The Case of the Missing Dinosaur Egg Page 4

  I started explaining about the library before I was even buckled in. When I was finished, Nate said, “Good job, Cameron! Now we know why Professor Bohn stole the egg. He wanted to keep it away from Professor Rexington.”

  Uh-oh. I never thought of that! I started to argue, but Granny interrupted with news of her own.

  “Since you children were busy in school, I did a little detecting myself.” Granny knows all about detecting. She used to be a police officer. “That newspaper in Professor Rexington’s wastebasket? It was the Washington Post. So it seems whoever sent the ostrich egg must have packed it up right here in town.”

  Tessa grinned. “Good job, Granny! Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb will be super proud. They’ve only been gone since yesterday, and already we’ve gathered two pieces of evidence to help prove it was Professor Bohn who stole the dinosaur egg.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  What was I doing wrong?

  Solving the case was supposed to prove Professor Bohn was innocent. But so far it seemed more like the opposite.

  I needed to think. So after Tessa, Nate and I had eaten our snack, I asked Granny if she thought Mr. Bryant would let me take Hooligan for a walk around the South Lawn.

  Mr. Bryant used to operate the Presidential Elevator, but now he works for our family, taking care of Hooligan on weekdays.

  “I’m sure Mr. Bryant will be happy for the coffee break,” Granny said. “But Charlotte will have to go with you.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “And we’ll have to alert the other officers outside.”

  “I know.”

  “And mind the public, Cameron. Don’t talk to anybody—and remember, they’re all voters or potential voters.”

  When Granny said “the public,” she meant the people outside the White House fence looking in. I’m not supposed to actually talk to these people, because I might say something dumb by mistake that would get on the news and be embarrassing. On the other hand, I should always smile and be polite, because if I don’t, people might not vote for Mom.

  “I know, Granny. I am a representative of the family.”

  Granny smiled, then reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Living in the White House is a bother sometimes, Cameron. But there are a lot of privileges, too. You’re looking forward to the Easter egg roll, aren’t you?”

  An Easter egg roll is a race where you push a hard-boiled egg with a spoon. The tradition started at the White House way back in the 1800s, and now thousands of people come to the South Lawn the day after Easter to celebrate. There are games and music and food—kind of like a church picnic, only bigger.

  I nodded. “I’m looking forward to the fried rice, too,” I said, which made Granny laugh. The first time Tessa ever heard of an Easter egg roll, she thought it was Chinese food.

  While Granny got hold of Charlotte and Mr. Bryant, I went to Tessa’s and my bedroom to put on jeans and sneakers. Then I read over my notes for the case so they’d be fresh in my mind.

  On my way downstairs, I stopped by Hooligan’s room. Tessa was there, sitting on the floor by the kittens—two orange, one black, and three gray tabbies—a squirming mass of fur and cuteness. I reached in and tickled the mama, who flicked her tail but didn’t bother to wake up.

  “The kitten book says they’ll be more fun next week when they can see and hear,” Tessa said. “But they’ll be messier, too. Right now the mama cleans up most of the disgusting parts.”

  I said, “No wonder she’s tired.” Then I told Tessa I was going out to walk Hooligan and think.

  “About the case?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “You don’t think Professor Bohn stole the egg, do you?”

  “It’s obvious, huh?”

  “Hello-o-o? I’m your sister! But we don’t get to pick who did it, Cammie. Like Granny says, we have to be fair and look at the evidence.”

  “I’m trying,” I said. “But the truth is, I’d rather it was somebody else—like Professor Rexington. She’s not nearly as nice. And she has a motive, too, right? She wants the egg as much as Professor Bohn does. She wants to prove she’s the one who’s right about birds and dinosaurs.”

  Tessa said, “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I thought of something else. Why did Professor Rexington recycle the crate so fast?”

  I shrugged. “Because she’s super well organized? You saw how tidy her office was.”

  “Maybe,” said Tessa, “or maybe because the crate had a return address or some other clue. Maybe there was something she didn’t want us to see.”

