by Bruce Hale
I held up a hand. "Of course we do. Just being thorough."
Maureen DeBree halfheartedly picked up a stray candy wrapper. "Ain't this the straw that broke the kangaroo's back," she muttered. "Like I don't have enough on my mind already."
"What do you mean?" Natalie asked.
"Huh? Oh, I get more worries than Mr. Zero giving me the ax."
"Do tell," I said.
Ms. DeBree toyed with the wrapper. "Some bugger's been piling dirt out past the playground, making a mess. Our electricity bills are sky high, like someone's tapping into our power grid. And some of my buckets and wheelbarrows have walked off."
"Wait a minute." My tail twitched. "You mean to tell me your dirt's dumping, your bill's jumping, and your barrow's bumping?"
The mongoose gave me a glum look. "Yeah."
"Why didn't you mention this before?"
"You didn't ask," she said.
Natalie paced. "Any idea who's behind it?"
"Nope," said Ms. DeBree.
"Any idea if all these things are connected?" I asked.
"Unh-unh," said the janitor, watching the candy wrapper float down into a trash can.
"Hmm," I said.
"Hmm," Natalie agreed.
"For real." The mongoose shuddered."This whole thing gives me the oodgie-woogies. Who would wanna do this to me?"
"Wait a second," said Natalie. "Why should Mr. Zero blame the office theft on your sloppiness?"
"Yeah," I said. "After all, anyone could swipe a key and steal the loot."
Ms. DeBree shook her head. "Nobody's key went missing, and the principal trusts all his office staff. Besides I am the last one to check the locks every day."
"Fear not, fair mongoose," I said. "We'll prove you innocent. In fact, we'll jump right on it and—"
Brrrrinng! The class bell cut me off.
"Investigate at lunch," said Natalie.
Dang. Schoolwork sure gets in the way of being a big-time detective.
Lunch that day was crab spider cakes and tick taco salad, with mango maggot bars for dessert. How do I remember these things? I am, after all, a trained detective. (Also, I had seconds.)
Mrs. Bagoong was still surly about the veggie theft. I was still relieved.
After a final belch, I sailed my tray onto the dirty stack and headed out with Natalie to clear Ms. DeBree's name. We stepped onto the grass, and I stopped short.
"Hey, I just had a brainstorm," I said.
"Good," said Natalie. "Maybe it'll wash out your ears."
I pushed my hat back. "We've been looking at this all wrong."
"Should we be squinting?"
"Instead of trying to figure out why someone's got it in for the janitor," I said, "we should figure out why someone's stealing and stinking up our school."
"You think the culprit isn't trying to make Ms. DeBree look bad?" said Natalie.
"I don't know," I said, striding across the grass. "But I do know this: We need to rustle up some other suspects than just Erik Nidd, PDQ."
"Pudgy, dim, and quirky?" said Natalie.
"Pretty darned quick," I said.
As we walked, I surveyed the busy playground. Things looked normal enough. Two basketball games raged on the blacktop. A group of older girls played soccer. And just beyond us, some third-grade bowlers were using grasshoppers as pins and pill bugs for balls.
Say what you will about Emerson Hicky, we've got all the major sports covered.
"See anything suspicious?" said Natalie.
"No," I said. "Wait—who's that?"
Over near the fence, a furry mug in a yellow construction hat was spreading a pile of dirt. He stood out like a tank in a sandbox.
"Search me," said Natalie. "I've never seen him before."
We legged it over to the stranger. He was a tough-looking mole with a nose like an exploded eggplant and paws like a pair of catcher's mitts.
I cleared my throat. " 'Scuse me, chief."
"Whaddaya want?" he barked. "I'm a busy guy."
"We're, uh, the Welcome Wagon," said Natalie. "And we want to welcome you to Emerson Hicky."
Eggplant Nose gave us the once-over."Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," I said."I'm Chet Gecko, and this is Natalie Attired. We haven't seen you around before, so we, uh, wanted to welcome you."
"So?" he said, glancing back at his dirt mound.
"So, welcome," said Natalie.
The mole narrowed his eyes."You said that already."
