The Case of the Diamond Dog Collar (2 page)

“Are you okay?” Tessa asked.

Ms. Kootoor tried to smile, but her lipstick was smeared, so the smile came out crooked. “Nothing a mirror won't fix,” she said bravely, “and maybe some aspirin.”

From down the hall we could still hear Granny's canary:
Twee-twee-twee!

WITH things under control outside the Lincoln Bedroom, Tessa and I went back to check on Mrs. Hedges. She was gone.

Did her strength return? Or was she carted away?

To find out, we decided to go with Mr. Bryant and Hooligan on their walk. On the way to the South Lawn, we could stop and ask Mr. Ross if Mrs. Hedges was all right. Mr. Ross is the chief usher, in charge of taking care of the White House.

We found him in his office on the state floor, also known as the first floor. We live mostly on the second floor.

“She's a little shaken up but otherwise fine.” Mr. Ross looked at Mr. Bryant. “I thought Hooligan was supposed to be supervised?”

After Hooligan caused the almost international incident, some changes were made in the White House. Like Hooligan has his very own bedroom where he goes to bed in his crate at nine every night. Also,
Mr. Bryant, who used to run the presidential elevator, got the job of taking care of Hooligan from morning till dinnertime every weekday. On weekends, there's a new guy, Mr. Ng, which is pronounced
ing
. He is from Vietnam. At night, the family—meaning me, Tessa, Granny, Nate and Dad when he's in town—take care of Hooligan till bedtime.

“I left Hooligan napping in his old bed in the West Sitting Hall so I could get a cup of coffee,” Mr. Bryant said. “Until yesterday, he'd been behaving so much better. I didn't expect any—”

“Hmm,” said Mr. Ross. And he wasn't smiling.

The White House South Lawn is like the biggest backyard ever. During a war a long time ago, a president kept sheep here so he could save money on mowing. Now, there's a swing set and a fountain and a putting green. There are mini forests of trees, a vegetable garden and a basketball court. There is a hidden garden that has paving stones with the hand prints of presidents' kids and grandkids from long ago.

There is also a swimming pool, but we can't use it till the weather gets warm enough.

It was a cool, clear March day. I was wearing a sweatshirt, but Tessa had refused to put one on. She said she didn't have one the right color to go with her outfit. To keep warm, she started to bounce up and down, which made Hooligan hyper all over again. As soon as Mr. Bryant unbuckled the leash, he took off, sprinting in circles.

Mr. Bryant looked down at us. “He had been doing better, hadn't he?”

“Up till yesterday,” I agreed.

By now I guess you're wondering about yesterday. Short version: Hooligan broke his leash, and because of that, my sister, a bunch of marines, half the Secret Service and the vice president of the United States almost got blown to Kansas in a helicopter hurricane!

Long version: After school, Nate, Mr. Bryant and Hooligan, Tessa and I had been standing under the awning outside the Diplomatic Reception Room waiting for my dad's helicopter to land.

When anyone in our family travels in a helicopter, a couple of extra ones go along, too, to fool bad guys. So three helicopters were descending toward the landing pad when some birds burst out yakking, and Hooligan went so crazy he busted his leash and raced right toward the spinning blades!

Tessa ran after him. I closed my eyes. The Secret Service agents yelled into their headsets: “South Lawn emergency. Fireball in danger! Repeat, Fireball in danger!”

Fireball
is the Secret Service code name for Tessa. Mine is . . . well, never mind what mine is. For our family, they all have to start with
F
.

Anyway, to avoid squashing anybody, the pilots kept their helicopters hovering in the air, and the blades acted like giant fans. When I opened my eyes, it looked like a massive game of wind-whipped tag, one that turned into hide-and-seek when Hooligan got himself lost in the trees by the tennis court.

Meanwhile, the vice president had been working with his staff in the West Wing. When he saw all the excitement, he came out through the Rose Garden to help.

The scene was frantic and confused with people running every which way, and for a few minutes I couldn't see Hooligan at all. Finally, he reappeared sprinting toward us on the driveway, and that's when Mr. Bryant cut him off.

“How come his paws were so muddy?” I asked Mr. Bryant now. “It's not like it rained this week.”

“With the dry spell we're having, the gardeners had been watering,” said Mr. Bryant. “I had mud on my shoes, too.”

One thing about living in the White House, there are always news guys around, which is why every dinky thing ends up on TV. I mean, sure, my dog and my sister and the vice president and the marines and the Secret Service almost got mixed-up in a helicopter crash in the White House backyard . . . but is that supposed to be news?

Anyway, the helicopters finally landed, and my mom came over from the Oval Office to meet my dad—same as she does every week.

By then, Ms. Kootoor had joined us under the awning. The news guys love Ms. Kootoor. Dad calls her “cameraman catnip.” When she air kissed my dad, their cameras clicked and whirred.

“Whatever was all the fuss, girls?” she asked Tessa and me.

When Tessa explained, Ms. Kootoor laughed her tinkly laugh. Then she knelt and spoke to Hooligan. “Silly puppy. Didn't anyone ever teach you not to chase helicopters?”

