Turkey Trouble on the National Mall (4 page)

KC and Marshall looked at the photo. It showed a lot of buildings and several thousand turkeys.

“I thought most turkeys were white,” KC said. “Yours are all dark-colored.”

“The white ones have more meat, but the dark ones have better flavor,” Barney Gibble said. He grinned devilishly. “Which is why I’m serving them tonight. I go for flavor.”

KC didn’t know what else to say. But at least now she knew why Barney Gibble wanted everyone to eat turkeys—he sold them! She and Marshall followed the man through the kitchen toward the front door.

KC saw something interesting on the floor. She quickly picked up the object and shoved it in her pocket.

“Sorry we disturbed you,” KC said as Barney opened the door to New Street.

“No problem,” he said. “Come back tonight for dinner!”

The kids walked down New Street, then turned left when they reached New York Avenue. They could see the White House straight ahead.

“Do you believe him?” Marshall asked.

“Not in a million years,” KC said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a white feather and showed it to Marshall. “I found this on his kitchen floor.”

Marshall looked at the white feather. “What does it mean?” he asked.

“It means he’s lying,” KC said.

“Lying?” Marshall said.

“Yeah, lying,” KC said. “He told us he’s serving turkeys with dark feathers. So what’s a white feather doing on his floor?”

Marshall stroked the white feather. “This could be from a seagull,” he said. “There are a lot around here.”

“Right, or it could have fallen from an angel’s wing!” KC said. “This is a turkey feather, Marsh. It feels and looks exactly like Cloud’s feathers!”

“You’re right, it does,” Marshall said.

They started walking toward the White House again.

Marshall bumped KC’s shoulder with his own. “You know, I don’t think the thieves are going to eat the turkeys,” he said.

“Why not?” KC asked.

“Well, they stole the turkey food, too,” Marshall answered. “That must mean they are planning to feed the turkeys, right?”

“I hope you’re right,” KC said. “But where are they?”

“The crooks would need a truck,” said Marshall.

“I saw one yesterday on the Mall,” KC said. “But it was gone last night when we walked the dog. Gone just like the turkeys.”

At the White House, Yvonne was in the kitchen. She had a couple of cookbooks open on the table. “I heard about the turkeys,” Yvonne said when KC and Marshall came in. “Have you been out looking for them?”

“We tried,” KC said.

“Well, the president spoke to the FBI director this morning, but I don’t know if they are having any luck, either,” Yvonne said. “Did you have lunch?”

“We had apples,” KC said. “We’re going upstairs, okay?”

“Sure. Dinner is at five o’clock,” Yvonne said.
“A bientôt.”

“Ah what?” Marshall asked.

“Ah-bee-en-toe,” Yvonne said, pronouncing each syllable. “It means
see you later
in French.” She spelled it for the kids.

Marshall grinned at Yvonne. “Ah-bee-en-toe to you, too!” he said.

In her room, KC sat on the edge of her bed and grabbed her stuffed giraffe. “Where would you hide a hundred turkeys?” she asked Marshall.

“I don’t know,” Marshall said. “If the crooks had a truck, they might take them out to a farm or someplace. Put them in a barn, maybe.”

“Yeah. I would, too, I guess,” KC said. “There are a lot of farms around here, outside the city.”

She looked at her giraffe, then fished a paper from her back pocket. It was the drawing she’d made of Mr. Giraffe’s head in the Crafty Guy store. She held the picture up next to the stuffed animal.

“Hey,” Marshall said. “What’s that on the back of your drawing?”

KC flipped the paper over. “It’s an e-mail,” she said.

“Ah-bee-en-toe,” KC read from the paper. “
He
said it, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Marshall asked. “Who said it?”

KC handed Marshall the paper. “The man in the craft shop gave me this to draw on,” she said. “When we left, he said what
Yvonne says.
‘A bientôt.’
Maybe he’s French, too.”

“Who’s the e-mail from?” Marshall asked.

Above the word
marvelous
, KC saw a name and an e-mail address. “Someone named Marie Le Roi,” she said. “In Paris, France.”

KC stared over Marshall’s shoulder at the wall. Her eyes didn’t blink. Then she closed them.

“KC? Are you there?” Marshall asked.

Suddenly KC jumped off the bed and ran to her stack of newspapers. She found the World News section from the day before. “Here it is!” KC skimmed the article, then read part of it out loud.

“In Paris, millinery shops are closing because they can no longer find enough turkey feathers to make their hats. Marie Le Roi, owner of the shop Les Chapeaux,
says, ‘I rely on turkey feathers for most of my hats. But for the past few weeks, I cannot buy new feathers. My customers are very upset!’ ”

“I know,” Marshall said. “I showed that to you yesterday. What—”

“Marsh, that hat lady in Paris sent this e-mail to the guy who owns the craft store you dragged me into! She’s MLR—Marie Le Roi!” KC cried. “Don’t you get it?”

Marshall just stared at her. Then his mouth fell open. “She needs turkey feathers!” he cried.

The kids ran into the kitchen. Yvonne was sitting at the table, and KC dropped the sheet of paper in front of her.

“What’s this?” Yvonne asked.

“It’s an e-mail,” KC said. “We think it’s from a lady in France.” She placed the newspaper in front of Yvonne. “This lady,” she said, putting a finger on Marie Le Roi’s name in the story about the bird flu.

