We went out to the Rose Garden, where Ms. Major sat Tessa and me down in patio chairs, told us to act natural and aimed the video camera. Tessa straightened her shoulders, tossed her blond curls, flashed her teeth and told the camera who Toni is, how we gave her a puppy named Ozzabelle, and how she is just the greatest friend ever.
I sat like a lump until Ms. Major said, “Cameron? I’m sure you don’t realize it, but you’re scowling.”
I said, “That wasn’t a scowl. This is a scowl,” and showed her.
Ms. Major laughed. “Okay, how about this? Think about successfully solving a mystery.”
I must have smiled then, because Ms. Major said, “Better.” Then she asked me to tell how we met Toni, and I did, and then—at last—we were done.
Ms. Major had been right. It wasn’t that bad. But one thing was for sure. No way was I ever going to watch the finished product.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I had been wondering if Easter morning in the White House would be a lot different than Easters in our old house in Northwest Washington.
There were a couple of differences. The main one was that Granny, Aunt Jen and Nate hadn’t lived with us back then, so the celebration was bigger now. Also, in the White House, my Easter basket was hidden in an unusual and historic place: under the big bed in the Lincoln Bedroom.
Other than that, Tessa and I put on new dresses, went to church, sang “Alleluia,” came home, and ate French toast for brunch—just like we always had.
After brunch, Tessa, Nate and I changed out of our church clothes to go visit Toni. We were going early so we would be back in plenty of time for Easter dinner, which would be served downstairs in the big dining room.
All this time, Tessa still hadn’t told me and Nate her plan. But when she got dressed, she put on the pink spangled ball cap she wears for detecting. Then, when we were finally leaving, she said, “Got your notebook, Cammie? You’re going to need it.”
The embassy of a certain nearby nation is in an old brick building in Georgetown, about fifteen minutes from the White House. There is a curlicued black metal fence around the building. In the front is a door leading to offices, and around a corner is a door that goes to the residence, where Toni and her family live.
When Malik pulled the van up to the curb, there were already white TV trucks parked there and news guys with cameras and microphones clustered on the sidewalk.
Hooligan was in the back of our van, so I walked around, opened his crate, attached his leash to his collar and let him out. It was Tessa’s job to carry an Easter basket the White House pastry chef had prepared for Toni and her family.
“Ready?” Granny looked at Tessa, me and Nate. “All right then, let’s do this.”
Standing on each side of the embassy gate were soldiers in dark blue uniforms and caps. They had guns on their belts and bigger guns slung over their shoulders. I smiled at one as we walked through, but he didn’t smile back.
Yikes, I thought, but then I remembered that Secret Service people would be all around as long as we were inside. There was nothing to worry about—even if the soldiers from the nearby nation didn’t seem so friendly.
We followed a walkway to the front door, and Granny rang the doorbell. Instantly, there was a total ruckus of hysterical yip-yip-yipping from inside.
Hooligan responded with woof-woof-woofing of his own, not to mention he pulled the leash so hard I had to brace myself. Granny offered to take it, because she’s heavier, which would have been a good idea, except just then the door opened and here came Ozzabelle busting out at the same time Hooligan tried to bust in and—bam!—there was a drooling, fur-flying doggy collision.
Meanwhile, the leash dropped and—a few spins and tumbles later—both dogs were racing in circles around the brick courtyard while all the grown-ups either scurried out of the way or yelled or both.
In the background, I heard shouting from the news guys—“Great stuff!” “Are you getting this?”—and the whir and click of their equipment.
One thing Tessa, Nate and I have learned about doggy behavior: scurrying and yelling doesn’t help. Tessa held the Easter basket up high, but besides that we just stayed out of the way and watched. Then Toni came outside and grinned at us and shouted, “Hello!”
The canine chaos was settling down—Granny had hold of Hooligan’s leash, and Malik had cornered Ozzabelle—when my nose told me someone else had come out of the house, someone who smelled like perfume and cigarettes. I figured it had to be Toni’s grandmother, and I turned around . . . and got the shock of my life.
