an embarrassed look on his face … ‘I feel weird hanging around here in a bathrobe,’ he said. ‘I mean, there’s a girl from school here’” (99). It’s good to know that even though he had a near-death experience, his shame reflex is still strong.

After the EMTs arrive, Joe declines to go to the hospital based on Mrs. Kwan’s recommendation: “I think he’ll be fine,” she says, despite Joe having been submerged in freezing water for three minutes (98). Joe, you don’t deserve the sort of treatment a hospital would give you until you catch the criminals! In the meanwhile, rub some dirt on your frostbite, you pansy, and you’ll be fine.

***

Also: for those of you who are wondering, Bayport is located at latitude 40 degrees north, latitude 73 degrees west. That’s south of Long Island and east of New Jersey in the Atlantic, located in international waters. If you accept that the minutes and seconds have been left off the degrees, then it’s on Long Island. (West of New York City is 74 degrees west; almost all of Connecticut is 41 degrees north.)