I tried my Number Five Friendly Grin. "What's your name, friend?"
"Nunya," he said.
"Nunya?" said Natalie.
Eggplant Nose crossed his arms. "Yeah. Nunya business. Now, get lost."
"Are you working for Ms. DeBree?" I asked.
His jaw tightened. "Look, bub, I'm an independent contractor. Workin' for the firm of Beatit, Buzzoff, and Scram. Get it?"
"Got it," said Natalie.
"Good," said Eggplant Nose. He went back to spreading the dirt.
We left the mole to his work and ambled onto the playground.
"Friendly fella," I said.
"You think he's hiding something?" said Natalie.
I shrugged. "A heart of gold and a sunny disposition? Maybe. It's no crime to be a grouch, but still..."
"We should keep an eye on him," said Natalie.
"Agreed," I said. "But we're using your eye."
7. Clues Blues
For the rest of lunchtime, Natalie and I wandered about, searching for clues. (Pretty much the same way I approach my homework.)
The office held nothing of interest. No muddy paw prints, no busted windows, no dropped library cards with the culprit's name on them.
"What are you looking for?" asked Mrs. Crow, the secretary.
"Anything that tells us how the thief got in here or who he was," I said, peeking under a stack of papers.
Natalie leaned on the counter. "Who's got office keys?"
Mrs. Crow counted off on her wing feathers. "Let's see ... Mr. Zero, Ms. Shrewer, the nurse, the janitors. Five altogether."
"What about you?" I asked.
"What about me?" said the crow.
"Don't you have a key?"
Mrs. Crow shook her sleek black head. "Hon, I practically live here. Who needs a key?"
We gave up on the office and hit the cafeteria.
It, too, looked as shipshape as ever. And when we checked out the boiler room after that, no red-hot clues reared their little heads and shouted, "Here I am! Notice me!"
If the same someone was stirring up all these different kinds of trouble, he'd covered his tracks well.
Lunch wound down like a grumpy preschooler at bedtime. Natalie and I ended up on the playground, kicking around a soccer ball and some half-baked notions.
"Could the Dirty Rotten Stinkers be behind it all?" asked Natalie.
"Nah," I said, lining up a shot. "They're not bright enough to snatch the cash box without breaking down a door or two. And stealing veggies?"
I booted the ball and it went wide.
Natalie smirked. "I get your point. Erik Nidd and broccoli don't exactly go together like worms and caramel." She flapped after the ball.
I grimaced. "I'm not sure worms and caramel go together. But you're right there, partner. The stinkbombing has their fingerprints all over it, but we've got no solid proof."
"So who's behind the rest of it?"
She hauled off and punted. The ball bounced off my chest with a whump.
I staggered back. "I dunno. Jerry Dooty?"
"Too depressed to steal much of anything," said Natalie. "How about Eggplant Nose?"
Showing off my fancy footwork, I retrieved the ball. "He's mean enough. But what's his motive?"
"I don't know. But something about him isn't quite right."
"What?" I swung my leg. The ball sailed into a krangleberry bush.
"I just said I don't know." Natalie picked her way through the shrubbery.
A nearby squirrel called to us. "H
ey! If you're not going to play soccer with that thing, why don't you give someone else a try?"
"Because," I said, "this is how we get our kicks."
Lunch ended and schoolwork resumed. Through the next couple of lessons, I puzzled and puzzled some more (and occasionally even thought about my lessons).Although we had our suspicions, Natalie and I lacked enough evidence to pin the crimes on anybody.
That meant we needed more info.
But what? And from where? I needed a clue, a lead, an inside tip.
What I got was more grief from Mr. Ratnose.
"Chet Gecko," he said, "let's hear your book report."
"Teacher, you really don't want to hear my book report."
He folded his hands on his desk. "I most certainly do."
"You won't like it," I said.
Mr. Ratnose sighed. "Which book is it?"
I stood and put my hands behind my back."The Wonderful Wizard of Odd, by L. Frank Barmy." I paused.
"Yes?" said Mr. Ratnose. "Tell us all about it."
"Well ... there's this wizard, see? And he's, uh ... kinda odd."
