The Case of the Ruby Slippers (2 page)

It was dark and cloudy on the South Lawn that afternoon, but the quiet was nice after so much craziness inside.

“Did you see where Hooligan picked it up, Mr. Bryant?” Tessa asked.

“Picked what up?” asked Mr. Bryant.

Tessa waved her arms the way she does. “The ruby slipper!”

“Ruby slipper? Is that what he brought into the house? No wonder there was so much commotion.” Mr. Bryant shook his head. “I'm not sure about this fancy
kind of leash. Sometimes old Hooligan gets so far out in front of me, I can't tell what he's up to.”

“In that case,” I said, “we should retrace your steps.”

Tessa nodded. “Show us where you went on your walk today, Mr. Bryant. Pretty please?”

Hooligan had been sitting by Tessa, but now he stood up and trotted toward the driveway. The police cars and motorcycles were gone, but the limousine from the museum was still waiting, with its driver standing beside it in his black driver uniform. He was wearing sunglasses, and his cap was pulled down so you could hardly see his face. Tessa waved at him, but instead of waving back, he bumped his sunglasses back against his nose and walked away.

This was weird. Tessa has blond hair and a cute face, and she's the daughter of the president of the United States. People aren't usually rude to Tessa.

We didn't have time to wonder about it though. Hooligan was picking up speed, and we had to hurry to keep up. While we jogged, we scanned the scene, looking for the second slipper. There are plenty of trees and bushes in the backyard of the White House. Right around here, though, it's mostly lawn, and if there was a red shoe, it would stand out a mile away.

But there was no red shoe.

The driveway on the South Lawn forms a circle. Hooligan seemed to be leading us on a lap around it, so soon we were heading back toward the limo.

“Is this where you went?” Tessa asked.

Mr. Bryant nodded. “We hadn't gone far when the
vehicles pulled up and there was all that racket, and Hooligan changed course. Coming back toward the house here, he got interested in the limousine and yanked me around like a bad waltz partner. I had to let the leash out to its full length, or he would've pulled me right over on my face. Did you notice the driver wasn't particularly friendly just now?”

“We noticed,” Tessa said.

“Well, it could be that's because Hooligan tried to jump up on the limo for a look inside,” said Mr. Bryant. “I don't know what he was after, but the driver was awfully cross. Anyway, next thing I knew, Hooligan had changed course again. I suppose that must be when he retrieved the ruby slipper.”

Approaching the big black car, Hooligan was on his best behavior. I had the leash, and he was trotting one step behind me just the way he'd been taught in Canine Class. Meanwhile, the driver was nowhere in sight.

“I think the other slipper is near the limo, don't you, Cammie?” Tessa asked. “Somehow they must have fallen out of the box.”

This didn't really make sense. Someone had to have been holding the box when it came out of the car. Probably the man in the black suit. How could the lid come off, the slippers tumble out, and the box put itself back together again—all without him or anyone noticing?

While Tessa looked around the car, I tried to get a peek inside. Resting on the backseat was a big plastic box like a pet carrier. But before I could see for sure, Hooligan gave a serious tug and spun me around.

“
Hey
—
?
” I cried and tightened my grip but too late; the leash slipped out of my hand, and I looked up just in time to see something arcing through the air above us. Hooligan had seen it, too, and was racing across the grass to intercept it. Mouth open, he leaped gracefully, extended his neck, and . . . missed.

Mr. Bryant scratched his head. “He'll never make the big leagues that way.”

But Hooligan wasn't even embarrassed. He picked up the thing and trotted toward us, head and tail held high.

It was late afternoon by now. The sun was low in the sky. Shining through the trees, it made sparkles on whatever it was Hooligan had in his mouth. Red sparkles. Could it be . . . ?

Yes!

The second ruby slipper!

Tessa reached for it, and Hooligan let go without even making her play tug-of-war. “Good dog!” Tessa said. “And you know what else?” She looked at Mr. Bryant and me. “Case closed.”

I wanted to believe Tessa was right.

But I had a few questions. Besides how the slippers had escaped their box, I couldn't figure out where this second one had come from. Red slippers don't usually fly over the White House lawn. Did somebody throw it?

Tessa, Mr. Bryant, Hooligan and I went back into the Dip Room. By now, most of the people had gone. But Mrs. Silver was still there, along with the man in the black suit, Malik and the pretty photographer.

With the shoe hidden behind her back, Tessa walked up to Mrs. Silver and said, “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

Mrs. Silver had had a bad afternoon. “I'm really not in the mood for—”

“Trust me,” Tessa said.

Mrs. Silver frowned but did what Tessa asked. When the shoe touched her palm, she smiled and opened her eyes. “Oh, my stars! Wherever—?”

Tessa explained.

Meanwhile, the man in the black suit stared at the ceiling and shook his head.

“May I?” The pretty photographer held up her camera. I know all the usual photographers, but I didn't know her. Was she new?

Mrs. Silver said, “Go ahead, but only a couple. We don't need undue publicity about our little misunderstanding this afternoon.”

Tessa held up the slippers for the picture, flipped her hair and smiled like a movie star. Can you tell she likes having her picture taken? I would rather get a measles shot.

After that, Mrs. Silver said good-bye to the man in the black suit, and Malik helped the pretty photographer pack up.