  I stared at my sister. “I should’ve thought of that!”

  Tessa said, “Why? Because you’re older?”

  “No, because I’m smarter—duh.” And then I had to move fast because Tessa was scrambling to her feet, ready to pound me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I got away from my sister okay.

  All I had to do was call over my shoulder, “I take it back! You’re smart, too!” then run down two flights of stairs and cross into the Diplomatic Reception Room, which is how you get to the South Lawn.

  Mr. Bryant and Charlotte met me under the awning outside, and Mr. Bryant handed me Hooligan’s leash.

  “I appreciate your taking over for a few minutes, Cameron. Your grandmother is putting on a pot of coffee.” Then he gave Hooligan a pat on the head. “You behave yourself. Understand?”

  Hooligan answered by sitting politely and displaying his most noble profile.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I think this dog should travel with his personal photographer.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “he has a lot in common with my sister that way.”

  “Where shall we walk?” Charlotte asked after Mr. Bryant left to go meet Granny.

  I said, “Children’s Garden,” which is a part of the South Lawn that has a path and a pond and a climbing tree. A First Lady a long time ago had it built for when her grandchildren came to visit.

  Charlotte and I turned right toward the West Wing, where my mom’s office is. Nearing it, I saw her and a cluster of other people walking in the Rose Garden. Right away, I noticed one of the men because he wasn’t wearing a suit like everybody else. Instead, he had on an untucked, short-sleeve white shirt and black pants. . . .

  Wait a sec. Hadn’t there been a guy at Professor Bohn’s museum talk in a shirt like that?

  I pointed him out to Charlotte, who told me that kind of shirt is called a guayabera—pronounced “gwyuh-bear-uh”—and they’re popular in countries where it’s hot.

  “Who are those guys, anyway?” I asked her.

  Charlotte squinted at them. “I’m not sure. Foreign dignitaries, I guess.”

  A foreign dignitary is somebody important who comes from another country. Before I could ask where these ones were from, I got distracted by Hooligan, who had stopped to sniff the air.

  Uh-oh.

  This could be trouble.

  I got a good grip on his leash . . . but not good enough, because half a second later he bolted for the Rose Garden, tugging me off-balance and yanking the leash out of my hand.

  “Hooligan!” I tried to call, but only the first syllable came out. The second two were muted by the combination of grass and earth my face encountered on the ground—owieee!

  “Cammie, are you okay?” Charlotte reached down to help me. I wiped the dirt out of my eyes and saw Hooligan was on a collision course with Mom and the foreign dignitaries.

  Charlotte cringed. “I hope they’re from a friendly country.”

  Me, too, because by now, Hooligan had zeroed in on his intended target—none other than the man in the guayabera shirt—and was gathering himself to make a leap.

  The man must not have been expecting a big, furry, flying impact, because—pow!— when Hooligan connected—ouch!— he toppled over backward.

  “Oh, dear,” I said, “I hope that guy likes dogs.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The guy did not like dogs.


  Especially big dogs that jump on you, knock you over and slobber on your face.

  But it’s not like he had to go to the hospital or anything.

  And Mom said the White House laundry might be able to wash the paw prints out if he didn’t mind handing over his shirt.

  There are always newspeople at the White House, and now—as the guy was helped to his feet—their cameras whirred and clicked.

  Meanwhile, my mom introduced us. “This is my daughter Cameron, Mr. Valenteen. And she is about to apologize for our dog’s terrible behavior.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why Hooligan did that. Usually he only attacks squirrels and pigeons.”

  “I am not a squirrel or a pigeon,” Mr. Valenteen said.

  “I can see that,” I said.

  “Good. Then we’re all in agreement,” said Mom. “Cameron, I’ll see you at dinner. Gentlemen? Shall we continue our discussions inside?”

  Mom, Mr. Valenteen and the guys in suits turned and headed for my mom’s office. Meanwhile, Hooligan sat himself down in good-dog fashion and looked up at me expectantly.

