The Case of the Bug on the Run

by Martha Freeman

  Tessa said, “Thanks.”

  I said, “Drive carefully.”

  Mr. Amaro turned the key, waved to the crowd by the fence, spun the steering wheel and sped off.

  “I need to talk to the news guys for a sec,” said Tessa. “And don’t ask why, ’cause you don’t want to know.”

  “You’re right. I don’t,” I said, and looked around till I found Charlotte.

  “Thanks for watching James Madison,” I told her.

  “You’re welcome,” said Charlotte. Then she looked down at the dirt in front of her, frowned and looked back up at me. “Oops.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Charlotte felt really terrible about losing James Madison. “I didn’t know he could move that fast! They don’t cover foreign cockroaches at the Secret Service academy.”

  By now, Tessa had come back from her secret mission to the news guys. She waved her arms. “Well, they should!” Then she called: “James Madison! He-e-ere, James Madison!”

  I thought of something and whispered in Tessa’s ear.

  My sister squealed. “How could you even whisper such a thing? James Madison is our pet! Of course it would be bad if he disappeared forever!”

  Aargh—was Tessa ever going to learn to be careful about what she said? Just because we couldn’t see the cockroach didn’t mean he couldn’t hear us!

  “I think we need reinforcements,” said Charlotte; then she spoke into her radio. “Charlotte to base—we’ve got a kind of a situation here. Is the secret weapon available? Over.” There was a pause, and then she cocked her head. “Roger that. We’ll expect him in five.”

  While the three of us waited, we looked for the missing bug, but all we got for our trouble was dirty hands and knees. Finally, there was a fuss behind us. Then someone yelled: “Incoming!”

  We knew what that meant. Our secret weapon was about to make his entrance. As usual, it was grand. Tail and ears flying, he galloped a fast lap around the garden, then made a graceful flying leap right at me and my sister.

  He only wanted to say “Glad to see you!”

  He wasn’t trying to knock anybody over.

  Still, he knocked somebody over.

  “Ouch, puppy,” said Tessa from where she lay on the grass.

  Hooligan, sometimes known as our secret weapon, circled back and licked her face to apologize.

  “Never mind.” Tessa sat up and wiped off the dog slobber. “Do we have anything that smells like cockroach, Cammie?”

  I knelt, twisted the lid off James Madison’s empty mobile home and stuck it in front of Hooligan’s nose. “This is what we’re looking for,” I said.

  Hooligan sniffed the plastic and scarfed down the leftover banana peel. “Can you do it, puppy?” I asked.

  “Of course he can!” said Tessa. “Hooligan, go find!”

  You may have noticed that our secret weapon has a mind of his own.

  What we expected him to do was bury his nose in the dirt and sniff.

  What he actually did was raise his head, perk up his ears and listen.

  Did he hear the hiss of a missing cockroach?

  He definitely heard something. And whatever it was caused him to plow into the green tangle of garden, trampling everything in his path.

  “My oregano!” The White House head gardener closed his eyes. “I can’t watch.”

  Lucky for the oregano, the doggy destruction lasted only a few moments; then Hooligan lowered his head and snatched something in his fearsome jaws.

  I couldn’t see what it was, but I could hear: “Ssssss!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Even if cockroaches like cozy spaces, the inside of a dog’s mouth is not that comfortable. I know because of the desperate way James Madison wiggled his legs and antennae.

  “Go-o-o-od puppy,” Tessa cooed at Hooligan. “Don’t crunch. Just give him over.”

  Hooligan considered obeying but then had a better idea. He pulled back, thumped his paws, threw his head from side to side and growled: Cockroach tug-o’-war! Doggy fun at its finest!

  Tessa was not amused. She put her hands on her hips and did her best impression of Granny. “Drop it.”

  Hooligan dropped it.

  Meanwhile, I was wondering how the last few minutes had looked to the spy watching and listening to Bug TV. First there had been darkness in my pocket, then a sunny garden with an herb jungle and mountain-sized zucchini.

  After that came the slobbery pink inside of Hooligan’s mouth with its border of treacherous, pointy teeth, and the lurching side-to-side fun-house-in-space while Hooligan swung his head.

  Was the spy watching live right now? Or would he watch the footage recorded later? Either way, it was going to make him dizzy.

  At last, Tessa got hold of James Madison, who was sticky with dog slobber and streaked with dirt. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed James Madison’s . . . uh . . . face. It was hard to tell if this made him any cleaner.

  Trying to sound exactly normal, I said, “Tessa, our cousin Nathan should be finished with practicing piano by now. Let us go back up to the house and have a pleasant chat with him, shall we?”

  “Yeah, we gotta work on the case some more,” Tessa said. “Did you believe Mr. Amaro when he said he had to leave the dinner—Hey! That hurt! Why did you kick me?”

