Read Online The Case of the Piggy Bank Thief by Martha Freeman - Free Book Online Page B

shook himself all over, sniffed the air again and headed through the Family Kitchen to one of our favorite shortcuts—the narrow, twisty back staircase to the main White House kitchen on the ground floor.
    Behind us I could hear Humdinger in his cage singing,
“Twee-twee-twee!”
    The stairs clanged and clattered as we ran down. Twice, Hooligan stopped and dropped his head and I almost rear-ended him. What was up with that? Had he found treats?
    But there was no time to think about it. When we emerged into the kitchen, it was hot and busy with cooks making snacks for the ceremony later.
    Running through—“Hello!” “Hi!” “Hello!”
“Sorry!”
—we dodged and weaved, hoping not to cause anycollisions. Exiting, I heard
rattle-rattle-bang
and then a terrible crash.
    Oops.
    From there we went left, then right through the Dip Room, where Jeremy opened the door for us—“Thanks!”—and then we were outside. In the cooler air, Hooligan’s energy came back full force, and as hard as Tessa and I ran, we couldn’t keep up.
    Where was he going, anyway? Was he really tracking the piggy bank, or was he on some personal mission of his own?
    Whatever it was, he had a destination in mind, and when he reached it, he screeched to a halt, circled twice, sat down and howled,
“Awh-roohr!”
like he wanted us to hurry up.
    Tessa got there first and grabbed Hooligan and gave him a hug—
“Good puppy!”
—which was smart, because by then he was sniffing the ground with a little too much enthusiasm. Uh-oh. If he dug another hole, Mr. Golley would never forgive him—or us.
    Now I ran up, breathless. “I don’t know if he’s being good,” I said. “It might be he’s just chasing moles again.” Because where we were was the same place we’d been that morning—the Mole City part of the dig site. In fact, Hooligan was sniffing around the northwest corner where Tessa had found the gold Friday. Only there wasn’t any hole anymore.
    Had Mr. Golley’s crew filled it in?
    Tessa looked at me. “Wait—are you saying my sweat smells like some kind of rodent?”
    And I said, “I don’t think a mole is technically a rodent. Not to mention, I don’t know how one smells. What I’m really saying is, where’s the piggy bank?”
    Tessa pointed at the ground with her toe. “Down there. Buried. Anyway, that’s what Hooligan thinks.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

    MR. Golley wouldn’t like it if we let Hooligan dig another hole. But maybe—if we asked first—it would be okay for Tessa and me to dig one. So the two of us and Hooligan went over to the office under the canopy. Professor Mudd was there, writing notes on the computer. His eyebrows rose and fell as we explained how Hooligan had tracked Tessa’s missing piggy bank. Of course, we didn’t mention the gold.
    I guess our story must’ve sounded pretty crazy, because I had to tell it twice. Tessa didn’t say a word. Finally Professor Mudd said, “So you’re telling me the hole has been filled in?” When I nodded, he threw up his hands. “You may as well grab a trowel from the tool cupboard,” he told me, “and together we will get to the bottom of this.”
    By this time, the dirt had been disturbed so much that digging was easy. I knelt and cut one scoop, then another, then another, and . . . oh my gosh!
    I saw something pink!
    One more scoop, and I saw faded, flaking painted roses.
    But if you’re thinking,
Woot! Mystery solved!
—well, think again. Because Tessa’s piggy bank had been smashed into about a hundred sharp and tiny pieces, and soon we had the whole thing—stubby snout to twisty tail.
    As for the gold coin?
    There was no sign of it.
    And no sign of the two dollars and twelve cents, either.
    Professor Mudd shook his head. “In my entire