by Ron Roy
Gram shook her head. “I’m sorry, what is the Royce Vase?” she asked Foley Royce.
“In the 1800s, one of my ancestors bought a tall vase from a relative of Paul Revere, the famous silversmith,” Mr. Royce said. “It is known as the Royce Vase. It’s solid silver, extremely valuable, and was passed down in the family for generations!”
Everyone was staring at him.
“Please continue, Mr. Royce,” said Officer Foster.
“My grandfather left instructions to have the Royce Vase interred with him in the family vault when he passed away. He hired a sculptor to carve a marble pedestal to hold the vase. Recently, I entered the Royce family crypt, in Green-Wood Cemetery. I knew immediately that the vase on the pedestal was a fake!”
Mr. Royce pointed to the vase in front of him, then glared at Gram. “You cleverly painted your clay vase so it would resemble silver, at least in a dark crypt,” he said.
“I did no such thing!” Gram said. “I’ve never been to that cemetery!”
“Then please explain how your vase came to be on Grandfather’s pedestal,” Mr. Royce said. “And why the real Royce Vase is gone.”
“I…I have no idea,” Gram whispered. Maria took her hand and held it.
Dink, Josh, and Ruth Rose sat with their mouths open.
“The last time I saw this vase was when I made it,” Gram went on. “Kip Skane will tell you the same thing.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Royce said. His cheeks had turned even pinker.
“I’ll talk to Mr. Skane,” Officer Deming said. She wrote something in a small notebook.
“Ms. Hathaway, will you come to the police station with me?” Officer Foster asked.
“But why?” Gram asked.
“For your fingerprints,” Officer Deming said. “You’ll also need to give us a statement, which we’ll type up and have you sign. Our detectives will want to ask more questions.”
Gram stood up. “Of course I’ll go with you,” she said. “The sooner we clear this up, the better!”
“And you can tell these officers what you did with the Royce Vase!” Mr. Royce added. “You can keep your fake!” He nodded to the officers and left the apartment.
Both officers stood up. Officer Foster rewrapped the clay vase and tucked it under his arm. “We’ll take this for evidence,” he said. “Are you ready to go, Ms. Hathaway?”
Ruth Rose jumped up and stood next to her grandmother on the sofa. “What’s going to happen?” she asked. “Are you going to jail?”
“We have to question your grandmother,” Officer Foster explained. “She’s not under arrest.”
“I’m fine,” Gram said. “You kids stay with Maria. We’ll get this straightened out, and I’ll be back before you know it!”
Gram stood up, giving Ruth Rose a hug. “I’m ready,” she told the two officers.
When Officers Deming and Foster escorted Gram from the apartment, the kids had tears in their eyes. Maria put her arms around them. “No crying allowed!” she said. “How about a yummy snack? And while you’re eating, I’ll see if I can find my attorney on a Sunday afternoon!”
She brought out apple slices, chocolate chip cookies, and milk. The kids sat back on the sofa, and Maria went into her bedroom.
“This whole thing stinks!” Ruth Rose said.
“No way!” Josh said. “I love cookies.”
“She’s not talking about food, Josh,” Dink said.
“Guys, if that really was Gram’s vase, it didn’t get broken in the kiln last night,” Ruth Rose said. “But I don’t understand how it got from Kip’s studio to some cemetery!”
“If Mr. Royce is right, someone brought it there. They took the real Royce Vase off the pedestal and left your gram’s vase,” Dink said.
“Okay, I get that,” Ruth Rose said. “But whoever made the switch had to know about Gram’s vase. Who could that be?”
Josh sipped his milk. “Anyone in Kip’s Place could have seen the vase your grandmother made,” he said. “People who went there to do art stuff.”
Ruth Rose shoved her plate aside. “Okay, other people probably knew about Gram’s vase,” she said. “But how would someone know there was a silver vase that looked just like Gram’s in that crypt?”
“Mr. Royce knew,” Josh said. “Maybe he took the vase, and he’s trying to blame your grandmother.”
