THE CASE OF THE
RUBY SLIPPERS
MARTHA FREEMAN
Holiday House / New York
Text copyright © 2012 by Martha Freeman
All Rights Reserved
HOLIDAY HOUSE is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
www.holidayhouse.com
ISBN 978-0-8234-3036-9 (ebook)w
ISBN 978-0-8234-3037-6 (ebook)r
Spot art by Chris Russo © 2012 by Holiday House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Freeman, Martha, 1956-
The case of the ruby slippers / Martha Freeman. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: With the help of their rambunctious dog, Hooligan, seven-year-old Tessa and ten-year-old Cammie, daughters of the first female president, investigate when Dorothy’s ruby slippers vanish while on loan to the White House.
ISBN 978-0-8234-2409-2 (hardcover)
1. White House (Washington, D.C.)—Juvenile fiction.
[1. White House (Washington, D.C.)—Fiction. 2. Presidents—Family—Fiction.
3. Sisters—Fiction. 4. Dogs—Fiction. 5. Lost and found
possessions.—Fiction. 6. Washington, D.C.—Fiction.
7. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.
I. Title.
PZ7.F87496Cas 2012
[Fic]—dc22
2011044582
ISBN 978-0-8234-2764-2 (paperback)
To a few of my most dedicated fans: Noah Belser, Jason Fontelieu, Emma Howard, Jane Yant Kinney, Hannah Meyer-Winkler, and the very first, Evan Cheney.
CHAPTER ONE
Thursday after school, a limousine pulled up to the back door of my house, along with three motorcycles and some police cars with flashing lights and sirens.
This happens.
Usually it means a king or a hero or a rock star is coming to visit.
But on Thursday it was a pair of shoes.
My little sister, Tessa, and I had been watching from the second floor.
“Cammie, come on!” Tessa grabbed my hand. “If we hurry, we can be down there in time to see them open the box.”
Like always when you’re rushing, the elevator took forever. Then, when it finally came, Mr. Jackson was in no hurry. “Hello, Cameron. Hello, Tessa. Going—”
“—down, please!” said Tessa.
“Yes, Miss Parks.” Mr. Jackson hasn’t been running the elevator for that long, but already he is used to Tessa. He gave her a mini-salute then winked at me. I winked back.
On the ground floor, Tessa blasted through the elevator doors, and I was right behind her. A second later we had crossed the hall into the Diplomatic Reception Room, also known as the Dip Room. It’s the first room you come to from the backyard, which in a regular house would be the mudroom, but ours has a fireplace and chandeliers and fancy antique wallpaper.
Inside were lots of grown-ups, including Secret Service agents, photographers, and a man in a black suit who I figured must be from the National Museum of American History. He was standing beside a big table in the middle, and with him was Mrs. Silver, my aunt’s social secretary. Mrs. Silver’s hand was on the lid of a plain white shoe box.
You probably guessed that a pair of shoes that gets driven around in a limousine with police cars is not a regular pair of shoes. In fact, next to Cinderella’s, the ones in the plain white shoe box were about the most famous shoes ever: the ruby slippers from the movie, The Wizard of Oz.
Like all good Americans, Tessa and I love the movie, and we also love the book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum. It’s super old-fashioned, but also full of action and fantastic characters.
Anyway, our Aunt Jen loves the story, too. This weekend is her birthday, and a new friend of hers had the idea of throwing a surprise (shhh!) Wizard of Oz party for her. We’re having it at home because our family and Aunt Jen all happen to live together in a house that’s really good for parties—the White House.
Tessa pushed her way into the room, hollering: “Wait for us!”
And I trailed behind her, apologizing: “Sorry. Excuse us. Oops—didn’t see your foot. My sister’s kind of—”
“There you are, girls.” Mrs. Silver smiled. “Now, is everybody ready?”
“We are so ready!” Tessa told Mrs. Silver.
“All right then,” she answered, and—as cameras flashed, beeped and whirred—she lifted the lid.