Hooligan smiled a big doggy smile and licked her face. He had forgotten all about being in trouble.

MR. BRYANT, Tessa, Hooligan and I were on our way back upstairs when we ran into Aunt Jen. Her job is being White House hostess, which is like First Lady now when there's a woman president.

Aunt Jen was walking with a skinny, black-haired man. He looked kind of familiar, but what I noticed most were his clothes—jeans, red plaid shirt, cowboy boots. Usually, everyone in the White House except my family is wearing a marine uniform or business clothes. This man looked out of place.

“Just the people, and the dog, I wanted to see,” said Aunt Jen. “I'd like to introduce—”

Tessa interrupted. “
Oh my gosh!
” Her eyes were huge. “You're Julius Mormora! Star of Canine Class on TV!”

“Indeed I am, Miss Tessa Parks,” said the man. “And this would be your sister, Cameron?”

I was so surprised I answered automatically. “How do you do?”

“I am
fabulous
, as always,” said Julius Mormora, and then he spoke to Hooligan. “How are you, my new friend? Ready for Canine Class, I hope?”

Like us, Hooligan was awestruck. He sat right down and put out his paw.

“
Whoa
,” I said. “He never did that before.”

“Usually with new people,” Tessa explained, “he knocks them over and slobbers.”

“Mr. Mormora has come for a week to teach Canine Class,” Aunt Jen said. “We all recognize, I'm sure, that Hooligan's behavior still needs a little, er . . . tweaking.”

Mr. Bryant said, “Hmmph.”

Aunt Jen said, “Mr. Mormora, meet Mr. Bryant. He takes care of Hooligan.”

Mr. Mormora offered his hand.

Mr. Bryant hesitated before he shook. “If you don't count yesterday,” he said, “Hooligan's behavior has improved.”

Aunt Jen didn't look convinced. “We're lucky Mr. Mormora's schedule would accommodate us. In fact, he has already been here to tour the house and grounds.”

“It was yesterday afternoon that I happened to visit,” said Mr. Mormora. “I would have met you then, but there was that incident—”

“—It really wasn't Hooligan's fault,” Tessa said.

“Oh?” said Mr. Mormora.

Tessa shook her head. “He never did anything like it before.”

“Never ran away before?” asked Mr. Mormora. “Or never broke his leash?”

“Actually, he does that stuff all the time,” Tessa said.

“Never, was, uh . . . chased by so many people before?” asked Mr. Mormora.

“Not in at least a week,” I said.

“So what is it exactly that he has never done?” asked Mr. Mormora.

“Never tried to catch helicopters,” Tessa said.

“I see,” said Mr. Mormora. “Well, we will work on resolving all undesirable behaviors—starting tomorrow when I meet my students.”

“We've invited several members of the staff to bring their puppies and participate,” said Aunt Jen. “In fact, Mr. Bryant, I believe you have a couple of puppies yourself. Would you like to bring one for Canine Class?”

“We begin promptly at eight a.m.,” said Mr. Mormora. “And after that, eight a.m. each day through Wednesday—five days in all.”

“But Hooligan likes to sleep in!” Tessa protested.

Mr. Mormora shook his head. “No, no, no! Regular hours and regular habits. This is the way of the Canine Class.”

This is also the way of Aunt Jen. No wonder she had invited Mr. Mormora. “Because of the early start,” she said, “Mr. Mormora is staying with us in the White House. He'll be joining us for dinner this evening, too.”

“Downstairs?” asked Tessa. “
Sweet!
”

Most nights we eat with the family in the second-floor dining room next to our own kitchen. Getting to eat downstairs is a treat.

Mr. Mormora put his hand over his heart. “I came to
this country as a young child. For my first job, I cleaned dog kennels. It is beyond my dreams to be a guest in the White House.”

I looked around. We were standing in the center hall on the ground floor. It has cream-colored, arched ceilings, statues of the heads of important dead people, and paintings of kind, smiling first ladies. Now that my family has lived here a few months, I am getting used to the whole White House deal. But Mr. Mormora reminded me it's special.

Mr. Bryant looked at his watch. “Would you mind taking Hooligan back upstairs, girls? I have an engagement this evening.”

I took Hooligan's leash and said, “see you at dinner,” to Aunt Jen and Mr. Mormora. Then Tessa and I started back upstairs. On the way, Tessa asked, “What's engagement?”

“Date,” I said.

Tessa looked confused. “Isn't Mr. Bryant too old for that stuff?”

Sometimes it's my job to educate my sister. “There's lotsa kinds of dates, Tessa. I bet it's only with his daughter—the grown-up one who's always broke.”

Back upstairs, we saw there was still time before dinner, so we decided to study Hooligan's collar for clues. The diamonds that were left were each attached with eight silver prongs. Looking closely, we saw four of the prongs for the missing diamond were bent back, and the other four had broken.

“I don't think there's any mystery, Tessa,” I said. “I think Hooligan caught his collar on a bush when he was running yesterday, and the diamond got yanked off.”

Tessa looked at me and sighed. “Well,
that
would be disappointing.”