The Case of the Rock 'n' Roll Dog Page 4

  “Hey!” I waved. “I want to talk to you!”

  Kyle is the kind of kid who stirs up trouble but doesn’t stick around. He said, “I have to finish my homework,” and left.

  Courtney could see I was mad. She pointed at herself like, Moi?

  I skipped explanations and got to the point. “Hooligan isn’t vicious, and you know it, and it’s not like you were bleeding or broke your arm or something.”

  Courtney seemed to know what I was talking about. “He knocked me down!” she said.

  “Because you were too big of a klutz to get out of the way!”

  “Klutz?!” Courtney said. “I’m the most graceful one in my tap class!”

  “Who do you tap with? Elephants?”

  After all that nice to Nate, I must’ve had meanness left over.

  And besides, I was mad.

  But Courtney gave it right back.

  “You know what, Cameron? And I am only telling you this for your own good. Ever since your mom got elected president, you are so totally stuck up. You used to be a normal kid, but now you act like . . . I dunno, you’re some kind of princess.”

  “That is so not—” I started to say, but Charlotte interrupted.

  “Uh, Cameron? Courtney? Everything all right?”

  Most of the time, the Secret Service agents stay out of the way. But there aren’t a lot of teachers around before school.

  I was embarrassed. “We’re fine,” I mumbled.

  Courtney was not embarrassed. She pointed at Charlotte. “See? That proves it. You’re such a princess someone has to protect you—even from your friends!”

  Friends, I thought. Right.

  Courtney and I stayed miles apart the rest of the day, and nothing especially horrible happened—except I had a lot to worry about.

  Was Courtney right? Was I a princess?

  And would Aunt Jen come through with Song Boys invitations?

  And then there was Nate. How would I ever survive six more days of being nice?

  After lunch, it was time to work on our bean sprout project. Evgenia was my partner, and our bean sprouts were growing nicely on their damp paper towel. While I measured them, she drew their picture.

  “Ev,” I said after a while. “Do you think I’m different since my mom got elected?”

  Evgenia didn’t look up. “Your mom?” she said. “Elected?”

  I stared at her. Was it possible there was someone who didn’t know . . . ?

  But then she cracked up. “Just kidding,” she said. “And no one could deny you’re different, Cammie. Wa-a-a-ay different.”

  “Not that kind of different,” I said. “Stuck-up different.” I looked over at Courtney. “Do I act like I’m some kind of, like, princess?”

  Evgenia saw me looking at Courtney. Then she looked back at her paper and drew a yellow circle outside the window. “The sun is what makes the sprouts grow,” she explained.

  “You’re not answering my question,” I said.

  Evgenia stopped drawing. “You are better than some kids,” she said. “Like at arithmetic and handwriting. And you’re worse than anybody at spelling. You’re pretty friendly, and you don’t insult people on purpose.” She shrugged. “But I never met a princess, so I don’t know if that’s what they’re like.”

  I finished writing down sprout data. Evgenia drew the rays on her sun. Then she looked over at Courtney and back again. “I don’t think you should worry about what some people say, Cammie. It isn’t your fault your mom’s the president. I mean, my parents didn’t even vote for her.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  AFTER school, I couldn’t wait to start detecting.

  But I had to.

  It took Tessa forever to pick an outfit.

  Our school doesn’t make us wear uniforms. And usually when Tessa and I get home we don’t bother to change. But Tessa loves clothes. For detecting, she claimed she needed something perfect.

  “What do you think?” Standing in front of her closet, she struck a pose. She was wearing lime green cargo pants and a matching vest. Her T-shirt was black with a ladybug print, and her sneakers were yellow. “I thought a lot of pockets would be good,” she added, “in case we have to collect evidence.”

  “Looks great,” I said. “Can we go now? There’s that dinner, and—”

  “You don’t sound sure,” Tessa said. “What do detectives wear, anyway?”

  “How should I know? Police uniforms probably.”

  Tessa turned back to her closet like maybe she’d find a police uniform.

  “Would you please hurry up?” I said. “I know—Sherlock Holmes had a hat. Do you have a hat?”

