The Case of the Missing Dinosaur Egg (9 page)

There was no time to talk about plans on Saturday morning. As usual, Granny took Tessa to ballet, and Dad went with me to my soccer game. I play for the D.C. Destroyers, and that day we got D.C. Destroyed.

Luckily, unlike some people I could mention, I am not a grumpy loser.

Granny made us sandwiches for lunch. We ate in the Family Kitchen. This was the first chance Tessa and I had had to tell Nate that the interview with Mr. Valenteen had been canceled.

“No worries, though,” said Tessa. “I have a foolproof plan!”

“What is it?”

“I'll tell you tomorrow,” Tessa said. “Right now, it still needs time to incubate.”

“Very funny,” said Nate.

Tessa giggled. “I know. Sometimes I crack myself up. Get it?”

When lunch was over, Nate went upstairs to meet
his math tutor. Aunt Jen says Nate's not challenged by fifth-grade math, so he's learning trigonometry. Did I mention how it's lucky Aunt Jen isn't my mom? Meanwhile, I was thinking I might invite my friend Courtney to come over and go bowling—the White House has its own bowling alley—but before I could, Mom came in.

“Mama!”
Tessa hopped up and hugged her around the waist. “Are you taking the afternoon off to play with us?”

“I wish I could,” Mom said. “But actually, I'm here because Ms. Ann Major has a project, and she needs your help.”

Ms. Ann Major is a deputy assistant press secretary on my mom's staff. We know her because her beagle, Pickles, went to obedience school with Hooligan.

“What project?” I asked.

“Ms. Major wants to help us make sure the news guys cover your visit to Toni's house tomorrow,” Mom said. “If they do, it will be good for the friendship between our government and President Alfredo-Chin's.”

“I'm confused, Mama,” Tessa said. “Eb Ghanamamma doesn't like President Alfredo-Chin, right? And Eb Ghanamamma wants democracy. Don't we want democracy, too?”

“Of course we do,” Mom said, “but not just yet.”

“So what does Ms. Major want us to do?” Tessa asked.

Mom looked at her watch. “Meet her at her desk in ten minutes, and she'll tell you.”

Ms. Major's desk is in a maze of cubicles in the West Wing—which is a building next to the house part of the White House. You get there through a special kind of hallway called a colonnade. Charlotte came, too, and the three of us scrunched into chairs.

The project turned out to be a short video about Tessa's and my friendship with Toni. Right now, Ms. Major wanted us to talk about how great Toni is in front of a camera. Tomorrow at the embassy, somebody would record more footage. Then Ms. Major would edit the clips together for the Web and TV.

If we were lucky, Jan and Larry might even show it.

Tessa said,
“Yes!”
and I said, “Do I have to?”

Ms. Major laughed at me. “It will be painless, I promise.”

“Only”—Tessa frowned down at her clothes—“I look like a
wreck
!”

“You both look fine,” Ms. Major said. “Come on outside.”

We went out to the Rose Garden, where Ms. Major sat Tessa and me down in patio chairs, told us to act natural and aimed the video camera. Tessa straightened her shoulders, tossed her blond curls, flashed her teeth and told the camera who Toni is, how we gave her a puppy named Ozzabelle, and how she is just the greatest friend ever.

I sat like a lump until Ms. Major said, “Cameron? I'm sure you don't realize it, but you're scowling.”

I said, “That wasn't a scowl.
This
is a scowl,” and showed her.

Ms. Major laughed. “Okay, how about this? Think about successfully solving a mystery.”

I must have smiled then, because Ms. Major said, “Better.” Then she asked me to tell how we met Toni, and I did, and then—at last—we were done.

Ms. Major had been right. It wasn't that bad. But one thing was for sure. No way was I ever going to watch the finished product.

I had been wondering if Easter morning in the White House would be a lot different than Easters in our old house in Northwest Washington.

There were a couple of differences. The main one was that Granny, Aunt Jen and Nate hadn't lived with us back then, so the celebration was bigger now. Also, in the White House, my Easter basket was hidden in an unusual and historic place: under the big bed in the Lincoln Bedroom.

Other than that, Tessa and I put on new dresses, went to church, sang “Alleluia,” came home, and ate French toast for brunch—just like we always had.

After brunch, Tessa, Nate and I changed out of our church clothes to go visit Toni. We were going early so we would be back in plenty of time for Easter dinner, which would be served downstairs in the big dining room.

All this time, Tessa still hadn't told me and Nate her plan. But when she got dressed, she put on the pink
spangled ball cap she wears for detecting. Then, when we were finally leaving, she said, “Got your notebook, Cammie? You're going to need it.”

