Authors: Ron Roy
Dink looked past his uncle into the study. The painting was gone.
“I’ve got to call the police,” Uncle Warren said. He hurried toward the kitchen, leaving the kids standing in the hallway.
“Who could have taken it?” Ruth Rose asked.
“And how?” wondered Josh. “The door was locked.”
“Kids, come quickly!” Dink’s uncle yelled from the other end of the apartment.
They ran back down the hallway and into the kitchen.
“Look at
that!”
Uncle Warren said, pointing at the kitchen table.
The tabletop was littered with orange juice and peels. The fruit bowl was overturned. More peels and dribbles of juice covered the floor.
“Yuck, it’s all sticky!” Josh said, backing away from a small puddle.
“This is terrible!” Uncle Warren said as he called the police.
“Guys, look!” Ruth Rose was
pointing to an orange peel near the balcony.
The kids walked over, and Ruth Rose opened the balcony door. “There’s juice on the door handle, too,” she said, wiping her hand on her jeans.
They found more orange peels on the balcony.
“Guy must’ve been hungry,” Josh observed.
Dink looked down over the balcony railing. “Could this be how the thief got into the apartment?” he asked.
“How?” Josh asked. “On a hang glider? Dink, we’re ten stories up, remember?”
Uncle Warren joined them. “A detective will be here soon,” he said. Then he noticed the orange peels all over the balcony. “Goodness!”
The kids started to pick up the orange peels.
“Leave them,” Uncle Warren said.
“The police said not to touch anything.”
They walked into the living room and sat down to wait.
“Forest will be devastated,” Uncle Warren said. “Thank goodness he had the painting insured! At least he’ll get his money back.”
Suddenly Roger’s voice came over the small speaker next to the door. “Mr. Duncan, there’s a detective here to see you. Shall I send him up?”
Uncle Warren jumped up and ran to the door. Pressing the
TALK
button on the speaker, he said, “Thank you, Roger.” Then he opened the door and walked into the hall.
The kids sat on the sofa staring at the front door. After a few moments, they heard the elevator door open. Dink’s uncle said, “Yes, this is the place. I’m Warren Duncan.”
Uncle Warren walked back in, followed by a tall man wearing a dark suit and tie.
“Kids, this is Detective Frank Costello,” Dink’s uncle said.
The man nodded at the kids, then looked around the room. He had black eyes, dark, swept-back hair, and a nose that looked as if it had been broken.
“Where was the painting?” Detective Costello asked.
“Back here,” Uncle Warren said, leading him down the hall toward the study.
“Let’s go talk to Roger,” Ruth Rose said.
“Why?” asked Josh.
“Maybe he saw someone sneaking around,” she answered.
“Good idea,” Dink said. He grabbed a pad and scribbled a note to his uncle. “Okay, let’s go.” He and Josh followed Ruth Rose to the elevator.
In the lobby, they found Roger at his desk near the front door. Through the glass, Dink could see that the block party was winding down.
“Going out again?” Roger asked the kids.
Dink shook his head. “Someone stole a valuable painting from my uncle’s apartment!” he said.
Roger jumped from his seat. “A theft in our building? I can’t believe it!”
“It happened while we were at the block party,” Josh said. “The creep ate all the oranges, too!”
“We were wondering if you noticed anyone strange,” Ruth Rose put in.
Roger shook his head. “I was here the entire time and saw only people who live here,” he said. “Absolutely no one else. …”
Roger closed his eyes, then opened them slowly. “I just remembered. Mrs. Cornelius on the ninth floor called down about an hour ago. She thought she saw someone on her balcony. I offered to go up and check, but she said not to bother.”
“Is her balcony below Dink’s uncle’s?” Ruth Rose asked.
Roger nodded. “All the balconies on the rear of the building are directly above or below each other.”
Ruth Rose looked at Dink and Josh. “Then maybe she saw the thief!”
Dink explained about the orange peels they’d found on his uncle’s balcony.
Roger shook his head. “But how would a thief climb the building?” he asked.
“Why don’t we go outside and take a look?” Josh suggested. “Maybe we’ll find a clue.”
“Kids, it’s pretty late,” Roger said. “Perhaps you should wait till tomorrow. …”
“We’ll only stay a minute,” Dink said.
“Well, okay.” Roger directed them to
a metal door around the corner from the elevator.
Dink slid back a long bolt and shoved the door open. They walked out into a narrow, well-lit space behind the building. It was completely enclosed except for an alley that led to the street. Next to the building, a Dumpster sat in the shadows.
“I wonder,” Ruth Rose said, staring at the Dumpster. “What if the thief climbed on top of that? Could he reach the first balcony?”
Dink stared up. “The first two floors don’t have balconies,” he observed. “Even standing on the Dumpster, I don’t see how the crook could have gotten up or down this way.”
“Then he had to go through the front door,” Josh said. “But if Roger didn’t see him …”
Just then, an angry voice came out of the darkness. “What are you doing
back here? This is private property!”
“Who … who’s there?” Dink asked.
A figure walked out of the shadows. It was Miss Booker. She didn’t look happy to see them.
“It’s just us,” Dink said. “My uncle is Mr. Duncan. We met you at the block party earlier tonight.”
The woman stopped a few feet from the kids. Her hands were jammed into her coat pockets. She wore a cap pulled down over her orange hair. “Why are you kids out here?” she asked.
“There was a robbery in my uncle’s apartment,” Dink said.
Miss Booker nodded. “I know. Roger just told me.”
“We thought the crook might have come this way,” Ruth Rose said.
“Yeah,” Josh said, “except he’d have to have wings.”
Miss Booker looked up the side of the building. She touched the bricks
with a long finger. “A few years ago, I could’ve climbed this no problem,” she said.
