The Case of the Rock 'n' Roll Dog Read online

  It’s pretty much the same every Friday.

  “Daddy!” Tessa and I grabbed him around the waist. He kissed Granny’s cheek. More cameras flashed. Then he let go, looked around and asked, “Where’s your cousin?”

  Tessa said, “Who cares?”

  Granny gave Tessa a warning look.

  Tessa whined to Mom. “It’s not fair I have to be nice if he’s not even here!”

  “Nathan is practicing piano,” Granny told Dad.

  Dad looked from Granny to Tessa to Mom and asked, “So what did I miss this week?”

  The president of the United States is a very busy person. She has to travel, give speeches, be on TV and have meetings. She has to read reports. And she has to boss people around.

  Granny and Aunt Jen agree that Mom has always been good at that last part.

  You might already have figured out that because Mom is busy, Tessa and I don’t see her as much as we want to.

  And sometimes we miss her.

  But Friday is family night. And if she possibly can, Mom stays in with Tessa and Dad and me. We play Monopoly and talk about soccer and ballet and congress, just like any other family. The only difference is the pizza comes from the White House kitchen.

  I love Fridays. For one thing, I rule at Monopoly.

  But this Friday was different.

  I had too much to think about!

  Where was Colonel Michaels’s baton?

  How did the cookies get in the vase?

  Was there really a thief in the White House?

  My brain was so busy, I forgot to collect rent on my hotels. And Tessa was just as bad. She was banker, and didn’t pay up when we passed GO.

  The third time she forgot, Dad said, “What’s on your mind, Tess?”

  My sister didn’t hesitate. “Is it true The Song Boys can’t play if there’s a thief in the White House?”

  Dad looked at Mom. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  Mom looked at Tessa. “Remind me. Who are The Song Boys?”

  “Mo-o-o-om!” Tessa and I said at the same time.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Is that the literacy event? I have a full calendar tomorrow.”

  Taking turns, we reminded her about the concert. Then we told her about the missing stuff and what Mr. Ross had said.

  “Ah,” Mom said when we were done. “Now I see. And I admit it’s mysterious. But none of it rises to the level of security breach. I think your concert will happen right on. . . .” The last word dissolved in a yawn. “I’m sorry, muffins. I’m tired, and I have a meeting at the crack of dawn. The president of a certain nearby nation is coming for a White House tour. And my advisers tell me I should handle it personally.”

  “Must be a big shot,” Dad said.

  “Sort of,” Mom said. “Do you girls remember what I told you the other night?”

  “The country we’re not getting along with?” I said.

  “Exactly,” Mom said.

  “Let me get this straight,” Tessa said. “We’re sending money for farms, roads and hospitals, plus you have to give a personal White House tour? Not getting along with the United States is a good deal!”

  “Not getting along with us is a good deal for Nate, too,” I said. “We have to be super nice. He doesn’t have to do a thing.”

  “It’s only for a week,” Mom said.

  “Five days, one hour and . . .” I looked at my watch. “. . . eighteen minutes to go.”

  It was two turns later that I went bankrupt. Two turns after that, Tessa did, too. In our family losers put the game away, so—after Mom gave us kisses and went to bed—Tessa and I rubber banded money piles. Meanwhile, Dad was getting Hooligan ready for his walk.

  ”Girls?” Dad was kneeling by Hooligan’s bed. He did not sound happy.

  Tessa and I knew what was coming.

  “Yes, Daddykins?” Tessa said.

  “We love you, Daddy,” I said.

  “Hmmph,” Dad said. “If you love me—and if you love Hooligan—you can show it by cleaning out his bed.” He waved his hand in front of his nose. “Phew!”

  I said, “It’s Tessa’s turn!” and she said, “I did it last time!” and I said, “That was the other last—”

  Dad held up his hand. “I have an idea. How about if the two of you do your chore together?”

  Tessa yawned dramatically. “I’m so-o-o-o sleepy!”

  Dad said, “Tomorrow after soccer and ballet.”

  “And lunch,” I said.

  “And Song Boys,” Tessa said.

