The Case of the Rock 'n' Roll Dog (11 page)

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 going?

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'.”

And that's when those jumbled pieces came together. “Tessa,” I said. “It was Hooligan that stole your ballet shoe?”

Tessa nodded. “The time before the recital. After we searched everyplace, we finally found it. . . .”

Tessa's voice trailed off, and we looked at each other.

“Wait a sec,” I said, “did Mr. Bryant say sometimes Hooligan brings him
sticks?
”

AUNT Jen has told me a thousand times to be polite.

And it's always smart to obey Aunt Jen.

So I looked Courtney in the eye and said, polite as anything, “Would you excuse my sister and me for a moment, please?”

Then I grabbed Tessa's hand, and we bolted.

We were almost to the stairs when Malik blocked our path.

“Sorry, girls,” he said. “I'm afraid no one is leaving the state floor for now.”

“But it's an emergency! We finally figured out where—”

Malik shook his head and looked stern. I never saw him look that way before. It was sort of scary.

Before I could ask why, Aunt Jen appeared ahead of us on the stairway overlooking the foyer. “May I have your attention please?” Her voice carried above the crowd. “Due to circumstances beyond our control,
it appears The Song Boys will not be performing today as scheduled.”

What?!

There were gasps, moans and protests. Aunt Jen let the volume drop before she continued. “In addition, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask everyone to remain where they are for the time being.”

“Are you saying we can't leave?” somebody hollered.

In seconds, the mood had changed from glad to angry. And, as calm as she was acting, I could see Aunt Jen was upset. “I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” she said. “But I'm hopeful we may soon be able to open the dining room for refreshments.”

The word
refreshments
made people perk up. “Why didn't ya say so?” somebody said. The dining room doors were still closed, but a couple of boys moved in that direction.

Aunt Jen seemed to be done talking. I whispered in Tessa's ear, “Granny will tell us what's going on.”

We found her discussing
Goodnight Moon
with Mr. Brackbill under the smiling face of President Ronald Reagan—his portrait, I mean. Just like Aunt Jen, Granny was acting all calm, but I could see her eyes were on police alert.

“Excuse me, Mr. Brackbill,” I said. “Could Tessa and I borrow our grandmother for just one minute?”

Mr. Brackbill said, “No problem. I was thinking I should head toward the refreshments anyway.”

“What is it—what's happening?” I asked Granny when we had her alone.

“And where are The Song Boys?” Tessa asked.

“They're in their bus right outside the gate,” Granny said quietly. “But no one's allowed in or out till the security breach is resolved.”

“What security breach?” I asked.

Granny looked to make sure no one was listening. “You remember President Alfredo-Chin was here this morning?”

Tessa and I remembered.

“Shortly after he left, he realized his red cell phone was missing,” Granny said. “He says it disappeared when he was in the White House, and he thinks someone in our government stole it for the information inside. He's threatening to create an international incident!”

“What's ‘international incident'?” said Tessa.

“Very bad news,” said Granny.

Tessa looked at me, and I knew what she was thinking. “Cammie—is it possible . . .”

“More than possible,” I said. “Granny, we can get that phone back.”

“And save The Song Boys!” Tessa added.

“But we have to get upstairs,” I said.

Granny looked at Tessa then at me. Her face was solemn, and I could see she was unsure. Then she made a decision. “That's my granddaughters,” she said. From her pocket she took a key and pressed it into my hand. “Now act casual.”

I said, “Yes, ma'am,” and then Tessa and I put dumb, unworried smiles on our faces and sidestepped away.

“Say something ordinary,” I told Tessa, and she mumbled, “Something ordinary, something ordinary, something ordinary.”

The key Granny had given me was the one you need on the state floor for the elevator. Its entrance is off the hallway in a little room behind a door. When we got to the door, I reached back, turned the knob and then—still mumbling and smiling—I bumped it with my rear end. A moment later, Tessa and I had slipped out of sight.

“Hurry!” Tessa said.

My hand was shaking when I put the key in the lock and turned.

The wait seemed forever.

Finally, the doors opened, and we hustled inside.

Mr. Bryant looked surprised. “Are you sure you girls are supposed to—?”

“Granny let us,” I said, and I showed him her key.

Mr. Bryant scratched his head. “Far be it from me to argue with Granny,” he said. “Going up.”

WHEN the doors opened, Mr. Bryant said, “Second floor,” but Tessa and I were already sprinting. Luckily, Hooligan's bed was empty—and our thieving dog was nowhere in sight.

“Here's the plan,” I said. “Piece by piece, we take the bed apart, then—”

But Tessa had a different plan: Grab the bed and flip it. Instantly, a thick cloud of Hooligan hair surrounded us. Not to mention a thick cloud of Hooligan stink—
ewwww!

After that came the rain of stolen Hooligan treasure—limp brown daffodil petals, hand-lettered place cards, polishing cloth, Courtney's pink marker, a red cell phone . . .

. . . and Colonel Michaels's baton!

I know the cell phone was more important, but I wanted that baton! I reached, but at the same time I heard a dreadful and familiar sound: galloping doggie toenails.

Oh no!
I looked up, and there was Hooligan, bounding toward us at top speed.

Tessa and I had the same thought, and we lunged at the same time—
ow!
Our heads collided, knocking us backward. Meanwhile, the sudden move was the perfect spark for an attack of Hooligan frenzy. Before you could say “Stars and Stripes Forever,” our dog had his favorite stick in his fearsome jaws and was spinning in the air.

At least he left the red cell phone behind. I pocketed it just as Hooligan turned to face us, cocking his head. Here is what he was thinking:
Nyah, nyah, nyah
, nyah,
nyah!

In a desperate situation with an excited animal, you should never get all dramatic and yell. Instead, you should move slowly and make soft, soothing noises.

So what did I do?

Got all dramatic and yelled: “
Hooligan!
This is no time to play! This is an emergency!”

And what did Hooligan do? Lunged forward, thumped his front paws, sprang into the air and spun so fast he got blurry.

“Catch him!” Tessa yelled.

And the chase was on.

You can probably picture a too-big dog running fast with a stick in his mouth. And you can probably picture a too-big dog running fast with a stick in his mouth being chased by two girls in party clothes.

Now picture this happening on the second floor of the White House.

Did I mention all the valuable and breakable historic antiques?

We zigged here, we zagged there—and all the time Hooligan's too-long tail was brushing, bumping and rattling anything unlucky enough to be at tail level. We had almost caught up—could almost stretch forward and touch him—when he made a sharp right into the Lincoln Bedroom.

Big mistake, puppy dog! Now we've got you!

Trapped in the farthest corner of the room, Hooligan turned to face us, wagging his tail and slobbering on Colonel Michaels's favorite baton.

Slowly, carefully, we crept toward him.