George nudged Nancy in the side. “They said they’d just gone in and out. They said they’d made a wrong turn.”
Nancy knew they were onto something. “How long were they there?” she asked the men.
“Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty,” the man with the mask said. “They were hiding up there. We came back in here to finish, and then we were going to get the guard to get them down.”
“But then we heard that thud,” the round man added.
Nancy perked up. “So, you’re saying you heard the thud right around the time you saw the girls on the scaffolding?”
“Yup,” the man said. Then he picked up a roller and went back to work.
“Do you know what this means?” Bess said. She was nearly shrieking she was so excited. “They lied to us.”
“And if they lied to us,” George added, “they must have something to hide.”
Nancy couldn’t help but smile. Normally, she would be upset that someone lied to her, but this was the best news she’d heard all night. Melody and Lena had just gone from witnesses to suspects. Had the Clue Crew solved this case already?
Lights Out
Bess scribbled down everything the two men said. She wrote SUSPECTS in capital letters and drew a line underneath. Right below she wrote Bensonhurst Academy students: Melody and Lena.
George took one last look around the room. “And you didn’t see anyone else in here? No one came through at all today?”
The man with the freckles put his hand on his chin. “No one came through here . . . ,” he said. “Oh! That’s not right. Sometime before dinner there was one lady, a woman with black hair.”
“That’s right,” the man with the mask said. “She was looking for someone. But she came through before we saw the girls on the scaffolding.”
Bess wrote that down too. “If she came through before you saw the girls, then maybe that was a little before six o’clock?”
The man with the freckles nodded. “That sounds about right.”
“What did she look like?” George asked. “Besides the black hair.”
The man with freckles pointed through the plastic sheet over the doorway. “It’s hard to see much through that, but she did have black hair.”
“I think she was wearing red,” the other man added. “Something red.”
“And that’s all you remember?” Nancy asked. Witnesses had a funny way of doing this. They’d sometimes say that they couldn’t remember anything else, but there was usually something. It never hurt to ask one last time.
“Oh! The person she was looking for was named Genie.”
George smiled at Nancy. “Good detective work,” she said. “That could be important.”
Bess wrote down all the last details as the girls headed toward the museum restaurant. “We have to find Melody and Lena,” Bess said. “They must have something to do with this. They were there at almost the exact same time the sculpture was broken.”
Nancy doubled her pace. She could see the entrance to the restaurant up ahead. It was time to question Melody and Lena again, but could the Clue Crew get them to confess?
* * *
“You have to let me explain,” Melody began. Miss Alcott and Nancy, Bess, and George stood in front of Melody, Lena, and Mr. Porter, Bensonhurst Academy’s art teacher. He was a little older than Miss Alcott, with long hair tied back in a ponytail.
The restaurant was nearly empty. The other River Heights kids had gone to the great hall with another chaperone to get ready for the sleepover. The museum flicked the lights several times, telling everyone it was about to close.
Miss Alcott took a deep breath. “Can you tell us why you were in the sculpture hall when it was closed? The workers next door saw you there playing on the scaffolding.”
“Is that true?” Mr. Porter asked.
Lena bit her bottom lip. “We were there for a little while. . . .”
“The tour was boring,” Melody whined. She looked so different from the girl Nancy and her friends had spoken to a half hour before. Her cheeks were red, and she seemed like she might cry.
“We were just trying to have some fun,” Lena added.
Mr. Porter put his hands on his hips. “What happened in there? This is a museum. You can’t wander around the halls without a teacher.”
“We snuck away from the tour for a little bit. We were hiding on the scaffolding, playing hangman. Then when we left, I must’ve dropped my purse. That’s all. We didn’t do anything to that statue!”
“We didn’t even go near it,” Lena added. “It was fine. When we left, it wasn’t broken. There wasn’t anything unusual at all.”
A security guard walked up and down the tables, clearing out the restaurant. “Closing time,” he said. “If your class is sleeping over, you should report to the medieval armor wing.”
“You’re admitting to being in the hall at the time the statue was broken,” Mr. Porter said. “I have to tell Mr. Whimbley. We can’t let the River Heights students pay for this when they weren’t even there.”
Melody’s eyes filled with tears. “We didn’t do it though,” she said. “Please. I promise. I can prove we’re telling the truth.”
She pulled a sheet of paper that was folded from her pocket. Across the top was a picture of a hangman and then spaces beneath. The words “SIMON CROSS IS BOOOOORING” were filled in.
“You were there though, and you lied about it,” Miss Alcott said. “Even if you were only playing hangman, how can my students be blamed for this? None of us set foot in that hall. You have to tell Mr. Whimbley.”
Lena kept shaking her head. “But, Mr. Porter, we were already in the museum classroom by the time the sculpture broke. We were already working on our ink drawings. You can check the pile—I made one.”
“Is that true?” Miss Alcott asked. She looked to Mr. Porter. “Are you certain they were there?”
“The class was so big—” Mr. Porter said. “There were twenty of them. I’m not positive.”
The security guard at the other end of the restaurant flicked the lights several times. “We’re closed. Head to the medieval wing. We’re locking everything up!”
