description of the crystal dove. “Listen to this, guys,”
she said, getting ready to quote from the document. “
One finely fashioned crystal dove with a faint
aquamarine hue. This unique object has a distinctive
olive branch pattern carved upon its belly, suggesting
Noah's dove. This object is an extremely valuable piece
of crystal work. It has been in Julius Van Hoogstraten's
possession since 1900.' ”
“That's got to be the missing dove,” George cut in.
“Should we show this to Dell?”
“Definitely,” Nancy said, “but first let's make sure
there aren't more clues in any of these other
documents.”
After checking out the rest of the papers and finding
nothing worthwhile, the girls put them away. Then
they took the list of Julius's possessions downstairs to
Dell, who was lying on the sofa in the sitting room
reading a magazine.
Nancy showed her the document, then said, “One
thing I don't get—why would this list say that Julius
owned the dove since 1900? I mean, didn't he make all
of his birds before he immigrated to America?”
“Nancy, you're right,” Dell said, peering carefully at
the list. “By 1900, when he supposedly first had this
dove, Julius would have been running his railroad
empire. He would have been way too busy at that point
to do glasswork.”
“Maybe this was a different dove,” George reasoned.
“Maybe Julius bought it in 1900, but the family no
longer has it. It could have been sold off between 1915
and now.”
“Do you remember whether the stolen dove had an
olive design on its belly?” Bess asked Dell.
“I don't know,” Dell said, frowning. “For as long as I
can remember, the stolen dove just sat on the pedestal
in the Aviary. I never noticed whether it had an olive
branch design.”
“So there's no way to tell whether the dove on this
list is the stolen one,” Nancy said.
Before anyone could reply, a key turned in the lock
of the front door. Seconds later Alden walked into the
sitting room.
“Bess!” he said happily as his gaze rested upon her.
“You remembered our plans to take a carriage ride in
the park?”
“I wouldn't forget an invitation like that,” Bess told
him, smiling.
Alden glanced at George and Nancy. “Why don't
you guys join us? There's no reason you two should
miss the fun.” To Dell, he added, “And you're welcome
to come, too, cousin.”
“Thanks, Alden, but I think I'll stay here to try to
chill out.” Dell filled Alden in about Walter's reap-
pearance.
“That is so weird, Dell,” Alden said, looking trou-
bled. “Don't let Walter talk you into calling off the
police. They should still try to figure out what hap-
pened.”
Dell glanced at the three girls. “When you girls were
upstairs, I called Detective Phillips and told her that
Walter had reappeared. They said that if Walter
doesn't want to press charges, there's nothing they can
do.”
“We should tell them about the dove if we don't find
it soon,” Alden suggested.
“Let's give it another day,” Dell said. “I don't want
any negative publicity about the museum.”
Half an hour later Nancy, Bess, George, and Alden
were standing on Fifty-ninth Street on the border of
Central Park. Elegantly dressed women strolled down
nearby Fifth Avenue, while shoppers filed through the
doorways of famous stores such as Tiffany's, Bergdorf
Goodman, and F.A.O. Schwarz. The trees in Central
Park swayed festively in a light breeze, their green
leaves fluttering.
Alden approached a carriage driver standing by his
huge dappled gray horse. “Can the four of us take a
ride?” he asked.
“Certainly,” the driver said. The man peered at the
girls from under the brim of his cap. “Climb aboard,
ladies. Jupiter and I will take you for a relaxing ride
around the park.” With a frisky toss of his head, Jupiter
seemed eager to start. He pawed the ground
impatiently as Alden paid the fee.
The man, whose gray hair matched that of his horse,
climbed on to the driver's seat while Bess stepped into
the open carriage. Grabbing a nearby handle, Nancy
hoisted herself onto the outside step.
Just as she was about to swing herself into the
carriage, Jupiter bolted forward. Nancy struggled to
keep her balance on the step, hanging onto the flimsy
handle as the horse and carriage careened down the
street.
Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy saw Jupiter toss
his head violently, yanking the reins out of the driver's
hands. Barreling down the street behind the frenzied
horse, the carriage suddenly leaped the curb.
Terrified pedestrians scattered as the carriage
knocked down a street sign. The horse galloped across
the sidewalk toward a stone wall.
Nancy held her breath as she hung from the side of
the carriage. If Jupiter jumped the wall, the carriage
would crash!
12. Clued In
Jupiter slowed as the wall loomed in front of him. Out
of the comer of her eye Nancy saw Alden racing
alongside the carriage, gritting his teeth as he struggled
to catch up.
The horse skittered away from the wall, and Alden
reacted. He leaped up to grab the reins and tugged on
them hard until the horse finally stopped.
