The Clue on the Crystal Dove Read online

  and tore open the envelope. “ To all of Julius Van

  Hoogstraten's descendants,' ” she read aloud. “ If his

  house is opened to the public, I will curse you

  forever!'”

  “What a dreadful letter,” Violet said, placing a hand

  over her heart. “Who would send such a thing to you,

  Dell darling?”

  “To us, Aunt Violet,” Dell said. “It's addressed to all

  of Julius's descendants.”

  Violet picked up a piece of junk mail and began to

  fan herself with it. “Such a shocking message! I feel

  faint, dear,” she warbled. “I must lie down. What does

  it mean we'll all be cursed?” She toddled off to a sofa in

  the adjoining parlor and eased herself on to it.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Dell exclaimed, her gaze

  shooting back to Nancy, George, and Bess. “I just

  remembered—Richard Schoonover's store is in SoHo.

  It's called the Glass Slipper. His office is in the back of

  the store. Since Walter said he was going downtown,

  maybe he went into the Glass Slipper and Richard

  kidnapped him—if Alden is right about Richard's

  stealing the dove. He could have stashed Walter in his

  office, or in the basement.”

  Nancy chewed her lip, thinking about Dell's words

  and trying to picture the older Schoonover over-

  powering Walter. “Hmm, the anonymous phone call

  came about an hour after Mr. Schoonover left,” she

  said. “How far is SoHo from here?”

  “Minutes by car or cab,” Dell said. “Richard would

  have had plenty of time to drive back to his store,

  kidnap Walter, and then make the phone call.”

  The front door shot open, and Alden hurried inside.

  His chestnut hair was tousled, and his normally relaxed

  face was drawn with worry. “I never caught up with

  Schoonover,” he announced breathlessly. “When I

  went down to the Glass Slipper, the door was locked.

  Where could he be with that dove?”

  “The dove isn't the only thing he may have taken,”

  George cut in.

  Alden shot George a quizzical look, and Dell told

  him the news about Walter.

  Alden's eyes widened as she spoke. But before he

  could say anything, Dell handed him the note ad-

  dressed to Julius's descendants.

  Alden scanned it, then slapped the paper with the

  back of his hand. “We'll all be cursed?” he cried. “What

  is this? I mean, Schoonover must be guilty—he's so

  jealous of Julius's glass birds that he'll do anything to

  keep the rest of the world from seeing how great they

  are. That's why he doesn't want us to open the

  museum, and I'll bet he kidnapped Walter just to prove

  his point.”

  “We don't know why Walter was kidnapped,” Nancy

  said. “The caller never told Dell to do anything special

  to get him back, like leave money somewhere or give

  up plans for the museum.”

  “That's weird,” Bess commented. “Maybe the per-

  son just forgot to say what he or she wanted.”

  Nancy shrugged. “Maybe.” She shot a knowing look

  at George and Bess and murmured, “We haven't been

  outside all day, and I could use some exercise. How

  about a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge?”

  “Great idea, Nan,” George said brightly.

  Bess opened her mouth to protest when George

  nudged her ankle with the toe of her sneaker. “Great

  idea, Nancy,” Bess echoed, forcing a grin.

  The girls said goodbye to Dell and Alden and ex-

  plained that they'd be in touch, that they just had to get

  a little exercise. “Don't worry, Bess, I don't want to

  walk on the bridge right now,” Nancy assured her once

  they were outside. “I want to check out the Glass

  Slipper without Dell or Alden tagging along.”

  George shook her head sadly. “I guess a walk across

  the bridge was too good to be true,” she said in a

  wistful tone.

  Nancy took a map of Manhattan out of her purse

  and located the nearest subway that would take them

  to SoHo. Then she slipped into a coffee shop and asked

  to use a phone book.

  “The Glass Slipper is on Spring Street,” she told

  Bess and George as she found the listing. “Luckily the

  subway stops right near there.”

  Five minutes later Nancy, Bess, and George were

  rattling through a dark tunnel on a crowded subway

  heading south. “This is surreal,” Bess whispered as they

  hung on to a metal pole to keep their balance as the

  train swayed.

  About four stops later Nancy said, “Hey, guys, this is

  us—Spring Street.”

  Soon Nancy, George, and Bess were walking down

  Spring Street looking for the Glass Slipper.

  “Look at the handbags in this window, guys!” Bess

  exclaimed. “And the jewelry. Maybe I'll stop in here

  later. Wow—this restaurant looks pretty cool.” She

  stopped outside a trendy bistro with polished brass

  doors. Young people blithely sipped lattes at tables

  outside while talking into cell phones.

  Nancy grabbed Bess's arm. “Come on, Bess. We can

  come back later.”

  “Come on, I found it,” George called, motioning

  with her hand from halfway down the block.

  Nancy and Bess hurried to join her outside a small

  unassuming storefront. The Glass Slipper was written

  in delicate gold script across the front door. Antique

  glass and crystal ware sparkled behind a large show

  window.

