The Statue Walks at Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

cafeteria,” Mrs. Gomez said. She opened a side drawer of her desk. “If you’re hungry, I have an apple and some cheese crackers in here.”
    â€œNo thanks,” Brian said. “I’m not hungry. I was just wondering how the people who work in the museum eat lunch. I guess they brown-bag it.”
    Mrs. Gomez laughed. “That’s a strange thing to wonder about.”
    Brian smiled back. “I was just curious.”
    â€œWell, to satisfy your curiosity,” she explained, “with the exception of our security guard, George Potts, most of the museum employees leave the museum during lunchtime. George and Harvey bring their lunch and stay during the day without leaving. Harvey takes George’s place as guard while George is on his breaks. The rest of us usually eat at nearby restaurants. Hilda’s apartment isn’t far from here, so she goes home at lunchtime to feed her cat.”
    Just then there was a knock on the office door. It was flung open a second later by a tall, tanned, elegantly dressed man who clumped into the room, leaning on a cane. He smiled at the boys.
    â€œSorry, Maggie,” he said. “I didn’t know you were busy.”
    â€œCome in, James,” Mrs. Gomez said. “I’d like you to meet my friends, Brian and Sean. Boys,” she said, “this is Mr. James Vanstedder, the museum’s assistant curator.”
    Mr. Vanstedder winced as he shifted his cane from his right hand to his left so he could shake hands. Brian and Sean both zeroed in on Mr. Vanstedder’s left hand, which was wrapped in a thick gauze bandage.
    What is with the people in this museum? Sean wondered. Do they all have bandaged hands?
    Mr. Vanstedder gave an embarrassed shrug. “I guess I must look pretty battered,” he said. “I was waterskiing and got all tangled up in my skis, and, well…this is what happened.”
    â€œPoor James,” Mrs. Gomez said. “What did the doctor say?”
    â€œThe doctor?” he repeated.
    â€œWhen you saw him this afternoon,” Mrs. Gomez said.
    â€œOh,” he said quickly. “Of course. The doctor. He just prodded and poked my leg and changed the bandages,” Mr. Vanstedder explained. “He said I should be fine by this time next week.”
    Mr. Vanstedder looked at his watch and smiled apologetically at Brian and Sean. “I hope I’m not rushing your guests, Maggie, but you promised that at four-thirty we could discuss how we’re going to exhibit the Metropolitan collection. Time’s running out.”
    â€œYes, it is.” Suddenly Mrs. Gomez looked frantic.
    Brian and Sean thanked Mrs. Gomez for her time and said a quick good-bye.
    â€œBy the way,” Sean asked Mrs. Gomez on his way out. “How did you hurt your hand?”
    She looked down at her hand as if she were surprised to see the bandage. “I cut it on some metal staples that fastened one of the museum’s cartons,” she answered. “Why?”
    Sean shook his head. “No reason. See you later.”
    â€œWhere to now?” Sean asked Brian outside the museum offices.
    â€œFirst the lecture hall,” Brian said, “then the art galleries.”
    But after a thorough search of those rooms, the boys hadn’t found anyplace where they thought the stolen sketches might be hidden.
    â€œLet’s go home,” Brian told Sean finally. “We’ve got to talk, and I’ll write up my notes on what we’ve seen and heard.” Brian pulled out their claim check and headed for the counter where they’d left their backpacks and jackets.
    As they passed under the watchful gaze of George Potts, Brian suddenly stopped. “Sir,” he said, “I’m very much interested in museum security. Will you let me ask you a few questions?”
    â€œYou kids,” Mr. Potts grumbled good-naturedly. “Go ahead. Ask