Dial M for Mongoose (7 page)

"Any sign of Popper?" I asked.

Natalie shook her head. "Not a peep."

"Let's go beat the bushes."

We circled the school grounds, keeping a sharp eye out for the hyperactive tree frog. She wasn't at the swings. She wasn't under the scrofulous tree. Popper was proving harder to find than a truant officer's soft spot.

As we were passing the basketball courts, we spotted Miss Warts-a-lot, one of the Dirty Rotten Stinkers. The hefty toad was leaning against a pole, polishing her warts. When she saw us, the Stinker crooked a finger.

"Hey, Gecko," she croaked. "C'mere."

I tipped my hat. "No, thanks. I like my face the way it is."

"Yeah, we've finally gotten used to it," said Natalie.

Miss Warts-a-lot glanced over her shoulder at some nearby sixth graders."Come closer. The name's Helen Weals. I don't bite."

"Neither does a rattlesnake," I said. "Much."

The toad scowled. "I'm tryin' to do you a favor, buddy. Don't tick me off."

I shifted my weight onto the balls of my feet. "And what kind of favor can a Stinker offer, Miss Weals?"

"Ah, forget you, wise guy," Helen snarled. She pushed off the pole, glanced around again, and then fixed us with a stare. "You don't wanna hear about the missing frog? Fine. But here's one piece of advice."

I couldn't help myself. "Never order the cafeteria's Mystery Meat on a Monday?"

The toad clenched a fist and took a step toward us.

Natalie and I backed up.

Helen stabbed a clawed finger at me. "You, you're too smart for your own good."

"Funny," said Natalie, "but Mr. Ratnose never says that."

"You, too, birdbrain," croaked the toad. "You think you're such hotshot detectives, but the answer to your case is right under—"

Just then, a familiar voice rumbled from off to the side, "Way to go, Helen! Now we got 'em."

A quick glance revealed the cuddly, car-sized tarantula Erik Nidd with the rat Kurt Replie circling behind us.

Helen Weals cleared her throat. "Uh, yeah, you
lousy, uh, peepers. Now you're gonna find yourself in a world of ouchiness!"

Natalie and I turned back-to-back to face the Stinkers. "What's your gripe, Guido?" I asked Erik."I mean, aside from the usual."

"Ya mean, hatin' the world?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Erik sidled closer. "Well, ya keep stickin' yer nose where it don't belong," he said. "That's a good way to lose it."

I took a step back and bumped into Natalie. "And since when do you care about my nose?"

"Since it got all up in my beeswax," snarled the tarantula. Kurt clenched his paws and stepped to one side, blocking our escape. Helen spread her arms. Erik crawled forward.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Alley-oop on three," I muttered to Natalie. "One..."

"Two...," she said.

"Three!" I cried, taking a step and a hop straight at the huge tarantula.

His mouth hung open in confusion. On him, it looked natural. "Huh?"

"Alley-oop!" I jumped again with all my might, right onto Erik's back.

"Hey!" he bellowed. "Ya can't do that, ya mug!"

I grabbed his two long feelers like ski poles and bent my legs for balance. "Too late," I said. "I done did it."

Erik's front legs waved like a bunch of hairy trolls dancing the Hot Cucamonga. But he couldn't reach me. I kept my feet planted as his back rocked to and fro.

Natalie had taken to the skies and was flapping just above the grasp of Kurt and Helen.

As Erik twisted and struggled, a thought ran through my mind: It's one thing getting
onto
an angry tarantula; it's a whole 'nother thing getting
off.

The class bell rang.

Like that mattered. The Dirty Rotten Stinkers had about as much use for school rules as a raging bull has for little pink booties. If I didn't find a way off of this thug pronto, I'd soon be gecko sushi.

Round and round Erik whirled. Tighter and tighter I clung to his furry feelers.

"Yow!" he cried. "Easy with them things!"

As he turned, I caught glimpses of empty basketball courts, fresh piles of dirt, and a panting janitor bustling up to us.