  “Before dinner tomorrow!” Dad said. “Promise?”

  We promised.

  Then Dad and Hooligan left for the South Lawn.

  A few minutes later, Tessa and I were putting on jammies when I heard the family phone ring. By then, Dad was back. I heard him talking, then a knock. Our door opened.

  “It’s Courtney,” Dad said. “She claims it’s an emergency.”

  An emergency apology? Today at school we didn’t even talk to each other. I reached, but Dad handed the phone to Tessa.

  Huh?

  Tessa didn’t say anything at first, just listened. Finally, she shook her head. “Well duh they’re designer, but jeans still aren’t appropriate.”

  Oh—so that was it. She didn’t want to apologize at all. She wanted fashion advice.

  “I can’t help it if that’s the same thing your mom said.” Tessa listened some more then shrugged. “Okay, sorry.” Now, she handed the phone to me.

  “I hate all my dresses!” Courtney whined. “If I have to wear one, I’m not coming.”

  Did I mention Courtney can be as dramatic as Tessa? And just as annoying.

  “And you’re sorry we had that fight yesterday?” I said.

  There was a pause. I bet she was trying to remember the fight. “Oh yeah,” she finally said. “You’re not really that much of a princess.”

  Now I had a choice. I could decide that was a good enough apology, or I could keep fighting. I was too tired to keep fighting. “I forgive you,” I said. For now, I thought.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TESSA woke me the next morning.

  “I bet Colonel Michaels hasn’t told the rest of the band the baton is even missing,” she said.

  “I am still sleeping,” I said.

  “Well, okay,” Tessa said, “but I am still talking.”

  I opened my eyes and looked at my sister. “Why wouldn’t Colonel Michaels tell the band?”

  “He’s embarrassed that he lost it,” Tessa said. “You know—like that time when my ballet shoe was gone and the recital was coming up? I didn’t tell anybody.”

  “I don’t think grown-ups are like that,” I said.

  “Why not?” she said. “Grown-ups are bigger than kids. But they’re still people.”

  “I forget what happened with your ballet shoe that time.”

  “I was too embarrassed to tell Granny till we were leaving,” Tessa said. “We found it in the end, but we were late, and my teacher was so mad!”

  I was going to ask where she finally found the shoe, but the alarm beeped. I hit the button. “I’ve got one idea left,” I said. “It probably won’t work. Plus it will get us in trouble.”

  “I’ve got an idea, too,” Tessa said. “Give up.”

  “We promised Colonel Michaels!”

  “I know.” Tessa sighed. “What’s your idea?”

  “We ask Nate right out if he took the baton. And then we hope he confesses.”

  Tessa nodded. “It will never work, and it will get us in trouble for not being nice. But . . .” She paused dramatically. “. . . it’s our only hope!”

  While I brushed my teeth and put on my soccer uniform, I tried to think of the best way to ask my so superior cousin if he was a thief. Getting the words right would be tricky. I had to surprise him into confessing but not surprise him into socking me.

  I practiced in front of the mirror a couple of times. Then I headed for breakfast.

&nbs
p; Tessa was already at the table. When I sat down, I saw no place was set for Nate.

  “Isn’t Nate eating with us?” I asked.

  Dad was at the head of the table, hidden behind The Washington Post. “He’s got some special project or other. He’s supposed to be back after lunch.”

  Tessa looked at me. “Now can we give up?”

  I said no, but I was just being stubborn. Truthfully? I was out of ideas.

  As usual, Granny went to ballet with Tessa, and Dad came to soccer with me. Like always, Secret Service agents have to come with both of us. That day, Dad and Malik cheered like crazy, but my team, the D.C. Destroyers got D.C. Destroyed—4–1.

  Meanwhile, at ballet, Tessa took a wrong leap and knocked over the girl next to her.

  Back home Tessa and I took showers. We dried our hair. We ate lunch. Then it was time to get dressed for The Song Boys.

  I should have been so excited!

  Instead, I was so miserable. Tessa and I had bragged to Colonel Michaels about our detecting skills. We had promised we would find his baton. How could we tell him we had failed?

