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Authors: Bruce Hale

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The Stinkers and Pyro Weasel chased us at a fast walk. "Just a game," called the weasel to the parents. "Heh-heh. No reason for alarm."

Sure. And if you believe that one, I've got some beachfront property for you at the North Pole.

Natalie and I poured on the gas—me running, her flying. We blew past a classroom door."Chet!" someone called.

"I think that was your teacher," said Natalie.

Pumping my arms, I panted, "I'll save my grade after I save my skin."

I kept my eyes peeled for Mr. Zero, Vice Principal Shrewer, or any teacher with enough clout to stop Mad Emperor Dooty. The last person I expected to see was Maureen DeBree.

And yet, as we veered around a corner, there she was.

"Hey, the private eyeballs!" said Ms. DeBree. She wore a blond wig and floppy hat, but I'd have
recognized that mongoose mug anywhere. Definitely not a weasel.

I skidded to a halt. "Why the weird getup?"

"Disguise," she said. "I like find some evidence and clear my name. Where you off to?"

"No time to explain."

She blew wig hairs away from her mouth. "Try anyhow."

"Bad gopher. Dug tunnels. Got you fired. Wants to be underground emperor."

Natalie landed on a nearby bush."Guess there
was
time after all."

I glanced behind us. No Stinkers yet, but they wouldn't be long.

"Hurry!" I said. "How do we stop him?"

The mongoose smiled a crafty smile. "Where's the bugger got his tunnel entrances at?"

17. Fine Feathered Ends

In three shakes of a gecko's tail, we were standing outside the administration office. Ms. DeBree held a thick green hose with a spray-nozzle gizmo at the end. Jerry Dooty and his crew strode up the hall with bloody murder in their eyes.

The mongoose stepped to the door, hose in hand.

"Where do you think you're going?" called Emperor Dooty.

"To clean up after you," said Ms. DeBree.

"Talk about a full-time job," I muttered.

I turned the knob, and we stepped inside. Principal Zero stood talking with several parents in the hall outside his office. He raised a bristly eyebrow.

"Don't mind us," said Natalie.

She and I dropped to the floor and began tapping the tiles.

"Excuse me?" said the secretary, Mrs. Crow.

"You're excused," I said.

Mr. Zero broke away from his conference."Gecko, what is the meaning of this?" Then he caught sight of the ex-janitor. "You? I fired you!"

"We came for flush out one dirty rotten gopher," said Ms. DeBree.

I kept tapping."Jerry Dooty is behind everything. The fire, the stinkbomb, the building collapse..."

"The thefts and the disappearing kids," said Natalie.

The gopher burst through the doorway. "Lies! All madness and lies!"

Mr. Zero looked from him to us. Hard to say who looked crazier—Maureen DeBree with her wig, hat, and hose, or Jerry Dooty in his crooked crown.

The big cat turned to Natalie. "Miss Attired, you're usually saner than your partner."

"Hey!" I said.

"Tell me what's going on here."

Natalie thumped the floor. "Mr. Dooty tunneled under the whole school—even this office. That's how he stole things; that's why the classroom caved in."

"Ridiculous!" scoffed Emperor Dooty."Who will

you believe—your head custodian, or a couple of cockamamie kids and an ex-employee with a grudge?"

"Well...," said Mr. Zero, undecided.

I kept thumping.

"Tunnels under the floor?" said Pyro Weasel over Mr. Dooty's shoulder. "Preposterous!"

Just when I was about to give up, one tile gave a hollow
tonk!
"Help me, birdie," I said. Working together, Natalie and I pried up the trapdoor and let it fall open.

"Preposterous?" said Mr. Zero. Mr. Dooty turned pale. "I've never seen that hole before."

Maureen DeBree stepped up to the tunnel entrance. The hose was so full of backed-up water, she had to wrestle it under control."Okeydokey," she said."Then you won't mind if we ..." She lowered the nozzle into the opening.

At that moment, I heard children's voices below us. An image sprang to my mind: helpless kids, handcuffed to a ladder.

Time slowed down.

The mongoose's fingers tightened on the trigger.