“Let’s sort this out tomorrow,” Miss Alcott said, looking at the woman with the harp. She was loading it into a giant black case. “You’re sleeping over as well, right?”
Mr. Porter nodded. “On the east side of the hall,” he said. “Let’s talk in the morning.” Then he strode ahead of them, Melody and Lena trailing behind. The Clue Crew could still hear Melody and Lena even as they turned the corner.
“I swear we didn’t do this, Mr. Porter,” she said. “I swear.”
Nancy, Bess, and George walked beside Miss Alcott. They’d never seen her so angry before. “I know they broke that statue,” she said. “Why else would they lie to you? And now River Heights is getting blamed for it.”
They strode into the medieval armor hall. The room was lined with helmets and tin suits. One whole wall was covered in giant silver swords. There, in the center, was a statue of a horse with armor, just like Miss Alcott said.
Most of the class was already lying on the marble floor in their sleeping bags. Some were reading. Others were huddled together talking about the mystery of the broken sculpture.
The other adult on the trip was Beth Derth’s mom, though she’d spent most of the time setting up the sleeping area and arranging the dinner at the restaurant. She was passing out extra pillows and blankets to anyone who wanted one. She also passed Nancy, Bess, and George their sleeping bags and backpacks. “Any luck?” she asked, looking from Miss Alcott to them.
“We think we know who did it,” Miss Alcott said. “We’ll have to talk to Mr. Whimbley tomorrow morning.”
Then Miss Alcott and Mrs. Derth walked away, whispering something Nancy couldn’t hear. Nancy plopped down on the marble floor. “I don’t know,” she said, rolling out her sleeping bag. “Something doesn’t seem right.”
She looked at the other end of the hall.
Melody and Lena were crying to some of their friends. One girl rested her hand on Melody’s back, trying to make her feel better. “I swear,” Melody kept saying. “No one believes us. Just because we were there, it doesn’t mean we did anything wrong.”
Nancy’s couldn’t stop watching them. They seemed so sure they hadn’t done anything wrong. Was it really all an act?
Bess slipped into her sleeping bag, curling it up around her chin. The lights dimmed in the medieval armor hall. “I know, Nancy,” she agreed. “I just can’t figure out what doesn’t seem right.”
“Melody and Lena really seem upset,” George added.
Nancy leaned back on her pillow. Her instincts were telling her something was off. As much as Miss Alcott was sure Melody and Lena broke the sculpture, it didn’t quite make sense. There had to be something the Clue Crew had missed.
“If they’re not lying, then the statue was fine when they left the hall,” Nancy whispered. “So it was broken after.”
“Which means it couldn’t have been the woman with the black hair who ran through,” Bess added. “The men who were painting said she walked past before they discovered Melody and Lena.”
“Right,” George said. She rubbed her forehead, more frustrated than ever. “But that means if Lena and Melody didn’t do it, we don’t have a single suspect left. We have to start over from scratch.”
Nancy stared up at the domed ceiling. This was one of their trickiest cases yet. She knew Melody and Lena were the closest answer they had, but they couldn’t let them get in trouble for something they didn’t do. Miss Alcott was convinced, but she hadn’t seen all the evidence. Maybe they hadn’t seen all the evidence either. Was there something back there in that room?
“Let’s sleep on it,” Nancy said, turning to her friends. “And tomorrow, before we do anything, we’ll go back to the sculpture hall for a second look.”
One Last Clue
“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Nancy said.
“I know,” Bess moaned. She rubbed her head. “Robby and Kevin kept making noises and were laughing all night!”
George walked a few steps in front of them, turning left toward the sculpture hall. “Those creepy armor men scared me! They looked like they’d come to life at any moment.”
The museum was already full with visitors. A few groups walked around with maps, while another class moved through on a tour. The guide kept waving a red flag in the air, trying to keep everyone together.
“You guys!” a voice called somewhere behind them. “Wait up!”
Melody ran after them. She was holding two papers in her hand. She passed them to Nancy. “We found the ink drawings we did in class last night. See? This should prove that we weren’t there when the sculpture broke.” She pointed to her name at the bottom of the sheet. Lena’s name was written on the other one.
“Thanks for these,” Nancy said.
Melody grabbed Nancy’s hand. “I’m sorry I lied to you yesterday, but you have to believe us. If I knew anything else, I would’ve told you, but I don’t. I can’t explain how the statue broke. I just know we didn’t do it.”
Nancy felt bad for Melody, but even the ink drawings couldn’t prove anything. Melody and Lena could have made them this morning or put their names on them to say they’d been in the classroom at the time that the statue fell. The Clue Crew needed to find more clues . . . more facts. “We’re working on it,” Nancy said. “We’ll tell you as soon as we have any news.”
Then she started back down the hall with Bess and George. When they reached the sculpture hall, everything seemed different. It was funny how returning to a scene could show you new things.
“I knew it,” Nancy said. “Look how high this podium is. It’s higher than my shoulder.”
George circled it. “You’re right,” she said. “It would be really hard for any of us to knock it over. It doesn’t seem like Melody and Lena could.”
Bess stuck her head under the giant tarp, and then she disappeared under it for a few minutes. Nancy and George could see her moving beneath it.