Of course there was a layer of tissue on top. And another layer of tissue under that. Mrs. Silver smiled and unfolded tissue and smiled . . . till finally she got impatient and tugged out the whole wad . . . and then her smile disappeared.
The box was empty. The ruby slippers were gone.
CHAPTER TWO
Mrs. Silver took a breath and looked up at the man in the black suit. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding,” she said calmly.
The man in the black suit was not calm. He was hysterical. “There’s no misunderstanding! Someone has stolen the ruby slippers!”
After that everyone started talking at once, and it got really noisy till one sound rose above the rest, the sound of a dog howling: “Aw-roohr!”
Tessa looked at me. “Uh-oh.”
And in the same instant, someone by the door shouted, “Gangway!” and Hooligan, our big furry mutt, came charging in from the South Lawn. He was attached to one of those long retractable leashes, and our friend Mr. Bryant was way back at the other end, trying to put on the brakes.
“Heel, Hooligan!” Mr. Bryant called, “Heel!” but Hooligan just kept running. You can’t blame him. He’s Tessa’s and my dog; he was happy we were home from school.
Plus he had something in his mouth to show us.
Most of the people ahead of Hooligan managed to jump out of his way, but a pretty photographer didn’t, and she got knocked into the arms of Malik, my second-favorite Secret Service agent. Meanwhile, Hooligan’s leash was getting tangled in a zigzag of ankles, one of which belonged to the man in the black suit, only he didn’t realize it and he tripped and fell, which I guess hurt, because he started saying some inappropriate words that Tessa, who is seven, is not supposed to know.
I don’t even think Tessa heard, though. She was busy saying hi to Hooligan, who by then had dropped his prize and sat down so we could pat him and tell him he’s such a good, good dog.
“What did you bring us, puppy?” Tessa picked up the object, which turned out to be a woman’s red shoe covered in sequins. “Look, Cammie, do you think . . . ?”
“Yes, I think . . . Charlotte!” I took the shoe and waved it. “Look!”
Charlotte is my first favorite Secret Service agent. When she looked, so did everybody else in the Dip Room. Mrs. Silver said, “There’s one, at least,” but the man in the black suit squealed like he had seen a ghost. “Wh-wh-wh-where did that come from?”
“Hooligan brought it, didn’t you, you good puppy?” Tessa answered.
“And where’s the other one?” Malik asked. By then, he had set the photographer back on her own two feet.
“Come on, Cammie.” Tessa tugged my arm. “Before everybody else gets the same idea, let’s take Hooligan and find the other shoe.”
It might sound like bragging, but I’m going to say it anyway: Tessa and I are good at finding things.
Since our mom, Marilee Parks, got to be president in January, we—along with our cousin Nate and our granny—have already solved two mysteries. Nate, if you’re wondering, is Aunt Jen’s son. He and Aunt Jen and Granny all live with us here in the White House.
Was it possible a missing slipper was the start of another mystery?
Quickly, I handed the shoe to Charlotte, who took it to
Mrs. Silver and the man in the black suit. Then, while everybody fussed over tooth marks and dog slobber, we headed outside with Mr. Bryant and Hooligan.
CHAPTER THREE
Because we’re the president’s kids, Tessa and I are always protected by Secret Service people. Even just going out in our backyard—the White House South Lawn—we knew we were being watched. Charlotte and Malik and Jeremy and the other agents do their best to stay out of our way, though. As much as possible, our mom and dad want us to feel like normal kids.
It was dark and cloudy on the South Lawn that afternoon, but the quiet was nice after so much craziness inside.
“Did you see where Hooligan picked it up, Mr. Bryant?” Tessa asked.
“Picked what up?” asked Mr. Bryant.
Tessa waved her arms the way she does. “The ruby slipper!”
“Ruby slipper? Is that what he brought into the house? No wonder there was so much commotion.” Mr. Bryant shook his head. “I’m not sure about this fancy kind of leash. Sometimes old Hooligan gets so far out in front of me, I can’t tell what he’s up to.”