  “What’s with you, anyway?” I asked him. “You don’t get a doggy treat for jumping on some poor, random guy. You know that, right?”

  But apparently he didn’t know that, because he cocked his head and woofed a sad and disappointed little woof.

  “Was he the same man from the museum?” Charlotte asked me. “Or just wearing the same kind of shirt?”

  “Same man,” I said. “Weird, huh? I guess he must be interested in dinosaurs.”

  We turned toward the Children’s Garden, and I asked Charlotte if she’d mind helping me go over the evidence.

  “Happy to,” she said. “After all, I am a law enforcement professional. What do you know so far?”

  Since I had just reviewed my notes, it was easy to tell her the important parts:

  • Jan and Larry said the dinosaur egg might be missing because of politics in a certain nearby nation.

  • Professor Bohn was the “unnamed source” who told them that.

  • The crate had been scanned in at Dulles airport on Thursday.

  • The packing newspaper was the Washington Post, dated last Thursday.

  • The delivery company, Red Heart, didn’t exist.

  • Professor Rexington and Professor Bohn were in a feud about the family history of dinosaurs and birds.

  By this time we had passed the tennis courts and gone under the trellis into the garden, which is surrounded by trees and bushes. A path leads to the goldfish pond, and children and grandchildren of past presidents have left their handprints in the concrete paving stones. I hopscotched over the names “Jenna Bush” and “Barbara Bush,” then sat down in one of the white metal chairs by the pond.

  Instead of checking out the goldfish, Hooligan lay down next to me and closed his eyes. It must be hard work, attacking foreign dignitaries.

  “Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb say Professor Bohn is the thief, but I’m not sure,” I told Charlotte. “Maybe instead, the egg’s disappearance is connected to a certain nearby nation.”

  “That’s where Mr. Valenteen is from,” Charlotte said. “I only realized it when I saw the dignitaries close-up. With all the prodemocracy protests there, they want your mom to reaffirm the U.S.’s alliance with President Manfred Alfredo-Chin.”

  “What does that mean—reaffirm the alliance?” I asked.

  “Tell all the other countries the United States still likes him,” Charlotte said.

  I thought for a second. “So it’s the same as when my best friend, Courtney Lozana, ate the last cookie out of my lunch? And I got mad, but the next day she gave me a bag of chips and told me to tell all our other friends how I wasn’t mad at her anymore so they wouldn’t be mad at her, either?”

  Charlotte looked thoughtful. “Pretty much, yeah. Sometimes countries act a lot like fifth graders. But none of that is helping you with your case. I have a question. Maybe you said, but I missed it. Where did that ostrich egg come from?”

  For a second, I felt annoyed. Usually I like Charlotte, because even though I’m a kid, she listens to me. But now it was like she hadn’t heard me at all. “From the crate at the museum and before that from Red Heart Delivery,” I repeated.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got all that,” Charlotte said. “But before that. The egg was ready to hatch, so it probably came from nearby. There can’t be that many places to get an ostrich egg around here. So maybe if you found the place where the egg was laid?”

  I sat still for a moment, listening to the pond burble and watching a tan cardinal and her red boyfriend doing a jig by its edge. Then I said, “Charlotte, you’re a genius.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Charlotte was not only a genius. She was right. There aren’t many places around Washington to get an ostrich egg. In fact, there is only one: Mega Bird Farm, located in the country about thirty miles from the White House.

  That was the result that came back when Nate went online and entered “ostrich farm Washington D.C.” into the search engine right before dinner.

  “I’ll call them!” Tessa volunteered. She always likes to do the talking.

  “You can give it a try,” I said. “Ask them if—”

  “I know what to ask, Cammie.” Tessa had already picked up the phone on Nate’s desk and was dialing the number on the website. After a few seconds, she said, “Hello? This is Tessa Parks, and . . . yes, that Tessa Parks, and . . . yes, I am totally serious.”