  As Nancy pushed open the door, a bell on it tinkled,

  announcing their presence. Richard Schoonover

  appeared through a back door, which he immediately

  closed behind him.

  His eyes widened as he recognized Nancy. “Well,

  well—it's Ms. Van Hoogstraten's friend. How can I

  help you?”

  “Delphinia told us about your store,” Nancy said,

  “and we were shopping in SoHo anyway, so we decided

  to check out some of your stuff.”

  Mr. Schoonover blinked at them in surprise. “You

  girls are interested in buying antique glassware?” he

  asked suspiciously. “It doesn't seem like something kids

  your age would want.”

  “Uh, my dad collects crystal,” Nancy fudged, “and I

  thought I'd take him home a memento from New

  York.”

  “Really?” Mr. Schoonover said, his ice blue eyes

  narrowing as he glared at her doubtfully.

  “Yes,” Nancy went on, ignoring his sarcasm. She

  peered into a glass display case at some crystal finger

  bowls and asked, “You have beautiful stuff here, Mr.

  Schoonover, but I don't see anything for my dad. Do

  you have more merchandise in the back?”

  “That depends,” he said coolly. “What would be

  right for your dad?”

  “Uh, animals. Glass animals. Do you have any in the

  back?”

  Mr. Schoonover drummed his fingers impatiently on

  the countertop. “Why is it that I don't believe you?

  Maybe because I have the feeling that y
ou're really

  looking for Delphinia's crystal dove. I'm not a fool, Ms.

  Drew. I have no doubt that she sent you here. So the

  answer is no, I don't have any merchandise for sale in

  the back. Only what you see here.”

  Nancy sighed. Mr. Schoonover wasn't being exactly

  cooperative—maybe because he really did have

  something to hide in the back office, she concluded.

  Nancy decided to try another tack. Remembering

  Alden's claim that the store had been locked up earlier,

  Nancy said, “We tried coming here right after you left

  the Van Hoogstratens. But the store was locked. Were

  you out to lunch?”

  “It's none of your business where I was!” he re-

  torted. “We obviously just missed each other. Your

  method of transportation must have been faster than

  my car. The traffic was frightful today. Now, if you're

  not prepared to buy anything, I really must ask you

  girls to leave. I'm too busy to answer any more of your

  questions.”

  “Sorry if we bothered you,” Nancy said as Mr.

  Schoonover grunted a curt goodbye.

  Opening the door Nancy said, “Maybe we should get

  coffee at that café you liked, Bess.”

  “Hey, what about our walk across the Brooklyn

  Bridge?” George protested. “If I don't get some ex-

  ercise soon, I'll go insane.”

  “Count me out,” Bess said as they walked out the

  door. “I mean, right now we're within easy walking

  distance of the cutest stores in the world—not to

  mention the best pastries—and you guys want to walk

  across a bridge? Some choice!”

  George peeled a few dollars from her wallet and

  handed them to Bess. “If you come across any éclairs,

  Bess, nab one for me. How about you, Nan?”

  Nancy grinned. “I wouldn't turn one down, Bess,”

  she said, handing her some cash. “Thanks. Shall we

  meet you back at Aunt Eloise's later?”

  “Okay, but I'll be at least a couple of hours prowling

  around here,” Bess said happily, before wandering

  down the street in the opposite direction.

  A half hour later Nancy and George were leaning

  over the railing of the Brooklyn Bridge, drinking in the

  beautiful view of the harbor, the Statue of Liberty, and

  the Manhattan skyline. Graceful sailboats carved paths

  through the shimmering water alongside chunky

  ferries, while the lowering sun threw extravagant

  streaks of pink light across a turquoise sky. The

  towering skyscrapers of the financial district seemed to

  stare at the girls, their glowing windows like thousands

  of tiny bright eyes peering from colossal mounds of

  granite.

  People streamed along the pedestrian walkway on

  their way home from work, jostling the girls as they

  hurried along. Below the walkway was the road, on

  which cars rushed from Manhattan to Brooklyn and

  back. Nancy tried to ignore the noise and concentrate

  on the view.

  All at once she felt a shove from behind. It was

  someone's hand, she realized, jamming into her back.

  Her arms shot out as she tried to get her balance—but

  it was too late. She toppled over the railing.

  Nancy grabbed wildly at the base of the railing as

  she slid forward, trying to use it to stop her descent.

  She clutched it with one hand as her legs swung madly

  and she dangled over a lane of traffic rushing below

  her!

  10. Surprise at the Door

  Nancy forced her gaze upward as she clung to the

  railing, its metal edges digging into her hands. George

  leaned over the railing and reached down to help, but

  no matter how far she stretched, her fingertips

  remained inches from Nancy's hands.

  Nancy's palms were slick with perspiration. With

  every ounce of energy she had, she concentrated on

  maintaining her grip. Otherwise, she knew her hands

  would slip and she'd be lost.

