Ann Martin - Claudia And The Mystery At The Museum

"Thanks," I said. "This is my father, John Kishi." "Dad, this is Don Newman." They shook hands.

"Nice party," said my father. The three of us stood chatting for a few minutes, about the museum and how nice it was for Stoneybrook to have it. Then my dad looked at me. "Claudia, I just spotted some friends. Mind if I go talk to them?"

"Okay," I replied. Actually, I was glad to see him go, so that Mr. Newman — Don — and I could talk about the mystery.

My dad said good-bye to us, and wandered off. "So, Claudia," said Don, turning to me. "Are you enjoying the party?"

I hesitated. "Well, ifs very nice," I said. "But I can't stop thinking about your sculpture, and how different it felt. I'm just so sure there's something funny going on here." At

that moment, I saw Mr. Snipes walk by. "And I think he may have something to do with it," I whispered.

"The curator?" asked Don. "But — "

"I can't explain right now," I whispered. I was watching Mr. Snipes mingle with the guests. Then I noticed that he was about to leave the room. Without thinking, I grabbed Don's sleeve. "Come on!" I said. "Let's follow him."

Don grinned. "This is exciting," he said. "Much more fun than a boring old party." He followed me, and I followed Mr. Snipes out the door, back into the main lobby, and down a dimly lit hall. Guess where we followed him to? His office door.

"Oops," I said, turning to Don. I knew I was blushing. I had led us to a dead end.

"That's okay," he said. "Listen, as long as we've left the party, how would you like to check out the sculpture?"

"I'd love to," I said. We walked to the sculpture gallery, but when we reached it, the door was locked.

"That's strange," said Don. He led me back down the hall and we found a guard, one of the few on duty that night. "I'm Don New-man," he said. "Do you know why the sculpture gallery is locked?"

"The show has been taken down already,"

said the guard. "All of your sculptures are in storage room B, ready to be packed up for shipment to your next show."

Don nodded. "I see," he said. "Thank you."

We walked away from the guard. "Well, I guess that’s that," said Don.

"Let’s check out the storage room," I said. I couldn't stand the thought of giving up.

Don looked at me, his eyes twinkling. "You're very tenacious," he said. "Okay, why not?"

I didn't know what "tenacious" meant until I looked it up later. So I didn't know whether Don was complimenting me or insulting me. He didn't look as if he were insulting me, so I just smiled. (I found out later that "tenacious" means, basically, stubborn. I guess it was kind of a compliment, under the circumstances.)

We found storage room B near the gift shop, down a darkened hall. "It'll probably be locked," said Don as we approached the door.

I was reaching for the knob when I heard footsteps. "Shh!" I said. I grabbed Don's arm and pulled him into a dark corner. We watched as a custodian, pushing a mop and bucket, walked to the door of the storage room. He was wearing a Walkman, and he hummed to himself as he pulled out a large ring filled with keys, rummaged through them, and then stuck one into the keyhole and

pushed the door open. He walked in and flipped on a light, and we tiptoed to the doorway and peered through.

The custodian pushed his bucket over to the sculpture called Daphne. My eyes widened and I exchanged looks with Don. We stepped inside, since the man's back was toward us. Then, as we watched, the custodian tipped the sculpture up, put his hand inside a hidden opening, and pulled something out. I nearly fainted when I saw what it was. Coins! A handful of shining, gold coins. I gasped.

Don put his finger to his lips. The custodian, who was still humming to himself, dropped the coins into his bucket — and turned around. When he saw us, his face turned white. "I — I — " He started to say something, but seemed to change his mind. Instead of talking, he shoved his bucket toward us and turned to run.

Don lunged at the custodian and tackled him. From behind me, I heard running footsteps, and before I knew what was happening, a third man barreled into the room and jumped on top of Don. I stood still, unable to move or scream, staring at the pile of arms and legs. Suddenly I realized who had tackled Don. I saw a black stripe running up a trouser leg. It was the man with one blue eye and one green eye!

Chapter 15.

Dawn was sure to be confused by that letter, but I knew it would seem dearer after she read the newspaper article we had enclosed. Plus, Mary Anne could set her straight the next time they talked on the phone. Curators, men with different-colored eyes, sculptures that moved — the mystery did seem complicated. But really, it was very simple.

I better explain what happened after that pile-up in storage room B. I was still rooted to the floor. Don was holding down the custodian, who was struggling to get to his feet. And the man with one green eye and one blue eye was on the top of the heap, yelling, "Nobody move! I'm a federal officer!"

Within moments, Mr. Snipes appeared in the room. He had heard the commotion and called the police, who arrived soon after. Then, once the men on the floor had untangled themselves, we began to sort things out.

The man with the funny eyes turned out to be named Mr. Olinger. He was a federal agent who specialized in art theft. He had been assigned to the Stoneybrook Museum when Mr. Snipes had been appointed curator. I guess the trustees of the museum had been warned that the museum was vulnerable to theft, and they thought the team of Olinger and Snipes could solve the problem.

The trustees didn't count on Mr. Will Saries, though. That was the custodian's name. Only he wasn't really a custodian. He was a thief who had been planning this robbery since before the museum opened. His plan was basically a good one, too. First, he set off the fire alarm as a distraction. Then, he did, as I had guessed, steal the coins by using his key to open the case. After that, he broke the case to cover up the evidence, which set off the burglar alarm. In the confusion that followed, he dumped the coins into his bucket. Later, he stashed them in Don's sculpture. (He knew about the special hiding place because he had helped to unpack Daphne when they were first setting up the exhibit.) His only problem came when, after the robbery, the museum tightened security and posted guards twenty-four hours a day. He didn't get a chance to retrieve the coins until the night of the party, when the security was relaxed.

He had made arrangements to sell the coins to a museum in Switzerland, and he was hoping to retire on the money he would make. Now, as Kristy said, "It looks like he'll be retiring behind bars."

I got all kinds of attention for helping to catch the robber. Actually, I thought it was mostly luck, but I had to admit that I would

never have been in that room if I hadn't been trying to figure out the case.

"Teen Detective Helps Nab Coin Thief," read the headline in the Stoneybrook News. In the story was a funny quote from my father, who said he had no idea that his daughter was "an ace detective." And below the headline was a big picture of me, Don Newman, Mr. Snipes, and Mr. Olinger. Mr. Snipes was shaking my hand and grinning.

I never told Mr. Snipes that my friends and I had suspected him. I was too embarrassed. He turned out to be a pretty nice guy after all. I think he was just really busy and preoccupied when I first met him. And guess what? My fantasy came true, sort of. Now that I'm an honorary trustee, Mr. Snipes wants me to help him set up a show of local student work. "Including your own, of course," he said. I can't wait.

On Friday, a week after the mystery was solved, my friends and I celebrated by ordering in a pizza after our club meeting. While we ate it, we passed around the letter that we were writing to Dawn. Kristy read aloud from the newspaper article, to entertain us. "Ms. Kishi, a student at Stoneybrook Middle School, says she has no formal training in detective work. Yet federal agent Olinger insists