The Case of the Ruby Slippers (11 page)

“Because he didn't want everyone to know about how weird it was,” said Tessa. “I mean, would you?”

I decided to drop the subject. “It's not just dentists who wear these kinds of gloves,” I said. “Kyle at school told me burglars wear them, too—so they don't leave fingerprints.”

Wait a sec. Burglars wear them? All of a sudden, I started to get a totally crazy new idea.

Tessa said, “Earth to Cammie?”

My idea was too unfinished to say out loud, so I said something else: “If we hurry, we can maybe take a look at Courtney's package before we have to go downstairs.”

Also I was hoping to have time to snag a cookie from the pastry kitchen. It's on the mezzanine floor between ours and the entrance hall. I hadn't eaten any lunch, remember.

And this might have worked but for one thing. Tessa won't ever go anywhere until she looks perfect. So she had to try her hair a couple of different ways, then try different barrettes and a ribbon.

By the time we emerged into the hall it was ten to three, and Jeremy was outside our door.

“Where's Courtney Lozana—have you seen her?” Tessa asked.

Jeremy looked at his watch. “Downstairs by now, and you should be, too. Mrs. Silver wants everyone in place pronto.”

When there is an event at the White House, guests come in through the east entrance on the ground floor, walk past the library and Vermeil Room then climb stairs into the entrance hall on the State Floor. When Tessa and I arrived, most of the guests were in place and—hooray!—butlers in tuxedoes were walking around with teeny cheese sandwiches on trays.

I grabbed two. I hope I didn't look like a pig, but I didn't get lunch, remember?

Most of the guests were dressed nice but not fancy—button shirts and khakis for the men and skirts or dresses for the women. One thing I've noticed about parties, though, is there are usually a few clueless people. Like today, there was this guy all by himself wearing cargo shorts, a T-shirt and a baseball cap.

What was up with that? He looked more like a tourist than an invited guest.

There were several people I wanted to talk to:
Charlotte so I could ask if the gadget had buzzed, Paul Song, uh . . . because he's Paul Song, and Courtney, so I could ask what was in the package she was taking to her dad.

Courtney was the one I spotted first. She was standing by the marble head of President Lincoln talking to a blond girl about my age. “Who's
that?”
Tessa came up beside me. “And where did she get that dress?”

The dress was fancy but also pretty—orange with lace, a green belt and shoes to match. I even liked it, and I don't care about dresses.

“I don't know,” I said. “And I didn't think there were other kids invited either.”

Tessa's eyes got big. “Cool—she's a party crasher! Come on!”

Courtney introduced us. The girl's name was Toni. She had a foreign accent, which in Washington is pretty usual. Because Washington is the U.S. capital, a lot of other countries send their government people here to live for a while.

Courtney explained she knew Toni from horse-jumping lessons.

I couldn't exactly be rude and say, “Are you a party crasher?”, so instead I tried to think of a more clever and polite way to ask the same question.

While I was thinking, Tessa said, “Are you a party crasher?”

Toni laughed. “No, no. I would never! In fact, your mother invited me—President Parks. I believe the
invitation was meant as a goodwill gesture toward my family and my country. You see, I am from a certain nearby nation, and we have experienced many political protests recently.”

Tessa nodded. “Oh
yeah
, we know all about that. Actually, our dog Hooligan's practically best friends with your president's dog—even though they have never actually met.”

“Yes.” Toni nodded enthusiastically. “I know this story of the diamond dog collar.”

And that's when something clicked in my brain. “Wait a sec,” I said. “Is ‘Toni' short for something?”

Our new friend stood up straight. “My full name is Antonia Alfredo-Chin.” Then she slumped back to normal. “But that is so very many syllables.”

Tessa said, “
Ah ha
!” and immediately crossed her arms over her chest the way she does when she interviews a witness. “So, Toni. How come you spent all that time at the museum staring at the ruby slippers? Are you maybe interested in
buying
ruby slippers?”

Toni took a step back.

I tried to explain. “My sister didn't get much sleep.” Then I looked at Tessa. “She's not the person in the video at all!”

“Oh, wow.” Tessa's eyes got big. “So now there are two Antonia Alfredo-Chins? How are we even supposed to tell which is which?”

I shook my head. “No, no, no—”

But Tessa kept talking. “I bet the real one is the one
with the necklace, right?” She stared at Toni's neck, which was necklace-free. “So what are you—some kind of an imposter?”

I sighed and took my sister's elbow. “I'm really sorry,” I said to Toni and Courtney, “but I need to talk to my sister for a minute. Excuse us.”

It took some doing, but finally I managed to convince Tessa that she, Nate and I had been wrong. The woman in the video wasn't Antonia Alfredo-Chin and never had been.

“So who is she then?” Tessa said.

We were standing in front of the portrait of President Clinton. I was facing the East Room doors, and I was feeling terrible all over again. “I forgot to ask Dr. Zapato, okay? And I am really sorry! I mean, when it comes to that lady, there's only one thing I know for sure.”

“Yeah—what's that?” Tessa asked.

“She's standing right there!”

Tessa spun around and looked. “
Where?
”

I nodded. “Talking to Mr. Will.”

“Well,
that's
convenient,” Tessa said. “I've got some questions for him, too.”

