The Clue on the Crystal Dove Page 6

  looked up at Nancy and Dell with a terrified expression

  in his watery blue eyes.

  But it was another sight that really surprised Nancy.

  On the floor by the older man's feet lay a bird

  skeleton—a crow, she guessed, from its size—with a

  piece of paper impaled upon a stiff, skinny claw.

  Dell's voice trembled with shock as she said,

  “Richard Schoonover, how awful! What happened to

  you?”

  8. A Terrifying Call

  Bending forward, Nancy worked quickly to untie the

  man's wrists. The moment she removed the rope the

  man jumped to his feet and ripped off his gag, the

  expression in his eyes changing from fearful to furious

  in less than a second.

  “What is the meaning of this, Delphinia!” he snarled

  as spit flew from his lips. “Are all guests tied up and

  flung into closets at the famous Van Hoogstraten

  house? Well, you can take your ancestor's stupid bird

  collection and stuff it! Expect to hear from my lawyer.”

  With those words, he picked up the bird skeleton

  and threw it at Dell, barely missing her. Then he

  stomped out of the closet and marched down the hall

  toward the stairway.

  Nancy shot a glance at Dell, who was frozen with

  shock at the man's outburst.

  Approaching the stairway, Mr. Schoonover punched

  the air with a fist as if daring the world to defy him.

  Dell snapped to attention with the angry gesture.

  “Richard!” she cried, rushing after him. “I'm terribly

  sorry if you were hurt. But you can't go yet. I've got

  some questions for you.”

  Mr. Schoonover wheeled around. “You think I care

  about your questions? Just get me out of here. Please!”

  “First, tell me what happened,” Dell said, catching

  up to him. “Who did this dreadful thing to you?”

  He turned fierce eyes upon her. “For all I know, you

  did it, Delphinia!”

  “Me?” Dell said, aghast. She squared her shoulders,

  as if trying to assert her authority. “I'm sorry for what

  happened to you, Richard, but blaming me is

  ridiculous. My great-grandfather's crystal dove is

  missing, and you were the last person seen with it.

  You've got to answer my questions.”

  “I'm not staying here another second!” he declared.

  “After the treatment I received, I don't have to do

  anything.”

  “Please cooperate, Richard,” Dell said, looking

  frustrated, “or I'll have to call the police.”

  Mr. Schoonover gaped at Dell, his face turning

  crimson with fury. He drew himself up as far as his

  squat frame would allow and said, “The police? I have

  never been so insulted in all my life. Are you accusing

  me of stealing the dove? Because if you are, I'll sue you

  for libel.”

  “I'm not accusing you of anything,” Dell said calmly.

  “I'd just like to know what happened in the Aviary.

  How did you end up in that closet?”

  “Beats me,” Mr. Schoonover grumbled, calming

  down slightly. He shot a sudden glance at Nancy.

  “Who's she?” he asked sharply.

  “This is my friend Nancy Drew,” Dell replied,

  placing an arm around Nancy's shoulders. “She hap-

  pened to be visiting me when I realized that both you

  and the crystal dove were missing. She helped me look

  for you.”

  Mr. Schoonover glared at Nancy as Dell continued,

  “Nancy, I'm sure you realize that this is Richard

  Schoonover, the expert on glass artifacts who's writing

  our brochure. Coincidentally he's also a descendant of

  Gustav Kinderhook, the glass blower with whom my

  great-grandfather apprenticed long ago in Holland.”

  “That is a coincidence,” Nancy said pleasantly, ex-

  tending her hand for Mr. Schoonover to shake. “It's

  very nice to meet you.”

  Mr. Schoonover seemed to soften. “Won't you tell us

  what happened?” Nancy asked him, smiling. Mr.

  Schoonover sighed. “I was taking notes on Julius's

  collection—standing in front of his crystal dove. And

  then—I don't remember anything more until I woke

  up in that closet with a lump on the back of my head.”

  Gingerly he rubbed his head and winced.

  Nancy frowned. “So obviously someone hit you, took

  the crystal dove, and then locked you in the closet. But

  what about the bird skeleton? Where did that come

  from?”

  “I don't know,” Mr. Schoonover said in a puzzled

  tone. “The closet was dark, and when I finally came to,

  I didn't notice the skeleton—not until you two opened

  the door and I threw it at you.”

  Nancy studied the older man. Could he be lying

  about being attacked? she wondered. After all, Mr.

  Schoonover was the last person seen with the dove. But

  then how could he have staged his imprisonment in the

  closet after he'd stolen it?

  Nancy held up her finger. “Wait a second,” she said,

  then walked back down the hall to the skeleton.

  Bending down, she removed the paper from the bird's

  claw and scanned it.

  “ Stay away from Julius's birds, Schoonover, or

  you'll end up like this one,' ” she read.

  Nancy showed the note to Dell and Mr. Schoonover.