The embassy of a certain nearby nation is in an old brick building in Georgetown, about fifteen minutes from the White House. There is a curlicued black metal fence around the building. In the front is a door leading to offices, and around a corner is a door that goes to the residence, where Toni and her family live.

When Malik pulled the van up to the curb, there were already white TV trucks parked there and news guys with cameras and microphones clustered on the sidewalk.

Hooligan was in the back of our van, so I walked around, opened his crate, attached his leash to his collar and let him out. It was Tessa's job to carry an Easter basket the White House pastry chef had prepared for Toni and her family.

“Ready?” Granny looked at Tessa, me and Nate. “All right then, let's do this.”

Standing on each side of the embassy gate were soldiers in dark blue uniforms and caps. They had guns on their belts and bigger guns slung over their shoulders. I smiled at one as we walked through, but he didn't smile back.

Yikes
, I thought, but then I remembered that Secret Service people would be all around as long as we were inside. There was nothing to worry about—even if the soldiers from the nearby nation didn't seem so friendly.

We followed a walkway to the front door, and Granny rang the doorbell. Instantly, there was a total ruckus of hysterical yip-yip-yipping from inside.

Hooligan responded with woof-woof-woofing of his own, not to mention he pulled the leash so hard I had to brace myself. Granny offered to take it, because she's heavier, which would have been a good idea, except just then the door opened and here came Ozzabelle busting out at the same time Hooligan tried to bust in and—
bam!
—there was a drooling, fur-flying doggy collision.

Meanwhile, the leash dropped and—a few spins and tumbles later—both dogs were racing in circles around the brick courtyard while all the grown-ups either scurried out of the way or yelled or both.

In the background, I heard shouting from the news guys—“Great stuff!” “Are you getting this?”—and the whir and click of their equipment.

One thing Tessa, Nate and I have learned about doggy behavior: scurrying and yelling doesn't help. Tessa held the Easter basket up high, but besides that we just stayed out of the way and watched. Then Toni came outside and grinned at us and shouted, “Hello!”

The canine chaos was settling down—Granny had hold of Hooligan's leash, and Malik had cornered Ozzabelle—when my nose told me someone else had come out of the house, someone who smelled like perfume and cigarettes. I figured it had to be Toni's grandmother, and I turned around . . . and got the shock of my life.

It was the lady with black hair from the security video at Mega Bird Farm!

My heart went
thump
, and I nudged Tessa—who looked around, too, and then so did Nate.

I don't think the lady liked how surprised we looked, because she quickly disappeared back into the house. At the same time, her frown had given me goose bumps. Was she really Toni's grandmother?

It was a few minutes before I found out. During that time, the dogs were taken to the backyard to play, and the news guys shot photos and video of my family, the Easter basket and Toni.

“Doesn't your grandmother want to be in the pictures?” Granny asked Toni.

“Oh, no.” Toni shook her head. “She does not like the publicity. She says it is not her ‘style.' ”

Eventually, Granny and Malik left to go back to the White House. The plan was for them to return to pick us up in a couple of hours. Nate, Tessa and I followed Toni inside. In the foyer, a small, gray-haired woman
greeted us with hugs—Toni's grandmother. She smelled like soap.

“It is my pleasure to meet Antonia's dear friends,” she said. “And I must also take this opportunity to thank you for giving us the little dog, Ozzabelle. She is a nuisance, but she makes me laugh.”

Toni's house was fancy—lots of shiny brass and black paint. Toni led us up the marble stairs to her room, which was big like Tessa's and mine. It had a bed and also a sofa, chairs and a table. I noticed the rock collection right away because it was lit up on a shelf over a desk.

Before we sat down, Toni put on some music. After a few seconds, I realized it was familiar—Eb Ghanamamma! But that couldn't be right. Wasn't Eb Ghanamamma protesting against Toni's very own uncle, President Manfred Alfredo-Chin?

I wanted to ask about that, but I was afraid it would be rude. And I wanted to ask about the lady with the black hair, too. But how was I supposed to explain where I'd seen her?

So I kept quiet.

But Tessa didn't.

“Get out your notebook, Cammie,” she said as soon as we sat down. Then she straightened her detecting hat, crossed her arms over her chest and gave Toni the steely look she uses when she's questioning a suspect.

Uh-oh—was this Tessa's foolproof plan? But Toni wasn't a suspect! Toni was our friend!

I started to shake my head at Tessa, but Toni said, “Oh, good, are you planning now to ask questions relating to a certain mystery? Because that is in reality the reason I invited you here today.”