The kids stared at the woman.
Miss Booker smiled. “When I was your age, my father and mother owned a carnival. My brothers did the high-wire act. They were known as the Flying Bookers. I was the girl on the trapeze.”
“Um, did you happen to see anyone in the alley?” Dink asked.
Miss Booker shook her head. “The alley was blocked off,” she said.
“Blocked off? How?” Ruth Rose asked.
“I’ll show you.” The kids followed Miss Booker down the alley toward the front of the building.
“Right here,” Miss Booker said, stopping where the alley met the street. “There was a trailer parked here during the block party.”
“A trailer?” Dink asked, trying to remember.
Just then, Roger opened the front door and leaned out. “Donald, your uncle wants you and your friends to come upstairs,” he said.
“Okay, we’ll be right in,” Dink said. “Good night, Miss Booker. Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Maybe you will,” the woman said. Then she turned and walked back down the dark alley.
When the kids stepped out of the elevator, Uncle Warren was waiting in the hallway. “Thank you for leaving me a note, but it’s past your bedtime, Donny”
“Is the detective still here?” Dink asked.
“No, he left a few minutes ago,” his uncle said. “He checked for fingerprints and took samples of the orange peels and juice.”
They walked into the kitchen. The orange peels were gone, but the floor was still sticky. Patches of white
fingerprint powder made blotches on the counter and kitchen table. The empty fruit bowl was in the sink.
“Do you know Mrs. Cornelius?” Dink asked his uncle.
Uncle Warren smiled. “A lot of people know Corinne Cornelius,” he said. “She was a Broadway actress years ago. She lives in the apartment right below this one. We have tea together all the time. Why do you ask?”
Dink told his uncle what they’d learned from Roger. “Mrs. Cornelius might have seen the thief on her balcony” he said. “Maybe she can tell us what he looks like!”
“Donny Mrs. Cornelius is quite old,” his uncle said. “And I’m afraid her eyesight is failing.”
Uncle Warren looked around his kitchen and sighed. “I should clean up, but I’m exhausted. This mess will have
to wait till morning,” he said. “Now off to bed, kiddos.”
“We’ll help you tomorrow,” Ruth Rose said.
“Thank you, my dear. Sweet dreams, everyone,” Uncle Warren said as he padded toward his bedroom.
“I don’t know about you guys,” Ruth Rose said, “but I couldn’t sleep a wink right now.”
“Me either,” Dink said. The three headed for the living room. Ruth Rose sat next to Dink on the sofa, and Josh plopped down on the carpet.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ruth Rose said. “How many people knew your uncle had a valuable painting in his apartment?”
“Roger might have known about it,” Dink said.
Josh sat up. “Of course!” he said.
“Roger’s
the crook!”
“But he was at the door all night,” Dink said.
“That’s what he told us,” Ruth Rose said. “He could have been lying. Does Roger have the key to this apartment?”
“Guys, my uncle and Roger are friends,” Dink protested. “Plus, he’s worked in this building for ages.”
“Don’t you watch TV?” Josh asked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “The butler—I mean, the doorman—did it!”
Dink laughed. “You’re crazy. No way Roger snuck up here and stole that painting.”
Josh got up and walked into the kitchen. Dink heard the refrigerator door open and close.
“Well, who else knew about it?” Ruth Rose asked.
“How about Miss Booker?” Josh said when he came back. He was carrying a
handful of grapes. “She told us she used to swing on a trapeze. Maybe she climbs buildings now. Plus, she knew we were all out of the apartment during the block party.”
Ruth Rose nodded. “She’s the building manager, so I’ll bet she has keys to all the apartments. She wouldn’t
have
to climb the building!”
“But how would she know my uncle even had the painting?” Dink asked.
“Dink, remember your uncle said one of Miss Booker’s jobs is delivering packages?” Ruth Rose said. “Maybe she brought the painting up to your uncle. He might have told her what was inside the wrapping.”
“And she might have told Roger,” Josh said. “Heck, maybe they did it together. Roger could’ve been the lookout while she was up here stealing the painting!”
“And tossing orange peels all over the place?” Dink said. “Wouldn’t that be kind of dumb?”
“Maybe she did that on purpose,” Ruth Rose said. “Leaving orange peels on the balcony would make it look like the crook climbed down the building.”
“Yeah,” Josh said, “and that would make us think it was someone who
didn’t
have keys.”
“Okay, but what about the juice all over the kitchen?” Dink asked. “Why would Miss Booker do that?”
“Easy” Josh said, “she wanted to confuse the cops.”
Dink yawned, then stood up and stretched. “Well, whoever it was did a good job confusing
me
!”
He walked out to the balcony and looked up at the stars. High in the sky, he made out the blinking lights on an airplane. He wondered where the plane was coming from.
Josh and Ruth Rose came and stood next to him.
“I thought of someone else who might have known about the painting,” Ruth Rose said.
“Who?” Dink asked.
“Mrs. Cornelius,” she answered.
Dink stared at her. “But she’s old and can’t see well,” he said. “My uncle told us that a little while ago.”
“He also told us she used to be an
actress,”
Ruth Rose said.
“Besides,” Josh added, “you don’t need perfect eyesight to steal a painting.”
“But if Mrs. Cornelius is the crook, why would she tell Roger she saw someone on her balcony?”
“Maybe she did it to keep anyone from suspecting her,” Ruth Rose said.
Dink thought for a moment. “Okay, but how would she get into my uncle’s apartment? Or are you going to tell me she swung up on a vine, like Tarzan?”
Josh laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe she stole a spare key when she was here having tea,” he said. “But I say we go have a talk with Mrs. Cornelius tomorrow morning.”