  After reading it, Schoonover crumpled the paper in a

  violent gesture, as if he were squeezing someone's

  neck. His eyes flashed fiercely as he snapped, “What is

  the meaning of this drivel? I'm going to get the skunk

  who wrote that rot if it's the last thing I do! Richard

  Schoonover does not allow threats to go unpunished.”

  “May I have the note, please?” Nancy asked, ex-

  tending her hand. “It may turn out to be an important

  clue.”

  “No!” Mr. Schoonover growled, pocketing the note.

  “I'll take no chances—such an insult must never

  become public.” He turned and stormed down the

  stairs, adding, “I will never set foot inside this house

  again. Anyone who even thinks I may have stolen that

  dove will face a lawsuit for libel!”

  Dell and Nancy traded glances. Then they followed

  Schoonover downstairs to make sure he was really

  leaving. Just as he approached the front door, it swung

  open, nearly knocking him over.

  Alden stepped inside as Mr. Schoonover recovered

  his balance and brushed by him. “Careful, young man,”

  Mr. Schoonover snapped. “You almost hit me.” After

  hurrying outside, he slammed the door shut.

  Alden fixed his clear hazel eyes on his cousin. “Did

  you allow Schoonover in here, Dell?” he asked. “I'm

  surprised at your poor judgment.”

  Dell looked at Alden coolly. “May I remind you,

  Alden, that you're the one who complained that we had

  no brochure to give our museum visitors? Since you

  never got around to writing one, I hired Richard

  Schoonover for the job. You can't argue with getting

  the best.”

  “But Schoonover's the worst possible person to wri
te

  our brochure,” Alden said, regarding Dell as if she

  were a total idiot. “You know that he's insanely jealous

  of Julius.”

  “Oh, that old rumor,” Dell said, waving her hand

  dismissively. “Mr. Schoonover's a professional. He's

  not going to let an old family grudge get in the way of

  his judgment.”

  At that moment Bess and George joined the group.

  “Did you find him?” Bess asked.

  “We found him and he's gone already,” Nancy an-

  swered, then added to Alden, “What grudge?”

  “Richard Schoonover is jealous of what Julius be-

  came,” he explained. “He's annoyed because Julius got

  to be rich and famous while his own ancestor— Julius's

  teacher—stayed poor and unknown in Holland.”

  “So did Schoonover have the crystal bird?” George

  cut in, looking at Nancy and Dell.

  “No,” Dell said with an anxious glance at Alden.

  “What bird?” Alden asked, frowning.

  Dell filled him in on the missing dove, and then

  updated Bess and George on what had happened up-

  stairs with Mr. Schoonover.

  “Well, this is just great!” Alden snapped, his eyes

  dark with fury. “The prize piece of our collection

  disappears days before the museum is set to open. Nice

  going, cousin.”

  “Alden, calm down,” Dell ordered. “Your sarcasm

  isn't going to help us find the dove.”

  “Isn't it obvious that Schoonover swiped it, stashed it

  in his car or something, and then faked his attack with

  the aid of an accomplice?” Alden took out a

  handkerchief and mopped his brow. Drawing in a deep

  breath, he struggled to control his anger.

  “I'm sorry, Dell,” he continued in a softer tone. “I

  have no right to speak to you that way. But I care so

  much about Julius's collection, and we've both worked

  so hard to get it ready for the public. I'll feel crushed if

  we don't get a good response from the critics and

  public.”

  “Relax, Alden. I'm sure we will,” Dell said sooth-

  ingly.

  “I hope so,” Alden said. “I feel as if Julius would be

  disappointed with us if we fail. And with the crystal

  dove missing, we're sunk.”

  “Just pull yourself together, Alden, and we'll hope

  for the best,” Dell said. “Anyway, one missing object

  won't decide the museum's fate—even if it was the

  crown jewel in our collection. And if we're going to

  find the dove, we all need to stay calm.”

  “I'm going after Schoonover,” Alden broke in. “He's

  probably heading for his office with the dove right now.

  See you later.” And he rushed out the front door.

  Once he had left Dell turned to Nancy, Bess, and

  George. “Don't mind Alden,” she said with a sigh. “He

  works hard and means well, but he's also kind of

  hotheaded at times. Won't you girls stay for lunch? It's

  the least I can do, and I'd like to discuss the case with

  you.”

  After making a lunch of leftovers from the party,

  Dell placed the cold meats and bread on a tray with a

  pitcher of lemonade and some cookies. Then she led

  the girls out to a back patio beautifully planted with

  herbs and flowers and set the tray on a glass-topped

  table.

  Everyone had been eating in silence for a few

  minutes when Nancy turned to Dell and asked, “So

  what specifically did you want to discuss with us?”

  Dell shrugged. “Schoonover's role in it, I guess. I

  mean, I think I do agree with Alden that Schoonover

  could be guilty. It's well-known that he's always been

  jealous of Julius's reputation. But then I tell myself he's

  a respected glass expert, and I could never imagine his

  personal feelings getting the better of him.”

  “And I'm sure it never occurred to you that he might

  steal,” Bess chimed in. “If you'd thought that was a risk,

  you never would have hired him.”