My teacher stared at me for a long moment. "You haven't actually read it, have you?"
"Well, I..."
He held up a hand. "Never mind."
I sat down."Told you you wouldn't want to hear it."
At long last, recess arrived. I rushed out the door with my classmates to savor the sweet, sweet air of freedom.
How was I to know it would soon be full of dust?
Natalie and I began by investigating the snack machine. I cleverly detected a bag of Skeeter Pieces and we polished it off in short order.
All sugared up and ready to rumble, we pointed our tootsies toward our client's office. Maybe she had some more leads for us. (Or at least some more quarters. I'd already burned through her retainer.)
As we headed down the hall, Jerry Dooty was walking up it. Oddly, his paws were cupped together.
"What's up, Mr. Dooty?" I said.
The gray gopher turned his bleak gaze on us. "You're asking the wrong guy. I haven't been 'up' since Moses was in knee shorts."
"Uh, right," said Natalie. "So, what have you got there?"
"Evidence," he said. "Remember I told you Maureen was getting sloppy?"
I nodded. "Yeah?"
He extended his cupped paws. "I found these on the floor in her office."
We leaned closer. Jerry Dooty held a bunch of little-bitty pieces of wood. Headless matchsticks.
It wasn't like Ms. DeBree to leave anything on the floor of her office—not even footprints.
"Where are you taking those?" I asked.
"I thought they seemed a little ... I don't know, suspicious?" he whined."Figured I'd take them to Mr. Zero, see what he thought."
Natalie frowned. "You think he'll think she's suspicious?"
"I think he'll think she's not thinking," said Mr. Dooty. "Maybe he'll think she made the stink."
"The stink?" I snapped. "You think?"
"I think." Jerry Dooty gave an elaborate shrug. "But who cares what I think? I'm just the assistant janitor."
Could he be right? Could my mongoose pal have sunk so low? I shook my head. Never in a million lunchtimes.
Mr. Dooty shuffled past us, droning, "But I'll tell you one thing—"
Before he could finish his one thing, three things happened.
First, Natalie sneezed. "Ha-CHOO!"
Second, an eerie creaking, like the front doors to a thousand haunted houses, filled the air.
And third, with a loud FOOMPF! the one-story building next to us collapsed.
8. Cold Hard Crash
Natalie and I staggered, caught in a sudden whoosh of air like the breath of a giant. Blown sideways, we cried out. "Yaahhh!"
Our yells turned to coughs.
A huge cloud of dust billowed out, as if a million chalkboard erasers were being clapped by a half million teachers' pets. Bits of wall and roof rained down.
Natalie and I collapsed onto the grass, hacking like a couple of cats with major-league hairballs. Slowly, slowly, the dust settled.
I rose on my elbows and squinted through the fog.
Beside me, Natalie had gone all white, like a snow sculpture of a mockingbird. She lifted her head.
"That's one heckuva sneeze, partner," I said.
She spat dust. "Who nose what really caused it?" Natalie blinked. "Hey, where's Mr. Dooty?"
I scanned the scene but nobody showed through the cloud.
"Mr. Dooty!" I called.
"Are you all right?" shouted Natalie.
For a long moment, nothing stirred.
Then a shape slouched through the fog—an all-white gopher. "This is going to be so much work," groaned Jerry Dooty.
"Was anyone inside when it went down?" asked Natalie, getting up and shaking herself off.
The gopher removed his cap and whapped it against his leg, raising puffs of dust. "Why does the worst stuff always happen to me? I have awful luck."
"He's still in shock," I told Natalie. "Let's go check it out."
We edged closer to the pile of rubble, poking here and there. I thought I saw a lean animal, like a weasel or ferret, bound through the far side of the dust cloud. But when I blinked, it was gone.
"Hello?" said Natalie.
"Knock, knock," I said, rapping on a piece of lumber.
Her eyes twinkled. "Who's there?"
I gave her a look. "Me, birdie."
"Me, birdie who?"
"Natalie, not everything is a knock-knock joke."
Says you.
At that moment a crowd of kids came running from the playground. They gaped and chattered and pointed.
We rummaged some more. Luckily, the ruined building was deserted.