  I raised my eyebrows and nodded at James Madison. “Remember?”

  “Right!” my sister said. “And you know what, Cammie? I think I’m just going to be quiet while we walk back to the White House.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  There are three elevators in the White House.

  The fanciest one is the Family Elevator. On the ground floor, it opens across the Center Hall from the Diplomatic Reception Room, also known as the Dip Room. How fancy is the Family Elevator?

  So fancy it has wood paneling. So fancy there has to be an operator to make it work. So fancy that the operator always wears a tuxedo. So fancy that a First Lady a long time ago tried to make it a rule that the staff wasn’t even allowed to use it, only the president’s family.

  Mr. Bryant used to have the elevator job before he got a new job watching Hooligan. Now the elevator operator is Mr. Jackson. He’s nice, and he usually knows all about anything going on in the White House.

  Tessa must have been thinking about Mr. Jackson while she walked silently across the South Lawn from the Kitchen Garden. In the Dip Room, she tugged my arm.

  “What about if you take the stairs, dear sister?” she asked—sounding exactly normal. “While I, instead, ascend in the elevator?”

  I almost argued. I had walked just as far as she had, hadn’t I? And if anything, I was sweatier. But then she winked about twelve times and pointed at the pocket where James Madison was—and I caught on. If she took the elevator, she could ask Mr. Jackson questions without James Madison hearing.

  I winked back and gave her a thumbs-up.

  Back in our bedroom, I put James Madison away in his tank, then went to wash my hands. Taped to the bathroom mirror was a note from Granny. It said: Don’t forget to give away the kittens.

  When I came out, Tessa was there, and I handed her the note.

  “But I don’t want to!” she wailed.

  “I know, Tessa. I don’t, either. But we can’t win this fight because we can’t have Granny mad at us forever. If you get the art stuff, we can make flyers that say ‘Kittens free to good home.’ Nate will help us. Plenty of people work in the White House. If we post them, somebody nice will take the Ks.”

  Since we wanted to talk about the case while we worked, we had to get James Madison out of the way. Luckily, I had an idea. Our secret weapon is not only good at finding things, he has a built-in alarm system, too.

  So I went to find Mr. Bryant and ask if Hooligan was available.

  Ten minutes later, Hooligan was guarding James Madison in our room, and Tessa, Nate and I were seated at a round table in the West Sitting Hall. We had laid newspaper out on the table so we didn’t make a
mess. In front of each of us was a stack of paper. In the middle of the table was a pile of markers. We had glue and glitter just in case we got inspired.

  “I am not a very good artist,” Nate said after we explained about the kitten flyers.

  “Wait—you mean there’s something you’re not good at?” I said.

  Nate said, “Very funny.”

  My family has lived in Washington since my mom was elected senator from California seven years ago. Nate and Aunt Jen moved here from San Diego in January when Mom got to be president and our family came to live in the White House. At first, my cousin always acted so superior, but after being around nice, normal kids like Tessa and me, he’s improved a lot.

  “If you don’t want to draw, you can read the notes from my interview with Mr. Amaro,” I told Nate.

  Tessa said, “We can skip that part. Mr. Amaro didn’t bug the bug.”

  Nate and I looked at each other. Then we looked at Tessa. Trying to act casual, she picked up a black marker and drew two kitten ears.

  “Oh, so now who’s acting ‘so superior’?” I asked.

  Tessa giggled. “I know, right? I figured it out all by myself. Mr. Amaro was scared of the eensy teensy spider. No way could he have picked up a giant hissing cockroach!”

  “What spider?” Nate asked.

  I explained.

  Nate nodded. “Well, in that case—duh! Of course Tessa’s right. I don’t see why you didn’t figure that out, too, Cammie.”

  I ignored this comment. “I guess for now we can cross Mr. Amaro off our list. Tessa, what did Mr. Jackson say about who rode his elevator last night?”

  Tessa picked up a red marker. “Only Mr. Schott.”

  Nate said, “Of course! We should’ve thought of him sooner. He for sure has the technical knowledge. And he’s a guest, so he can go on the second floor without anybody questioning him.”

  “He also wanted to take pictures of James Madison yesterday afternoon,” Tessa said. “But what’s his motive?”

  “Something to do with that drone project he’s working on?” I said, and I was going to go on, but Nate shushed me. Mrs. Verity and Lily were coming down the hall. The second Lily spotted Tessa, she ran for her full-speed.

  “What you doing?” Lily wanted to know.

  “Making pictures,” Tessa said.

  “Can I hep?” Lily asked. “Pee-eeze?”

  “Sure,” Tessa said.

  Lily took her mom’s hand. “We go get paint.”

  “Paint? We don’t have any paint,” Mrs. Verity said.

  “Yeah, we do, Mommy. I show you.” Lily took her mom’s hand and tugged her back down the hall.

  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!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR

  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.”