  “Help!” she heard George cry out from above.

  “Help! My friend has fallen from the bridge. She's

  clinging to the base of the railing. Someone's got to

  help us—now!”

  Seconds later two young men with dreadlocks

  peered over the railing at Nancy. “Avery!” shouted the

  one on the left. “You and this young lady here—you

  hold my legs as I lean over the bridge. I think I can lift

  her up if you hold me tight.”

  “Okay, John, we've got you,” his friend declared.

  As George and Avery held on to him, John inched

  himself over the railing until it pushed against his waist.

  George's face turned red with the strain of John's

  weight. Cautiously John reached toward Nancy and

  grabbed her wrists. “Let go,” he gasped. “I've got you.”

  Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Nancy let

  go of the railing. She felt a momentary relief as she

  realized that she wasn't falling.

  Tilting his face toward George and Avery, John

  shouted, “Hold on to me tight—I'm pulling her up!”

  Nancy felt John's powerful arms slowly lifting her.

  The moment she could get a toehold on the bottom of

  the railing, she helped him out by pushing herself

  upward.

  Seconds later Nancy was scrambling over the railing

  to safety. Her legs felt like jelly as she drew in deep

  ragged breaths of air, but she forced herself to keep

  her wits about her.

  “How are you, Nan?” George asked, her hands on

  Nancy's shoulders as she peered at her with concern

  and relief. “Thank goodness John and Avery came

  along.”

  “I'm okay,” Nancy said gamely. Turning to John and

  Avery, she added, “Thank you so much for rescuing

  me. I would have fallen and been killed if you guys

  hadn't come along.”

  “Did you see who pushed Nancy?” George asked the

  two guys.

  Avery shook his head. “No, I didn't even notice that

  someone had fallen until you yelled for help.”

  “Same here,” John said.

  “I saw this shadow out of the corner of my eye just

  before I was pushed,” Nancy told them. “But I never

  got to see who it was.”

  Crowds of people continued across the bridge on

  their way home from work as Nancy, George, John,

  and Avery stood talking. “Look at all these people,”

  George commented, “and not one of them came

  forward to give us any info about your attacker, Nan.”

  John frowned. “Maybe no one noticed the attack,”

  he offered. “It's crowded on the bridge at rush hour.

  There's so much going on in this city that sometimes

  your senses get bombarded—people have to tune some

  things out, or else they'd go nuts. A woman being

  pushed from the bridge would draw people's attention

  if they saw it, but someone running away probably

  wouldn't.”

  “The person who pushed Nancy probably blended

  into the crowd,” Avery said. “But just to prove to you

  girls that New Yorkers have thei
r good side, why don't

  you come hear our band play tonight at this club called

  S.O.I.—stands for Songs of the Islands—compliments

  of us? We're a Jamaican jazz/reggae band called the

  John Avery Quartet.”

  Nancy grinned. “George and I would love to hear

  you guys. Would it be okay if we brought our other

  friend, Bess?”

  “Sure thing,” John said, smiling. He gave the girls

  directions to S.O.I, before ambling off with Avery

  across the bridge.

  Nancy shot a wry look at George. “I think I've had

  my fill of the New York skyline for now. What's next,

  Fayne?”

  “Back to your aunt's house to get ready for S.O.I.,”

  George said firmly.

  Forty-five minutes later Nancy and George had

  joined Bess in the kitchen of Eloise Drew's apartment.

  The three girls were heating up a pizza that Bess had

  ordered while Nancy filled her in on her Brooklyn

  Bridge ordeal.

  Bess pointed to a small white box and said, “There's

  an éclair inside that that has your name on it, Nan. I'm

  prescribing it as the best medicine for what you just

  went through.”

  Nancy laughed. “Thanks, Bess. I'm sure I'll be cured

  soon. And by the way, how was your afternoon?”

  “Well, when I got back from shopping, guess who

  called? Alden,” Bess said, her eyes shining.

  “Alden? What did he want?” George asked.

  “He invited me to take a carriage ride with him in

  Central Park tomorrow and have tea in the Palm Court

  at the Plaza Hotel,” Bess replied. “It sounds like a fun,

  fancy New York thing to do—especially because

  Alden's so cute and sophisticated.”

  “Yeah, but he's also a suspect, Bess,” Nancy warned.

  “I mean, Alden, Dell, and Violet all knew that we were

  planning to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge this

  afternoon. It has to be one of them—I doubt I was

  attacked by a random stranger.”

  “But Richard Schoonover knew about the Brooklyn

  Bridge, too,” Bess reminded her. “We talked about our

  plans in his store as we were leaving.”

  “That's true—he could have followed us after we

  left,” George said.

  “Hey, girls,” Aunt Eloise said from the doorway of

  the kitchen. “How was your day? There was a big sale

  at Macy's, and I bought out the store.” She dropped

  her two large shopping bags and rubbed her hands

  together. “Whew, those were heavy. I bought towels,