Free The Case of the Rock 'n' Roll Dog by Martha Freeman

“It will never work, and it will get us in trouble for not being nice. But . . .” She paused dramatically. “. . . it’s our only hope!”
    While I brushed my teeth and put on my soccer uniform, I tried to think of the best way to ask my
so superior
cousin if he was a thief. Getting the words right would be tricky. I had to surprise him into confessing but not surprise him into socking me.
    I practiced in front of the mirror a couple of times. Then I headed for breakfast.
    Tessa was already at the table. When I sat down, I saw no place was set for Nate.
    â€œIsn’t Nate eating with us?” I asked.
    Dad was at the head of the table, hidden behind
The Washington Post
. “He’s got some special project or other. He’s supposed to be back after lunch.”
    Tessa looked at me. “Now can we give up?”
    I said no, but I was just being stubborn. Truthfully? I was out of ideas.

    As usual, Granny went to ballet with Tessa, and Dad came to soccer with me. Like always, Secret Service agents have to come with both of us. That day, Dad and Malik cheered like crazy, but my team, the D.C. Destroyers got D.C. Destroyed—4–1.
    Meanwhile, at ballet, Tessa took a wrong leap and knocked over the girl next to her.
    Back home Tessa and I took showers. We dried our hair. We ate lunch. Then it was time to get dressed for The Song Boys.
    I should have been so excited!
    Instead, I was so miserable. Tessa and I had bragged to Colonel Michaels about our detecting skills. We had promised we would find his baton. How could we tell him we had failed?
    If your mom is the president, you can’t always choose what you wear. For “public occasions”—the ones with photographers and lots of people—Aunt Jen picks for us. Our clothes for The Song Boys concert were laid out on the bed. For Tessa, there was a pink skirt and a pink sweater and tights with pink flowers. She saw her outfit and squealed. Tessa loves pink.
    For me, there was a boring blue dress with pockets, white tights with blue flowers and a boring white sweater.
    I did not squeal. And when I tugged on the dress, it was itchy.
    â€œHurry up,” I said to Tessa. She was fixing her hair. “If we go now, there’s time to look for Nate.”
    Tessa put her brush down. “If we take the elevator, we can say hi to Mr. Bryant.”
    Hooligan was waiting outside our bedroom and followed us. It was Tessa’s turn to press the elevator button, but before she could, something amazing happened—something unbelievable: Hooligan sat back on his haunches, leaned forward so his front paws hit the wall, and then, with the tip of his wet black nose, he pressed the button himself!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

    TESSA and I were still staring when the elevator door opened.
    â€œHello, young ladies. Hello, Hooligan,” Mr. Bryant greeted us. “How are all of you this fine afternoon?”
    Hooligan trotted through the door. Mr. Bryant grinned and gave him a dog biscuit from his pocket.
    Tessa and I spoke at once: “
Mr. Bryant, Hooligan just
—”
    â€œ
Mr. Bryant, did you know Hooligan can
—”
    â€œCall the elevator?” Mr. Bryant chuckled. “You’re no dummy, are you, Hooligan? You know I’ve got biscuits.”
    Hooligan wagged his tail, and Mr. Bryant gave him another one. “Your pup gives as good as he gets, though—brings me treats, too. Napkins mostly. The occasional Barbie. Sticks sometimes.”
    â€œHe brings you treats? What do you do with ’em?” I asked.
    Mr. Bryant counted on his fingers. “Cloth napkinsI return to the laundry,” he said. “Barbies I give to one of the maids. Sticks and miscellaneous? Hooligan gets to keep those.”
    â€œDoes Hooligan use the elevator a lot?” I asked.
    Mr. Bryant shrugged. “I like to have the company.”
    â€œCammie, do you get it?” Tessa asked. “
This
is