  Tessa grabbed a pink spangled baseball cap. “Like this?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  Tessa tugged the hat on. I grabbed my notebook.

  “Who do we question first?” she asked.

  “Mr. Bryant’s on today. Let’s take the elevator.”

  “But he wasn’t in the East Room,” Tessa said.

  “It’ll be like a warm-up.”

  If you’re on the state or the ground floors, you have to have a key to call the presidential elevator. But on the upper floors, there are regular buttons.

  “Good afternoon, young ladies,” Mr. Bryant said when the doors opened. “You two are looking mighty serious this afternoon. Too much homework?”

  “It’s more important than homework, Mr. Bryant,” said Tessa. “We are going to solve a mystery. And you are our first suspect.”

  “Mercy!” said Mr. Bryant.

  “Not suspect, Tessa. Witness,” I said.

  “Oops.” Tessa looked at Mr. Bryant again. “You are our first witness.”

  Mr. Bryant wiped pretend sweat from his forehead. “Phew.”

  “Are you ready, Cammie?” Tessa asked.

  “Ready.”

  Tessa crossed her arms over her chest. “Mr. Bryant, where were you on the night of—what night was it, Cammie?”

  “It wasn’t night, it was afternoon. How about if we just explain what we’re doing? Then after that we ask him what he knows.”

  Tessa explained, and Mr. Bryant shook his head. “Oh dear, oh dear—and that’s not all that’s disappeared. Mrs. Silver’s all wrought up about the place cards for the mayors’ dinner tonight. Hand-lettered, you know. They were bundled in a rubber band, she set them down, and . . .”—he snapped his fingers—“like that, they were gone!”

  I didn’t think missing place cards were too tragic, but I said, “That’s too bad.”

  And Tessa asked, “Where were they before they disappeared?”

  “I believe it was the State Dining Room,” Mr. Bryant said.

  “Colonel Michaels’s baton disappeared from the East Room on Tuesday,” Tessa told Mr. Bryant. “So have you seen any baton thieves since Tuesday, Mr. Bryant? Stupid baton thieves, I mean, because Granny told us most criminals are stupid.”

  Mr. Bryant rubbed his cheek. “I can’t say that I have,” he said. “Not that I’d exactly know what a stupid baton thief looks like . . . unless the thief were to be carrying the baton. Now, that would be a definite clue. Or—what about this?—a person carrying something in which a baton might be hidden.”

  I was writing all this down.

  “Something long and skinny,” Tessa said.

  Mr. Bryant nodded. “You might also be looking,” he went on, “in the places where a thief could hide something long and skinny.”

  The elevator had been going up and down for a while. Now it arrived back at the state floor. Mr. Bryant opened the doors. Tessa was saying thanks when I spotted something yellow on the floor and picked it up.

  “What’ve you got there?” Mr. Bryant squinted.

  “Looks like flower petals,” I said. “Kind of mangled.”

  “Our first clue!” Tessa said. “I’ll put them in a pocket.”

  I handed them over.

  “Thanks again, Mr. Bryant,” I said.

  “You’re quite welcome
. And at the first sign of a stupid baton thief, I’ll know where to report.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  STEPPING out of the elevator, we saw we were in luck. In the foyer was the White House’s big old grand piano, and one of our witnesses, Mrs. Hedges, was dusting it.

  “Go ahead and ask your questions,” Mrs. Hedges said after Tessa explained. “Only I’ll keep working if you don’t mind. They’ll be moving the piano to the East Room for the concert, and it has to look good.”

  Tessa crossed her arms over her chest. “Mrs. Hedges,” she said, “did you see anyone suspicious sneaking off with Colonel Michaels’s baton on Tuesday? Or anyone suspicious sneaking off with something long and skinny where Colonel Michaels’s baton could hide?”

  Mrs. Hedges wasn’t listening. She had set down the duster and was looking around for something. “Well, that’s a puzzle,” she said. “The polish is right here.” She pointed at a round can on the piano bench. “And I could have sworn the cloth was with it. Where did it go?”

