Free The Skeleton in the Smithsonian by Ron Roy Page A

ago. I think the president is sweet on her.”
    “Told you,” Marshall said to KC.
    “It’s not serious!” KC insisted.
    They followed Arnold to the president’s private apartment. Arnold rapped on the door and a voice said, “Come in.”
    The president and KC’s mom were seated at a table, drinking lemonade. President Thornton was setting up a Monopoly board. His fluffy cat, George, was purring on his lap. “Hi, KC. Hi, Marshall,” he said. “Have some lemonade. You look hot.”
    “It’s roasting out there,” Marshall said. “And guess what? The air-conditioning broke in the Smithsonian building.”
    “The Castle?” the president asked. “They’ll get it fixed by tomorrow, I’m sure.”
    KC gave her mom a kiss. “Where’s the pizza?” she asked.
    “The cook’s making it right now,” KC’s mom said. She looked across at thepresident. “What is he putting on it, Zachary?”
    KC couldn’t get used to hearing her mom call the President of the United States by his first name. KC called him sir or Mr. President.
    The president grinned. “Rat tails and toad tongues,” he said.
    The vice president, Mary Kincaid, walked into the room. She said hello, then handed the president a folded piece of paper. “I hope this is a gag, sir.”
    President Thornton quickly read what was on the paper. When he looked up, his grin was gone. “Someone is claiming to be the heir to James Smithson,” he said.
    “Who’s James Smithson?” KC asked.
    “He was the man who started the Smithsonian Institution,” the presidentsaid. “He was a wealthy British scientist who died in the 1800s. Mr. Smithson left his money to his nephew, about half a million dollars. Smithson’s will stated that if the nephew died without children, the money should come to the United States to create the Smithsonian Institution.”
    The president scooted George off his lap and walked to a shelf. He pulled out a book and opened it to a picture of James Smithson. “When the nephew died without heirs,” President Thornton went on, “Congress received the money and the Smithsonian Castle was begun in 1847. Since then, many other buildings have been added.”
    “And now someone is claiming to be an heir?” KC’s mom asked. “So that half a million dollars …”
    “That’s right.” The president glanced down at the note. “This man—Leonard Fisher—claims that the money used to start the Smithsonian Institution really belongs to him. And with interest, it would be worth millions of dollars!”
    Everyone stared at the president. “Can he do that?” KC asked.
    “He can say whatever he wants,” the president said. He turned to the vice president. “Mary, I’d like to meet with Mr. Fisher tonight, if possible.”
    A man in a white jacket entered the room carrying a pizza. “Put it next to the Monopoly board, please,” the president said. Then he picked up the dice. “Since I’m the president,” he said, “I get to roll first.”

2
The Unknown Heir
    KC and Marshall were clearing up the pizza plates when Leonard Fisher and his attorney were announced.
    “We appreciate your coming on such short notice,” the president told the two men.
    “No problem,” Mr. A. C. Rook, the attorney, said. He smiled, showing a row of small, sharp teeth.
    Leonard Fisher sat down on a couch. He wore a blue jacket over a white shirt with no tie. “Thanks for inviting us,” he said. “I want to get this settled so I can get back to work soon.”
    “Oh, what do you do, Mr. Fisher?” Mary Kincaid asked.
    “I’m a landscape designer,” he said. “When rich people want a nice garden, they call me.”
    Just then Mr. Fisher sneezed. Grabbing a paper napkin, he wiped his eyes and nose. “Sorry, I’m allergic to those.” He pointed to a blue vase of flowers on the table.
    “You’re allergic to flowers?” Mary Kincaid asked.
    “Just those tall ones, the lilies,” Mr. Fisher said.
    Mary Kincaid made a phone call. A few seconds later, a maid