Hiss Me Deadly (5 page)

"A race against time," I said. "Principal Zero has hired us."

She brightened. "How about that?"

"Yeah, and if we don't catch the thief by tomorrow afternoon, it's curtains for this gecko."

"Curtains? Good. You really need to redecorate your office."

"Mr. Zero will redecorate
me,
" I said. "Scarf down that mess, and let's skedaddle."

Natalie gave a few more pecks at her lunch, and then tossed the rest. I swear she eats like a bird.

"Let's review our suspects," I said as we hit the bricks.

"Right," she said. "There's Johnny Ringo..."

"Who swears he was in class but always lies. Then, there's Gustav Mauler..."

Natalie nodded. "Who roams the halls at recess. Anyone else?"

I paused at the edge of the playground. "What about those snake protesters?"

"What about them?"

"Snakes are sneaky. They could be stealing things."

Natalie bristled. "That's prejudice! There are good snakes and bad snakes, just like with any animal—even geckos."

I screwed up my face. "I still don't trust them."

"How could they be behind it?" demanded Natalie. "That rattler only made his threat this morning—
after
all the thefts happened."

"Ah," I said. "So, scratch the snakes."

"I'd rather not," she said.

I smirked. "Now who's prejudiced?"

Natalie ignored me. "Which suspect shall we start with?"

"Well..." I thought about using the
eenie-meenie-miney-moe
technique, but it didn't seem very detective-y. Just then, a muskrat in a hall monitor's black beret marched down the corridor behind us.

I smiled. "Let's see if we can find a witness first," I said.

Natalie followed my gaze. "A hall monitor?"

"You read my mind, birdie."

The muskrat hadn't seen anything suspicious, but he told us to check with Luz Lipps. I thanked him for his time. He asked me for a tip. I told him not to bet on horses. He said not that kind of tip.

We spotted Luz in the library corridor. As we approached, she was pulling back from a weasel's embrace.
Yuck.
If this dame was half as good a monitor as she was a flirt, Emerson Hicky would have the calmest halls in the county.

At the sight of us, the squirrel gave a guilty start.
She released the weasel. "And don't, uh, run in the halls again," she said to him. "If you know what's good for you."

He shot her a puzzled look and shuffled off.

"Remind me never to run in the halls," I said. "Luz, I'm Chet; this is my partner, Natalie. We met before."

"Big whoop," she said around a huge chaw in her cheek. "What do you want?"

We joined the squirrel. "We're investigating a case," said Natalie.

"A case of what? Soda pop?" Luz smirked.

"Theft," I said, leaning close. "Hadn't you heard?"

The squirrel jumped, nearly choking on her gum. "Theft?"

"Someone's been stealing watches and other stuff from classrooms at recess," said Natalie.

"And yesterday, they boosted a couple of computers," I said. "Know anything about it?"

Luz glanced down the hall and back at us. "Why should I?" she demanded. "Uh, I mean, why would I know anything about that?"

I stuffed my hands into my pockets. "You
are
a hall monitor. Don't you monitor the halls?"

"Maybe you noticed someone shady," Natalie suggested.

The squirrel's face shut down tighter than a
candy store on Sunday. "Uh, nobody I can remember. Look, I'm kinda busy..."

I swept an arm out. "Go," I said. "Monitorize. But if you think of any—"

"I'll let you know," Luz interrupted. "Now I gotta—Hey, you! I saw you drop that candy wrapper!" She hustled off after a litterbug.

"Anything strike you as suspicious?" asked Natalie.

"Other than the shifty gaze, the quick change of subject, and the rushing away?" I said. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"

"I think we should keep an eye on Luz Lipps."

"Fair enough," I said. "But we're using
your
eye."

Sometimes being a detective is a bit like being a baker. A private eye has to take the slimmest of leads and weave a whole case from it. (Okay, maybe it's more like being a rug maker. But you get the picture. Detecting is hard.)

After a side trip to the snack machine for a Pillbug Crunch bar, Natalie and I decided to follow our slim lead and do some hall monitoring of our own.

The corridors were mostly deserted. We spotted Anna Motta-Pia sweeping. She glanced up, startled, and then gave us a friendly wave.

The next two hallways were as quiet as a whisper at midnight. But over by the third-grade building Natalie and I caught a break.

As we rounded the corner, a stealthy movement captured my eye. Two rooms down, a big furry someone was fiddling with a doorknob.

We ducked behind a trash can. When I poked my nose around the edge, I saw...

"Mr. Mauler!" whispered Natalie.

"Sneaking into a classroom."

The big lynx opened the door and glanced up and down the hall.

We pulled back behind the can. A soft
click
sounded. I looked again, and the music teacher had slipped inside.

"Something's fishy," said Natalie.

"As a dolphin's dinner," I agreed. "Let's go take a peek."

"Are you nuts?" she hissed. "He'll spot us."

I jerked a thumb at my chest. "Not this wall crawler. You coming?"

Natalie shook her head.

Moving as quietly as a mouse at catnap time, I scaled the wall. When I was just below the windows of the room Mr. Mauler had entered, I slowly raised my head to peer inside.

A hideous, mutant face stared into mine.

1 gasped.

Then I relaxed. It was a drawing—a lame drawing, at that. The teacher had taped her students' artwork
into every other pane. I slipped over to the next window and pressed my face to the glass.

Gustav Mauler was just closing the desk drawer. His back was half turned, so I couldn't tell what he was doing. But it seemed like he slipped a paw into his vest.

What was the wildcat up to?

Finished, Mr. Mauler turned and made for the door.

Whoops.
No time to run.

As he reached for the knob, the lynx started to look toward my window. Quick as a flash, I made the most revolting face I could, and froze.

