The Case of the Bug on the Run (7 page)

Mrs. Verity looked over her shoulder at us and smiled. “Be right back.”

“So what's the plan? What do we do next?” Nate asked.

“Interview Mr. Schott,” I said.

“What about Mr. Lozana?” said Tessa.

I shook my head. “Not this again. I know you think he has a motive, Tessa. But Courtney's my best friend! And anyway, he wasn't in the White House last night.”

“Actually, he was.” Tessa pointed at the newspaper on the table. It was the one with the photo of Fluffy on the front page, and now I noticed something for the first time—the lunch ladies and other people behind Fluffy. One of them was Mr. Lozana.

“What's he doing there?” Nate asked. “He wasn't invited to the dinner.”

“I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation,” I said.

“Unh-hunh,” said Tessa.

“And besides,” I said, “Mr. Schott is staying here in the White House. He's easier to interview.”

Tessa frowned. “But I don't like him.”

“Tessa,” I said, “since when did we ever solve a mystery interviewing only people we like?”

Tessa by now was lettering her second flyer. “You're right. So next let's interview Courtney.”

“Thanks a lot!” I said, ready to defend my friend, but Lily and her mom were coming back.

“It turned out my daughter meant nail polish when she said paint.” Mrs. Verity smiled. “I told her it doesn't work well on paper, and besides, the bottle's almost empty.”

Lily climbed onto Tessa's lap. Tessa said, “Do you want to do the stickers?”

“Yes, peeze,” said Lily.

“Do you kids mind if I leave her with you for a few minutes?” Mrs. Verity asked. “I need to track down my husband.”

“Sure, we'll watch her,” Tessa said.

“Thanks a billion,” said Mrs. Verity. “Be good, Lily.”

When Mrs. Verity was gone, Nate frowned. “Now we can't talk about you know what.”

“Yeah, we can,” said Tessa. “Little kids don't understand that much. Do you, Lily?”

Lily was unsticking a skeleton from a sheet of leftover Halloween stickers. “Nope,” she said.

“In that case, what about physical evidence?” Nate asked. “You know—clues like fingerprints on the cockroach tank.”

“They'd be all mixed up and smudged,” I said. “We didn't know to be careful till it was too late.”

I had finished three flyers by now. I was getting more paper when a terrible and familiar noise—
“Awh-roohr!”
—made all of us jump and look at each other.

Someone had breached cockroach security. The Hooligan alarm was sounding!

I covered the distance from the West Sitting Hall to our bedroom in record time. When I got there, the door was open and the dog was howling.

But whoever had tripped the alarm was gone.

“Good puppy—you can turn it off now!” I ran past Hooligan to check the tank. The lid was still on top, but was James Madison inside?

I had to stare for a moment, but then a couple of twigs rustled and finally two curious black antennae appeared.

By this time, Nate, Tessa and Lily were standing beside me. “Do you think he's okay?” Tessa asked.

I caught my breath before answering. “Why, of course, dear sister,” I said, sounding exactly normal. “Our pet is perfectly fine.”

“But what about the spy—” Tessa started to ask, but then she interrupted herself. “Never mind. Uh, Cameron? Our pet has had such a stressful day. Maybe
he would feel better if he could listen to that calming waterfall sound from his childhood?”

“Good idea,” I said, and together we carried the tank into the bathroom and turned on the water.

“Nate says you guys kwazy,” Lily said when we came out again.

“Because they are,” said Nate.

“But now we can talk without the bug listening,” I said. “Someone came in, set off the doggy alarm and ran away. Was it the spy?”

“Or maybe just Mrs. Hedges,” said Nate.

“Why would Hooligan howl at Mrs. Hedges?” Tessa asked. “And even if he did, she wouldn't run away. She's not afraid of Hooligan.”

I looked down at our dog, who was sitting beside me looking up hopefully, expecting his doggy reward. Unfortunately, I was fresh out. “Sorry, puppy,” I said.

“Give him a pretzel,” said Tessa.

“Who says I've got a pretzel?” I asked.

“Pretzuh?” said Lily.

“You have them in your secret snack stash,” said Nate.

Hooligan woofed hopefully.

