The Statue Walks at Night Read Free Page A

and was a better pitcher than most of the kids on the fourth-grade baseball team, including Sean. But to him the sickening thing about Debbie Jean was that she always had to be right about everything. Just once, Sean wished Debbie Jean could be wrong about something.
    Mrs. Jackson glanced at the clock, then made an announcement to the class.
    â€œI’m pleased that all of you remembered to turn in your permission slips for our field trip to the museum tomorrow,” she said.
    The field trip! Sean realized that he had forgotten to tell Brian about his class’s upcoming trip to the museum! He’d have another chance to look around the museum for clues without anyone on the museum staff becoming suspicious. But what kind of clues? Sean wondered.
    â€œThe museum’s curator will be telling us the stories behind some of the paintings in their exhibit of American primitive art,” said Mrs. Jackson, “so be sure to bring notebooks and pencils. After the trip I’ll expect each of you to write a report about what you saw and learned.”
    A few kids groaned, but the bell rang and Mrs. Jackson dismissed the class for the day.
    Sean grabbed his books, stuffed them into his backpack, and ran all the way to the museum, where Brian was waiting for him.
    â€œI have a plan,” Brian said as soon as Sean came up the steps.
    Sean smiled. Brian always came up with some kind of a plan.
    â€œWe’re going to start with a search of the first exhibit room on the right—the early weapons room. We’ll check out as many of the exhibit rooms as we can. If we keep our eyes open, maybe we’ll see something that might look suspicious, or strange, or out of place.”
    â€œBut Mrs. Gomez said the police already searched the museum last night,” Sean said.
    â€œThat’s true,” Brian said. “But we might discover something the police missed.”
    Brian and Sean entered the museum.
    â€œLook,” whispered Sean. “The museum guard is watching us. Do you think he knows what we’re doing?”
    â€œDon’t worry about him,” Brian said. “The minute grown-ups see kids hanging around, they start worrying that they’re going to break stuff or make noise. It’ll never occur to the guard that we’re investigating a crime.”
    Sean froze, however, when he saw the guard heading toward them.
    â€œUh-oh,” he whispered to Brian.
    â€œYou’ll have to check those backpacks and jackets, boys,” the guard said. Then he walked away.
    Brian looked at Sean. “See, I told you.”
    Brian and Sean checked their bags and jackets and entered the large main room of the museum, where the special exhibits were displayed.
    A series of movable screens were arranged in a square in the center of the room and were hung with paintings belonging to the exhibit of American primitive art. Only a few people were viewing the exhibit. At this late afternoon hour there weren’t many museum visitors.
    On a far wall Brian saw a poster that announced the dates of the coming exhibit from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
    â€œC'mon,” Brian said, and he and Sean entered the early weapons room, in which were displayed weapons dating back to the Civil War and the frontier days of the American West.
    Brian immediately began examining the undersides of the glass display cases, checking to see if the stolen sketches could be hidden either underneath or inside them.
    â€œHey, come here, Bri!” Sean called out. “Look at this cane that’s in two pieces. The handle has a short sword that can be hidden inside the cane.”
    Sean pressed his face closer to the glass.
    â€œNeat,” he said. He turned to Brian. “Someone could just pull on the carved top of the cane and zap! Out comes the sword! Wow! If I had a sword like this one, I’d go like wham and zap and whoosh! ”
    â€œWe’re supposed to be looking for