Two seconds later, I had grabbed another sandwich from a tray, we had woven our way through the party guests, and Tessa was tugging on Mr. Will's jacket. “Have you talked to the cops? Did the man in the black suit confess?”

“Yes, and no,” said Mr. Will. “In fact, I understand he has been released from jail.”

“Uh-oh,” said Tessa.

“Only temporary, I'm sure,” said Mr. Will. “He'll be locked up for good as soon as they have the evidence. Meanwhile, may I introduce Miss Gigi Sawyer, great-granddaughter of the Wicked Witch of the East?”

If you've been paying attention, you know that while my mouth was chewing on the sandwich, my brain was chewing on the mystery. But if life in the White House has taught me anything, it's how to be polite.

I swallowed fast. “How do you do, Miss Sawyer?”

Tessa can be polite, too, but she was sleep-deprived and dramatic and—since she is only seven and not the big sister—she can get away with anything.

So she said, “Hey, how ya doin'?”

Miss Gigi Sawyer had a scrunched face and a pointy nose. Anyone could tell she did not like the way Tessa spoke to her, but, except for that driver the other day, people are rarely rude to Tessa.

“The pleasure is mine,” said Gigi Sawyer. But she didn't smile.

Tessa wasted no time. “So, Miss Sawyer, if your first name's ‘Gigi' and your last name's ‘Sawyer,' how come you've got that necklace with an
A
on it?”

Miss Sawyer touched her throat, but there was no necklace. She had on a purple scarf instead. “How in the world do you know about my necklace?” she asked.

Tessa looked at me with a face that said: “Oops, Cammie, get me out of this!”

I thought fast. “We knew because Mr. Will told us,” I said.

“You did?” Miss Sawyer looked at Mr. Will.

“I did?” Mr. Will looked at me.

Now my only hope was that my brain could keep up with my mouth, “Totally. It was at the same time you told us Miss Sawyer collects movie memorabilia. You do collect movie memorabilia, Miss Sawyer, right?”

“I do,” said Miss Sawyer carefully. Still looking at Mr. Will, she explained that Gigi is a nickname for Angelina, her given name. At the same time, Mr. Will was stammering something about how he didn't remember telling me either of those things.

Meanwhile, my crazy idea no longer seemed crazy. My question about movie memorabilia had been a rare case of Cammie being tricky, and Miss Sawyer had fallen for it! Now my idea was ready for prime time, and I started looking around for Nate. I wanted to corral him and Tessa and tell them what I knew.

Only that conversation never happened because from across the room, an unnaturally calm voice called out:
“Cameron?
Excuse me, dear, but could you come here for a moment, please?”

I looked around and saw that the voice was Charlotte's, and she was waving for me to hurry. But she didn't sound like herself. I mean, she never calls me “Cameron.”

What was going on?

Then all at once I figured it out. The museum's tech guys had done it: The receiver on Charlotte's belt had buzzed.

Nate and Tessa had seen Charlotte wave, and now the three of us, trying to look casual, strolled over to her post at the East Room doors. By the time we got there, Charlotte had removed the receiver from her belt, so all of us could look at the screen's display of a pale green blur with two red flashing dots in the middle.

“Charlotte, did you remember to get directions for this thing?” Tessa asked.

Charlotte didn't answer, but Nate said, “It's not that complicated, Tessa. Each one of those dots is a slipper.”

“If you say so,” said Tessa. “But where are they?”

Charlotte toggled a switch on the top of the gadget, which changed the display to a 3-D grid pattern outlined by a familiar shape—the White House!

“If I'm reading it right,” Charlotte said, “the slippers are on the third floor.”

“Mr. Will's room,” I said, “in Ozzabelle's crate if you want to get technical. You guys—forget about how
Mr. Will was working for the museum. I've got the whole thing, uh . . . Oh, gosh, what does
that
mean?”

The view on the screen had gone goofy. Like suddenly the flashing dots were doing a tap dance. Charlotte rotated the gadget one way then the other, shook it up and down, and held it to her ear.

It didn't matter. Step, ball-change, step went the dots, then they started to move in a more or less straight line: Dots on a mission.

Nate grabbed my hand. “Come on. Let's go intercept them!”

But we were stuck. My mom and dad had appeared on the staircase, and the marine musicians were playing the first few bars of “She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain.” This was the signal that Aunt Jen's car had come through the White House gates.

After that, the lights went out.

It was an exciting moment. In the dark, the red dots looked extra bright. Also, Aunt Jen was about to open the North Portico doors, and wouldn't she be surprised?

First, though, there was some kind of uproar on the stairs—and in the same instant the scene on the screen made sense to me. For the last few seconds, the flashing dots must have been traveling through the center hall on the second floor. Now they had hung a left down the grand staircase, and—

“Oh!” and “Oh!” One after the other, my parents hopped, skipped and jumped. Because of the angle, I couldn't see why, but honestly, by now I had a pretty good idea.

And then there they were, exploding from the bottom stair and forging a path of noise, chaos and destruction among the guests—not two disembodied, tap-dancing shoes, but Hooligan and Ozzabelle!

Each one carrying a ruby slipper.

Charlotte looked up and grinned. “
Now
I get it.”

And then the North Portico door opened. “Hello?” Aunt Jen stuck her head inside and looked around. “What happened to the lights?”