by Bruce Hale
Natalie came to stand beside me. "Well, that's that," she said. "Case closed."
"Not quite," I said, grabbing her shoulder. "I heard another ghost that day. Jimmy's got a mate, and she's still on the loose."
Ms. DeBree's tail bristled. "Not for long. Come with me."
We trailed her into the boiler room, where two tall canisters stood like sentries. Following her lead, we put on gas masks and released the bottled gas into the heating system.
"What's the story?" I asked.
The mongoose's muffled voice came through the mask. "See, after you went and told me 'bout the ghosts in the vents, I put two and three together," she said. "That stinking mama cobra was building a nest in the heating ducts somewheres. This should flush 'er out."
Sure enough, we soon heard a scuttling in the wide pipes. It drew nearer, accompanied by what sounded like high-pitched giggles.
"Grab this," said Ms. DeBree. She handed us the ends of another rope net.
With an explosion of laughter, a hugely pregnant cobra burst from the heating duct like a streamer from a party favor, straight into our trap. As the mongoose tied up the second snake, I asked, "What kind of gas was that, anyway?"
"Laughing gas," she chuckled. "Eh, you know what they say: Let a smile be your umbrella—"
"And you'll get a mouthful of rain," I said.
We had one wacky janitor. But she sure got the job done.
The next day was one of my better ones at Emerson Hicky Elementary. True, I didn't get out of taking my history test. But overall, life was good.
Once he got past being mad at how open house had turned into a mass giggle-athon, Principal Zero canceled my lifelong detention and dish-washing duty. Minnie Stroney resigned in disgrace and took a job as a prison cook.
(We later found her secret plans for taking over the cafeteria: She was going to serve nothing but Mystery Meat, Monday through Friday.)
The cobras, still wrapped up like toxic Christmas gifts, were thrown into the slammer. The cops gave the snakes a choice: undergo a long, painful operation to remove their poison sacs, or change their address permanently.
That morning's slow boat for Bombay had two extra passengers.
I'd like to say that on that happy Tuesday, Rocky Rhode and her fellow roughnecks changed their ways and became my bosom buddies. I'd like to say that, but Mom always told me not to lie.
Truth is, they stayed as rotten as ever. But at least Rocky took me off her "must kill now" list and put me on "kill waiting."
All these things warmed the cockles of my heart. But lunchtime brought the best news of all.
Natalie and I were standing in line. When we reached Mrs. Bagoong, she piled extra cockroach cupcakes onto our trays. Her smile beamed like a glowworm in a light socket.
"Well done, detectives," she said. The burly iguana reached into her apron pocket and handed me a big golden key. "Chet, this is for you."
I held it reverently in my hand. "The key to the lunchroom?"
Natalie poked her beak closer and sniffed. "Uh, Chet? Before you get too excited, you might want to unwrap it."
"Huh?"
I tapped the key. It wasn't metal. I peeled back the gold foil wrapping to find ... chocolate! I grinned back at Mrs. Bagoong.
It might not have been the key to the lunchroom, but it was the key to this detective's heart.
And a case that ends with chocolate is a darn good case, in my book.
* * *
Someone's turning students into zombies... and Chet's got to find out who, before he ends up sleeping "The Big Nap."
I looked around. There he was, two seats up: Bo Newt, your fourth-grade source for rubber-band guns, fart cushions, art supplies, and whatever else would disturb the peace.
I hissed at him, "Bo! Lend me your eraser."
Nothing. His eyes watched Mr. Ratnose. The back of Bo's thick head gleamed slightly, like a fridge in the moonlight.
Stronger measures were needed.
The spitwad sailed from my straw and bounced off Bo Newt's head with a satisfying thwop!
"Duhhh." Bo turned to me with a loose grin. His eyes were as empty as a bully's mailbox on Valentine's Day.
"I said, can I borrow your eraser?" I waved a hand before his face. But my classmate kept on staring like his choochoo didn't go back to the station anymore.
"Science good," he slurred.
Uh-oh.
Something was definitely wrong. I'd seen students lobotomized by a boring science class before, but they usually snapped out of it after you hit them with a spitwad or pulled on their tail.
"Bo, you okay?" I said.
He put a finger to his lips. "Shhh. Teacher talking."
I frowned. Since when had Bo Newt ever cared about how much lava could fit into a lava lamp?
A quiet snicker drifted over from the next row. The new kid, that skinny weasel from the playground, waggled his eyebrows at me and imitated Bo's blank face.
"He's as clueless as a porcupine at a polka lesson," Sammy whispered.
It was pretty rude. But I had to admit, I liked the way he put things. It reminded me of someone.
But I couldn't stop to think who. My detective instincts kicked in.
First, Eena Moe went weird. Now, something had turned Bo the Brat into Percival Priss, Good Student and All-around Zombie.
One zombie is normal. But two zombies is strange, even for Emerson Hicky.
I smelled a mystery. And where mystery led, I followed.
Especially if it led away from science class.
* * *
Look for more mysteries from the Tattered Casebook of Chet Gecko in hardcover and paperback
Case #1 The Chameleon Wore Chartreuse
Some cases start rough, some cases start easy. This one started with a dame. (That's what we private eyes call a girl.) She was cute and green and scaly. She looked like trouble and smelled like ... grasshoppers.
Shirley Chameleon came to me when her little brother, Billy, turned up missing. (I suspect she also came to spread cooties, but that's another story.) She turned on the tears. She promised me some stinkbug pie. I said I'd find the brat.
But when his trail led to a certain stinky-breathed, bad-tempered, jumbo-size Gila monster, I thought I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Worse, I had to chew fast: If I didn't find Billy in time, it would be bye-bye, stinkbug pie.
Case #2 The Mystery of Mr. Nice
How would you know if some criminal mastermind tried to impersonate your principal? My first clue: He was nice to me.
This fiend tried everything—flattery, friendship, food—but he still couldn't keep me off the case. Natalie and I followed a trail of clues as thin as the cheese on a cafeteria hamburger. And we found a ring of corruption that went from the janitor right up to Mr. Big.
In the nick of time, we rescued Principal Zero and busted up the PTA meeting, putting a stop to the evil genius. And what thanks did we get? Just the usual. A cold handshake and a warm soda.
But that's all in a day's work for a private eye.
Case #5 The Hamster of the Baskervilles
Elementary school is a wild place. But this was ridiculous.
Someone—or something—was tearing up Emerson Hicky. Classrooms were trashed. Walls were gnawed. Mysterious tunnels riddled the playground like worm chunks in a pan of earthworm lasagna.
But nobody could spot the culprit, let alone catch him.
I don't believe in the supernatural. My idea of voodoo is my mom's cockroach-ripple ice cream.
Then, a teacher reported seeing a monster on full-moon night, and I got the call.
At the end of a twisted trail of clues, I had to answer the burning question: Was it a vicious, supernatural were-hamster on the loose, or just another science-fair project gone wrong?
Case #6 This Gum for Hire
Never thought I'd see the day when one of my worst enemies would hire me for a case. Herman the Gila Monster was a sixth-grade hoodlum with a first-rate left hook. He told me someone
was disappearing the football team, and he had to put a stop to it. Big whoop.
He told me he was being blamed for the kidnappings, and he had to clear his name. Boo hoo.
Then, he said that I could either take the case and earn a nice reward, or have my face rearranged like a bargain-basement Picasso painted by a spastic chimp.
I took the case.
But before I could find the kidnapper, I had to go undercover. And that meant facing something that scared me worse than a chorus line of criminals in steel-toed boots: P.E. class.
* * *