  “But I probably should have been more cautious,”

  Dell admitted. “I mean, we're only human, and maybe

  his jealousy just got the better of him. I should have

  realized that could happen.”

  “When the Van Hoogstraten Collection opens to the

  public, Julius will be even more famous,” George said.

  “That could be making Schoonover crazy.”

  “Yeah, and he could be desperate to keep the mu-

  seum from opening,” Bess offered.

  A cordless phone rang from a side table next to

  Nancy. “Would you mind getting that, Nancy?” Dell

  asked, munching on her salad. “My mouth is full.”

  “Sure,” Nancy said, picking up the phone. “Hello?”

  she said into the mouthpiece.

  “Dell darling,” said a creepy, muffled voice.

  “Remember your precious Walter? Well, you won't be

  seeing him any time soon.”

  “Who is this?” Nancy said, but the line went dead.

  9. Danger on the Bridge

  Nancy hung up the phone, her mind clicking away. She

  hadn't recognized the caller's voice. She hadn't even

  been able to tell whether the person was a man or a

  woman. But from the sound of the message, Nancy

  guessed that the caller had kidnapped Walter.

  “Who was that, Nancy?” Dell asked.

  Nancy braced herself to give Dell the bad news. “I

  don't know,” she said gravely. “But whoever it was may

  have kidnapped Walter. We've got to call the police.”

  “Kidnapped Walter?” Dell said, shooting up from

  her chair. She spilled her food over the patio stones as

  Bess and George stared at Nancy in stunned silence.

  “Why? Nancy—tell me exactly what the message was.”

  Nancy repeated the brief conversation.

  Dell slumped back down in her chair. Then she

  turned a hopeful face on Nancy and added, “The words

  any time soon' suggest that Walter is alive. It sounds as

  if he's been kidnapped, but at least he's alive! Oh,

  Nancy, we've got to find him,” Dell said plaintively.

  “When did you last see him?” Nancy asked, sitting

  down in her chair.

  Dell leaned back, her hand on her forehead, eyes

  shut. “My mind is whirling,” she moaned. “I don't know

  if I can stand this. Poor Walter.”

  “Dell,” Nancy said gently. “You've got to pull

  yourself together so we can find him. Please answer

  me.”

  Dell sighed, her eyes still shut. “I'm sorry, Nancy. I'll

  try my best. I last saw Walter this morning at about ten.

  He told me he was going out for a walk downtown to

  visit a colleague. Someone must have kidnapped him

  along the way.”

  Nancy picked up the cordless phone and punched in

  911. “Before we do anything else, I'm calling the

  police,” she declared.

  Fifteen minutes later two police officers arrived at

  the Van Hoogstraten house. They introduced them-

  selves to Dell and the girls as Detective Martha Phillips

  and Officer Juan Serrano.

  The police officers li
stened attentively as Dell and

  Nancy told them about the chandelier incident and the

  strange phone message. Dell also explained that since

  Walter was visiting her from Boston, he had no office

  or hotel in New York where he might check in.

  “He was planning to do some research at the Bronx

  Zoo,” Dell told them, “but he hadn't started it yet.

  There's no other place he could be except here or

  sightseeing.”

  The police explained that usually a person had to be

  missing for forty-eight hours before they took the

  disappearance seriously. However, since Dell had

  received a mysterious and threatening phone call

  suggesting that Walter had been kidnapped, they

  agreed to start looking for him immediately.

  “As long as you're sure that Mr. Lang isn't pulling a

  practical joke,” Detective Phillips said, “we'll do our

  best to find him.”

  “Walter would never joke about something like this!”

  Dell cried. “He's a responsible person, and I'm sure

  he's in danger.”

  “Then we'll do what we can to find him, Ms. Van

  Hoogstraten,” Officer Serrano assured her.

  As Dell was showing the police officers out the front

  door, Nancy turned to Bess and George and

  whispered, “Why don't we leave, too? I really want to

  talk about this case with just you guys—away from

  Dell.”

  Before Bess and George could respond, the front

  door burst open, and Dell stumbled back against the

  girls.

  “Oh, I'm so sorry, Dell,” said the thin, reedy voice.

  Violet Van Hoogstraten peeped around the door frame

  and added, “This door is like a weapon. I didn't realize

  anyone was behind it. Is everyone quite all right?”

  “We'll live, Aunt Violet,” Dell said, managing a weak

  smile.

  “Good,” Violet declared as she marched into the

  foyer, carrying a bundle of mail. “Here's your mail,

  Dell. I ran into the letter carrier on the sidewalk. He

  knows I'm family.” As she dumped the mail into her

  niece's hands, Violet's tiny brow crinkled under her

  lavender fringe. “By the way, what were the police

  doing on your front steps?”

  Dell wasn't listening. With her face sheet white, she

  held up a letter with no stamp. “Van Hoogstraten

  Family” was printed on it in block letters.

  She plunked the pile of mail down on a nearby table