The Case of the Rock 'n' Roll Dog (9 page)

This was a smart idea. Almost every room on the state floor has one—and they're all full of kindling. Kindling would make excellent camouflage for a baton.

We started with the Green Room then fanned out.

Poking around fireplaces is dusty. It hurts your knees. Plus I got a splinter. I had just finished up in the Red Room when I heard Tessa squeal.

Did she find it?

“Where are you?”

“East Room! Hurry!”

THERE are many famous paintings in the East Room, including one of the Martha Washington looking serious. When I ran in, she was looking serious at Tessa.

“What is it? What did you find?”

“There.” Tessa pointed.

I had to stare before I saw them: two plastic legs with gold zip-up boots. They were frozen in a scissor kick, sticking straight up from the kindling.

“Astronaut Barbie,” said Tessa. “Can you get her? I'm afraid to look.”

“Shut your eyes,” I said and pulled Barbie from the rubble.

Tessa peeked through her lashes. “Is it bad?”

“She'll live,” I said. “It's good she was wearing a helmet.”

“Let me see,” Tessa said, and I handed her over. Barbie was in one piece, but her spacesuit was a mess. Tessa licked her thumb and wiped a smudge off. “Could she be a clue?”

“A clue that Hooligan grabs stuff and drops it,” I said. “But we already know that.”

By now we had looked in every fireplace, and it was getting late. We decided to do one more walk through of the state floor before we went upstairs. In the Blue Room, we found Mr. Ross—the one witness we hadn't interviewed! He was looking back and forth between two vases on a mantle.

“Hello, girls,” he said. “Do these look lined up wrong to you?”

I thought they were fine, but Tessa said, “The left one's too far forward.”

Mr. Ross reached up and made the adjustment. “Thank you.” Then he spotted Tessa's beat-up Barbie. “Hooligan?”

Tessa nodded. “We found her in a fireplace.”

“I trust she'll make a full recovery,” said Mr. Ross. “In the meantime, I understand you girls were looking for me.”

Tessa explained that we were investigating. Then she crossed her arms over her chest. “Mr. Ross, did you notice anything strange on Tuesday afternoon?”

“Only that Hooligan came out of nowhere!” Mr. Ross shook his head. “It's a good thing we know that dog's on our side. I've mentioned the missing items to the Secret Service, and they've been talking security breach.”

“Security what?” Tessa asked.

“Now there's no need to worry,” said Mr. Ross. “But let's say we really had a thief in the White House. We'd have to restrict access till the problem was resolved.”

This time Tessa looked at me. “ ‘Access'?”

“People coming to visit,” I said.

Tessa waved her hands the way she does.
“Like for example The Song Boys?”

“Now, girls, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you,” said Mr. Ross. “It's just that Mrs. Silver was beside herself over those place cards. And then there's the baton. . . . But the other items are trivial, and I'm sure there's no cause for alarm. Do you have more questions?”

We didn't. So Mr. Ross wished us good luck and headed for his office. We were right behind him till Tessa stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

“Cammie,” she said, “who would move one of those vases, anyway?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Somebody dusting?”

Tessa shook her head. “The maids are super careful. And Granny said a clue could be something out of place. Those vases are tall and they have lids. Wouldn't a baton just fit?”

One second later, I was reaching for a vase. When I lifted the lid, I saw there
was
something inside: a poor, dead, dried-out fly.

Because she takes ballet, Tessa is good at standing on her tiptoes. But she is shorter than me and bobbled her vase. If it broke, Aunt Jen would kill us . . . but finally Tessa got a grip. Then she lifted the lid, looked inside, and said, “I see something, Cammie!”

“The baton?”

Tessa reached in and . . . it was not the baton. It
was something shorter and fatter that was wrapped in a napkin. Carefully, Tessa unfolded the napkin and revealed . . .

. . . six cookies?

Score
, Cammie and Tessa!

But wait—were they green and stale?

Tessa inspected them one by one. Then, bravely, she tried a nibble. After she swallowed, I counted to ten. When she didn't double over or throw up, I took one and tried it, too.

Delicious!

It took approximately thirty seconds for us to devour all six cookies. I was wiping the last crumbs from my lips when I thought of something. “Wait a sec, Tess. If those are the missing cookies from yesterday—”

“—then we just ate the evidence!” Tessa said.

But the cookies didn't have anything to do with the baton.

Did they?

Before I could ponder that question, I had something new to think about—a loud buzz from outside that finally changed into
WOP-wop WOP-wop WOP-wop
.

Helicopters! And they were coming this way!

“We'd better hurry,” I said to Tessa, and we ran for the stairs.

HELICOPTERS can only mean one thing on Friday afternoon.

Daddy's home!

The helicopter that carries the president is called Marine One. A helicopter carrying anybody else in our family is called Marine One Foxtrot.
F
for
foxtrot
,
F
for
family
. Get it?

No matter who's inside, the helicopters travel in a group, and nobody knows which one has passengers. This is supposed to fool bad guys.

It also fools Tessa and me. Usually when we try to guess which one Mom or Dad is in, we are wrong.

Granny and Malik—he's another Secret Service agent—were at the Dip Room door when we got there.

“The one on the left?” Malik guessed.

“I think the one in the middle,” I said.

“I vote with Cammie,” Tessa said.

The helicopter rotors slowed, and their whirlwind
died. Finally, the hatches opened—and Dad emerged from the one on the left.

“
Yesss!
” Malik said.

“How do you
do
that?” Tessa asked.

Malik grinned. “The Secret Service has its secrets.”

Dad waved to the news guys, came down the steps, stopped and looked toward the Rose Garden. My mom's office—the Oval Office—is on the other side of it and, right on schedule, Mom was walking out the door. When she reached Dad, she gave him a squeeze and a kiss, then the two of them walked toward us holding hands while cameras flashed and whirred.

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?
”