“Oh, fine.” I went to my dresser and opened my underwear drawer.

“You know, Cammie, we've been working hard, too,” said Tessa.

Lily nodded. “Vewy hawd.”

I passed around my last bag of pretzels. We were
crunching when we heard Mrs. Verity's voice from the Center Hall. “Lily?”

“We're in here!” Tessa answered.

Mrs. Verity appeared in our doorway. She was dressed all glamorous in a clingy gold gown. Her blond hair was pinned up. She had on a lot of eye shadow.

“Wow, you look like a Barbie!” said Tessa.

“Thanks . . . I think,” said Mrs. Verity.

“Did you find Mr. Verity?” Tessa asked.

“Max is working on it for me,” Mrs. Verity said. Then she looked down at Lily. “Did you do anything fun with the big kids, sweet pea?”

“Eat pretzuhs and talk 'bout spies,” Lily said.

Mrs. Verity winked at us. “Spies and pretzels? Well, isn't that nice? Come along now. Kids, I can't thank you enough.”

When they were gone, Tessa, Nate and I looked at each other. Spies? Uh-oh. Maybe talking in front of a little kid hadn't been such a good idea.

There was still an hour before dinner. If we hurried, we could squeeze in one more round of detecting. I told Nate and Tessa my plan.

“Wait—I have to take the bug?” Nate said.

“You don't even have to touch him,” I said.

We retrieved James Madison from the bathroom and put him in his mobile home. I handed the mobile home to Nate. He held it at arm's length like our cockroach had cooties or something.

James Madison hissed.

“Don't take it personally,” Tessa told Nate.

When they were gone, Tessa turned to me. “What next, Cammie?”

“I'm going to find Mr. Bryant and give Hooligan back. Then you and I are going to interview Mr. Schott—provided we can find him, that is.”

What I told Tessa was true, but there was something I didn't mention. I wanted Granny's advice. I found her with Mr. Bryant in the Queens' Sitting Room.
Along with the Queens' Bedroom, it's basically Granny's apartment. They're at the east end of the second floor. The sitting room has blue-and-gold wallpaper and a tiny white marble fireplace.

Mr. Bryant was in an armchair with his e-reader. Hooligan circled twice and dropped to the rug. Mr. Bryant scratched Hooligan behind the ears.

“Granny, I need your help with the investigation,” I said.

Granny looked me up and down. “Where's the bug?”

“Nate has him,” I said.

“Proceed,” she said.

“Tessa wants to question Courtney and then maybe her dad,” I said. “I know Mr. Lozana writes mean things about Mom sometimes, but Courtney has been my best friend since second grade. If Tessa asks her questions, she's going to get all insulted and then she won't be my friend anymore.”

Granny took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes and looked at me. “Cameron, you know you can't get to the truth if you let your feelings influence your detecting.”

I looked at the carpet. “I know.”

“So,” said Granny, “do you think it's possible Mr. Lozana might have bugged your bug?”

“No!” I said.

“Really?” said Granny.

“Maybe,” I said. “It turns out he was in the White House last night, and I can't figure out why.”

“In that case, you have to treat him and Courtney just like all your other suspects.”

I sighed. “I don't think I'm cut out to be a detective.”

“You've done well on your other cases,” Granny said. “I'd hate to see you give up now. Besides, a spy in the White House is a very dangerous thing. We have to get to the bottom of this, and soon.”

Mr. Bryant cleared his throat. “If I may?” he said. “It's coincidental you should be talking about Mr. Lozana because just at this moment, I happen to be reading his blog.”

Granny made a face. “I don't know why you give that blog the time of day, Willis. I have zero interest in anything Mr. Lozana writes.”

Mr. Bryant said, “All right, then. I won't say one word more.”

For a moment, the room was quiet.

Then Granny said, “Oh, fine. What did he write?”

Mr. Bryant started to smile, straightened it out, then read out loud: “ ‘According to sources in the Parks White House, the president plans to add ground-up insects to school lunches at her earliest possible convenience. Yes, you read that right. Instead of being exterminated in school cafeterias, cockroaches may soon be on the menu.' ”

“Oh, my stars in heaven!” Granny said. “Courtney must have reported what Mr. Amaro said at lunch yesterday to her father! But I thought we made it clear that the president is absolutely against it.”