“But how would Mr. Royce know about my grandmother’s vase in Kip’s Place?” Ruth Rose asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Also, why would Mr. Royce want to steal a vase that was already in his family?” Dink asked. “You’re right, Ruth Rose—it doesn’t make sense.”
Dink put the milk carton in the fridge. Ruth Rose carried her plate and glass to the sink. “Let’s go!” she said.
Josh swiped a final cookie from the plate. “Where?” he asked.
“Right now, all we have are questions,” Ruth Rose said, grabbing her backpack. “I want some answers!” She walked over to Maria’s bedroom door and knocked.
The door opened, and Maria stood there with her cell phone clamped to one ear. She held up one finger to Ruth Rose, then rolled her eyes and tossed her phone onto the bed. “Lawyers!” she said. “What can I do for you, sweetie? Need more food?”
“We want to go…exploring,” Ruth Rose said.
“Exploring?” Maria said.
“We just want to check out the neighborhood,” Ruth Rose said. “Dink has a cell phone, so you two can exchange numbers.”
“I guess that’ll be okay, then,” Maria said, reaching for her phone. “It’s one-thirty. Please be back in an hour.”
“We will,” Ruth Rose said.
Dink pulled his phone from his back pocket, and they tapped each other’s numbers into their contacts.
“Watch when you cross streets,” Maria said. “And call me if you get lost!”
“We will,” Dink said. “And thanks for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Maria said. She was already texting on her phone.
The kids left the apartment and walked to the elevator.
“What are we exploring?” Josh asked. “You heard Maria—we could get lost in Brooklyn!”
“No one’s getting lost,” Ruth Rose said. “We’re going to Kip’s Place to find out how Gram’s vase got stolen.”
The elevator took them down, and they walked out to the street.
“What time does it get dark in October in Brooklyn?” Josh asked, looking at the sky.
“Don’t worry,” Ruth Rose said. “We’ll be back before supper.”
“I’m not worried about supper,” Josh said.
Dink poked him. “Oh yeah?”
Josh laughed. “Okay, I am worried about supper.”
They walked to a light at a corner and crossed Twenty-Fifth Street to Fifth Avenue. Five minutes later, they were looking at Kip through his window. He was standing with a woman at a worktable and showing her how to cut pieces of colored glass.
At another table, a man was sketching on a large pad.
Kip looked up when the kids walked in. “We were wrong about your grandmother’s vase,” he said, peering at Ruth Rose through his purple sunglasses. “It didn’t get destroyed in my kiln. Actually, I forgot to turn the kiln on before I went to bed. So I got up in the middle of the night and turned it on. I was so sleepy, I must have set the temperature too high, and another piece of pottery broke. But I think someone stole your grandmother’s vase out of the kiln last night, before I turned it on!”
“I know. We just saw the vase!” Ruth Rose said. She told Kip about Mr. Royce and how he’d found Gram’s vase in his family crypt. “And a silver vase that was supposed to be in the crypt was missing. Somebody switched them!”
“They took her grandmother to the police station!” Josh added.
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Kip stared at the kids. “That’s horrible!” he said. “Give me a minute to finish up with Dawn. Then I want to show you something.”
While they waited, Dink looked at clay art displayed on a shelf. There was a mug, a small bowl, two vases, and what looked like a cat. Tacked to the edge of the shelf were photos of a mug, a bowl, a vase on a table, and a cat. Dink figured Kip put these pictures there so people would have something to copy for their projects.
Kip motioned for the kids to follow him. He opened a door labeled restroom and took the kids down a short hallway. At the end was another door that led outside. Next to it was a bathroom. That door was open, and Kip pointed inside. “Take a look at that,” he said.
There was a window over the toilet, but the glass was broken. Cool air blew inside. A few jagged pieces of glass stuck out of the window frame, reminding Dink of sharks’ teeth. The rest of the glass was scattered over the bathroom floor.
