Gertrude Warner - Mystery in New York

“Maybe she is going to try to sell the diamond to them,” said Violet.

But Henry shook his head. “No. A famous store like Tiffany’s would never buy a stolen diamond. Lydia would have to sell it secretly to someone dishonest.”

“Maybe she wants to buy fancy jewelry when she sells the diamond and she is just window-shopping now,” Jessie said. “Something even nicer than her crystal necklace.”

“Or maybe she’s just trying to figure out how much the Elizabeth Star is worth,” added Violet.

Lydia leaned over to look more closely at something in the window. Then she straightened up and walked into Tiffany’s.

The Aldens exchanged glances.

“Come on,” said Henry.

They walked into Tiffany’s after Lydia, and stopped.

The whole place seemed to glitter. What seemed like endless rows of glass cases filled the room, each glimmering with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, along with silver and gold.

“Wow,” said Benny, his eyes round.

“Look,” Violet said softly. “That lady has her dog with her.”

A tall, elegant woman was tucking a robin’s-egg-blue box into a Tiffany’s shopping bag. Over one shoulder was a large square leather purse and sure enough, sitting in the purse, peering back at the Aldens, was a small, silky-haired brown dog with bright button eyes and a bow on its head.

“We could have brought Watch to Tiffany’s,” Benny said.

“Shhh! There’s Lydia,” whispered Jessie.

Just ahead of them, Lydia had stopped in front of a counter and was leaning down.

“Those are diamonds in that case,” Violet breathed.

But Lydia didn’t stay long by the sparkling display. She stepped back and continued to wander up and down the aisles.

“She’s looking at the people in here as much as she’s looking at the jewels,” said Henry thoughtfully. “It’s almost as if she is studying them.”

Violet’s eyes widened. “Maybe she’s planning another robbery. Maybe she’s going to see what someone buys, then follow that person home and steal it!”

A moment later, Lydia walked around a display case that glittered with gold. As the Aldens started to follow her, a large man in a dark suit stepped into their path. “Look at this, dear,” he said to a woman with a bored expression who stood nearby. He didn’t even seem to notice the Aldens.

Quickly, they ducked around the large man, just in time to see Lydia vanishing through a side door that led onto the street.

“She’s getting away,” gasped Jessie. They rushed to the door and out—and stopped.

Lydia was gone. She had vanished into the crowds that streamed past them on the sidewalk.

“Do you think she knew we were following her?” asked Benny a little while later.

Henry shook his head. He couldn’t answer because he had a mouthful of hot dog and mustard.

“Me either,” Benny agreed, taking a bite of his own hot dog. “She never even looked back once. Have you ever noticed how people never look back? That’s why they’re so easy to follow.”

The Aldens were eating lunch. They had bought hot dogs from a park vendor and found a spot on a bench above Wollman Rink in Central Park. As they ate, they watched the people roller-skating and blading in the rink below and talked about the mystery.

“Lydia is our best suspect,” said Jessie. “And she was acting a little oddly in Tiffany’s.”

“But that doesn’t make her a thief,” Violet said.

Henry said, “If she’s not the thief, then someone else is. But there were no strangers in the building last night, according to Mr. Saunders. And no one else signed in or out.”

They munched on in thoughtful silence. Benny had finished his hot dog and was watching Violet finish hers when Jessie broke the spell.

“What if Mr. Saunders isn’t telling the truth? What if he let someone in?”

“Maybe he did,” said Henry.

“Or maybe he did it himself,” said Benny.

“I don’t think so, Benny. He can’t leave his desk for very long, because he locks the front door when he does. If he did that, someone would have noticed.”

“That’s true,” agreed Violet. “I don’t think Mr. Saunders could have been away from his desk long enough to break into Mr. Pound’s apartment, get into the secret room, and steal the diamond.”

“What about Mr. Pound? Maybe he did it. Maybe he took the diamond earlier in the evening and then just pretended that it was stolen when we got there,” said Jessie. She paused, then shook her head. “No, that couldn’t have happened. We saw it when we went upstairs to get Mr. Pound for dinner.”

“Right,” said Benny.

Henry finished his hot dog and stood up. “We don’t have many clues. I think we need to ask more questions. And I think we need to start with Mr. Pound.”

Henry called Mrs. Teague from a pay phone on a corner and told her that they were going to Mr. Pound’s office to ask some more questions about the mystery of the missing diamond. Then he called information and got Mr. Pound’s office address. Finally, he looked in his guidebook and discovered that a nearby bus would take them to Wall Street, near Mr. Pound’s office.

“Wall Street is named after a real wall that used to be where the street is today,” he told the others as they sat down on the wide seat at the back of the bus. Fortunately, it wasn’t very crowded. “It was made by the Dutch settlers out of big wood planks.”

“Why?” asked Violet.

“To protect the early settlers from attack,” Henry said. “That was in 1653 and New York wasn’t a big city like it is today. It was just a settlement with a few dozen people.”

“And now it has so many,” said Jessie in amazement.

“In a very small area,” Henry said. “My guidebook says that the island of Manhattan is only 13.4 miles long and 2.3 miles wide at the widest point.”

The bus was driving down a street that was narrow, with buildings so tall they seemed to lean over it. It was almost as if the bus had driven into a tunnel.

“This is Wall Street, our stop,” said Henry.

They got off the bus. The men and women hurrying by seemed to all be wearing dark suits and worried expressions. Most of them carried briefcases. When the children reached Mr. Pound’s office, a guard made them sign in at a desk in the lobby. Then they rode an elevator up to the twenty-third floor. They stepped off the elevator and saw a pair of glass doors with silver handles in front of them. POUNDSTAR was written in golden script across the door.

Jessie led the way, pushing open the doors and stopping in front of the receptionist’s desk. “We’re here to see Mr. Pound,” she announced.

“Do you have an appointment?” asked the receptionist.

“No,” said Jessie.

“We’re here to help him find his diamond,” Benny said.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “Really?” she said. “And which detective agency shall I tell Mr. Pound’s secretary you are from?”

“The Alden Family Detective Agency,” said Henry firmly. “We’ll be glad to wait.”

He went and sat down on one of the plush wine-colored chairs in the reception area. He folded his arms. Jessie, Benny, and Violet did the same.

The receptionist picked up the phone. “Some children who say they are from the Alden Family Detective Agency are here to see Mr. Pound. They say it is about the stolen diamond.”

A moment later, the receptionist’s expression of polite scorn changed to one of surprise. She put down the phone. “Mr. Pound will see you now,” she said. She pointed. “Go down the hall, then up the stairs. He’ll meet you at the top.”