  If your mom is the president, you can’t always choose what you wear. For “public occasions”—the ones with photographers and lots of people—Aunt Jen picks for us. Our clothes for The Song Boys concert were laid out on the bed. For Tessa, there was a pink skirt and a pink sweater and tights with pink flowers. She saw her outfit and squealed. Tessa loves pink.

  For me, there was a boring blue dress with pockets, white tights with blue flowers and a boring white sweater.

  I did not squeal. And when I tugged on the dress, it was itchy.

  “Hurry up,” I said to Tessa. She was fixing her hair. “If we go now, there’s time to look for Nate.”

  Tessa put her brush down. “If we take the elevator, we can say hi to Mr. Bryant.”

  Hooligan was waiting outside our bedroom and followed us. It was Tessa’s turn to press the elevator button, but before she could, something amazing happened—something unbelievable: Hooligan sat back on his haunches, leaned forward so his front paws hit the wall, and then, with the tip of his wet black nose, he pressed the button himself!

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  TESSA and I were still staring when the elevator door opened.

  “Hello, young ladies. Hello, Hooligan,” Mr. Bryant greeted us. “How are all of you this fine afternoon?”

  Hooligan trotted through the door. Mr. Bryant grinned and gave him a dog biscuit from his pocket.

  Tessa and I spoke at once: “Mr. Bryant, Hooligan just—”

  “Mr. Bryant, did you know Hooligan can—”

  “Call the elevator?” Mr. Bryant chuckled. “You’re no dummy, are you, Hooligan? You know I’ve got biscuits.”

  Hooligan wagged his tail, and Mr. Bryant gave him another one. “Your pup gives as good as he gets, though—brings me treats, too. Napkins mostly. The occasional Barbie. Sticks sometimes.”

  “He brings you treats? What do you do with ’em?” I asked.

  Mr. Bryant counted on his fingers. “Cloth napkins I return to the laundry,” he said. “Barbies I give to one of the maids. Sticks and miscellaneous? Hooligan gets to keep those.”

  “Does Hooligan use the elevator a lot?” I asked.

  Mr. Bryant shrugged. “I like to have the company.”

  “Cammie, do you get it?” Tessa asked. “This is where Hooligan goes when he’s AWOL!”

  “One mystery solved,” I said.

  The door opened. “State floor,” said Mr. Bryant.

  Tessa said, “Coming, Hooligan?” But Hooligan had curled up all cozy in the corner.

  “Suit yourself,” I told him. “Bye, Mr. Bryant!”

  “Good-bye, young ladies. And I do hope the music’s not too loud.”

  The cross hall was empty except for Charlotte standing at the East Room doors. They were closed.

  Tessa and I ran up to her. “You’ll never guess!” Tessa said. “When Hooligan goes AWOL, he’s in the elevator with Mr. Bryant!”

  Charlotte laughed. “No lie?”

  Tessa crossed her pinkie fingers in front of her face. “No lie!”

  I looked at the doors. “Are they in there?” I whispered.

  Charlotte shook her head. “Their flight was delayed, but they’re on their way. And the Marine Band musicians are setting up.”

  I took a deep breath for courage. “We need to talk to Colonel Michaels.”

  Charlotte opened the door a crack and winked. “Okay, but—” She cocked her head, listening to something on her earpiece. Then her face got serious.

  “What is it?” Tessa asked.

  “Nothing to worry about,” she said, but she closed the door. “I think for now you’d better stay out here.”

  Tessa was going to argue, but she got distracted. “Cammie, look!”

  From out of the Blue Room came Nate. He was frowning. There was a napkin in his hand. He was wearing a tie and jacket and khakis.

  At last! My big chance to confront him!

  But I froze. What was that speech I practiced?

  Luckily, Tessa hadn’t practiced at all. Now she crossed her arms over her chest and faced him. “Cousin Nathan,” she said. “Did you steal Colonel Michaels’s baton?”

  Like I expected, he was surprised.

  But not half as surprised as me about one second later. “Yes, I did,” he said. “And now they’ll have to cancel The Song Boys. And it’s all my fault. And I feel awful.”