I reached for her arm, but before I could speak...

"Wait!" cried Mr. Dooty. "Don't—there's kids down there!"

"Kids?" said the principal.

We leaned over the hole. Below us, dirty faces looked up. "Hippety-hi-hi-hi, Chet," said Popper.

Mr. Zero's eyes went wider than the waistband of an elephant's undies."They're cuffed together? To our good ladder? Get that hose out of here!"

Ms. DeBree hauled it back out. "Sorry, eh," she said. "I just wanted for expose
his
evil—" She gestured at Jerry Dooty with the hose.

Psssshhht!
A supercharged stream of water blasted from the nozzle and hit the gopher smack-dab in the chest.

Foom!
Down he went like a greenhorn tightrope walker, taking out the weasel and one or two Stinkers with him.

"Oops," said Ms. DeBree. "Clumsy me."

Before long, Mr. Zero had sorted out the whole mess like a—well, like an espresso-fueled janitor on a cleaning binge. He hauled up the captive kids and uncuffed them, and ordered the new-old head custodian, Maureen DeBree, to plug up the tunnel pronto.

The boys in blue roared into the parking lot, sirens wailing. They hauled offJerry Dooty and his crew in the paddy wagon—even the Dirty Rotten Stinkers. Bo, Popper, and the other former captives stood at the curb, cheering.

Natalie and I watched the van drive away. The crowd slowly dispersed.

I kicked at a weed sticking up through the pavement.

"For a gecko who just helped stop an evil emperor and save some kidnapped kids, you don't look too happy," said Natalie.

I sighed. "Ah, it's just that ... I was wrong all the way down the line."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I had no clue who was behind it all, I nearly got us thrown on the chain gang ... Heck, without Ms. DeBree, I wouldn't even have been able to get those guys locked up." I hugged my arms."Some detective I am."

Natalie patted my shoulder. "Relax, Chet. You always goof up."

"Thanks a lot."

"But you always get there in the end."

I trudged down the sidewalk. "I dunno, birdie. Maybe the time has come to hang up the old trench coat."

Natalie frowned. "What are you saying?"

"Time to quit being a PI."

She stopped dead. "You? Quit detective work? You're kidding."

"I'm as serious as a ten-page math test." I rubbed my neck. "Time for me to focus on being a regular kid. You know—do homework, bring my grades up, do chores around the house."

For a long moment, I stared at Natalie. She stared right back at me.

"Nah," we said together. "It'd never work."

Natalie punched my arm. "Besides, who's the school's best lizard detective?"

"Me?" I said.

"Right as usual, Sherlock. Sharpest mind in the business."

Just then, a voice rang out from behind us."Chet Gecko! Did you forget something?"

I turned to see Mr. Ratnose and my parents standing by the office.

"My reward?" I said.

"Your parent-teacher conference," said Mr. Ratnose.

Natalie smirked. "Like I said, sharpest mind in the business."

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-sized 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 #3
Farewell, My Lunchbag

If danger is my business, then dinner is my passion. I'll take any case if the pay is right. And what pay could be better than Mothloaf Surprise?

At least that's what I thought. But in this particular case, I almost paid the ultimate price for good grub.

Cafeteria lady Mrs. Bagoong hired me to track down whoever was stealing her food supplies. The long, slimy trail led too close to my own backyard for comfort.

And much, much too close to the very scary Jimmy "King" Cobra. Without the help of Natalie Attired and our school janitor, Maureen DeBree, I would've been gecko sushi.

Case #4
The Big Nap

My grades were lower than a salamander's slippers, and my bank account was trying to crawl under a duck's belly. So why did I take a case that didn't pay anything?

Put it this way: Would
you
stand by and watch some evil power turn
your
classmates into hypnotized zombies? (If that wasn't just what normally happened to them in math class, I mean.)

My investigations revealed a plot meaner than a roomful of rhinos with diaper rash.

Someone at Emerson Hicky was using a sinister video game to put more and more students into la-la-land. And it was up to me to stop it, pronto—before that someone caught up with me, and I found myself taking the Big Nap.

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

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