“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
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