The Clue on the Crystal Dove Read online

  “Oh my, yes!” Violet said. “And I'm happy for Alden

  that those same qualities have earned him a fine career

  in banking. It's just that Alden always wants his way—

  exactly as his great-grandfather did—and he acts

  before he thinks. What a shame he's so different from

  his darling parents—my baby sister and her husband.

  They live in France. They're very smart to have gotten

  away from all these family politics.”

  “Wouldn't you like to live in France to be close to

  your sister?” Nancy asked her.

  Violet's blue eyes were wistful. “Well, you see, I

  never married, and I've always been extremely at-

  tached to my dear niece, Dell, who lost her father, my

  dear brother. But after she got engaged, there's been a

  bit of friction between us. I must admit that once Dell

  marries and moves away, New York simply won't be

  the same. Maybe I'll move to France then.”

  After dinner the orchestra struck up a rock tune, and

  the party heated up. Nancy danced with Alden, and

  then Bess cut in.

  “Nancy,” Dell said, walking up to her with George.

  “George asked me to show her Julius's glass birds.

  Would you like to see them, too?”

  “I'd love to,” Nancy said, brightening.

  “They're in a room we call the Aviary,” Dell said.

  “This way.”

  She led the two girls down a long hallway to a closed

  door. After opening it, she flicked on the lights and

  stood aside for Nancy and George to pass.

  Nancy's eyes widened with astonishment at the sight

  that greeted her. In the soft light of the wall sconces,

  about fifty glass birds glistened like multicolored jewels

  amid silk foliage that waved in the breeze of a ceiling

  fan. Their smooth glass bodies curved with delicate

  precision. Every detail of their beaks, wings, and tails—

  down to the tiny slice of red and yellow brightening a

  blackbird's wing—had been lovingly created to mimic a

  particular species.

  Partially constructed glass partitions surrounded

  certain areas. “We're almost done building the ex-

  hibits,” Dell explained, “so the public can look but not

  touch.” Stepping into the room, she added, “Julius

  arranged the room into different habitats to

  accommodate the various bird species he'd made. Look

  over here.”

  She led them to a corner where a waterfall had been

  rigged to trickle down a wall of rocks. Silk palm trees

  and jungle vines sheltered parrots, toucans, and other

  tropical species that Nancy didn't recognize.

  “And here's the Mediterranean zone,” Dell said,

  gesturing to a ruby-throated hummingbird hovering

  over a red silk bougainvillea bush. A nearly invisible

  thread attached the tiny bird to the ceiling.

  “Over here must be the northern woods,” George

  commented, pointing to an owl perched on a branch of

  a fir tree. Nearby, a loon rested on a glistening glass

  lake.

  Nancy fingered the silk needles of a fir tree and its

  carved wooden branches and cones, amazed at Julius's

  artistry and his attention to detail.

  “Let's not forget the marshland and the desert

  zone,” Dell said pointing to two nearby habitats. Silk

  reeds and grasses poked up from a glass marsh, into

  which egrets and great blue herons had been placed in

  wading positions. In the desert zone, a beautifully

  blown roadrunner was poised next to a painted papier-

  mâché rattlesnake and silk cactus.

  “Last but not least is the temperate zone,” Dell said,

  gesturing to a grove of oak and maple trees sheltering

  various species familiar to Nancy—robins, orioles, blue

  jays, cardinals, and goldfinches.

  “Whew!” George exclaimed, shaking her head in

  amazement as she gazed around the room. “Julius sure

  must have been an impressive guy to have made all

  this.”

  “This room is awesome—a total wonderland,” Nancy

  declared. “Julius was obviously into both birds and

  glasswork.”

  “He was an artist whose favorite pastime was vaca-

  tioning in exotic places around the world

  birdwatching,” Dell explained.

  “What's this?” George asked, stepping over to a

  pedestal at the front of the room.

  On top of it a crystal dove lay upon a green velvet

  cushion. With its barely detectable light blue hue, the

  dove looked like a rare aquamarine poised to take

  flight.

  “It's gorgeous,” Nancy breathed, staring at it in awe.

  “That's Julius's only crystal work,” Dell explained.

  “His masterpiece.”

  “There you are, girls!” came a voice from the

  doorway. Nancy turned to see her aunt Eloise, looking

  tired but happy to see them. “I'm beat from all that

  dancing. I'm going home, but you're welcome to stay if

  you'd like.”

  “That's okay, Aunt Eloise,” Nancy said. “I didn't get

  much sleep last night. I think I'll join you.”

  “Ditto,” George said.

  “Good luck prying Bess from the dance floor,

  though,” Aunt Eloise commented wryly. “She and

  Alden have been dancing up a storm.”

  Nancy and George thanked Dell for the tour and the

  party, and Aunt Eloise bid her friend goodbye. Then

  they gestured to Bess from the foyer that they wanted

  to leave.

  Smiling radiantly at Alden, Bess joined her friends.

