The Chameleon Wore Chartreuse Page 3

  "So are you cheerleaders doing something special at the pep rally today?" said the other football player, an armadillo with a cauliflower nose.

  "You bet!" said Frenchy. Her tail swung in a circle. "Just wait until you see our routine with the Big Baboo—it'll knock your pads off!"

  The Big Baboo! Sometimes a private eye gets lucky. I looked down at Shirley, who was wriggling across the playground. I looked back at the cheerleaders.

  Stay, or follow Shirley? I decided to stay.

  "Don't forget, Frenchy," said one of the mynahs. "We've got cheer practice next period in the gym."

  "Okey-dokey!" said Frenchy the mouse. I had the feeling she always talked in exclamation points. Cheerleaders.

  "Don't you love the part when we—" she started to say.

  "Hey, Chet!" shouted a loud voice. "What are you doing up there?"

  It was my sister, Pinky. The littlest first grader, with the biggest mouth.

  "Shhh!" I said. She didn't take the hint.

  "You know Mom told you never to climb on school buildings."

  I shushed her again, but Pinky planted her fists on her skinny green hips. "I'm telling! I'm telling so bad," she said.

  The other kids looked up at me and laughed. My cover was blown.

  "Hey, look!" said Brick. "It's Super Gecko! Able to climb tall buildings with a single slither! Able to munch huge bugs with a single slurp!"

  The armadillo joined in, "Yeah, and the only thing that can stop him is his archenemy, Baby-Sister Girl!"

  They laughed until they snorted. This made the cheerleaders giggle even harder. I clammed up. A private eye has his dignity, after all.

  I scrambled to the roof and stood beside Natalie. Pinky stuck out her tongue. "I'm telling Mom!" she shouted again.

  "You do and you die, cockroach breath!" I said. Even a private eye's patience has limits. "Come on, Natalie."

  I led the way over the back wall of the gym. Natalie floated lazily down beside me.

  "To the dumps?" she asked.

  "My reputation's gone there already. But before we join it, I've got some questions for the Big Baboo."

  Natalie chuckled. "Anything you say, Super Gecko."

  "Ah, shut up, Wonder Bird," I said.

  11 Never Trust a Hungry Rat

  Natalie and I slipped through the door into the gym. It stank of sweat, sneakers, and humiliating defeat in basketball.

  Or maybe that was just me.

  A couple of sixth graders were shooting hoops at the far end. Otherwise the building was deserted. We strolled over to the basketball players, a burly seagull and a snake.

  "Hey, sports fans," I said. "Is either of you the Big Baboo?"

  They stopped playing. The seagull's mouth twisted into a sneer and her chest puffed out. "Do I look like a big baboo?" she said.

  "Beats me," I said. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

  "Sonny, I'm a potentate of poobah," she said.

  "What about you?" I asked the snake.

  He coiled up lazily.

  "He's a grand funkmeister," said the seagull. "But neither of us is a big baboo."

  "Ah, I see," I said. Actually, I didn't.

  "Can you tell us where to find the Big Baboo?" Natalie asked the snake. His forked tongue flickered.

  "Hey, your guess is as good as ours," said the seagull. She stabbed a grimy wing feather toward the opposite wall. "Try the coach's office."

  I glanced at the silent snake. "Tell me something," I asked the seagull, "does he ever talk?"

  "Nah," she said. "But he's got a killer jump shot."

  Natalie and I turned and headed for the coach's office. Coach "Beef" Stroganoff knows everyone who uses the gym. He'd know the Big Baboo.

  I rapped on the glass of his half-open door. "Coach Stroganoff? Can we talk?"

  Inside, a massive groundhog sat snoring in his chair, hind paws up on the desk. A little string of drool dangled from the corner of his mouth. Coach Stroganoff: man of action.

  A sly smile twisted Natalie's beak. "Oh, Coach Stroganoff," she said in Mrs. Toaden's voice. "You're so big and strong. Can you help me?"

  The coach's feet hit the floor. He came awake, shaking his head and flinging off the drool. "Beulah, honey?" he muttered. "Is that you?"

  Coach Stroganoff and Beulah Toaden, eh? I'd have to remember that one.

  "No, Coach, it's us," I said.

  The coach's sleepy gaze swung to me. "Chet Gecko?" he said. "Don't you owe me some pushups?"

  "Oh, uh ... no, Coach. You must have me confused with my evil twin." He grunted suspiciously.

  "Coach, we're looking for the Big Baboo," said Natalie. "Can you help us?"

  He blinked slowly and scratched his nose. "The Big Baboo? Why do you want the Big Baboo?"

  "I want to talk with him ... or her," I said.

