The Case of the Ruby Slippers (8 page)

Tessa said, “I don't know, but it is hard to do something sneaky with people watching. And there were all those cameras and people and everything in the Dip Room. So maybe when he saw them, he decided to hold on to the slippers and give them to whoever-it-is in the White House later.”

“But then Hooligan got them,” I said.

There was a pause, then the shadow sat up and turned on the light.

“
Ow!”
I squinted. “We have to get up early tomorrow, remember?”

“Yeah, but we're awake now.” Tessa climbed out of bed. “Where are your notes?”

If I had known how much detecting cuts into sleep, I'm not sure I ever would've tried it. Pretty soon, Tessa and I were on the love seat in our room, and I was writing new stuff in my notebook.

Like those four late additions to the guest list: Gigi Sawyer, Antonia Alfredo-Chin, Paul Song and Courtney. None of them had anything to do with Aunt Jen. I knew why Courtney had been invited, but could the others be a clue?

Soon my hand was tired from writing, so I took a break.

“I don't see how Mr. Will can be right about the slippers,” I said. “It can't be the man in the black suit who stole them out of Mrs. Silver's safe. He wasn't even in the White House then.”

“Do we know that for sure?” Tessa asked.

“It'd be super hard to sneak into the White House, especially in the middle of the night. I mean, there are alarms and guards and Secret Service and marines. . . . The thief pretty much has to be somebody who was in the White House anyway.”

“There's that new photographer,” I said. “It's not so likely she would've been working late at night, but she is one of the people who knew Mrs. Silver put the slippers in her safe.”

“Besides that, it's mostly just us and our guests who were here,” said Tessa. “Cammie, can I ask you something?”

“Seriously, Tessa, I didn't do it!” I said.

“I know that—
duh
. But what I want to know is, do you like Mr. Will?”

I didn't even have to think. “Unh-unh. He seems fake. And he's not nice to Ozzabelle either. I don't even get why he's got a dog if he doesn't like them.”

Tessa agreed. “I don't blame Nate for not wanting him to be his mom's boyfriend. But wait, Cammie—I just thought of something. Mr. Will wasn't supposed to come to stay with us till tonight, right? But he changed his plans and came a day early—yesterday.”

“That's true,” I said.

“Well, what if he did that because he needed to be in the White House because that's where the ruby slippers were?”

“I thought of that,” I said. “But he's not one of the people who knew they were in the safe.” I yawned. “Tessa, I'm sorry. But I don't think I can think anymore tonight.”

“I know,” said Tessa. “So let's take a vote. Mr. Will stole the ruby slippers. Who else wants to say aye?”

“You know it doesn't work that way,” I said.

“It should, though,” Tessa said. “And something else, too. If Mom wants to, she ought to get to be the queen.”

Not to rat out my own sister, but I'm pretty sure Tessa only brushed about half her teeth the next morning. She couldn't wait to get to the kitchen, and when she did, she threw open the door, which startled Humdinger, who raised an alarm—
twee-twee-twee!
—as well as Hooligan, who dropped down on the floor and hid his head beneath his paws.

“
Woo-hoo, Granny!
” Tessa cried. “It's party day!”

Granny was standing at the counter pouring cereal for our breakfast. “Tessa, honey, it's awfully early for so much drama. Good morning, Cameron. You don't seem to be quite as energetic as your sister.”

“Good morning,” I said, “and I'm not. We were awake all night thinking about the case.”

Granny opened her mouth to ask a question, but Tessa spoke faster. “Today is also the day that Cammie's
boyfriend
is coming! No offense, but I'd recommend lip gloss, Cammie.”

Granny gave Tessa one of her world-famous looks. “If you mean Paul Song, he will be here at eleven. He's going to rehearse with the Marine Band in the East Room.”

I admit my heart kind of bumped, but I didn't let on.

Tessa grabbed her cereal from the counter and looked at me. “Well,
that's
a problem. You're supposed to interview Dr. Zapato this morning, aren't you, Cammie? Guess you have to pick between detecting and
love
. So which is it?”

“That's enough, Tessa,” said Granny. “And in fact, Cammie's meeting with Dr. Zapato is already set for nine thirty. She should have plenty of time to get back before eleven . . . if she wants to, that is.”

“Hmmph.” Tessa looked at me. “Everything's working out just great for
you
, isn't it? But
I
have to go to dumb old ballet.”

I said, “Sorry, Tessa.” But secretly I was excited about doing detecting on my own.

Tessa sighed and flounced into her chair at the kitchen table. I got my bowl of cereal. Nate came in. He looked sleepy. My cousin is not a morning kind of person.

Granny brought her cup of coffee and came to sit at the table with us. “What did you figure out about the case last night?” she asked.

Tessa and I took turns explaining. In conclusion, Tessa said, “Mr. Will is crazy,” which made Nate smile.

But Granny said, “It might just be there's more to Mr. Will than you know about.”

“Oh, goodie—another secret!” said Tessa.

Granny sighed. “I'm afraid I'm not—”

“—if you say
at liberty
, I will scream!” said Tessa, and Hooligan must have understood because he covered his head with his paws again, just in case.

“All right then, I plain won't tell you. Is that better?” Granny said.