  Then they all trooped out the door and found a cab to

  take them home.

  * * *

  “I'd really like to check out SoHo,” Bess said eagerly

  as they ate breakfast in Aunt Eloise's kitchen the next

  morning. Aunt Eloise had gone out shopping, but she

  had left cereal, muffins, and eggs for the girls. “The

  shops there are really cool,” Bess went on.

  George grunted. “I was hoping to walk across the

  Brooklyn Bridge. It's such a nice day, and the view of

  New York harbor from the bridge is awesome. What do

  you say, Nan?”

  “I'll do either—or both,” Nancy said, shrugging, “as

  long as we drop by Dell's house first.”

  “What for?” Bess asked. “Uh-oh. Does it have

  something to do with the chandelier?”

  Nancy grinned. On their way home from the party

  last night, she had told Bess, George, and her aunt

  about the warning note on the chandelier. “I thought

  I'd at least let Dell know I'm a detective. But she might

  not want my help.”

  “Yeah right,” Bess grumbled. “Nan, you and mys-

  teries are like ice cream and cake—somehow you just

  go together.”

  Half an hour later the three girls arrived by taxi at

  Dells house. Nancy rang the doorbell, and Dell herself

  opened the door.

  Nancy was surprised by the stricken expression on

  Dells pale face. “Hello, girls,” she said tensely. “I'm

  sorry, but this isn't a good time for you to visit. Some-

  thing terr
ible has just happened.”

  Nancy felt her stomach turn. “What?” she asked.

  Dell's bright green eyes bored into Nancy's. “Julius's

  rare crystal dove has disappeared.”

  7. Skeleton with a Message

  Nancy gaped at her. “You mean—the dove in the

  Aviary?”

  “Yes,” Dell replied. “I never lock that room, but

  obviously I should have. It never occurred to me that I

  should lock up a room in my own home.”

  “When did you last see the dove?” Nancy asked.

  “At about ten this morning,” Dell said, “when I

  showed Richard Schoonover into the Aviary.”

  “Richard Schoonover?” Nancy asked.

  Dell sighed. “I'm sorry, Nancy, but I really don't

  have time for these questions. I've got to alert the

  police.”

  “Uh, I don't know whether Aunt Eloise mentioned

  this to you, but I'm a detective,” Nancy said quickly.

  “I'd like to help you investigate the missing dove—and

  the chandelier.”

  Dell's face lit up. “Oh, Nancy, what luck!” she ex-

  claimed. “Now that you mention it, I do remember

  Eloise's telling me that you're a detective. I've been so

  busy with my party and the museum opening that I

  totally forgot. Come on in. You, too, George and Bess.”

  She moved aside for the three girls to enter the

  house and then led them toward the Aviary.

  “I'm thrilled that you can help me, Nancy,” Dell

  said, “because I really didn't want to call the police. If

  news of this theft leaked to the public, it wouldn't be

  good publicity for the museum. That chandelier

  accident last night was bad enough, and Alden's little

  spat with Aunt Violet will be making all the gossip

  rounds, I'm sure. The quieter we can keep our prob-

  lems here, the better.”

  “I understand,” Nancy assured her.

  At the doorway of the Aviary, Bess drew in a quick

  breath, her eyes round with amazement at her first

  sight of the gleaming birds in their silk habitats.

  “Whoa! Was Julius like, a genius or something? These

  birds are beautiful!” she exclaimed.

  Nancy scanned the room as the sunlight poured into

  it through tall windows. The birds looked different in

  the daylight, she thought. Last night they'd glittered

  like jewels in the soft glow of the wall sconces. Now

  they dazzled the eye with a sharp, steady brilliance, like

  tiny stained glass windows.

  Nancy's gaze moved to the pedestal at the front of

  the room where the crystal dove had rested. Sure

  enough, the velvet cushion on top was empty.

  Nancy looked at Dell. “You were saying that a man

  named Richard Schoonover had been here this

  morning?” she prompted.

  “Yes, he's a well-known expert on glass,” Dell

  replied. “He agreed to write up a brochure about our

  exhibit for visitors. He said he'd need about an hour to

  take notes, but when I came back at eleven, he was

  gone—and so was the bird. But his car is still parked

  across the street.”

  “Does anyone else have a key to the house?” Nancy

  asked.

  “Violet has a spare key, and so does Alden,” Dell

  answered. “Also my housekeeper, Ms. Brown. But

  that's all.”

  Nancy thought for a moment, pulling her shoulder-

  length hair into a red scrunchie she took from the

  pocket of her khaki slacks. After a moment she said,

  “The missing dove and the broken chandelier must be

  connected. Was Richard Schoonover at your house

  yesterday, too, Dell?”

  “No,” Dell said. “Not unless he sneaked in without

  my knowing.”

  Privately Nancy wondered if the missing letters from

  Julius's secret train panel were also related to these

  incidents. So many odd things happening to the Van

  Hoogstratens in less than two days probably wasn't a

  coincidence, she mused.