"Hey there, you kids," shouted Jerry Dooty. "Knock it off!"

"He started it!" cried Erik.

"Only because
he
"—I tweaked his feeler—"was trying to clobber me."

"Ow!"

The gopher janitor held up his hands. "I don't care who started it. Stop it now!" He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "You're trying to make me look bad, aren't you?"

I followed his gaze and spotted Principal Zero standing over by the classrooms, arms crossed. Erik noticed him, too.

"Truce?" said the tarantula.

"Truce," I agreed.

I hopped off and stood near the janitor. Erik crawled over to join his pals. Natalie mouthed, "Later," and flew off to class.

"This ain't over, peeper," growled the tarantula.

Jerry Dooty gave him a warning look and a head shake.

The tarantula rolled his many eyes. "Come on, Stinkers," he said. "Let's motorvate."

They swaggered across the grass.

"Mr. Dooty," I said, "you saved my bacon."

He blew out a sigh. "Like I don't have enough on my plate already. Nobody knows how tough this job is. It's thankless, I tell you."

What could I say to that, but "Um, thanks"? Then off I dashed to class.

I slipped into my seat just as Mr. Ratnose was finishing up roll call.

"
There's
one of our missing members," he said. "Thanks for joining us, Chet Gecko. Now has anyone heard from Rick Shaw? Olive Drabb? Bo Newt?"

My classmates shrugged or shook their heads.

Mr. Ratnose paced. "This is highly irregular. Their parents are going to hear all about it at Parents Night."

Of course, if they were lucky, the kids would miss Parents Night altogether. (Which was far more than
I
could hope for.)

Mr. Ratnose surveyed the classroom. "Hmm," he said.

I knew just how he felt. Something was fishier than an orca's breath at breakfast. But what?

And was it tied into my case or just some random happening?

I watched Mr. Ratnose for a clue, but all he said was "Open your math books to page forty-three." And as clues go, that was pretty disappointing.

The minutes stretched like your mom's oldest swimsuit. It seemed to take a short forever for recess to arrive and another brief eternity until lunch.

After a hurried meal of curried centipede casserole and mayfly salad (with cicada strawberry shortcake for dessert), Natalie and I continued our dogged search for clues, insights, and the elusive thread that would tie everything together.

We found exactly bupkes, zip, nada, and diddly-squat.

Being thorough, we even followed up on Mrs. Crow's lead and talked to the teacher whose building had collapsed. No clues there either.

(Detective work isn't always easy confessions and fat bonuses, you know.)

Natalie and I climbed to the top of the jungle gym to try to get a different angle on things. No luck. The world looked just as confusing from up there.

We saw a group of rodents playing tag, a pair of sixth-grade sweethearts swapping spit, a ragged game
of football, and a long-tailed weasel (the new assistant janitor) bounding after three kids who'd overturned a trash can.

The usual lunchtime hijinks.

"That weasel," said Natalie.

"Yeah?"

"Something bugs me about him," she said, cocking her head.

I slowly stood, balancing on the highest bars. "What?"

Natalie cocked her head the other way. "His looks ... the way he moves ... I don't know. Does he remind you of anyone?"

My arms windmilled. "Uh, no."

"Aw ... it's on the tip of my tongue."

"Then spit it out, sister," I said, swaying this way and that, like a politician looking for votes.

Natalie stuck out a wing feather and tickled my toe. That was all it took.

"Hee, hee—yahh!" Down I tumbled into the sand.

Flat on my back, I gazed up through the bars at my partner's face.

"What are we missing?" she asked.

I pulled myself to standing. "Um, a pink Cadillac, a secret hideout, the answers to every test question, a lifelong pass to Dizzyland, the world's biggest
mosquito milk shake, and, oh ... a suspect that ties all these crimes together."

She glided off the jungle gym and landed in the sand. "Exactly. And what did that Stinker, Helen Weals, say?"

"That I was too smart," I said.