“Whoa, boy,” Alden said soothingly, patting the
trembling creature. The horse snorted, scattering
flecks of foam in the air.
Nancy jumped down, then helped Bess out of the
coach. “What was that all about?” Bess asked, her body
quivering with shock.
Before Nancy could answer, the driver climbed from
his box to join Alden. With a trembling hand, he took
the reins and said, “Thank you so much. I don't know
what caused Jupiter here to bolt like that.”
“You almost ran over me!” an angry woman shouted
from a group of horrified onlookers. “I'll sue you for
trauma.”
“I'm so sorry, ma'am,” the driver said. “Were you
hurt?”
“No,” she said, “but I could have been if this gen-
tleman hadn't come along to stop your horse.”
“What do you think happened?” Alden asked the
driver.
The man shrugged. “Jupiter's young and recently
trained. Maybe the traffic startled him.”
Alden joined Nancy, Bess, and George. “Let's hire
another carriage,” he suggested.
“I'm game,” Nancy said.
“Me, too,” George said. “After all, the chances that
there are two crazed horses in this park are pretty
slim,” she added wryly.
“Count me out,” Bess declared. “No way am I get-
ting into one of those things a
gain.”
“Oh, Bess, come on,” Alden coaxed. “George is
right. That kind of freaky accident isn't going to happen
again to us.” Squeezing her hand, he added, “I
promise.”
Bess sighed. “Well, okay,” she said warily.
“Good,” Alden pronounced. “Let's hire this guy
here.” He pointed to a sober-looking chestnut horse
nodding sleepily in the sunlight. “Something tells me
he's had years of experience.”
Ten minutes later Nancy, George, and Bess were
happily riding through the park with Alden behind a
completely unflappable carriage horse named Norm.
“I wonder what happened to make Jupiter so crazy?”
Bess wondered as they plodded along. “Norm sure is
different. His name kind of describes him.”
“Must have been the traffic as the driver said,”
George guessed.
The carriage took a turn onto a leafy road where
bicyclists and in-line skaters whizzed by. Nancy could
no longer see any skyscrapers bordering the park.
“It's hard to believe we're even in New York,” she
said, leaning back comfortably in her seat.
“New York is really a group of neighborhoods,”
Alden said. “Each one has its own personality. When
you live here, it doesn't seem like such a big, unfriendly
place.” He scowled suddenly and added, “Unless
you've just had a valuable crystal dove stolen.”
“So do you still suspect Richard Schoonover?”
Nancy asked him.
“Yes!” Alden said passionately “I'm sure Richard's
guilty. He's always been envious of Julius's reputation,
thanks to a family grudge that's been handed down
through generations in his family.”
“His ancestor Gustav Kinderhook must have talked
nonstop about how much he hated Julius,” George
said.
“No doubt about it,” Alden said darkly.
“We know you suspect Mr. Schoonover,” Bess said,
edging closer to Alden. “But is there anyone else you
think might be guilty?”
“Only Violet,” Alden replied, “because she'd like to
keep Dell in New York.”
Nancy shot a curious look at Alden. “Why don't you
want to live in the house?” she asked. “Then it could
stay a private family home.”
Alden grimaced. “No, thanks. The thought of living
in an heirloom gives me the creeps. I like my loft down
in Tribeca. It's got a modern style to it that's not stuffy
like the house. And the neighborhood is younger—
much hipper. I don't feel as if I'm living in the past.”
“I don't know about you guys,” Bess cut in, “but I'm
ready for the Plaza. I mean, I trust Norm and all now,
but I wouldn't mind a change of scene.”
Alden gave her the thumbs-up sign, then shouted
directions to the driver to take them back to Fifty-ninth
Street. A few minutes later the foursome walked
through the revolving doors of the Plaza Hotel.
“This hotel is so beautiful!” Bess gushed, looking
around at the high ceilings, plush carpets, sumptuous
marble fixtures, and potted palms swaying at the edge
of the Palm Court, where tea was being served. An
orchestra at the back of the room struck up a tune.
“I could never get tired of this place,” Bess added.
“It kind of sums up glamorous modern New York
City.”
“New York has always been glittering and grand,”
Alden said as the maître d' in the Palm Court showed
them to a table. “No matter whether it's the Gilded
Age, when my great-grandfather lived, or the 1920s,
the 1980s, or now.”
George elbowed Bess and pointed to a large trolley
filled with colorfully decorated pastries. “Wow!” Bess
exclaimed. “Those things are awesome. Look at that
mocha cake with the layers and swirls on the frosting.
It's like the pastry equivalent of the Plaza.”