  “We’ll help you look,” Tessa said. And we did—we even opened up the bench.

  No cloth. But underneath the piano, I found another pile of petals.

  “This one used to be a daffodil,” I said.

  Tessa took it and looked up at me. “I’m getting a bad feeling,” she said.

  Have I mentioned Hooligan loves flowers?

  Mrs. Hedges sat down on the piano bench. “Go ahead with your questions, girls. Then I’ll get a new cloth from supplies.”

  Tessa asked again about anyone suspicious. This time Mrs. Hedges listened, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “I don’t think you’re doing this right.”

  In my family, Mom and I are the patient ones. Tessa is more like Aunt Jen and Granny. Now she was getting exasperated. “We’re doing exactly what Granny told us!”

  “That’s as may be,” said Mrs. Hedges. “But what you ought to ask me is if I’ve seen anything strange since Tuesday. I read a lot of mystery books, so I know.”

  “Fine,” Tessa said. “Have you seen anything strange since Tuesday?”

  Mrs. Hedges thought for a minute. “Well, it’s strange that my polishing cloth is missing. Don’t you think?”

  When Mrs. Hedges had gone, Tessa went drama. “She was no help!”

  “We don’t know for sure till we look at the notes,” I said, “but it’s true, asking questions is harder than I thought. Let’s see who’s in the dining room.”

  There are two dining rooms on the state floor of the White House: the State Dining Room, which is on the west side, and a smaller one next to it. That was where we found Mr. Patel and Mr. Kane setting up for the night’s dinner.

  “Buona sera, bambine,” said Mr. Kane. “That means, ‘Good evening, children.’ Your mom has invited some very important mayors to eat with her a very Italian supper.”

  Mr. Kane is medium old with a round face and floppy hair. Mr. Patel is kind of young and really handsome. Aunt Jen says he has a million-megawatt smile. Now he was setting out baskets of breadsticks on tables laid with checkered tablecloths.

  I thought of what Mr. Bryant had said—a place to hide something long and skinny. How about a basket of breadsticks?

  “Where did the breadsticks come from?” I asked Mr. Kane.

  “Made them myself this morning,” he said.

  So much for that idea. The baton went missing Tuesday.

  “Would you care for a sample?” Mr. Kane asked us.

  Tessa and I were feeling cookie-deprived. “Yes!” we answered at the same time.

  The breadsticks were delicious. Done chewing, I opened my notebook and waited for Tessa to explain about detecting—only she didn’t. When I looked over, she was grinning stupidly at Mr. Patel.

  Oh, brother. Tessa is only seven. Normal kids don’t get crushes till they’re nine at least.

  “Tessa!” I hissed.

  “What? Oh! Sorry—Mr. Patel, have you ever seen any stupid batons running around suspiciously lately?”

  “Excuse me?” asked Mr. Patel.

  I rolled my eyes. Tessa’s brain was clearly scrambled. I would have to do the talking.

  “Did I see anything strange on Tuesday?” Mr. Patel repeated my question. “Only your X-treme dog.”

  “Same goes for me,” said Mr. Kane. “And as for stolen, all that’s missing around here are cookies from a tray.”

  I looked up from writing. “Really?”

  Mr. Kane shrugged. “But I don’t see what that has to do with Colonel Michaels’s baton.”

  “I don’t either,” I said. “It’s only that a lot of stuff is missing lately.”

  Mr. Kane looked at his watch. “The mayors are due at six, girls. Do you have more questions?”

  “That’s all for now,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “And we really really really appreciate it.” Tessa was back to staring at Mr. Patel.

  “Yeah—really.” I tugged her arm. “Let’s see if we can find Mr. Baney or Mr. Ross.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE flower shop is on the ground floor. The fastest way to get there is through the cross hall and down the main stairs. We were on our way down when we saw them—yellow petals everywhere, a daffodil disaster!

  “I told you I had a bad feeling,” said Tessa.

  And sure enough, here came Mr. Baney carrying a huge bouquet. Only it wasn’t a bouquet of flowers. It was a bouquet of stems.

  “That dog of yours!” he thundered.