  He stared at me while a smile slowly stretched the corners of his mouth. Coach Stroganoff chuckled, a sound like a bullfrog belching in a barrel.

  "You want to talk to the Big Baboo?" he said. "Well, you're welcome to try. But your conversation may be a little one-sided."

  He lumbered to his feet and pushed open the equipment room door. The small space was jammed with jump ropes, balls, and exercise mats.

  In a tall case by the wall stood a statue of our team mascot, the Golden Gopher. It looked pretty goofy to me, but it meant a lot to the school. No accounting for taste.

  "Find your friend yet?" said Coach Stroganoff. He smirked.

  I stepped deeper into the room and looked around. A dark shape caught my eye. Slumped among the bats and balls was a big, stuffed dummy. It looked like a huge monkey, the mascot of our rival school, Petsadena Elementary.

  And hanging around its neck was a sign that read BIG BABOO.

  12 The Dogged Detective

  Coach Beef Stroganoff's laughter chased us out of the gym. I leaned against the outside wall. If geckos had ears, steam would have been shooting out of mine.

  "Rats!" I said. "They tricked me, those rotten Rat Sisters! They slipped me a red herring."

  "A red herring, eh?" said Natalie. "I'd like a couple of those, marinated in olive oil."

  "No, you ding-dong," I said. "They gave me a false lead. A dead end. And I wasted precious time on it. How long before the bell rings?"

  Natalie glanced at the clock on the gym wall. "Not long," she chirped.

  We might have just enough time to make it to the dump and back before lunch period ended. It would be close, but a private eye lives for danger.

  I snagged my skateboard from the bush where I always stash it. We took off.

  Five minutes later, I hopped off my skateboard outside the fence. Natalie landed on a nearby stump.

  "Why wouldn't you carry me?" I said. "I've never flown before."

  "And you won't fly with me," she said. "You are one heavy gecko, Chet. You should lay off the deep-fried termites."

  Termites. Mmm, that reminded me, I still hadn't eaten lunch. My stomach groaned.

  We entered the gate. The dump stretched all around us, as far as the nose could smell. Hills and valleys of old tires, leftover dinners, fat cockroaches, and plain old junk covered the ground.

  A shack leaned on the fence like a lovesick walrus on a rock. Inside, a mangy dog snoozed on the floor.

  "Hey, mister," I said. "We need some information."

  The dog opened one eye. Probably the biggest workout he'd had all day.

  "What do I look like, the public library?" he said. "You want information, answer my riddles first."

  "Fire away," I said. "I'm a detective."

  "What kind of dog likes air conditioning?"

  "Uram...," I said.

  "A hot dog!" said Natalie.

  "Not bad," said the dog. He raised his head and scratched at a flea. "Okay, what is the most expensive dog?"

  "Hmm...," I said.

  "A golden retriever!" said Natalie.

  The mangy dog sat up and smiled, his wet tongue hanging out. "You're good,"
he said. "One more: What does Lassie use to make her dog biscuits?"

  "Well...," I said.

  "Collie flour!" said Natalie.

  The dog wagged his tail and knocked over a stack of tin cans. "You sure know your dogs," he said. "Now, what can I help you with?"

  Natalie grinned at me. I snorted, "Hmph." Then I told him about the missing chameleon, Billy.

  "Sure, I saw him earlier," he said. "He and this big guy were arguing. The big guy pushed him around, then they left with an old wig, a wiggly bag, and a pigskin."

  "Eeeww," said Natalie.

  "Was the pig still inside the skin?" I asked.

  The dog snorted. "Don't you young pups know anything? A pigskin is what we called a football, back when I was the fastest halfback around."

  "Enough chin waggling, Pops. No time for a side trip down memory lane," I said. "Where did Billy and Herman go when they left here?"

  "Look, noodlehead," he said. "You're the detective. You figure it out."

  The dog closed his eyes and went back to sleep. A distant bell rang—lunch period was over!

  We beat feet. I glanced longingly at the juicy cockroaches as we raced out the gate. Lunch would have to wait.

  "Billy and Herman left together?" said Natalie.

  I jumped on my skateboard and pushed off. "Maybe he's forcing Billy to help him do something. And if I know my Gila monsters, Herman is up to no good."

  "Sounds like Billy is in trouble," said Natalie, napping just ahead of me.

  "Yeah," I said. "And we'll be in trouble, too, if Ms. Glick catches us."

  Gila monsters were one thing. But Ms. Glick, the Beast of Room 3, was another kind of trouble altogether.

  13 The Beast of Room 3

  Natalie and I flew back to school. Well, actually, she flew. I skateboarded. Coming up the hill, she said, "Good thing I was there, eh?"