Nancy laughed—and then stopped short as her gaze
traveled across the magnificent room. At the entrance
of the Palm Court—next to a group of grandly dressed
ladies—was a familiar face. “Richard Schoonover,” she
said.
Nancy gasped. Dell was rushing over to him!
Dell touched Schoonover's shoulder. He whipped
around, then smiled, shaking her hand vigorously.
The maître d' beckoned Schoonover and Dell to
follow him to a table. But as he stepped farther into the
room, Schoonover locked gazes with Nancy and
stopped abruptly.
Schoonover grabbed Dell's arm, then did an about-
face. Without a backward glance, he escorted Dell
through the hotel lobby and disappeared from Nancy's
sight.
“Hey, guys,” Nancy said to everyone at her table.
“Did you see that? Richard Schoonover and Dell were
going to sit down here, but when they saw me, they cut
out.”
“Let's follow them,” George said, springing up from
her chair.
“And sacrifice those great pastries?” Bess asked,
stricken. “No way!”
“Then you stay here with Alden, Bess, while George
and I go,” Nancy suggested.
The two girls hurried through the room and out of
the hotel. As they raced down the stairs to the
sidewalk, they saw Dell slamming the door of a nearby
cab.
“Let's take the next one,” Nancy urged. She yanked
open the door of a waiting cab and tumbled inside with
George behind her. “Can you follow the taxi ahead of
us waiting at the red light?” she asked the driver.
“No problem, lady,” the driver said. His tires
screeched as he pulled away from the curb just in time
to catch up with Schoonover and Dell's cab before the
light turned green.
Schoonover and Dell's cab wove through the mid-
town traffic in an effortless flash, missing vehicles by
inches as the driver skillfully threaded his way down-
town. No matter how fast the other cab went, Nancy
and Georges cab was behind it, like a watchful mother
hen.
“Hey, this is kind of fun,” George declared as they
zoomed by the Empire State Building.
“I think so, too,” Nancy said, her blue eyes fixed on
Schoonover's cab. Soon the massive buildings gave way
to a leafy square bordered by elegant nineteenth
century brownstones. “We're heading into Greenwich
Village,” Nancy commented.
Minutes later the stately cast iron buildings of SoHo
flashed by them, and Schoonover's cab took a left on to
Spring Street.
“It's stopping at the Glass Slipper,” George cried,
pointing. “Quick—let's pull over behind them.
Schoonover and Dell are getting out.”
Nancy handed the cabbie the fare and a generous
tip the moment he stopped the cab. Then she and
George hopped out and rushed to the door of
Schoonover's shop.
Nancy pushed on the door as Schoonover held it
shut from the inside. “Ple
ase let us in!” she cried.
Shaking his head sternly, Schoonover tried to bolt
the door. But before the lock slid across it, Nancy and
George threw their weight against the door. It opened
a crack.
“What is the meaning of this break-in?” Schoonover
sputtered as Nancy and George pushed their way
inside. “If you two don't leave these premises
immediately, I'll be forced to call the police.”
Dell blinked in surprise at Schoonover's threat as
she observed the activity. “Don't be silly, Richard,” she
said. “You don't need to call the police on Nancy and
George. They're trying to help me.”
“How do I know that?” Schoonover snapped.
“Just take my word for it,” Dell said. “You can trust
Nancy and George with the information you were
about to give me.”
Schoonover peered haughtily at the girls from be-
neath his bushy white brows. “All right. But you girls
had better not tell another living soul what I'm about to
reveal.”
“We won't,” Nancy promised.
With his ice blue eyes flashing, Schoonover pro-
claimed, “Well, then, I saw it—the clue on the crystal
bird!”
13. A Ghostly Welcome
Dell looked at Schoonover as if he'd lost his mind.
“What are you talking about, Richard?” she asked
sharply.
“My memory has finally returned,” he announced.
“You see, before I was hit on the head, I'd examined
the crystal dove and noticed an olive branch design on
its belly. The knock on my head drove away that
memory until now.”
“You mean the knock on your head gave you am-
nesia?” George asked.
“Sort of,” Schoonover replied. “I remembered most
things, like my name and the job I was doing for
Delphinia. I just forgot what had happened im-
mediately before I was struck. But I remember
everything now, and the olive pattern on the dove was
unmistakable.”
Nancy, George, and Dell exchanged glances.
“Julius's list,” Nancy mouthed to them.
“I suppose you're all wondering what's so special
about that olive branch design,” Schoonover cut in.
“Well, let me tell you.”
Dell drew up a nearby chair and sat down, while
Nancy and George leaned against the counter. Warm-
ing to his story, Schoonover said, “You might be aware
that one of my ancestors was Gustav Kinderhook. Now,