The Statue Walks at Night Read Online Free PDF

away.”
    â€œThanks,” Brian said. Obviously, Brian thought, Mr. Potts assumed he and Sean were just another couple of kids with a dumb school project.
    â€œI know you don’t allow visitors to carry things—even coats—into or out of the museum,” Brian said. “But how about the people who work here? If they leave with briefcases or boxes, do you trust them, or do you check the contents?”
    â€œIt’s not up to me to trust anybody,” Mr. Potts explained. “I just go by the rules. And according to the rules, every container of any kind taken out of the museum has to be examined. No exceptions.”
    â€œWhat about when Mr. Marshall takes your place?” Brian asked.
    â€œHe follows the rules, exactly as I do.”
    â€œDo the museum employees ever go in or out of the museum by the back doors?”
    â€œNever,” Mr. Potts said. “Those doors are unlocked during the day but are used only in emergencies. If anyone tries to open them, locked or unlocked, they set off the alarm system.”
    â€œWho controls the alarm system?”
    Mr. Potts looked pleased with himself. “I do,” he announced.
    â€œBut what if an employee stayed after you’d gone home?” Brian was thinking about the burglar alarm system they had at home. “He could turn off the alarm and reset it, couldn’t he?”
    â€œNot in my museum he couldn't!” Mr. Potts answered. “The curator and I are the only ones who know the combination.”
    Brian smiled, thanked Mr. Potts, and then he and Sean left the museum. Outside, Sean reminded Brian about his class field trip.
    â€œGood,” Brian told him. “I know exactly what you’ll need to do.”

CHAPTER SIX

    B RIAN AND SEAN ARRIVED home before their parents did. Through the windows in the garage door they could see that the garage was empty. Mrs. Quinn usually made it home by five o'clock from her job as a graphic artist at a small advertising agency in town. But Mr. Quinn was just as likely to show up early as late. His hours varied with the work he had to do on each case.
    As the boys let themselves into the kitchen, the fax machine in their father’s office rang once and beeped.
    â€œMaybe we should see what the message is,” Sean said.
    â€œIt’s Dad’s business, not ours,” Brian told him.
    â€œUnless Mom and Dad have been kidnapped by foreign spies,” Sean suggested, “and are being held on a submarine until we come through with the ransom money. How are we going to know if we don’t look?”
    â€œYou think someone’s faxing Dad information he asked for that has to do with the museum thefts?”
    Sean grinned. “It makes more sense than the kidnapping, doesn’t it?”
    The fax machine beeped again, signaling an end to the message.
    â€œI guess it wouldn’t hurt to look,” Brian said.
    Brian and Sean raced each other into their father’s office and read the fax.
    Sean frowned. “This says that Harvey Marshall was arrested and convicted on a charge of shoplifting when he was eighteen,” Sean said. “But he’s an old man now,” he said. “What he did way back then shouldn’t matter.”
    â€œPolice records don’t go away,” Brian said. Just then he discovered a legal-size sheet of paper lying on top of a folder on his father’s desk. It was labeled “Redoaks County Museum.” It was their father’s notes on the case.
    â€œSean,” he said, eyeing the sheet of paper. “It’s not exactly like we’re snooping into Dad’s things if we’re helping him on the case, is it?”
    â€œDad will be glad we helped him,” Sean answered. “At least, he ought to be.”
    Brian began reading his father’s notes.
    â€œListen to this,” he said. “Hilda Brown recently withdrew most of the money