Principal Zero and Maureen DeBree arrived at the same time. Both of them converged on us, talking over each other.
"What happened here?" said the principal. "Gecko, were you involved?"
"Chet, Natalie, you okay?" said the janitor. "Who did this?"
"Was anybody hurt?" said Mr. Zero.
Brushing dust off my sleeves, I answered, "The building fell down, no, yes, I dunno, and no."
"Don't worry, chief," said Ms. DeBree. "I'll get to the bottom of this."
The big cat's fur stood up like nerds volunteering for computer duty. "You'd better. One more slipup around here, and I'm hiring a different head janitor. School safety comes first."
"That's not fair!" I said. "How could she be responsible for this?"
Mr. Zero planted one thick paw on his hip. "Fair? Fair is pony rides and first kisses and cotton candy."
"But—" Ms. DeBree began.
"I'm responsible for running a school here," said the principal. "You're responsible for buildings and grounds. And you two..."
"Yes?" Natalie asked.
"Should be getting an education and staying out of my way," said Mr. Zero. He stomped past us, tail twitching.
"Oh, well," I said to myself. "One out of two ain't bad."
Natalie grinned." One? Who says you're getting an education?"
Ms. DeBree and Mr. Dooty roped off the wreckage with CAUTION tape, called in a couple of badger contractors, and went to work. I love work. I could sit and watch other people do it all day. But just when they broke out the big tools, the class bell rang.
Back we trudged to face the humdrum drudgery of the only kind of work I don't care for: schoolwork.
After class ended, Natalie and I dropped by the rubble to get the scoop from our client. The two janitors were loading the last of the debris into the back of a truck. The badgers were hauling off a Dumpster. Two more Dumpsters stood nearby, stuffed with more junk than a greedy kindergartner after Halloween.
"So what's news, mongoose?" I said.
Ms. DeBree paused and wiped grime off her forehead with a spotless handkerchief. "It's one mystery, for sure," she said. "The wood is good, the floor seemed solid, but somehow it all collapsed into a hole."
&n
bsp; "Weird," said Natalie.
The mongoose scratched her head. "Yeah. Almost like we built the building over a hole and it finally fell in." She shook herself. "But that's cuckoo."
Natalie and I climbed down into the crater that used to be a classroom. Nothing to see but a hole. Hard to detect much from that.
We scrambled back out.
"Hey, that hole reminds me of something," I said.
"Your grades?" Natalie smirked.
"Nope, that digger." I went over to Ms. DeBree, who was loading a last chunk of wall into the truck. "Did you hire a bad-tempered mole in a hard hat to clean up around here?"
Her eyebrows drew together like two caterpillars crossing swords. "A mole? No..."
Mr. Dooty slapped his forehead. "Oh, I'm such a dum-dum. I forgot to tell you. Mr. Zero asked me to get someone to haul off the dirt piles, like I don't have enough to do around here. Was that okay?"
The mongoose nodded, but her face stayed as glum as the last kid to be picked for the softball team.
"Cheer up," said Natalie. "Look on the bright side."
"What bright side?" said the janitor, stepping into the truck cab.
Natalie waved a wing. "We've already had a stinkbomb, two thefts, and a classroom cave-in. What else could go wrong?"
What else? Only a foolhardy detective would ask what else? And unfortunately, that's exactly what we were.
9. Hot Friggety Frog
The next morning, things at Emerson Hicky were quiet but tense, like a classroom where nobody's done the homework and the teacher's asking for volunteers.
No fresh thefts, no exploding Dumpsters. But the whole school seemed to be holding its breath. Word of the latest happenings had spread, and students and teachers were looking over their shoulders.
My old pal, Bo Newt, was absent. Nobody knew why. Was this something sinister, or just a day of playing hooky?
"Where's Bo?" I asked Bitty Chu."Is he sick? It's not like him to skip school for anything less than a circus or a skateboarding festival."
"Why should I care?" she said. "He's a smart aleck."
"Yeah, but he's our smart aleck."
I brooded about my missing pal. And the knowledge that Parents Night was coming the next day didn't help my mood any.