"Besides that." Natalie led the way out of the sandbox. "She said the answer was right under ... something. Our noses?"

"Our armpits?"

As if we had conjured them up, three of the Dirty Rotten Stinkers appeared across the playground. They snatched a little shrew and dragged him back into the shadows of the nearest building, no doubt to "borrow" his pocket money.

The
shadows
...

"I have a thought," I said.

"Better give it to me," said Natalie. "You're not used to taking care of them."

I ambled across the grass, mulling things over. "Something is definitely going on at this school."

"As the wise man said, 'No duh.'"

"And I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts it's going on when nobody is looking," I said."In the dark. After hours."

Natalie eyed me. "Okay..."

"So
that's
when we need to be here."

She stopped. "You mean tonight?"

I nodded. "Tonight."

"But tonight is Parents Night. We need to be here anyway."

"There you go," I said. "Am I not brilliant, or am I not brilliant?"

"Chet," said Natalie.

"Yeah?" I said.

"You're not brilliant."

That evening, the school was lit up like Grandma Gecko's birthday cake. Doors dripped with colorful student artwork. Kids roamed about. Parents said embarrassing things and practiced strange contortions to sit in their kids' chairs.

Normally I would've found this scene a barrel of yuks. Normally my school wasn't falling apart, thanks to some nutcase on a rampage.

I gave my parents the slip as they went in to hobnob with my sister Pinky's teacher.

"We'll meet you at Mr. Ratnose's class in twenty minutes," called Ma Gecko.

My father just rolled his eyes. He knew how my parent-teacher visits usually turned out.

"And don't forget!" said Pinky.

I gave her the traditional brotherly salute: one tongue, sticking straight out.

Only twenty minutes. And I had to make each one count.

Natalie was waiting near her classroom. "The clock is ticking," she said. "So, where to, Mr. PI?"

I bit my lip, deciding. "The cafeteria."

She smirked. "Big surprise there."

"Not for food," I said, hotfooting it down the halls. "To answer a question that's been bugging me."

"You mean,'Why is Natalie so much smarter than me?

"No, birdbrain. 'How did the thieves get in to steal the food?'"

We rounded the corner and approached the cafeteria. I tried the kitchen door. Locked. We made a full circuit of the building. No secret passages revealed themselves. No broken windows gaped.

"Okay, I give up," said Natalie. "How
did
they get in?"

I straightened my hat. "Let's go inside and find out."

We slipped into the auditorium, where Mrs. Bagoong had laid out cookies and other treats for the horde of visiting parents. One or two blister-beetle brownies found their way into my pockets as we passed. (Okay, three or four.)

Nobody paid any mind as we made our way back into the dim kitchen. Methodically, I paced through the room, tapping on walls and feeling for hidden catches.

"Remind me again," said Natalie, "why we're here, when the culprit could be anywhere at school, stirring up trouble?"

I lifted a shoulder. "Just a hunch," I said. "Maybe they'll return."

"For more food?" Natalie said.

"Mmm." I reached into my pocket, pulled out a brownie, and bit off a chunk. The pantry door was slightly ajar, so I nudged it open.

"Just because
you're
a bottomless pit doesn't mean the thief is," said Natalie.

I took a step into the darkened pantry. "Hey, I'm just a growing gecko with—"

But I never did finish that sentence. Instead, I stepped into thin air and fell, whacking my head on the edge of the hole and vanishing into the earth.

Whump!
I belly flopped hard, knocking the wind out of me.

"Chet?" Natalie's voice came from above. "What are you—"

I tried to warn her, but could only whisper.

Thump!
Natalie landed smack on my back, smashing me flatter than Darth Vader's fan-mail file.

"Oof," I wheezed.

She bounced to her feet. "You could've at least given me a heads-up."

With Natalie's help, I sat and looked around.

We found ourselves in a low-ceilinged tunnel, lit with strings of Christmas lights. Sort of a festive secret passage. It smelled overpoweringly of fresh earth, like the assembly line at a mud pie factory.