“This is how the thief got in,” Kip said. He pointed to a rock on the floor. “He must have used that to smash the glass.”
“Oh my gosh!” Ruth Rose said. “Did you call the police?”
“Officer Deming was here just a few minutes ago,” Kip said. “She asked me if your grandmother’s vase got destroyed in my kiln. I told her I thought so at first. But then I found this broken window and realized the vase got stolen from the kiln!”
They walked back to the art room. “Did the thief take anything else?” Dink asked.
Kip hesitated. “Yeah, he took a few dollars from my desk,” he said. “And a stained-glass panel is missing.”
“Then that explains how Gram’s vase got inside the crypt,” Ruth Rose said. “The crook took it there to switch for the valuable one!”
Just then, a man in gray coveralls came through the front door. “You Mr. Skane?” he asked Kip. “I’m Gus, come to fix your window.”
“Great,” Kip said. “Come on—I’ll show you.”
The kids left Kip’s Place and headed for Twenty-Fifth Street.
A small sign on a post near the traffic light said green-wood cemetery, with an arrow.
“That’s where the crypt is,” Dink said. He gave Ruth Rose a look.
She nodded. “Let’s go see this crypt where Mr. Royce says my grandmother stole his famous vase!” she said.
“I’m good here, guys,” Josh said. “You go ahead.”
“Come on,” Ruth Rose said. “Don’t you want to help my grandmother?”
Josh shook his head.
“You don’t want to help her?” Dink said.
“I do want to help her,” Josh said. “I just don’t want to go to a cemetery to do it!”
“But that’s the scene of the crime!” Ruth Rose said.
“Yeah, I know, but…,” Josh started to say.
The light changed to walk. Ruth Rose and Dink linked arms with Josh and marched him across the street.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Josh said. He started tugging another loose strand of sweater yarn, then stopped and jammed his hands into his pockets.
“Well, I have a good feeling about it,” Rose said. “Plus, I’m not going to sit around and do nothing while my grandmother is in trouble!”
On the other side of the street, Dink saw a broken bottle on the ground. He stared at the bottle, thinking about Kip’s bathroom window. Broken pieces of glass had been scattered on the floor. Sharp, jagged glass had stuck out of the window’s wooden frame.
A thought slithered through Dink’s mind, like a fast-moving snake. Then the thought was gone.
“Hey, Earth to Dink,” Josh said, nudging his friend.
“Sorry,” Dink said. “Just thinking about something.”
They saw the entrance to the cemetery in the distance. It was a massive stone structure with two archways, like a cathedral built hundreds of years ago. Stone buildings stood on each side of the entry, with flowers planted in front.
“Guys, listen!” Josh said, pointing up. Bird chirps echoed down from the ceiling of the entryway.
Dink noticed a brass sign fastened to one of the stones. He read it to Josh and Ruth Rose:
enjoy the beautiful and chatty monk parakeets that live in green-wood cemetery. argentina is their home, but some escaped in the 1960s while being brought to pet shops in america. the parakeets are friendly, but please do not feed them!
The kids looked up and saw dozens of green parakeets peering out from among the stones. They flew around the archway, making loud noises.
“I wonder what they’re saying,” Josh said.
Dink put his arm around Josh’s shoulder. “They’re saying ‘Josh is going into a cemetery!’ ”
“Yeah, but I’m being forced to go there by my two best friends!” Josh said. They walked through the entryway, with parakeets flying over their heads.
Ruth Rose noticed a sign on one of the buildings that said office—free maps, and the kids went in.
Inside, Ruth Rose took a map from a rack near the door. She unfolded it, revealing what looked like miles of roads and pathways winding through the cemetery. Rows of gravestones stood on lawns around ponds and flower gardens.
“This says there are 560,000 graves here!” she said. “How will we find the Royce crypt?”
“Easy peasy,” Dink said. “We ask.”