“I found something! Another clue!” Bess yelled. She popped out, holding a piece of paper and a pencil.
“Do you think that’s what Melody and Lena were writing with?” George asked.
“It at least proves what they were saying. They were in here, hiding under the tarp. They were playing a game,” Bess said.
Nancy looked at where Melody and Lena had been hiding, then back where the sculpture was. “It’s too far away for them to have jumped off and knocked it over. They couldn’t have climbed down and kicked it. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
The girls circled the room again. George peered under a few sheets covering some sculptures. Bess looked out the doorway, trying to figure out how the suspect came in. Nancy studied the ceiling for a long time. There was a light right above the broken sculpture, but that was all.
“There has to be something we’re missing,” George said. She peeked under another sheet.
Nancy took one last walk around the sculpture, and that’s when she saw it. Even though most of the red dust had been swept up, there was a little bit still in the corner. “Over here,” she said, pointing to the corner. “That’s so strange. . . .”
The girls leaned over to see. A patch of the white floor still looked pink. But there, in the center, was a footprint. “What is that?” Bess asked.
George inched closer. It wasn’t a boot or a sneaker, not anything the kids or the janitor would wear. It looked like a fancy high heel, like the ones her mom wore to work. “Look at how small it is. That’s the front of the shoe and that’s the high heel.” She pointed to the dot behind it. “But why would someone be walking around here with high heels on? It must’ve been an adult.”
“Definitely,” Nancy said. “And she came through after the sculpture broke, because the dust was already here.”
Almost as soon as she said it, Bess’s eyes opened wide. She inched closer to a podium in the corner, leaning down to look at something. She picked up a tiny red feather, showing Nancy and George. “Look! What do you think this is?”
Nancy shot up straight. “I didn’t notice that before. It looks like it’s from something . . .”
George pinched it between her fingers. “It’s definitely not from an animal,” she said. “The color is too weird. It’s been dyed.”
Nancy cupped her hand over her mouth. “The woman in red. The one with the dark hair who was looking for Genie. Do you think this has to do with her? Maybe this was on something she was wearing?”
“It’s hard to say for sure,” Bess said. “But it’s the only clue we have.”
“We have to find her,” Nancy said.
“How?” George asked. “She was wearing red yesterday, but she could be wearing anything today. She probably isn’t even here. What are the chances she would come to the museum two days in a row?”
Bess let out a sigh. “You’re right,” she said. “It’ll be impossible to find her now.”
“If we can’t find her, maybe we can figure out who Genie is,” Nancy said. “We have to at least try.”
Nancy glanced at her watch. They didn’t have much time before they had to meet Mr. Whimbley, Miss Alcott, Mr. Porter, Melody, and Lena at the front entrance. “Come on,” she said, waving at her friends behind her. “Let’s go through the museum one last time. Look out for anything unusual. Anything at all . . .”
The Great Meela
Nancy and her friends searched the medieval armor room, asking if anyone had met a woman with black hair and a red outfit. They asked every guard if they knew anyone named Genie. They looked through the impressionist wing. They studied every person sitting at the museum restaurant. They’d spent over an hour wandering around, calling out “Genie!” Time was running out.
“It feels hopeless,” George said. They walked through the modern art wing one last time, taking in all the strange paintings.
Nancy bit her bottom lip. They always
solved the cases they worked on, but this one was tricky. They had two suspects that they didn’t believe did it. Would Melody and Lena get in trouble anyway? What would Mr. Whimbley say when he found out Melody and Lena had been there?
They were nearly at the end of the hallway when Nancy finally saw whom they’d been searching for. “Do you see what I see?” she asked her friends.
George’s mouth dropped open. Standing in front of the Wild exhibit was a woman in pointy high heels. Over her dress, she wore a red satin cape with feathers around the collar. She had black hair that stuck up in a hundred directions. A tour group crowded around her.
“My name is Meela Deetana, and this is my exhibit Wild. It was inspired by nature,” she said. “I wanted to show a live animal in a bleak landscape. I wanted to prove how lonely life can be.”
Nancy grabbed George’s arm. “It’s her! That’s the woman we’ve been looking for. She must wear that cape all the time.”
The tourists crowded around, some putting their hands against the glass. Inside the room was the ostrich. It ran back and forth in front of the black canvas.
“Look how tall it is,” Bess whispered. “It must be seven or eight feet.”
Nancy nodded. She knew what Bess was trying to say. Meela was too thin and short to be able to move the sculpture. But the bird was gigantic.
“You’re right. That bird is tall enough to knock down a sculpture,” Nancy said. “I’m sure of it.”
After a few minutes, Meela stepped to the side of the exhibit. A woman with leopard-print pants went up to her, saying how incredible the exhibit was. When she was done, the girls stepped forward.
“Excuse me,” Nancy said. “We wanted to ask you a few questions about your exhibit.”
“Why of course,” Meela said. “What would you like to know?”
Bess flipped through her sketch pad and smiled. She knew exactly what to ask. “What is the ostrich’s name?”
Meela laughed. “Are you serious? You want to know the bird’s name?”