“In that case,” I said, “we should retrace your steps.”
Tessa nodded. “Show us where you went on your walk today, Mr. Bryant. Pretty please?”
Hooligan had been sitting by Tessa, but now he stood up and trotted toward the driveway. The police cars and motorcycles were gone, but the limousine from the museum was still waiting, with its driver standing beside it in his black driver uniform. He was wearing sunglasses, and his cap was pulled down so you could hardly see his face. Tessa waved at him, but instead of waving back, he bumped his sunglasses back against his nose and walked away.
This was weird. Tessa has blond hair and a cute face, and she’s the daughter of the president of the United States. People aren’t usually rude to Tessa.
We didn’t have time to wonder about it though. Hooligan was picking up speed, and we had to hurry to keep up. While we jogged, we scanned the scene, looking for the second slipper. There are plenty of trees and bushes in the backyard of the White House. Right around here, though, it’s mostly lawn, and if there was a red shoe, it would stand out a mile away.
But there was no red shoe.
The driveway on the South Lawn forms a circle. Hooligan seemed to be leading us on a lap around it, so soon we were heading back toward the limo.
“Is this where you went?” Tessa asked.
Mr. Bryant nodded. “We hadn’t gone far when the vehicles pulled up and there was all that racket, and Hooligan changed course. Coming back toward the house here, he got interested in the limousine and yanked me around like a bad waltz partner. I had to let the leash out to its full length, or he would’ve pulled me right over on my face. Did you notice the driver wasn’t particularly friendly just now?”
“We noticed,” Tessa said.
“Well, it could be that’s because Hooligan tried to jump up on the limo for a look inside,” said Mr. Bryant. “I don’t know what he was after, but the driver was awfully cross. Anyway, next thing I knew, Hooligan had changed course again. I suppose that must be when he retrieved the ruby slipper.”
Approaching the big black car, Hooligan was on his best behavior. I had the leash, and he was trotting one step behind me just the way he’d been taught in Canine Class. Meanwhile, the driver was nowhere in sight.
“I think the other slipper is near the limo, don’t you, Cammie?” Tessa asked. “Somehow they must have fallen out of the box.”
This didn’t really make sense. Someone had to have been holding the box when it came out of the car. Probably the man in the black suit. How could the lid come off, the slippers tumble out, and the box put itself back together again—all without him or anyone noticing?
While Tessa looked around the car, I tried to get a peek inside. Resting on the backseat was a big plastic box like a pet carrier. But before I could see for sure, Hooligan gave a serious tug and spun me around.
“Hey—?” I cried and tightened my grip but too late; the leash slipped out of my hand, and I looked up just in time to see something arcing through the air above us. Hooligan had seen it, too, and was racing across the grass to intercept it. Mouth open, he leaped gracefully, extended his neck, and . . . missed.
Mr. Bryant scratched his head. “He’ll never make the big leagues that way.”
But Hooligan wasn’t even embarrassed. He picked up the thing and trotted toward us, head and tail held high.
It was late afternoon by now. The sun was low in the sky. Shining through the trees, it made sparkles on whatever it was Hooligan had in his mouth. Red sparkles. Could it be . . . ?
Yes!
The second ruby slipper!
Tessa reached for it, and Hooligan let go without even making her play tug-of-war. “Good dog!” Tessa said. “And you know what else?” She looked at Mr. Bryant and me. “Case closed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I wanted to believe Tessa was right.
But I had a few questions. Besides how the slippers had escaped their box, I couldn’t figure out where this second one had come from. Red slippers don’t usually fly over the White House lawn. Did somebody throw it?
Tessa, Mr. Bryant, Hooligan and I went back into the Dip Room. By now, most of the people had gone. But Mrs. Silver was still there, along with the man in the black suit, Malik and the pretty photographer.
With the shoe hidden behind her back, Tessa walked up to Mrs. Silver and said, “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”
Mrs. Silver had had a bad afternoon. “I’m really not in the mood for—”
“Trust me,” Tessa said.