  Mr. Baney is six feet four inches tall and played football in college. He already doesn’t like Hooligan on account of something that happened last month with a vase, some roses and a cabinet secretary.

  “Have you seen him?” I asked.

  “No, I haven’t,” said Mr. Baney, “and he’ll stay out of sight if he knows what’s good for him.” He waved the stems. “Look at what’s left of my beautiful arrangement!”

  “We can help clean up,” Tessa said.

  Mr. Baney likes Tessa. He thinks she has “flair.” He calmed down a little.

  “I appreciate the offer, but the staff will do it. Meanwhile, I just ran into Mrs. Hedges. She said you girls are detecting. Something about a missing baton?”

  “That’s right,” said Tessa, and then she explained.

  Mr. Baney shook his head. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary,” he said. “Are you quite sure your dog didn’t take it?”

  “We were holding him when it disappeared,” I said.

  Mr. Baney shrugged. “I wish I could be more helpful.”

  My watch said 5:30. There were still a few minutes before the mayors would be arriving. We went back up the stairs to look for Mr. Ross. His office is by the North Portico, but he wasn’t there. Leaving it, we ran into Nate. He was coming from the Blue Room and heading for the stairs.

  “What are you doing down here?” I asked. “I thought you were busy after school.”

  Nate didn’t look at us. He just kept walking. “Uh . . . I am busy,” he mumbled, “and now I’m going upstairs . . . to be more busy.”

  When he was gone, Tessa looked at me. “Our cousin has issues.”

  I was going to agree, but I never had the chance. Two men wearing gray suits came into the cross hall from the East Room. I had never seen them before, which was unusual. Even though more than a hundred people work in the White House, most of them look familiar.

  I was about to ask Tessa if she knew them when Randy, another Secret Service agent, appeared. “Please,” he said to the men, “could you follow me? I think there has been some confusion.”

  The men didn’t seem to understand at first—didn’t they speak English?—but finally they followed him out.

  “Could they be our stupid baton thieves?” Tessa asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m like Mr. Bryant—not sure what stupid baton thieves look like.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  IN our family, we never eat dinner till 6:30 or 7. Granny believes we
will wake up hungry in the night if we eat earlier. So when Tessa and I got back upstairs, we had time to apply logic. The striped sofa in the West Sitting Hall seemed like a good place for this. It is soft and cozy, good for thinking.

  Hooligan was in the West Sitting Hall, too, sound asleep in his bed. To look at him, you’d never believe the damage he does to daffodils.

  “Do you think he stole the other stuff, too, Cammie?” Tessa asked. “The place cards and the polishing cloth?”

  “Don’t forget the cookies,” I said. “And no, I don’t. Most times when Hooligan steals something, we find it right away—like the flowers.”

  “I don’t think we’re ever gonna find those cookies,” Tessa said.

  “Good point,” I said. “And we know he didn’t steal the baton.”

  “Do you think there’s more than one thief in the White House?” Tessa asked.

  “That doesn’t seem logical,” I said. “Let’s look at our notes.”

  It’s not easy to write fast standing up. So even though I have good handwriting (ask Evgenia), my notes were kind of a mess. After I crossed out the unimportant stuff, this is what was left:

  1) Mr. Bryant’s eyesight is not very good.

  2) No witnesses had seen anything strange Tuesday afternoon. (Mostly they were too busy chasing Hooligan.)

  3) It’s not only the baton that’s missing. Also: place cards, polishing cloth, cookies.

  4) Mrs. Hedges is exasperating.

  5) Mayors like Italian food.

  6) A basket of breadsticks would be a good place to hide something long and skinny.

  7) Tessa has a crush on Mr. Patel.

  8) Hooligan wrecked the daffodils and scattered petals everywhere.

  9) Hooligan makes Mr. Baney grumpy.

  10) Nate was on the state floor this afternoon. (Why?)

  11) And so were two men wearing gray suits.

  Tessa made me cross out the part about Mr. Patel. Then we stared at the list for a while.

  Finally I said, “Logic isn’t helping.”

  “I know,” Tessa said. “Maybe we need more witnesses.”