Mr. Mauler flinched. "Ug-
ly,
" he muttered. "And dey call dot
art.
"

He slipped through the door below me. I held still, praying that he wouldn't look up again.

My luck held. The door shut, and footfalls padded down the corridor.

"Okay," whispered Natalie after a few moments. "He's gone."

I scrambled down. "Caught him red-handed," I said.

"What did he steal?" asked Natalie.

"I'm not sure, but he was red-handed. That might be the wrong-o who ripped off my sister. Let's catch up to him."

We hotfooted it down the hall.

The lynx must have picked up his pace. We caught a glimpse of a bobbed tail as he slipped around the next corner.

"Hurry!" cried Natalie.

"
Hurry
is my middle name," I said.

"I thought it was Rambo."

I broke into a jog. "Less chat, more hustle."

But by the time we passed the next building, Gustav Mauler was nowhere to be seen.

"Dang!" I said.

Natalie and I patrolled the corridor, heads swiveling. Across the grass, we spotted a line of snakes pressed to the school fence in silent protest. But no kitty. Mr. Mauler had given us the slip.

Our feet led us at last to the library.

I scratched my head. "Now, where did that cat scat to?"

"Search me," said Natalie. "But weren't the computers stolen from the library?"

"Yeah."

She grinned. "Then what say we stop and look for one of those ... what do you detectives call them? Chews? Gnus?"

"Clues," I said.

"Let's cruise."

Natalie and I pushed through the heavy oak doors into the cool quiet of the library. It smelled of old books, confusion, and fancy-schmancy coffee. Cool Beans, the librarian, held the coffee. The book smell came from, no duh, the books.

And I'm not sure where the confusion came from. (Maybe me.)

"Hey, Cool Beans," I said.

The hefty possum looked up from his cup of java. "What's shakin', private eyes?"

"Nothing but the knees of the bad guys," I said.

"Or their bellies, from laughing," said Natalie.

Cool Beans gazed at us through his wraparound shades. "The word is, you're lookin' into some light-fingered Louies around campus."

"Word travels fast," I said. "What can you tell us about the computer theft?"

The possum sipped his coffee. "Happened after I split yesterday. When I dropped in to work this A.M., I found that space"—he pointed at the gap in his line of computers—"where two machines should have been."

I strolled over to see. "And they didn't break in?"

"Nah, those sneaky squares must have had a key."

Natalie joined me and eyeballed the computer table. "Any clues?"

"No muddy footprints, no bloody handkerchiefs, no bad-guy library cards," said Cool Beans.

I shook my head. "I was afraid of that."

"But outside the window," he said, "I did find
this.
" The possum held up something that looked like a see-through scrap of parchment.

"Paper?" I said. "This place is lousy with it."

"Guess again, Sherlock. Snakeskin."

My eyes met Natalie's. "And where there's snakeskin...," I said.

"There's snakes," she finished.

I grinned. "Hey, great minds think alike."

"Or as my mom says, fools seldom differ."

After talking with Cool Beans, we still had more questions than answers. But I'm used to that. The same thing happens half the time I take a test.

Natalie and I stepped out into the bright sunshine.

"How'd we get so many suspects?" I said, ticking them off on my fingers. "I count Mr. Mauler, Johnny Ringo, Luz Lipps, and some mystery snake."

"So which one did it?" asked Natalie.

"Beats me, but when I catch that thief..."

Natalie led the way down the corridor. "Maybe we should try eliminating them one by one. Then whoever's left will be the culprit."

"Alrighty," I said, "Time for some shadow work."

Natalie clapped her wings together. "Oh, goodie.
I always wanted to learn how to make those little bunny rabbit shapes."

"Not shadow puppets,
shadowing
." I gave her a look. "You know, following suspects around to see what you can find out? Dang, birdie, you still—"

She grinned. "Gotcha! I swear, Chet, you are
so
gullible sometimes."

"I must be," I said. "I have you for a partner."

When we reached a crossroads, Natalie stopped. "How about if I look for Mr. Mauler?"

"Then I'll take Luz Lipps," I said, heading down the right-hand hall. "We'll talk at the next recess."

"Okeydokey, artichokey," she called.

"In an hour, cauliflower," I said.

Lunch period was disappearing faster than the last slurps of a millipede root beer float. I stepped up my pace, checking each corridor for the flying squirrel.

And then I found her. Hugging the wall, I watched as a boy walked up to Luz. They chatted briefly and leaned close—too close. Not again!

My face screwed up in disgust, and I turned away.

When I looked back, the two had separated, and the boy was strolling off. Luz started toward me, her cheeks puffed out. How had she managed her gum during the lip-lock? I wondered.

Then I realized I really didn't want to know.

The flying squirrel stopped dead, staring right at me.

Dang.

Distracted, I had forgotten the first rule of shadowing: Stay hidden.

I stepped out. "Luz, can you tell me—" I began.

The hall monitor spun and hurried off in the other direction. Her loose skin folds fluttered like a furry bathrobe.

"Was it something I said?" I hustled after her.

Luz broke into that hopping run that squirrels favor. I poured on the steam.

Suddenly, a teacher appeared beyond her. "No running here!" he cried.

Luz skidded to a stop and glanced back at me. Pinned between us, she took the high road—right up the wall.

But she'd forgotten about my serious climbing skills. In this business, it pays to be a lizard.

I scrambled up the wall in pursuit. When I reached the roof, Luz was already hop-running away. I took off, pumping my legs like a cancan dancer on a bathroom run.

Within a few strides, I was gaining. The edge of the building lay just ahead.

Luz looked back, panic flaring in her eyes.

I reached out my arms, almost close enough to grab her.

Luz was only steps from the drop-off. She had nowhere to go....