Mrs. Silver frowned but did what Tessa asked. When the shoe touched her palm, she smiled and opened her eyes. “Oh, my stars! Wherever—?”
Tessa explained.
Meanwhile, the man in the black suit stared at the ceiling and shook his head.
“May I?” The pretty photographer held up her camera. I know all the usual photographers, but I didn’t know her. Was she new?
Mrs. Silver said, “Go ahead, but only a couple. We don’t need undue publicity about our little misunderstanding this afternoon.”
Tessa held up the slippers for the picture, flipped her hair and smiled like a movie star. Can you tell she likes having her picture taken? I would rather get a measles shot.
After that, Mrs. Silver said good-bye to the man in the black suit, and Malik helped the pretty photographer pack up.
“What are you going to do with the slippers till Saturday?” I asked Mrs. Silver.
“The museum has transferred responsibility for them to White House security, so Malik is going to accompany me to my office, and together we’ll put them in the safe,” she said.
Back upstairs, Tessa and I settled in at our desks to do homework. Our bedroom is on the second floor over the North Portico, the door that faces Pennsylvania Avenue, also known as the front door. There are plenty of bedrooms in the White House, but Tessa and I share one. The house is big and old and creaky. Some people even say it’s haunted. When Tessa and I moved here in January, we didn’t want our own rooms. We wanted to be together.
My main homework that day was finishing an English project called “Movie-Story.” The idea is to read a story and watch the movie version, then compare. We had to make a presentation using a tri-fold poster and three objects to display differences and similarities. My cousin Nate and I are both in Ms. Nicols’s class, and he was doing a story called 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by a writer named Jules Verne.
I was doing Snow White.
I had done most of the work already, like making a chart to show what was the same and what was different. Mostly, the original fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm is a lot grosser and gorier than the Disney version. Like at the end of the fairy tale, the wicked queen dances herself to death wearing fiery hot shoes!
My objects were a mirror and an apple, so far. I needed one more, but I hadn’t been able to think of anything. I was just finishing up the
gluing when Granny called us for dinner.
Tessa jumped up and bolted out the door. “I’m starving!”
She wasn’t really starving. She was sick of subtraction homework.
I wasn’t in such a hurry so I stood up and stretched. But heading for the door, I heard thumps and bumps in the hall, and then someone squealed, “Ow-e-e-e-e!”
What was going on? Was my sister okay?
CHAPTER FIVE
No, my sister was not okay.
She was rolling around on the hall carpet, kicking and squealing like a wild animal was attacking. Then when I ran over I saw a wiggly black ball of fur clinging to her left foot.
“Oh, for gosh sake, Tessa,” I said. “It’s a puppy. Hold still.” I bent down, detached the puppy teeth from Tessa’s sneaker and lifted the squirming little guy. “Hey, don’t!” It was licking my face. “Awww, look, Tessa. It’s a she, and she’s cute.”
Tessa sat up and frowned. “I like big dogs. Who does this one belong to anyway?”
“I dunno,” I said. “Maybe that Mr. Will guy came a day early?”
Mr. Will is supposedly my Aunt Jen’s new boyfriend, only we don’t say “boyfriend” in front of Nate because he gets annoyed. Aunt Jen’s husband died in a war before Nate was born, and she’s never had a boyfriend before. I think the whole idea makes my cousin nervous.
Anyway, having a Wizard of Oz surprise party was Mr. Will’s idea. There’s plenty of room in the White House, and he was going to stay over to help get ready.
“Hello—did I hear my name?” A man appeared in the hallway behind us. He had short brown hair, a square face and big glasses. “Oh there you are, Ozzabelle! Have you been a good dog?”
Because of my grandmother, I notice when anyone’s not polite—like this person, who spoke to his dog but didn’t even nod at the two perfectly good humans in front of him. Maybe he never had a grandmother?
The Case of the Ruby Slippers Page 1