The Statue Walks at Night Read Online Free PDF Page B

from her savings account. She’s been paying for nursing home care for her mother.”
    â€œShe could probably get all the money she’d need if she sold the stolen art,” Sean said.
    â€œDave Brandon borrowed more than twenty thousand dollars to pay his college expenses,” Brian said, “and hasn’t begun paying it back.”
    â€œSo he needs money, too,” Sean said. “Except Mr. Brandon wasn’t in Redoaks. He was in San Francisco when the sketches were stolen.”
    Sean thought about James Vanstedder, who had hobbled into Mrs. Gomez’s office on his cane. “What did Dad write about Mr. Vanstedder?” he asked.
    â€œMr. Vanstedder owes a lot of money to half a dozen credit card companies. And he hasn’t been able to pay the telephone company’s charges for making a lot of calls to a number in Italy,” Brian said. “He doesn’t have a savings account, and there’s less than two hundred dollars in his checking account.”
    â€œBut remember,” Sean said, “he got really banged up in that waterskiing accident. He couldn’t be the thief. What did Dad write about Charles Wang, the accountant, and George Potts?”
    â€œNothing,” Brian answered.
    Sean sighed. “How could any of the museum people steal the sketches when they weren’t even near the museum when the sketches disappeared?”
    â€œThey claimed they weren’t there,” Brian said. “But Ms. Brown could have left her mother with the nurses, returned to the museum, and gone back to the nursing home at any time during the weekend. Mr. Brandon could have returned much earlier from his business trip to San Francisco than he said he did. Knowing Dad, he’s probably checking out their alibis.”
    â€œHow?” Sean asked.
    â€œBy asking questions,” Brian explained. Brian had been on enough cases with his dad to know the kinds of questions he asked.
    â€œI bet Dad will ask the people at the nursing home if anyone saw Ms. Brown leave at any time,” Brian said. “He’ll probably check with the San Francisco hotel where Mr. Brandon stayed and find out what times he checked in and checked out. And he’ll also ask about the phone calls he made to the New York art dealer.” Brian nodded. “He might even talk to Mr. Vanstedder’s doctor and to the people who run the water-ski rental about Mr. Vanstedder’s injury and find out more about those phone calls to Italy.”
    â€œOK,” Sean said. He counted on his fingers. “If we include Mr. Marshall, then our list is back up to five suspects: Dave Brandon, James Vanstedder, Charles Wang, Harvey Marshall, and Hilda Brown.”
    â€œSix, if we count Mrs. Gomez,” Brian said. “Remember, she had a bandage on her hand. And don’t forget that we can’t discount George Potts as a suspect, either.”
    â€œBut he’s the security guard,” Sean said.
    â€œExactly,” said Brian. “Who better to steal priceless works of art than the one person who controls the security system.”
    Sean let out a big sigh. “That’s  seven suspects.”
    The back door banged, and Mrs. Quinn called out, “Sean! Brian! I’m home!”
    Brian and Sean hurried to the kitchen. Mrs. Quinn had already tossed her jacket on a chair and was rummaging through the refrigerator.
    â€œI bought some barbecued chicken,” she said, “and I’ve got some potatoes to bake in the microwave. Sound good?”
    â€œSounds great,” Sean said, and hugged her.
    â€œWho wants to set the table for me?” she asked.
    Brian sprinted toward the door. “Sean will,” he said. “I’ve got to get my history book back from Sam.”
    â€œYou’ve got ten minutes,” Mrs. Quinn said. “Don’t stay next door talking and make me have to call you.”
    Sean followed Brian