“Hooligan,” I reminded her—and Hooligan thumped his tail.

“Ah, yes.” Granny sighed. “Now I remember the
interruption. Does Mr. Lozana say anything else, Willis?”

“Only this,” Mr. Bryant replied. “ ‘Attempts to confirm details with Chef Amaro Amaro, a leading proponent of the bugs-for-food program, have thus far been unsuccessful.' ”

“Wait a sec,” I said. “Maybe that's what Mr. Lozana was doing at the White House last night, trying to interview Mr. Amaro.”

Mr. Bryant nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

“And something else, too,” I said. “Mr. Lozana didn't know Mom was against the bug idea. But Tessa and I did. She told us so last night.”

Mr. Bryant looked up. “Where was that?”

“Where did she tell us that, you mean? In our room. She came in to say good night after Granny did.”

“Was your new pet listening?” Mr. Bryant asked.

I shrugged. “Sure, I guess. Like we already figured out, the spy must have put the tiny transmitter on him yesterday evening, so anything that happened in our room after that . . . Oh!”

Mr. Bryant smiled. “The spy heard what your mother said. Therefore, the spy knows bugs are not going to be on the lunch menu. Mr. Lozana, on the other hand, does not know this.”

“Therefore, Mr. Lozana is not the spy!” I said. “My friendship with Courtney is saved! And that's not the only good thing.”

“What else?” Granny asked.

“Basically, we've solved the case. I mean, we only have one suspect left.”

Before I could tell them who that suspect was, there was a knock at the door.

“Excuse me, Judge, Mr. Bryant,” said Charlotte. “But President Parks is requesting Cameron in the Oval Office for a meeting with Mr. Schott.”

I jumped up. “Well, that's convenient! Thanks, Granny! Thanks, Mr. Bryant! You guys are the best!”

Granny nodded. “Aren't we, though?” Then she went back to her book.

Charlotte and I stopped to pick up Tessa on our way. “Straighten your detecting cap,” I told her. “You have a suspect to question in the Oval Office, and if I'm right, we're going to solve this case right now!”

Tessa jumped off the sofa. “What's Courtney doing in the Oval Office?”

“It's not Courtney,” I said. “Mr. Lozana's not the spy.” Then I explained about the blog post. “Hurry up!”

The kitten flyers were on Tessa's desk. She grabbed a stack on her way out the door. “While we're there, I'll post them for the people who work in the West Wing,” she said.

“Seriously?” I said. “But you don't want to get rid of the Ks.”

“I know, but it's like you said, Cammie. We can't win this fight.”

This didn't sound like my sister, and I studied her
face for a second. Was I imagining it? Or was she trying hard not to smile?

To get to Mom's office from our bedroom, you go to the ground floor and hang a right. The West Wing is actually in a separate building, so you have to go outside on a covered walkway called a colonnade and pass the Rose Garden. Besides the Oval Office, where my mom works, the West Wing has offices for the vice president and some advisors, as well as a room for press conferences and space for the news guys.

Charlotte came with us. Most of the time, we're not allowed to leave the house part of the White House without either somebody from the family or somebody from the Secret Service.

Mom's secretary smiled when we got to the door and said, “Go right in.”

The Oval Office really is oval-shaped. It has three tall windows with gold drapes, paintings of cowboy scenes on the walls and a bust of Benjamin Franklin on a table. George Washington's portrait is over the white fireplace. On the oval-shaped rug is a picture of the seal of the president of the United States. It has a gigantic eagle in the middle.

Since the room is a lot bigger than most offices, there's also space for sofas and comfy chairs.

Inside, we expected to see Mom sitting on one of the sofas across from Mr. Schott. What we never expected were two more people: Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb!

“What are you guys doing here?” Tessa asked.

Mom frowned. “What my daughter meant to say was ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen. How very nice to see you.' ”

“That, too.” Tessa nodded. “And Cammie and I are fine, just so you know.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Mr. Morgan. “To answer your question, we requested a meeting so we could report to your mother that the government sensing device is no longer detecting the AV signal from your pet cockroach.”