  I didn’t have to hear the other side of the conversation to imagine it. A lot of times when one of us calls somebody we don’t know, they don’t believe we’re really us.

  “Thank you,” Tessa went on. “I think she’s a good president, too. Anyway, my sister and my cousin and I are investigating a case, and we have some questions for you. . . . Uh, hold on a sec, would you?” Tessa looked up at me and Nate. “What are our questions, again?”

  “Ask if somebody bought an egg last week,” Nate said.

  “And if somebody did buy an egg, who was it?” I said.

  Tessa repeated the questions, listened and nodded. “Oh, really? Okay, I’ll check. . . . And you have a very mega day, too!” She hung up.

  “Well?” Nate and I said at the same time.

  “She doesn’t like to give information out over the phone,” Tessa said. “But I should still have a very mega day.”

  “So we have to go out there?” I said.

  Tessa grinned and pumped her fist. “Road trip!”

  A road trip sounded good to me, too. The problem was that when you’re the president’s kid, a road trip is not so easy. The Secret Service would have to go with us and they would have to scout the place in advance. Since they have other things to do, arrangements might take a while. The question was, how long?

  At dinner, we told Granny we wanted to visit Mega Bird Farm, and she agreed it was a good idea. After dinner, she called to talk to the Secret Service about how soon we could go. Tessa, Nate and I were finishing our homework in the solarium when Charlotte came in to deliver the bad news.

  “Friday after school?” Tessa waved her arms the way she does. “But what will we tell Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb? They are going to be so-o-o disappointed!”

  “I thought of that,” Charlotte said, “so I got in touch with them already. They’re having such a good time in Pittsburgh, they’ve decided to stay a few more days. But they said don’t worry, and they promise to call when they get back.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A lot of times I am surprised by the stuff the news guys think is important. For example, remember when Hooligan knocked over that foreign dignitary—Mr. Valenteen?

  That was on Monday afternoon, and for the rest of the week, it was like you couldn’t turn on the TV or look at the Web without seeing Hooligan leaping, the guy’s face looking scared and unhappy, and then Hooligan again—showing off his profile like he was proud he had knocked somebody over.

  As y
ou can imagine, this was all pretty embarrassing for my mom and the rest of the United States government.

  So on Thursday when Tessa’s and my friend Toni called to invite us and Nate and Hooligan over to her house, my mom was happy. In case you don’t remember, Toni’s father is the ambassador from Mr. Valenteen’s nation. According to Mom, the invitation was supposed to be a sign that the people there were ready to forgive Hooligan and the American people.

  Tessa disagreed. “I don’t think the invitation is a sign of anything,” she said. “I think Toni just invited us because we’re friends. Plus Toni told me there’s this cool new rock in her rock collection and she wants us to see it.”

  The invitation was for Easter after lunch. Toni’s family lives in the ambassador’s house, which is next to the office part of the embassy in the neighborhood of Washington, D.C. called Georgetown. Hooligan was included because he’s friends with Toni’s dog, Ozza-belle. While we checked out the rocks, they were going to have a playdate.

  Besides the invitation from Toni, a few other things happened that week:

  • I studied my spelling words for the Friday test and did math homework.

  • Tessa and I tried on our Easter dresses to make sure they fit.

  • The kittens opened their eyes the rest of the way.

  • Tessa, Nate, the Easter Bunny and I assembled baskets to be given as prizes at the Easter egg roll. (The Easter Bunny was really one of my mom’s staffers dressed up in a costume he told us was hot and itchy.)

  • We got a postcard from Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb. It showed a picture of a big, swoopy bridge over the Ohio River, and it said: “Happy Detecting! See you next week!”

  Finally it was Friday, and after school Granny and Charlotte picked us up in one of the White House vans.

  Malik drove, and we went northwest out of the city into Maryland. For the first part, the scenery was mostly office buildings, but after a while we were in the country—big houses and rolling green hills with pink-flowering trees and red-flowering bushes.