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    The Riddle in the Rare Book
    The Riddle in the Rare Book
    The Riddle in the Rare Book
    Ebook135 pages2 hours

    The Riddle in the Rare Book

    By Carolyn Keene

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    About this ebook

    When a series of rare-book thefts strikes the Bloom’s Bookstore & Coffeehouse in River Heights, Nancy Drew finds her only clue in the handwriting of a dead woman.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAladdin
    Release dateDec 11, 2012
    ISBN9781442485631
    The Riddle in the Rare Book
    Author

    Carolyn Keene

    Carolyn Keene is the author of the ever-popular Nancy Drew books.

    Read more from Carolyn Keene

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    Reviews for The Riddle in the Rare Book

    4/5

    7 ratings3 reviews

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    • 5/5
      it is a lovely book and great for someone who enjoys mysteries!!!
    • 4/5
      Books are my 2ent favorite things
    • 4/5
      *spoiler warning*A good book. Not can't-put-it-down, but better then some NDs I've read lately. And I admit I was stumped up until the very end, and then did the whole "ack, why didn't I realize that before!". I knew Bess's "love", Richard Munro, was too good to be true, which made me suspect him as the book thief. I even suspected Lori for awhile, just because of how often she seemed to be around when things went wrong. But when the real book thief was revealed, I couldn't believe I hadn't realized it before, it all made so much sense. There is another reason I liked this book, though, and that's the subject matter. I learned *so much* about book collecting and restoration just by reading this Nancy Drew book. Things about rare books and collecting and ownership marks and how to spot a fake... Not exactly a book I'd think of reading to learn something like that. I loved reading about all of that.

      1 person found this helpful

    Book preview

    The Riddle in the Rare Book - Carolyn Keene

    title

    Contents

    1 Stolen!

    2 Caught in the Act

    3 An Unexpected Threat

    4 A Mysterious Message

    5 The Book Thief Strikes Again

    6 Things Get Serious

    7 A Ride into Danger

    8 No Simple Accident

    9 A Clue at Last

    10 A Voice from the Dead?

    11 A Blueprint for Crime

    12 A Friend in Danger

    13 Who Is the Dark Lady?

    14 Locked In!

    15 The Sting

    1

    Stolen!

    I don’t believe it! Nancy Drew said, stopping in surprise in the middle of the sidewalk.

    Before her, dozens of people swarmed around the steps of the old First River Heights Bank, which had recently been converted into Bloom’s Bookstore & Coffeehouse. Are all those people really waiting for a poetry reading? Nancy asked her friend Bess Marvin.

    Of course, Bess said. This is going to be a fantastically exciting evening!

    How can a poetry reading be fantastically exciting? George Fayne asked skeptically.

    "These new coffeehouses are supposed to be the place to meet cute guys, Bess explained. And remember, I haven’t had a date in two whole weeks."

    George laughed and said, I should have known it was something like that.

    Tall and slender, with reddish-blond hair, Nancy had been best friends for years with Bess and George. Though they looked nothing alike, Bess and George were first cousins. George was slim and athletic with short brown hair and dark eyes. Bess had straight blond hair and blue eyes and was far more interested in clothes and guys than her cousin was.

    Bess waved a glossy flyer at them. We’re so lucky Richard Munro is reading tonight.

    Who is Richard Munro? Nancy asked.

    Only the most devastatingly handsome poet on earth, Bess replied. Black hair, green eyes, cheekbones to die for—

    Sounds like he meets all the requirements for a great poet, George said dryly. Can he write?

    Of course he can, Bess said indignantly.

    Come on, you two, Nancy said, laughing. Let’s go inside and see for ourselves.

    Nancy liked Bloom’s the moment she walked in the door. With its marble floors, wood-paneled walls, and carved stone columns, the old bank building had once been imposing. But the new owners had totally transformed it, adding a cheerful clutter of books and antique furniture. Bookcases divided the space into cozy little corners, with tables and a mismatched assortment of loveseats and old velvet armchairs. Oriental rugs were scattered on the marble floor, which not only made the room quieter, but also gave it a warmer atmosphere.

    Nancy saw that Bess was right: Bloom’s was the new hot place in River Heights. The coffeehouse was crowded with young people, all browsing the bookshelves or talking and laughing at the tables.

    Bess led the way to the coffee bar, where she eyed the tempting pastries.

    What about your diet? Nancy teased her.

    I’m starting tomorrow, Bess said firmly.

    George rolled her eyes at Nancy. Bess was always starting tomorrow.

    Look! Over there! Bess said in a dramatic whisper. When Nancy and George glanced to their right, where Bess was pointing, she said urgently, No, don’t turn around! Don’t be obvious. It’s him.

    Him who? George asked, still searching the room.

    Richard Munro, the poet, Bess said with a sigh. Isn’t he gorgeous? Let’s get some coffee and go sit near him.

    George groaned, but there was no arguing with Bess. The three girls filled a tray with coffee and cakes and took it over to the corner of the room, where a small raised platform had been set up for readings. Bess smiled brightly at the handsome young poet as she sat down on the chair closest to him, but he was about six feet away and didn’t look up from the book he was poring over.

