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members of the Bug Liberation Front remained out front. I wondered where the other ones had gone.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    Depending on how you count, there are at least three kitchens in the White House. Our family’s is next to the second-floor dining room, just off the West Sitting Hall. When we walked in, Nate was pouring milk, Hooligan was dreaming under the table, Mr. Bryant was reading the newspaper, and Humdinger, Granny’s canary, was doing a canary dance-and-song—
twee-twee-twee
—in his cage by the window.
    Here’s the best part: Granny was standing at the griddle, spatula in hand, cooking banana pancakes!
    We said good morning to Mr. Bryant. For the past couple of months, he and Granny have been special friends, so I could be pretty sure she had told him already about our bugged bug.
    Mr. Bryant said good morning back, then held up the front page of the
Washington Post
for us to see. On it was a huge picture of Fluffy sailing across the State Dining Room toward the sunflower arrangement atthe dinner last night. The headline said: MEOW! WHITE HOUSE PETS OUT OF CONTROL ?
    â€œUh-oh,” said Tessa and I at the same time.
    â€œHmph,” said Granny. “The sooner those kittens of yours are gone, the happier I’ll be. Now, who wants pancakes?”
    I got milk and maple syrup from the refrigerator. Tessa got silverware from the drawer. As she and I set the table, we took turns telling everyone about James Madison’s new horn and new stripe.
    Granny served the pancakes and sat down. “I’ll pass that information to Mr. Morgan and Mr. Webb,” she said. “Now then, Cameron. While we eat, what if you share your notes with us? That way everyone can help.”
    Between bites, I read my notes out loud. When you’re detecting, the next step after you take notes is to identify anything in them that seems strange, important, or both.
    Nate spoke first. “I have a question. Did you guys know when you went to the zoo that you were going to adopt a cockroach?”
    â€œNope,” said Tessa. “It was just a good idea I had when the zookeeper told me he had an extra.”
    â€œIn that case,” said Nate, “whoever bugged James Madison didn’t have time to plan.”
    â€œWrite that down, Cammie,” Tessa said.
    â€œI will,” I said.
    â€œAnd he couldn’t have come from the zoo already bugged,” Granny added. “It must have happened here at the White House.”
    â€œSomething else,” said Nate. “Our spy has to be an expert on technology, someone who knows about miniaturized microphones and cameras, not to mention how to attach them to cockroaches.”
    â€œWrite that—”
    â€œI am, Tessa!”
    Mr. Bryant took a sip of coffee, set his mug on the table and touched his napkin to his lips. “Perhaps this seems obvious,” he said. “However, I am struck by the fact that our culprit had access to the White House second floor. As you well know, the building is secure. Only select staff, family and guests are allowed upstairs.”
    Ick! It was creepy to think a spy had been in our room! And even more creepy to think the spy might be someone we knew.
    â€œWhat are the times again, Cammie?” Tessa wanted to know.
    I turned back a couple of pages. “Whoever borrowed James Madison had to have done it while we were outside. So that means between about two o’clock and four-forty-five yesterday.”
    Tessa nodded. “Then the person was in our room again at eight-oh-seven, because that’s when the government device first detected the signal coming from there.”
    Granny said, “Mr. Amaro’s dinner was still in progress at that time. So everyone at the dinner has an alibi.”
    â€œThat makes me think of something,” said Nate. “Mr. Amaro left the dinner early. Remember? The lunchladies from Pennsylvania were awfully disappointed when he didn’t take