It was the lady with black hair from the security video at Mega Bird Farm!
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
My heart went thump, and I nudged Tessa—who looked around, too, and then so did Nate.
I don’t think the lady liked how surprised we looked, because she quickly disappeared back into the house. At the same time, her frown had given me goose bumps. Was she really Toni’s grandmother?
It was a few minutes before I found out. During that time, the dogs were taken to the backyard to play, and the news guys shot photos and video of my family, the Easter basket and Toni.
“Doesn’t your grandmother want to be in the pictures?” Granny asked Toni.
“Oh, no.” Toni shook her head. “She does not like the publicity. She says it is not her ‘style.’ ”
Eventually, Granny and Malik left to go back to the White House. The plan was for them to return to pick us up in a couple of hours. Nate, Tessa and I followed Toni inside. In the foyer, a small, gray-haired woman greeted us with hugs—Toni’s grandmother. She smelled like soap.
“It is my pleasure to meet Antonia’s dear friends,” she said. “And I must also take this opportunity to thank you for giving us the little dog, Ozzabelle. She is a nuisance, but she makes me laugh.”
Toni’s house was fancy—lots of shiny brass and black paint. Toni led us up the marble stairs to her room, which was big like Tessa’s and mine. It had a bed and also a sofa, chairs and a table. I noticed the rock collection right away because it was lit up on a shelf over a desk.
Before we sat down, Toni put on some music. After a few seconds, I realized it was familiar—Eb Ghanamamma! But that couldn’t be right. Wasn’t Eb Ghanamamma protesting against Toni’s very own uncle, President Manfred Alfredo-Chin?
I wanted to ask about that, but I was afraid it would be rude. And I wanted to ask about the lady with the black hair, too. But how was I supposed to explain where I’d seen her?
So I kept quiet.
But Tessa didn’t.
“Get out your notebook, Cammie,” she said as soon as we sat down. Then she straightened her detecting hat, crossed her arms over her chest and gave Toni the steely look she uses when she’s questioning a suspect.
Uh-oh—was this Tessa’s foolproof plan? But Toni wasn’t a suspect! Toni was our friend!
I started to shake my head at Tessa, but Toni said, “Oh, good, are you planning now to ask questions relating to a certain mystery? Because that is in reality the reason I invited you here today.”
Tessa said, “Antonia Alfredo-Chin, who is that lady with the black hair who is not your grandmother, anyway?”
Toni nodded. “That is an easy question. This woman is a new housekeeper. She and my abuelita came to Washington from our nation together a couple of months ago. She is not very good at her job, and she does not smile. But why—?”
Tessa held up her hand. “If you don’t mind, I am asking the questions here.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Oh, Tessa.
But Toni giggled. “This is like a real detective show! What else do you want to know from me?”
“Why did your new housekeeper go to Mega Bird Farm this week to ask if Mr. Valenteen bought an ostrich egg there last week that he took to the National Museum of Natural History pretending to be from a delivery company that for real does not even exist?”
Toni looked at Tessa. Then she looked at Nate and me. “Hu
h?” she said.
Tessa said, “Okay, we can come back to that one. How about this? How well do you know this Mr. Valenteen guy from your nation? The one Hooligan knocked over on TV?”
Toni said, “Not well, but it is said he sometimes does secret projects for my uncle, President Alfredo-Chin. It may be possible that he is a spy.”
Nate and I looked at each other. A spy?
And Tessa said, “Aha! So when Mr. Valenteen took the ostrich egg to the museum—was that a special project for President Alfredo-Chin? Like a spy project?”
Toni didn’t answer, but Nate nodded like he had just figured something out. “I see what you’re getting at, Tessa! You think the idea was to embarrass Professor Bohn and Professor Rexington at their talk—make it seem like they’re so dumb they can’t tell the difference between an ostrich egg and a dinosaur egg. Then—if the professors were wrong and there was no dinosaur egg—the old legend could still be true, and President Alfredo-Chin could stay president in perpetuity!”
“Exactly,” Tessa said, even though I know my sister, and I could tell she had never thought all that one bit.