    Just then a tall woman in her late teens approached the girls’ table. She had long black hair, almond eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. George, is that you? she asked.

    George looked up and smiled. Lori Chang! I haven’t seen you in ages. Why don’t you join us?

    I’d love to, Lori said.

    George introduced Lori to Nancy and Bess. Her mother plays tennis with my mom, George explained.

    Hi, Nancy, Bess, Lori said.

    With difficulty, Bess pulled her gaze away from Richard Munro. Lori noticed this and laughed. Oh, you’ve fallen under the Munro spell, have you? she said in a low voice to Bess. Well, look out. He’s trouble.

    What kind of trouble? Nancy asked.

    He’s got a ‘rep,’ if you know what I mean, Lori said.

    What kind of reputation? Bess asked, wide-eyed.

    Oh, you know. Expensive tastes, expensive girlfriends. And a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, Lori said.

    Better be careful, Bess, or you might be Richard Munro’s next victim, George joked.

    Well, maybe he just hasn’t found the right girlfriend yet, Bess said.

    He’s Cyril Bloom’s assistant, Lori explained. Cyril’s the guy who owns the place. He’s a real sweetie. There he is, in the corner, with the silver hair and tweed jacket and turtleneck.

    The one with the pipe? Is he a poet, too? He looks just like a poet should look, Bess said.

    Oh yes, Lori said. "He doesn’t write anymore, but he was fairly well known about twenty years ago, when his first book of poems was published. Haven’t you heard of Cyril Bloom? His book was called Dark Lady. He’s written several others since then."

    Bess shook her head. I’ve only just begun to appreciate poetry, she admitted.

    I love poetry, Lori said. And fiction, history, biographies . . . I’m crazy about books. That’s why I work with them now.

    Do you work here at Bloom’s, too? Nancy asked.

    Lori shook her head. No, I’m apprenticed to a master bookbinder, she said. I’m learning how to bind books and restore old bindings. We do a lot of work for Cyril, repairing rare old editions when they’re damaged.

    Old editions? Nancy asked. I didn’t know Bloom’s sold old books. I see only new books here.

    Lori pointed to the balcony that ran around the room above their heads. On the balcony were even more bookcases. Nancy could see that the books on the shelves were mostly leather and cloth bound. That’s where the old books are shelved, Lori said. Then she pointed to a wall on the first floor. And see that counter over there, where the bank tellers used to stand? The really valuable editions are kept in the rare book room behind the old tellers’ windows.

    Shhh, you two, Bess said. I think the reading is starting.

    Cyril Bloom stepped up to the microphone on the platform. After welcoming the crowd, he introduced the three poets who would be reading. All three were lively performers as well as good writers, and Nancy found that the time passed quickly.

    Bess, however, fidgeted during the first two readings, then leaned forward in rapt fascination for Richard Munro’s. The minute he finished, Bess jumped up, saying, I’ve got to tell Richard that I just love his poems.

    And his green eyes and his broad shoulders, George teased her. Bess tossed her head and slipped away.

    I have to be going, George, Lori said. But it was great seeing you. Here’s my number at the bookbinding workshop—let’s keep in touch. She handed George a scrap of paper and waved goodbye.

    As Lori walked away, George asked Nancy, Are you in any hurry to leave? I’d like to check out the sports books.

    Go ahead, Nancy said. I want to look around, too. And it’s obvious Bess doesn’t want to leave just yet. They had both noticed that Bess had found a seat right beside Richard. She was smiling happily as he entertained a circle of young women.

    Nancy wandered over to one of the bank counter windows, where she saw Cyril Bloom standing behind a cash register. May I see the rare book room, please? she asked.

    Of course, Cyril said. I’ll unlock the door. As he gave her a charming smile, Nancy thought to herself that he’d probably once broken as many hearts as Richard Munro.

    Cyril led Nancy behind the old counter and unlocked the door with a brass key. Nancy was intrigued—discovering what was behind locked doors always appealed to her sense of adventure. They stepped into a little room lined with antique glass-fronted bookcases. The room held the wonderful musty scent of old leather. Many of the books inside had beautiful designs stamped in gold on their spines. Nancy wondered if some of these were books Lori Chang had repaired at the bookbindery.

    She circled the room, reading the titles of books of all sizes. Some titles were familiar; some she’d never heard before. Then, in one of the cases, she saw a book she recognized—Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic Sherlock Holmes mystery The Hound of the Baskervilles. May I see that? she asked, pointing to the book.

    Cyril took the book out of the case and handed it carefully to Nancy. She looked over the familiar gray dust jacket with the scarlet type, then lifted the jacket to examine the leather cover’s embossed design: a hound silhouetted against the moon. It was just like a copy she had at home. A skilled detective, Nancy had been given the book by someone for whom she had solved a case.

    Opening the cover, she looked at the price written on the first page—and almost dropped the book in shock. Two thousand dollars! She had no idea that the book was worth so much.

    Thanking Cyril, Nancy handed the book back to him and left the rare book room. She paused on the other side of the counter to look at some paintings by a local artist.

    Just then a small, plump middle-aged woman in a garish red-and-purple print dress strode up to the counter. Her heels clicked loudly on the

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