The Case of the Rock 'n' Roll Dog (10 page)

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.

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.

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!

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.”