Toni still didn’t say anything. Instead, she got up and walked over to her rock collection. “I do not know about ostrich eggs, but I do know many people in my nation disbelieve that silly legend, and many people are in favor of democracy.” She turned to face us. “That is why now, if you don’t mind, I would like to show you something.”
Toni’s collection included a white geode, a purple amethyst, a lump of turquoise and two pieces of pyrite, also known as fool’s gold. But the rock she brought over for us to look at wasn’t pretty like those. It was gray and boring and oval-shaped. She held it out . . . . . . and my heart almost stopped for the second time in an hour.
Tessa had turned pale, and her voice squeaked. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes,” said Toni. “It is the missing dinosaur egg fossil from the National Museum.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Tessa’s color came back fast.
“Woot! Cammie—get Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb on the phone! The First Kids have solved another one! And Toni”—she looked at our friend sorrowfully—“I hate to tell you, but you are under arrest. Now—give over that dinosaur egg you stole!”
Tessa made a grab, which caused Toni to squeal and jump back.
“Oh, for gosh sake, Tessa, would you chill?” I said. “We are not arresting anybody. If Toni ever stole any egg, would she invite us over to see it?”
Tessa pouted. “Oh, fine. But, Toni, if you’re not a thief, how did you get hold of a missing dinosaur egg?”
Toni shook her head. “I wish I knew. But the truth is it simply appeared in my rock collection.”
Tessa crossed her arms over her chest again. “And when was that?”
“It was Thursday, one week ago. I had just said my prayers that night, and I looked up at my collection and saw it. I had seen the picture on Jan and Larry, so I knew immediately what it was.”
I was scribbling as fast as I could and trying to think at the same time. Thursday was the same day the dinosaur egg’s crate was scanned at the airport here in Washington, the same day Mr. Valenteen bought the ostrich egg at Mega Bird Farm and the same day Mr. Valenteen—pretending to be Red Heart Delivery—took the ostrich egg to the museum.
Just in case, I asked Toni if she had ever heard of Red Heart Delivery, and she said, “Yes! I saw a van with that name on our street. I noticed because I wondered if they only delivered flowers and chocolate and diamonds.”
“When was that?” Tessa asked.
Toni frowned. “It was that same Thursday. I remember I was still wearing my clothes from horseback riding—and my lessons are on Thursday.”
Tessa nodded. “So Mr. Valenteen must’ve replaced the dinosaur egg with an ostrich egg and brought the dinosaur egg here. After that, he must’ve brought it upstairs to put in Toni’s collection.”
Toni shook her head. “No, no—only the family and our guests may come upstairs in the residence! Mr. Valenteen would never be allowed.”
“In that case, he gave it to somebody, and they brought it upstairs,” Nate said. “But why? And who did he give it to?”
“It cannot have been my father,” Toni said, “because he was away last week. But wait—I am forgetting. There is the housekeeper, Mrs. Casera. She is permitted upstairs because of course she must do the cleaning.”
“There you go,” said Tessa. “I think Mr. Valenteen was working with Mrs. Casera, and he gave the egg to her.”
I thought that might be right. “But why did she put it in Toni’s rock collection?”
“And if Mrs. Casera was working with Mr. Valenteen,” said Nate, “why did she have to go back to Mega Bird Farm to ask about the ostrich egg? There’s something we’re not getting here.”
I thought of how Mrs. Casera and Toni’s abuelita looked a little bit alike. “Toni,” I said, “did Mr. Valenteen know your grandmother by sight? Or Mrs. Casera?”
Toni shrugged. “Perhaps not. As I told you, my abuelita does not like publicity, so she rarely appears on TV or in magazines.”
“Then maybe,” I said, thinking out loud, “Mr. Valenteen was supposed to give the egg to Mrs. Casera, and she was supposed to get rid of it—all to preserve the legend for President Alfredo-Chin. But instead, Mr. Valenteen gave the egg to your grandmother.”
Toni said, “You mean it was a case of mistaken identity!”