“What are you going to do with the slippers till Saturday?” I asked Mrs. Silver.

“The museum has transferred responsibility for them to White House security, so Malik is going to accompany me to my office, and together we'll put them in the safe,” she said.

Back upstairs, Tessa and I settled in at our desks to do homework. Our bedroom is on the second floor over the North Portico, the door that faces Pennsylvania Avenue, also known as the front door. There are plenty of bedrooms in the White House, but Tessa and I share one. The house is big and old and creaky. Some people even say it's haunted. When Tessa and I moved here in
January, we didn't want our own rooms. We wanted to be together.

My main homework that day was finishing an English project called “Movie-Story.” The idea is to read a story and watch the movie version, then compare. We had to make a presentation using a tri-fold poster and three objects to display differences and similarities. My cousin Nate and I are both in Ms. Nicols's class, and he was doing a story called
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
by a writer named Jules Verne.

I was doing
Snow White
.

I had done most of the work already, like making a chart to show what was the same and what was different. Mostly, the original fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm is a lot grosser and gorier than the Disney version. Like at the end of the fairy tale, the wicked queen dances herself to death wearing fiery hot shoes!

My objects were a mirror and an apple, so far. I needed one more, but I hadn't been able to think of anything. I was just finishing up the gluing when Granny called us for dinner.

Tessa jumped up and bolted out the door. “I'm starving!”

She wasn't really starving. She was sick of subtraction homework.

I wasn't in such a hurry so I stood up and stretched. But heading for the door, I heard thumps and bumps in the hall, and then someone squealed, “
Ow-e-e-e-e!
”

What was going on? Was my sister okay?

No, my sister was not okay.

She was rolling around on the hall carpet, kicking and squealing like a wild animal was attacking. Then when I ran over I saw a wiggly black ball of fur clinging to her left foot.

“Oh, for gosh sake, Tessa,” I said. “It's a
puppy
. Hold still.” I bent down, detached the puppy teeth from Tessa's sneaker and lifted the squirming little guy. “Hey, don't!” It was licking my face. “Awww, look, Tessa. It's a
she
, and she's cute.”

Tessa sat up and frowned. “I like
big
dogs. Who does this one belong to anyway?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Maybe that Mr. Will guy came a day early?”

Mr. Will is supposedly my Aunt Jen's new boyfriend, only we don't say “boyfriend” in front of Nate because he gets annoyed. Aunt Jen's husband died in a war before Nate was born, and she's never had a boyfriend
before. I think the whole idea makes my cousin nervous.

Anyway, having a Wizard of Oz surprise party was Mr. Will's idea. There's plenty of room in the White House, and he was going to stay over to help get ready.

“Hello—did I hear my name?” A man appeared in the hallway behind us. He had short brown hair, a square face and big glasses. “Oh there you are, Ozzabelle! Have you been a good dog?”

Because of my grandmother, I notice when anyone's not polite—like this person, who spoke to his dog but didn't even nod at the two perfectly good humans in front of him. Maybe he never had a grandmother?

Tessa was thinking the same thing, which made her not-so-polite herself. “No, Ozzabelle has not been a good dog. She tripped me. Are you Mr. Will?”

“Mr. William Will.” The man reached for the dog, but she bared her teeth.

“I don't think she wants to go,” I said.

“Don't be silly,” said Mr. Will. He pulled a pink dog treat from his pocket and held it out. Ozzabelle couldn't resist and, while she was chewing, he grabbed her.

Meanwhile, something went
thump
from the direction of the West Sitting Hall, which is where Mr. Bryant and Hooligan usually hang out before dinner.

Uh-oh.

To Hooligan, a dog outside the White House is a buddy who has come to play.

And a dog inside the White House is an invader who has come to steal his food dish.

“Mr. Will?” I said. “It might be a good idea if you—”

But it was too late. Hooligan appeared, trotting toward us with his nose high. The second he saw Ozzabelle in Mr. Will's arms, he froze, and I knew what he was thinking: Is that a dog? Or a snack?

Either way, he knew what to do next: Charge!

Tessa jumped up and down. “Tackle him, Cammie!”

I don't know why tackling him was my job and not Tessa's, but I didn't stop to wonder, I just leaped. My plan was to land on big, furry Hooligan but that didn't work out so well, and—
ouch
—I hit the floor instead. Meanwhile, Hooligan had slowed down enough that Tessa got him by the collar.

Mr. Will didn't thank me for sacrificing my body to save his. Instead, he stepped around me, saying, “Hmph—very large dog,” before turning and heading for the east stairway. Apparently, Mr. Ross, who is in charge of the White House, had given him a bedroom on the third floor.

As Mr. Will walked away, Ozzabelle stared back at us over his shoulder. Was it my imagination, or did she look sad?

It turned out Mr. Will was having dinner with us that night in our family's dining room on the second floor, the one we use most often. So a few minutes later, after Tessa and I had washed our hands, we were sitting at the table across from him.

As usual, Mom was busy running the country, and Dad was in California for his job. Nate and Granny were eating with us, though, along with Mr. Bryant. Mr.
Bryant's job used to be running the presidential elevator, and now his job is to watch Hooligan, but he's also Granny's special friend. Once I even saw her kiss him on the cheek!

“Sorry about the last-minute change of plans,” Mr. Will said. “Very kind of you all to accommodate me.”