  Tessa looked at me. “Your terrible plan worked, Cammie!”

  I wanted to tell Nate, You should feel awful! but there was no time for that. “Where is it?” I demanded.

  For a long second, Nate didn’t answer. Finally, he looked at his toes. “Gone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  TESSA and I would have pounded Nate—except for one thing.

  The Secret Service is well trained.

  “Settle down, girls,” Charlotte said after she had hold of us. “Let’s see what he’s got to say. Go ahead, Nate.”

  “I took it when everybody was cleaning up after Hooligan on Tuesday,” he said. “Colonel Michaels had set it down, and no one was looking. I wanted to keep The Song Boys from playing because I hated their music, plus I was mad at you guys—”

  “Yeah, yeah, we know all that,” said Tessa. “Where is it?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Nate said. “I don’t know! I hid it in one of the big East Room fireplaces. But I changed my mind, and Thursday I went back to get it—only it was gone.”

  “The fireplace?” Tessa said. “That’s where we found Astronaut Barbie! Did you steal her, too?”

  “Ewww—of course not. I only ever stole one thing besides the baton. . . .” And when he looked at the napkin he was holding, I knew what that one thing was.

  “The cookies!” I said. “It was you who put them in the vase.”

  “Wait—did you guys eat my cookies?” Nate said.

  “They were delicious,” Tessa said.

  Nate sighed. “They looked delicious. I saw them sitting on a tray when I came down to get the baton back. I couldn’t resist. But then I had to hide them in a hurry because I heard you guys in the dining room. If you caught me with cookies, I knew you’d tell Mom.”

  I didn’t blame Nate so much for the cookies. But I had a lot more questions. Like why had he tried to get the baton back? One of these days—after I strangled him—I was going to demand answers. But not right now. In the back of my head, I had this feeling I should be able to figure out where the baton was. It’s like the pieces were there, but they were jumbled in my brain. All I needed was a quiet place to sit. All I needed was to apply logic. All I needed was—

  —to stand in line and greet guests because now they were starting to arrive!

  “Young ladies?” It was Aunt Jen. Along with my dad and Granny, she had appeared behind us in the entrance hall. “Take your places please. Nathan? You go ahead.”

  Go ahead? Where was he goin
g?

  There was no time to think about that, though—no time to think about anything. Tessa and I were trapped. We knew where Hooligan was when he went AWOL. We knew how the cookies got into the vase. But we still hadn’t solved the mystery we really cared about.

  So, while I ordered my right hand to reach forward, my mouth to smile and my tongue to say, “Hello, and welcome to the White House,” I was also thinking about the clues.

  What did Astronaut Barbie have to do with the missing baton?

  Was there really a White House thief besides Nate?

  And then I remembered something else: the two men Tessa and I had seen on Thursday. The ones wearing gray suits.

  Who were they, anyway? What could they possibly have to do with the baton?

  It is hard to think and be polite at the same time. I said hello to Ms. Nicols, and Mr. Brackbill, the school librarian. Evgenia told me she liked my blue dress, and Alexander reminded me about the tomatoes. Next in line was Courtney. She was wearing a red dress with white dots. I could see why she hated it.

  “Hello, and welcome to the White House.” I stuck out my hand.

  Courtney looked around nervously. “Hooligan’s locked up someplace, isn’t he? I don’t want to be knocked down again.”

  I couldn’t believe Courtney was bringing this up. But I couldn’t say anything either. It wouldn’t be polite.

  Tessa didn’t care about polite. “Your dad should leave our dog alone,” she said.

  “My dad? What’s he got to do with it?”

  Now I was confused. “He wrote about Hooligan in his blog. Remember? We had a whole fight about it.”

  “Like I read my dad’s blog,” Courtney said. “Politics are boring! That fight was about how your dog’s a thief.”

  “No, he’s not,” I said.

  “He stole my marker,” Courtney said.

  “He stole my ballet shoe,” Tessa said.

  “Whose side are you on?” I said.

  Tessa shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”