Claudia and the Mystery at the Museum by Ann M. Martin

Author:Ann M. Martin [Martin, Ann M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Social Themes, Friendship
ISBN: 9780590470490
Google: qnbUJgAACAAJ
Amazon: 0590470493
Publisher: Apple
Published: 1993-07-15T09:17:42.334000+00:00

I didn’t sleep well at all that Saturday night. I guess I was preoccupied with trying to work out a solution to the museum mystery. I kept tossing and turning, trying to figure out what was different about that sculpture and how it could be tied to the coin robbery. I just knew they were related, somehow.

First thing Sunday morning, Kristy called me. “How about if we all come over this afternoon to talk about the mystery?” she asked. “I’ve been thinking and thinking, and I haven’t come up with any answers. Maybe if we get together we can make some progress.”

Of course, Kristy already knew what had happened the day before, after she and the others had left Stacey and me at the museum. I had called the BSC members and told them about our visit with Mr. Snipes. But I had left out one detail. I hadn’t said anything about swiping that résumé. I guess I was a little ashamed of myself for doing it. In fact, I had decided to throw it away and pretend I had never seen it.

I told Kristy that a meeting sounded great. “I’ll make some raspberry brownies,” I said. “And some popcorn, too, for Stacey.”

After we hung up, I headed downstairs for breakfast. “Morning, honey,” said my mother, who was sitting at the table eating waffles. My dad was at the stove, cooking them. That’s his Sunday morning project.

“Any left for me?” I asked.

“Coming right up,” he said. He poured some batter into the waffle iron.

I picked up the local paper and began to read it. I scanned all the articles in the news section, but I didn’t see one word about the robbery. I wondered if the police were even taking the case seriously.

After I had baked the brownies for my friends, I spent the rest of the morning working on a small clay sculpture I had started before I saw the Don Newman show. I had been happy with it two days ago. But now, after I’d seen a professional artist’s work, it looked lumpy and uninspired. I smushed it into a ball and started over again.

Before I knew it, it was time for our “meeting.” Kristy arrived first, as usual. I heard her thumping up the stairs, and I barely had time to whisk Mr. Snipes’s résumé into my desk drawer.

Kristy had barely settled herself in the director’s chair when Mary Anne and Logan showed up. “I brought him along,” said Mary Anne, pulling Logan into the room, “even though he didn’t really want to come.”

“I had a basketball game planned for this afternoon,” said Logan, “but Mary Anne convinced me this was more important.” Mary Anne sat down on my bed and patted the spot next to her.

“Sit here, Logan,” she said.

Logan blushed and shook his head. Sometimes he has a hard time being in a room full of girls, and sitting on a bed next to his girl-friend would only make him more uncomfortable. He sat on the floor, instead, and I sat beside Mary Anne.

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