Free The Case of the Diamond Dog Collar by Martha Freeman Page A

chance my sister, my cousin and I could look at some TV stories from Thursday afternoon?”
    â€œSure—there are plenty, and I’d be happy to help.” Ms. Major stopped dancing to check the calendar on her phone. Pickles went back to chewing her laces. “How about one o’clock—right after lunch?”
    â€œWe’ll be there,” I said. “Thanks.”

    Ms. Major’s office is in the West Wing. My mom’s office, the Oval Office, is there, too. Mom’s is really nice, but a lot of the West Wing is so crowded it’s crazy. Almost everyone works in a cubicle, which is a room with no door and thin pretend walls.
    Malik was on duty again, so Tessa, Nate and I had come downstairs with him. Trying to find Ms. Major was like being trapped in a maze. Finally, Malik called out: “Hello-o-o? Ms. Ann Major, are you there?”
    When an answering voice called, “Hello-o-o-o!,” we followed it and found her.
    â€œWelcome to my world,” Ms. Major said. It was a tiny space with bare walls except for a calendar turned to last January. The picture on it was a German shepherd. There was no place for four people to sit down, so we crowded around her desk. On it were an old, boxy computer, binders, papers and photos of Pickles.
    â€œAs you know, several stations covered the events on Thursday,” she said. “So I pulled up four examples—Fox, CNN, CBS and the local news with Jan and Larry. We could probably find more if you need them.”
    It took us about half an hour to watch the four clips. A lot was the same, of course, but there were differences. Like three of the announcers treated the story mostly like a joke, and one treated it like the whole country had spun out of control. Also there were different views, depending on where the camera guys were standing.
    The longest report was Jan and Larry’s.
    It started with a close-up of Hooligan before hebroke his leash, and Jan’s voice saying, “With his diamond dog collar, the presidential pooch sported a glamorous new look this afternoon. But soon thereafter, chaos erupted on the South Lawn!”
    â€œMs. Major,” Nate interrupted. “Could you go back over that part, please?”
    â€œSure.” She restarted it.
    â€œLook at that,” Nate said. “When Hooligan turns, you can see all the diamonds—twelve of ’em.”
    What happened next on the video wasn’t a picture, it was noise—the yakking birds. After that, Hooligan took off running with Tessa after him, her hair blowing everywhere, her eyes tearing in the wind.
    â€œWell,
that’s
not very flattering,” she said.
    The clip went on to show the parade of pursuers—with a close-up of the vice president—and even a view of flowers being crushed by stomping feet. Jan and Larry took turns narrating. At one point Jan said, “Look at that, Larry. For a time, when he was near the tennis courts, Hooligan eluded his pursuers altogether!”
    â€œBingo,” said Nate.
    â€œIs that what you were after?” Ms. Major asked.
    â€œPartly,” said Nate, “but keep going.”
    Now the view pulled back to a bunch of confused-looking people searching for Hooligan by the bushes near the garden plot. Among them were Tessa and the vice president, but you couldn’t see Mr. Bryant. Maybe he was there, but he wasn’t in the shot.
    The final few seconds showed Dad’s helicopterlanding and then Ms. Kootoor—cameraman catnip—with Hooligan licking her face.
    â€œI guess all’s well that ends well,” said the voice of Larry.
    â€œBow wow to that,” said Jan. “In other news . . .”
    Ms. Major stopped the video on the last frame. Nate pointed to the screen. “See that?” It was another view of Hooligan’s collar, and guess what? A diamond was missing.
    Ms. Major looked at her watch. Like everyone who works for my mom, she