“So who will?” Tessa wanted to know.

“Perhaps Dr. Zapato,” Granny said.

Tessa dropped her spoon, which clattered and splashed into her cereal bowl. “This is so totally no fair,” she said.

I thought probably Granny or Dad would come with me to the museum, but it turned out they were busy.

“Are you going to be all right on your own?” Granny asked.

“I sure am!” I said.

“Thought so,” said Granny.

Of course, “on my own” did not mean by myself. Besides being ten years old, I am the president's kid, which is a little like being the ruby slippers: You get an escort whenever you go anywhere. Today, Malik picked up me and Charlotte at the South Portico and drove us in one of the vans.

The National Museum of American History is part of the Smithsonian Institution, and it's located on the National Mall, only a few blocks from my house. It had rained overnight, but now the sky was blue. A normal person could have walked, but I'm pretty much never
allowed to walk anywhere that there're a lot of people. The way Granny says it, having the president's kids on the street causes too much uproar.

At the side door of the museum, Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb were waiting for us, and we all said good morning politely.

“What happened with the pair of ruby slippers from Mrs. Silver's safe?” I asked as we walked down a corridor. “Were they real ones from the movie?”

Mr. Webb shook his head, and Mr. Morgan answered. “The company that made the original shoes, Western Costume, made souvenir reproductions in the late 1980s. They're good quality, and we think this pair is one of those.”

Dr. Zapato's office was on the fifth floor and kind of messy, which made me like him. When we walked in, he stood up and leaned over his big desk to shake hands with Charlotte and me. Then I sat down with my notebook and got ready to ask questions the way Tessa does.

Only Dr. Zapato started talking before I had a chance. “You and your sister are experienced detectives. That's why we're asking for your help.”

Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb nodded, but I was confused. I thought I was there so Dr. Zapato could help us?

“For some time now,” Dr. Zapato continued, “we at the museum have been aware that someone is unusually interested in the ruby slippers, and we were worried that this someone might also want to steal them. Here, I can show you.”

Dr. Zapato pressed a button, and a video began playing on a screen on the wall.

“This is from one of the security cameras,” he explained. It showed the glass display case with the slippers in it. People were crowding around, pointing and holding kids up. Most people didn't stay very long, but one person—a small woman with very short gray hair—just stood staring. Around her throat was a necklace with a pendant shaped like the letter
A
.

“Do you notice anything?” Dr. Zapato asked me.

“It's like that lady's stuck,” I said.

He nodded. “In the last six months, she's visited the museum some twenty-five times. And she's not the first to become obsessively interested in the slippers either. So, to help us keep them safe, we decided to hire an outside security expert, one who came very highly recommended. I believe you know him—Mr. William Will.”

I almost dropped my pen. Mr. Will was working for the museum? Then he couldn't be the thief!

“We're talking about the same Mr. William Will, right?” I said to make sure. “My aunt's boyfriend Mr. William Will?”

Dr. Zapato turned off the projector. “The very same. With his assistance, we believed we had devised a foolproof method to ensure the slippers' safety. Unfortunately, something seems to have gone wrong.”

“What foolproof method?” Charlotte asked.

Dr. Zapato said, “RF technology.”

Tessa would've said, “What's RF technology?” but I didn't want to sound dumb.

Luckily, Mr. Morgan explained. “RF stands for radio frequency. In this case, it means putting a tiny, chip-sized transmitter into an object so it can be followed by the positioning systems on satellites.”

Dr. Zapato went on, “Taking care not to detract
from its historic value, we have ‘chipped' each slipper. As a result, when they left the museum on Thursday with the imposter—the man now in police custody—we were able to monitor their progress on handheld receiving devices.”

Mr. Webb held up a gadget slightly bigger than a cell phone. It was silver with a green and black screen that showed a grid pattern.

“When the slippers are transmitting,” Dr. Zapato continued, “their location shows up as red flashing dots. We were able to track the slippers to the White House and eventually to Mrs. Silver's safe. But then, at one twenty-two Friday morning, the flashing dots disappeared. Apparently, something went wrong with the transmitters.”

“Do you think that's when the slippers were stolen from the safe?” Charlotte asked.

“Very possibly,” said Dr. Zapato, “but there's no way to know for sure.”

“Could whoever have stolen them remove the chips from the slippers?” I asked.

Dr. Zapato shook his head. “First of all, the existence of the chips was a closely guarded secret. Secondly, they're implanted in the leather and cannot be removed without causing severe damage.”

I stopped writing and shook out my hand. Something was bugging me. Last night Mom had asked Mr. Will if it was okay to tell Tessa and me about the man in the black suit being an imposter. So that meant my mom must've known all about how Mr. Will was working for the museum, right?

“Dr. Zapato,” I said, “what does my mom have to do with all this anyway?”

“I was getting to that,” Dr. Zapato said. “It seems thieves typically find objects in transit easier to steal, so Mr. Will suggested we flush out the would-be thief by lending the slippers to the White House for a party. Your parents, Cammie, graciously agreed to help. We then leaked the information to the media, hoping that the thief would see an opportunity.”

Well, that was a relief. No matter what Mr. Lozana said, my mom didn't think she was a queen.