The Vanishing Statue

Dear Diary,

YOU MIGHT THINK RIVER HEIGHTS is a pretty average town: not too big, not too small, with enough new businesses popping up and strangers passing through to keep life interesting. But this year, the town is throwing our first annual Art Week. The River Heights Museum of Fine Art will have free admission after five p.m., and there’s going to be a parade and a new art gallery opening in East River Heights. The city hired artists to paint murals in the alleyways downtown. The streets are suddenly full of visitors with interesting outfits and even more interesting haircuts.

I think all the arty visitors are inspiring the locals to be more creative too. Yesterday, George and I watched a woman spray-paint a huge golden dragon onto the side of the hardware store. My ordinary town already seems more colorful. I hope some of our unusual visitors take a liking to River Heights and decide to stay.

CHAPTER ONE A Mysterious Invitation

USUALLY I’D BE HAPPY TO hear the latest River Heights gossip from one of my best friends, Bess Marvin. But not when she called my cell at eight a.m. on a Saturday, when I was trying to sleep in. I answered on the fourth ring, still half dreaming about a mystery in a haunted castle where the final clue was just out of reach. …

Bess’s musical laughter startled me awake. “Nancy, I can hear you snoring! Wake up! You have to check your mailbox right now.”

“Bess, it’s too early. The mail hasn’t even been delivered yet. Ms. Vandra comes at eleven on Saturdays.”

“This is special mail, Nancy. Hand delivered by members of her staff.”

“Staff? Whose staff? What are you talking about?”

“Her staff. Gosh, I’d love to have people to order around. She probably sits on her throne all day just telling different people what to do. …”

I groaned and rolled out of bed.

“Bess, you’re not making sense. If you’d just give me a minute, I’ll go get the ‘special mail’ and figure it out for myself.”

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, pulled on a robe and slippers, and headed out into the chilly morning to check the mailbox. I put Bess on speakerphone and let her keep chattering away. I knew even if I told her to buzz off and let me sleep, she’d call back until I did as she said. Bess could be very persistent.

“I’m thinking something chic and black with architectural elements. Or maybe a glamorous take on the tuxedo, with a sparkly cape! I can’t wait, Nancy. It’s going to be fabulous!”

“All right. Slow down. Let me see if there’s anything in here. …” I rummaged around in the gloomy mailbox, keeping watch for spiders. At the back I found three small gold-colored envelopes. One was addressed to me: MISS NANCY DREW. The second was to my father, CARSON DREW, ESQ. And the third was for our housekeeper, Hannah Gruen.