I nodded. “And Mrs. Casera—when she didn’t get the egg like she was supposed to—she went to Mega Bird Farm to check up.”
“If you are right, it was my abuelita who put the egg in my rock collection,” Toni said. “Maybe she did not know what it was, or maybe she did know and wanted a hiding place. . . .”
Tessa jumped up. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go ask her!”
Toni remained seated. “If I may—there is something more important right now even than solving this mystery. You see, I asked you here today for a particular reason. I believe the First Kids are the only people in the world who can help me do what is right. We must return the dinosaur egg to its rightful owners at the museum, but we must do this without embarrassing my uncle, my father or anyone else from my nation. Is this possible? Will you help me?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Nate and I looked at each other. We wanted to help—but how?
Tessa’s reaction was different. She sat back down, rubbed her hands together and said: “No problemo! All we have to do is think sneaky. And thinking sneaky is one of my talents.”
Nate nodded. “True.”
And the way it turned out—Tessa was right. After about five minutes of brainstorming, she had added up one dinosaur egg, one Easter basket and one big Monday event at the White House to equal one foolproof plan.
“All we need now,” she said in conclusion, “is chocolate chips.”
Toni nodded. “There are plenty in the kitchen. But we must hurry! Your grandmother will be back in only one hour.”
The kitchen in the residence part of the embassy is on the first floor and not that different from one in a normal house. When we walked in—luckily—no one was there. Toni went straight to a pantry cupboard and pulled out the chocolate chips. From another cupboard, she got a pan.
Then she poured the chips into the pan and turned on the stove.
“You’ve got to stir it, or they’ll burn,” I said.
“Who cares?” Tessa said. “It’s not like anybody’s going to eat it—owieee! Think of your teeth!”
“No, no one’s going to eat it—but burnt chocolate smells terrible,” I said. “Someone might come to investigate.”
“Investigate what?” said a voice from the doorway—Toni’s abuelita!
Now we had a puzzle. Did we tell her what we were doing? Ask her about the dinosaur egg—whether she had put it in Toni’s collection, whether she knew what it was?
But what if she tried to stop us from returning it to Dr. Bohn
and Dr. Rexington at the museum?
For a moment, we all froze. Then Toni turned and said—a little too cheerfully—“Hello, Abuelita! Uh . . . we were just making some, uh—”
“Easter treats!” My sneaky sister helped her out, and—without us kids even talking about it—the decision was made.
Abuelita raised her eyebrows. “Oh, yes? That is very nice.”
“Abuelita,” Toni said, thinking fast, “would you mind getting the beautiful Easter basket brought to me this afternoon by my friends? Only . . . I am sorry, but I am not sure where I put it. Perhaps in the parlor? Or my bedroom?”
Abuelita said certainly, she didn’t mind looking, and was barely out the door when the three of us rushed to the stove. The chocolate had melted by now. It was smooth and glossy and smelled delicious—but we couldn’t get sidetracked with a taste test. We had dipping to do.
It might be that someday you’ll have to dip a dinosaur egg fossil in chocolate to disguise it, and if so, I have some advice:
1) Use tongs.
2) Dip repeatedly.
3) Have plenty of paper towels handy.
4) Decorate with sprinkles.
By the time Toni’s grandmother found the Easter basket, our Easter egg of unusual size was chilling in the freezer, and—if I do say so myself—for a rock, it looked good. We thanked Toni’s grandmother, then took the beautiful basket apart—which seemed a little sad. The nice chocolate eggs and cookies we put in a bowl for Toni’s family. The Easter grass and a few jelly beans we left.
Later we would put our special chocolate egg in the center and walk right out of the embassy with it.
At least, that was the plan.
“And the Easter treats you made, may I see?” Abuelita asked.
Uh-oh.
I was worried, but Toni went straight over to the freezer and opened it. Would the disguise be successful?
Abuelita studied the egg. Then she looked at us . . . and for a split second, I was terrified she knew exactly what we were up to. But she couldn’t, could she?
The Case of the Missing Dinosaur Egg Page 6