  “Did you ever get in touch with the cleaning service

  you mentioned last night?” Nancy asked. “You were

  going to get them to question their workers.”

  “I didn't forget your advice to me, Nancy,” Dell said

  wearily. “I called the agency first thing this morning

  and learned that the two workers who cleaned the

  chandelier were Russian immigrants who don't speak

  any English. There's no link that I can see between

  them and the Van Hoogstratens, so what would be

  their motive in stopping our museum from opening?”

  “It doesn't sound as if they were involved,” Nancy

  agreed. “But they might have noticed something sus-

  picious going on while they were here.”

  George cut in, “For instance, if Violet is guilty, she

  could have put the note on the chandelier and then

  paid one of them to cut the chain.”

  “George is right,” Nancy said. “I think it would be a

  good idea to call the agency again to see if the workers

  noticed anything suspicious. And I think you should

  call Richard Schoonover, too, Dell. Does he have an

  office?”

  “A combination office and store,” Dell said. “I'll be

  right back.” She left the Aviary for a moment to make

  the calls while Nancy, Bess, and George combed the

  room for clues. Five minutes later Dell returned, and

  the three girls had found nothing.

  Dell shook her head, looking grim. “Sorry, girls. No

  leads. First, there was no answer at Richard's office—

  just his voice mail. Then the manager of the agency

  questioned her workers while I waited. They told her

  they hadn't seen anyone but me here yesterday.

  Apparently, they left the house briefly at the end of the

  day to load cleaning supplies into their parked van.

  After a quick soda break there, they returned inside to

  collect their ladder. Violet probably came in and

  climbed it while they were gone.”

  George walked toward the Aviary door, swinging her

  arms impatiently. “I'm itching for some action, guys.

  That missing dove may be halfway around the world by

  now, but we'd be stupid not to search the house. Who

  knows? Richard Schoonover could be hiding out in the

  attic with the dove as we speak.”

  Dell drew her dark brows together. “You're right,

  George, but it's a big house, and it'll take a while to

  search. So let's break up. George and Bess, you take

  different parts of the downstairs. Nancy and I will start

  upstairs.”

  Nancy followed Dell up the wide marble staircase.

  Antique tapestries hung from the walls, showing me-

  dieval lords and ladies gazing at unicorns and griffins.

  What an amazing house, Nancy thought, feeling

  awestruck once again by the grandeur of the mansion.

  At the top of the stairs a number of doors opened off

  a huge airy hallway lit by tall arched windows on either

  side. Brightly colored oriental runners accented the

  polished parquet floors.

  “Let's start checking out these bedrooms,” Dell


  suggested. “You take the right side of the hall, Nancy.

  Start with the pink room right there. I'll take the rooms

  on the left. When we're finished, we'll check out the

  old servants' quarters on the third floor, but I doubt

  Richard's up there. Those rooms have been closed off

  for years.”

  Entering the first bedroom on her right, Nancy

  found a canopied bed with a pink satin spread and

  rose-colored walls. She looked under the beds and in

  the closet, finding no one.

  The room next door had light blue walls, twin beds

  with lace coverlets, and blue chintz drapes on the

  windows. A silver hairbrush and mirror, monogrammed

  with the initials JVH lay on an antique bureau. “This

  must be the blue room,” Nancy reasoned as she began

  to search it.

  Once again the room was empty. The next room had

  apple green walls, a Tiffany lamp on a bedside table,

  and a green and white needlepoint rug. But just as

  Nancy was about to enter it, she heard a muffled bang

  coming from somewhere at the end of the hall.

  Nancy jogged toward the sound, which came from

  behind a closed door several rooms away. Standing

  outside it, she yanked on the knob. The door didn't

  budge.

  Dell didn't tell me there were any locked rooms up

  here, she thought. “Mr. Schoonover, are you in there?”

  she cried, stooping toward the keyhole.

  A low, inarticulate sound reached her ears. Facing

  the hallway, Nancy shouted for Dell, who immediately

  popped out of one of the bedrooms, looking ex-

  asperated.

  “If you're calling me, Nancy, I can't hear a word

  you're saying.”

  “Do you have a key to this lock?” Nancy yelled. “I'm

  hearing weird sounds from behind this door.”

  Without wasting another moment, Dell raced over

  to Nancy. Her normally tidy dark hair straggled in var-

  ious directions from a barrette at the nape of her neck.

  “Richard! Mr. Schoonover! Are you in there?” Dell

  shouted, pounding on the door.

  A low animallike grunt came from inside. “Any

  skeleton key will fit this door,” Dell announced, taking

  a thin old-fashioned looking key from the pocket of her

  slacks with shaking hands. Within seconds she had

  unlocked the door and flung it open.

  On the floor of a large linen closet, a man was

  crouching among fallen sheets, his arms tied behind his

  back. A dirty cloth was tied across his mouth, and he