A young guy was standing behind a counter, typing on a laptop. He wore a green shirt with green-wood cemetery stitched on one sleeve. A white name tag that said paco was pinned to the pocket.
“Hi,” Dink said. “Can you tell us where the Royce crypt is?”
“Sure can,” Paco said. “Got a map?”
Ruth Rose held up the map.
“Okay, hold on a second.” Paco hit a few keys on his laptop, then held out a hand. “Map, please.”
Ruth Rose handed it over the counter. Paco checked his computer screen, then drew a circle on the map and handed it back to Ruth Rose. “It’s near the edge of this pond,” he said, tapping a blue area near his circle. “Outside, go right and walk a few hundred yards. The pond will be on the right, with a bunch of tiny buildings on the left. Those are the vaults, or crypts. Look for a door with a sign that says the name of the interred.”
The kids thanked Paco and walked outside. They followed his directions, passing dozens of white gravestones set into the grass.
“What’s interred?” Josh asked.
“I think it means buried,” Dink answered.
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” Josh muttered.
Two minutes later, they came to the pond. A few ducks were pecking at tall weeds that grew out of the water. A man in work clothes and boots was mowing the grass along the bank. When he noticed the kids, he stopped mowing and watched them. He walked over, wiping a sleeve across his face.
“Can I help you?” the man asked. His face and hands were tanned. The name albert was sewn into the pocket of his shirt.
“We’re looking for the Royce crypt,” Dink said.
Albert raised his eyebrows and stared at Dink without blinking. His eyes were light brown. “What for?” he asked.
“Um, it’s for my grandmother,” Ruth Rose said. “She’s an artist, and she loves old…things. I want to take a picture for her.”
Albert nodded and pointed a finger. “Third vault on the right,” he said.
They thanked him, then walked away. Dink had a feeling the man was watching them, and turned around quickly. He was right. The guy was staring after them, and Dink felt the skin on his arms get goose bumpy.
The kids came to a row of small stone buildings. They looked alike. Most had steps leading down to a padlocked door. There were no windows. Next to the locked door handles were brass plaques.
A minute later, they stood in front of the Royce vault. Dink pointed to the plaque att
ached to the stone wall with iron brackets. royce, built 1890 was written in raised letters. Dink looked over his shoulder, but the lawn mower guy was nowhere in sight.
The building’s stone sides and steps were covered with furry green moss. A tree towered over the little building, blocking out the sun. A thick vine had grown up the tree trunk. Shiny ivy leaves had spread over the crypt’s roof and covered its sides.
Dink gulped. The hair on his arms stood up. He was reminded of a witch’s hut from a scary book his dad had read him when he was little.
“There’s no padlock like on the other crypts,” Ruth Rose said. “But there’s a plastic tie to keep the door closed.”
“I’ll bet the police took the lock to check for your grandmother’s fingerprints,” Dink said.
“I can cut the plastic with my knife.” Ruth Rose dug in her backpack and pulled out a red Swiss Army knife. “It matches my outfit!” she said.
“Whoa,” Josh said. “These crypts are locked because people aren’t supposed to go in!”
“There isn’t a Do Not Enter sign,” Ruth Rose said. “Besides, we’ll only stay a minute, and we won’t touch anything. Right, guys?”
“Right,” Dink said.
“I’m keeping my hands in my pockets,” Josh said.
Just then, a green blur flew out of the tree over their heads. A parakeet with a stick in its mouth landed on the plaque. The bird looked at the kids through tiny black eyes. Two seconds later, it dropped the stick, flew up the side of the building, and disappeared through an opening in the vine leaves.
“Guys, it went inside the crypt!” Josh said. “There’s a hole!”
“If birds can go in, so can we!” Ruth Rose went down the steps, cut the plastic tie, and pushed on the door. It stayed shut, so she tried pulling. This time, the door opened.
The parakeet zoomed back out, nearly colliding with Dink’s shoulder. It landed on a tree branch over their heads. Ruth Rose pulled the door open wider, making the hinges squeak.
