Read Online The Case of the Ruby Slippers by Martha Freeman - Free Book Online Page B

suit—confess to the police?” I asked.
    â€œNo,” said Dr. Zapato. “He claims it’s all a misunderstanding, and because there’s no evidence he actually stole anything, the police may have to let him go. There is, however, one ray of hope. As long as the chip’s battery remains charged, our tech people may be able to use remote telemetry to amplify the signals to a level at which it can be sensed by a receiver in close proximity.”
    Since Nate wasn’t there, I had to translate the grownup talk myself. “So,” I said slowly, “you’re saying that if the slippers are still in the White House, and if the tech guys can strengthen the signals, then a receiver in the White House might be able to read the signals and find the slippers?”
    â€œI see you deserve your reputation as a detective, young lady,” said Dr. Zapato. “You’ve caught on quickly.”
    â€œBut how long does the battery charge last?” Charlotte asked.
    â€œBetween thirty-six and forty hours,” said Dr. Zapato.
    I looked at the clock on the wall. “If the signal faded around one yesterday morning, then it’s been like thirty-four hours already,” I said. “There isn’t much time.”
    â€œNo, there’s not,” said Dr. Zapato. “Will you help us?”
    Duh
didn’t seem like a polite answer. So I said yes instead. “But what exactly is it you want my sister and me to do?”
    Mr. Webb handed me the silver receiver gadget. “Find the slippers,” said Dr. Zapato, “before the chips’ charges die.”
    On our way back through the corridors of the museum, I gave the receiver to Charlotte. It would attract attention if I was carrying it, but Charlotte already had a bunch of stuff clipped to her belt.
    â€œIf our techie guys get it to work, it will buzz,” Mr. Morgan explained. “Then take a look, and you should see the flashing red lights that represent the ruby slippers.”
    â€œDoes it have a zoom or something?” Charlotte asked.
    â€œIf you turn the dial,” said Mr. Morgan, “you’ll see it’s capable of locating the chips within a few feet.”
    When we climbed back into the van, Malik asked, “What took you so long?”
    â€œOh, you know how guys are.” Charlotte winked at me. “Yak-yak-yak. I think Cammie filled up about halfher notebook. And now she’s gonna be late for her date, too.”
    Date?
    Oh my gosh!
    I totally forgot!
    The dashboard clock said 10:59, and Paul Song was supposed to be in the White House East Room at eleven.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

    Back home, I took the stairs two at a time to my bedroom, then, my heart pounding, I stopped to look in the mirror at my plain old self. Put on a hairclip maybe? Or my favorite T-shirt with the stripes?
    But I could already hear the Marine Band rehearsing. “Get real, Cammie,” I said to my reflection. Then I smeared on lip gloss and headed down the grand staircase to the East Room.
    At the bottom of the stairs I ran into my new best friend, Mrs. Hedges.
    I mean, I really ran into her.
    She had been mopping the pink-and-white marble. I smiled and started to say hello, but in my hurry I stumbled over ankle-high, fast-moving Ozzabelle, who must have escaped from Mr. Will’s room again.
    I tried to break my fall by putting out my arm and grabbing the nearest thing, but the nearest thing was Mrs. Hedges’s water pail, a poor choice because I fellflat anyway, knocking over Mrs. Hedges and the pail and splashing a fountain’s worth of dirty water on both of us as well as Ozzabelle, who thought a dirty-water shower was a wonderful game and proceeded to spin and shake in soggy doggy circles while also wagging her tail.
    â€œOuch,” I said to the floor, and Mrs. Hedges said something I’d rather not repeat. Then another voice, a really, really sweet voice, said, “Are you guys all