The Case of the Missing Dinosaur Egg Read Online Free Page B

elevator . . . and I cracked myself up, which made Mom, Dad and Tessa all look over at me.
    Oops.
    Sorry
, I mouthed.
    Now the minister was talking about Jesus riding on a donkey, which made me picture a crate on the back of a donkey . . . and soon I was thinking about the case again.
    By the time the minister said he would see us all next week to celebrate Easter Sunday, I had thought up the first step of a plan to solve the mystery, find the dinosaur egg and—by the way—prove to Mr. Morganand Mr. Webb that even if Professor Bohn liked to joke around, he wasn’t actually a bad guy.
    All I needed was a single, solitary secret weapon—which luckily was not a problem. Right now, the one I had in mind was probably having a late-morning snooze.
    It didn’t take much convincing to get Nate and Tessa to go along with my plan; neither of them had a better idea. So that same afternoon, the three of us—along with Malik, one of the Secret Service agents, and our secret weapon—were in a White House van on our way back to the National Museum of Natural History. It closes at five on Sunday, so by five-thirty it was pretty empty.
    The secret weapon was on a leash, because otherwise I was pretty positive he’d chew up some ancient, priceless bone or spider or piece of an asteroid.
    Like you’ve probably figured out, the weapon I’m talking about is Hooligan, our big furry mutt. Hooligan looks like a cross between an Afghan hound and a Dr. Seuss character, which my dad says is because he’s a mad mix-up of just about every kind of dog ever. Last time we went detecting, we found out Hooligan’s nose must’ve come from a bloodhound, because he sure can track a scent.
    But was last time just beginner’s luck?
    We were about to find out.

CHAPTER NINE

    Professor Rexington met us inside the museum and led us through back hallways to a staff elevator that went up to the top floor, where her office is. Unlike Professor Bohn, Professor Rexington is not the most cheerful person ever. She hardly smiled when she said hello. But maybe she was just tired? There were circles under her eyes, same as my mom gets when she’s stressed out.
    Finally, we arrived at her office. The door was open, and we went in.
    â€œYou wanted to see the desk where the crate arrived, right? Well, this is it.” Professor Rexington nodded at a big wooden desk with a neat stack of papers on top.
    Meanwhile, our secret weapon wagged his tail and started sniffing inside a metal wastebasket beside the desk. It was full of crumpled newspaper and brown straw stuff.
    â€œOh, yeah,” I said, “is that the packing material that was around the ostrich egg?”
    Professor Rexington nodded. “Yes. I rememberthinking the straw looked like nesting material—appropriate for an egg.”
    â€œCan we see the crate, too?” Tessa asked.
    Professor Rexington frowned. “I’m afraid I might’ve recycled it already–let me check.”
    She went through a door to another room and rustled around. While we waited, Hooligan continued to sniff.
    â€œGood puppy! Smart puppy!” Tessa threw her arms around him. “You already know what you’re supposed to do!”
    My idea was for Hooligan to get the scent of the crate, then follow it backward from the desk. There are a ton of entrances to the museum. Knowing which one the crate came through might help us figure out how it got to the museum and who sent it.
    Hooligan waited patiently for Tessa to be done hugging him; then he got back to work. At the same time, I knelt and looked at the date on the newspapers—Thursday, April 6, last Thursday. I pointed this out to Nate. He nodded and said since the crate arrived at the museum on Friday, it must have been packed and sent right away.
    Meanwhile, Professor Rexington came back in with a slat of splintered wood and said, “Bad news. This is all that’s