Yvonne quickly read the story. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said. “This Marie Le Roi owns a hat shop in Paris, but because of the bird flu, she can’t get feathers, right?”

KC put the printout on top of the newspaper. “It’s the same lady,” she said. “She sent this e-mail!”

KC and Marshall took turns explaining
how they went into the craft shop, and how the owner gave KC the paper to draw on. “I think he stole the turkeys!” KC said.

Yvonne studied the newspaper story and the e-mail. “Oh my goodness!” she said. “These two are brother and sister. She calls him
mon frère
, which means
my brother
. And she signed it
votre soeur, your sister
!”

Yvonne looked at the paper again. “Her last name is Le Roi, and his is Leroy,” she said. “I’ll bet he changed the spelling of his name when he came to this country.”

Marshall added, “He knew she needed feathers, so when he heard about all the turkeys on the National Mall, he figured out how to steal them.”

“But how was he going to get the feathers to his sister?” KC asked.

“I don’t know,” Yvonne said. “But she says she will e-mail him again on Friday. That’s tomorrow.”

“So let’s get the police to arrest the guy in the craft store!” KC said. “Then he’ll have to give the turkeys back!”

“But we can’t prove he took them, KC,” Marshall said. “All he has to do is deny it.”

Yvonne stood up. “We have to tell the vice president what you kids have dug up!”

Before long, the vice president knew the whole story. “This craft-store fellow is pretty bold, stealing all those turkeys,” she said. “But he and his sister stand to make a lot of money. Because of the flu, bird feathers are in demand.”

Mary Kincaid hit some keys on her laptop and brought up Google. She hit a few more keys. “Goodness,” she said. “Some people in the hat business are willing to pay ten dollars for one perfect white turkey feather, and even more for some darker ones.”

KC tried to do the math in her head. How many perfect feathers did Cloud have?
How many perfect feathers on 117 turkeys?

“Meanwhile, the turkeys are still missing,” Yvonne said.

“Yes,” the vice president said. “If you own a small craft shop, where do you hide nearly ten dozen turkeys?”

“Marsh and I think they must have used a truck,” KC said. “I saw one parked at the National Mall yesterday. I thought you had it sent there, Ms. Kincaid.”

The vice president looked at KC with wide eyes. “Goodness, I totally forgot!” she said. “Getting a truck to take the turkeys to Mount Vernon was on my list. It completely slipped my mind!”

“So maybe the truck KC saw was there for stealing the turkeys!” Marshall said.

“You could be right,” the vice president said. “But where is it now?”

“I have a toy truck with remote control,” Marshall said. “When I push a button, the
truck comes back to me. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could just push something and get the truck with the turkeys to come to us?”

Something clicked in KC’s brain. She picked up the e-mail. “What if we e-mailed him back?” she asked.

“I don’t get it,” Marsh said. “E-mail the craft guy?”

KC nodded. “We could set up an e-mail account that’s almost the same as his sister’s. The e-mail would tell Mr. Leroy to sell the turkeys,” she said. “Only he’d sell them to us. I mean to an FBI guy. After getting the turkeys, the FBI guy would arrest him!”

Everyone stared at KC.

“The e-mail would be from us, but Mr. Leroy would think it was from his sister,” KC went on. She could feel butterfly wings flapping in her stomach.

“It would be an awesome trick!” Marshall crowed.

Yvonne plucked the printout out of KC’s fingers. “We have her name and e-mail address and her brother’s e-mail address right here,” she said. She looked at the vice president. “Could it work?”

“Let’s back up a minute,” Mary Kincaid said. She took the e-mail from Yvonne. “It says here that Ms. Le Roi would e-mail her brother on Friday. That’s tomorrow. Won’t he think it’s strange if she e-mails him today, a day early?”

KC had already thought about that. “Maybe the message we send could say she’s in a hurry to get the feathers,” she said.

“But what if she e-mails him tomorrow like she said she would?” Marshall asked.

“By then it will be too late,” KC said, grinning. “We’ll already have the turkeys, and he’ll be in jail!”

“So if we’re going to pull this off,” the vice president said, “we have to do it today!”

In his office, President Thornton listened, then spoke to KC and Marshall and the vice president. “I like it,” he said. “I hope Cloud appreciates what you kids are doing for him. He’s one lucky turkey!”

The vice president looked at her watch. “It’s nearly four o’clock here, so it’s ten at night in France,” she said. “I hope Leroy’s sister goes to bed early. We don’t want her calling him tonight!”

The president read the e-mail again that Yvonne and the vice president had written.

The First Lady walked into the room. “Mr. Smiley is here,” she said, and the FBI director followed her into the president’s office. He was carrying a metal briefcase.

The president and Mr. Smiley shook hands. “Who do I give this to?” asked Mr. Smiley. “Fifty thousand dollars makes me nervous, even if it is fake money.” He used a key to unlock the case, and it popped open. The president’s desk lamp shone down on packs of hundred-dollar bills.

Marshall let out a gasp, and everyone laughed.

The president grinned. “Where did you get the counterfeit money?” he asked.

“That’s a secret,” Mr. Smiley said. He put a finger to his lips.

KC stared at the green bills. She had never felt so nervous. Her hands and fingers were cold, as if she’d been outside building a snowman.