The Clue on the Crystal Dove Page 7
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,