  "You weren't too bad," I said.

  "See, I told you a private eye needs a partner."

  "We'll talk about it later," I said. "Right now, we have bigger problems."

  At the school gate stood Ms. Glick. She looked meaner than a plateful of lima beans, and uglier than the first day of school after vacation.

  Her sharp teeth glinted in a smile.

  "Well, well," she said. "Looks like a tardy slip for Miss Natalie. And as for you, Chester Gecko..."

  I hate it when they use my full name.

  "You'll stay in detention with me and miss the football game after school," said the Beast of Room 3.

  She chuckled. Then Ms. Ghck plunged a scaly paw into her purse, grabbed a pen, and scrawled two pink slips. It hurt. But a private eye never shows pain.

  I took the detention slip. "See you later, alligator," I said.

  Her jaws snapped shut with a click. "Sassing a teacher," she snarled. "That's another day's detention. Want to try for three days?"

  I decided my wit had punished her enough. I clammed up.

  Natalie sighed and walked on.

  I went to class.

  A surprise awaited me there. Sitting on top of my desk was a chocolate-covered termite. A treat! I zapped out my tongue and snagged it. A yummy appetizer. But what a strange aftertaste.

  I reached into my mouth and found that a piece of paper had come with the bug. Carefully I peeled it off my tongue and unfolded the soggy paper.

  Dear diet, it read, I know who you're looking for. I can help.

  Who had written this? It obviously wasn't Shirley. I raised my head and scanned the classroom. But nobody winked, or made a secret hand sign, or shouted out, "It was me!"

  I sighed.

  It isn't always easy being a detective.

  I returned to the note. It continued: In ten minutes, ask the teacher for permission to get a drink of water. I'll be waiting by the water fountain.

  It was signed, A friend.

  I sat up straighter. A friend was willing to help me. Things were finally looking up. I might solve this case yet.

  I made it through the next ten minutes without Mr. Ratnose calling on me. At the proper time, I raised my hand.

  "Mr. Ratnose, can I go get a drink of water?"

  He just grunted and waved his hand. I suspected he was glad to see me leave. I scooted down the hall.

  Waiting there by the drinking fountain, a pink ribbon in her mousy brown hair, was Frenchy LaTrine.

  "Frenchy?!" I said.

  "You were expecting maybe Mata Hairy?" she said.

  I groaned.

  "Chet, we don't have much time!" said Frenchy. Her nose twitched. "I know you're looking for Billy Chameleon. And I know Herman's got him!"

  "Is that all?" I said. "I know that already."

  "There's more! I overheard Herman at lunch." She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. "He was talking about getting 'sweet' something. I think he's planning to break into the cafeteria!"

  I nodded at her. "Thanks, Frenchy. You done good."

  She smiled from ear to fuzzy ear, and I turned to go. But then a thought struck me.

  "Frenchy? Why are you helping me?"

  She pouted. "That Herman! He's such a mean boy—I want to see him get what he deserves!"

  "And why did you leave the chocolate-covered termite on my desk?"

  Frenchy grinned. "A day without chocolate is like a day without sunshine! And a day without sunshine is like ... night."

  "Mm-hmm," I grunted.

  She fiddled with her bow and looked down at her feet. "Chet, a cheerleader's more than just a cute uniform and backflips, you know." Frenchy looked up and batted her eyes. "A cheerleader has a heart, too."

  Dames. Who could understand them? I trotted back to the classroom before she could try to kiss me. I'd had enough cooties for one day.

  So Herman was planning some stunt in the cafeteria, eh? Well, he hadn't reckoned with Chet Gecko, private eye—defender of casseroles, champion of cupcakes.

  There was just one small problem: To reclaim my missing chameleon, I had to get past a Gila monster who made Darth Vader look like a choir boy.

  14 Countdown to a Showdown

  All afternoon, while Old Man Ratnose talked, I thought about Billy and the Gila monster. I wondered: Were they really going to steal food? What was in the wiggling sack they took from the dump?

  And would I ever get to eat lunch?

  At break time, Shirley slithered up to me. She blinked her big green eyes.

  "Well?" she asked. "Have you found my brother yet?"

  "Um ... hot on his trail," I answered. "Why, I've got all sorts of clues."

  "Oh yeah? Like what?" Shirley frowned suspiciously.

  I told her about Billy's trip to the dump with Herman, and about what Frenchy had overheard.

  "So you see, I'll just slip out after the bell rings and catch them at the cafeteria," I said.

  "But Billy wouldn't hang out with Herman." She turned icy blue and stamped her foot. "Stop wasting time on that Gila monster and find my brother!"

  "Don't worry, I will." I hoped.

  "Hmph!" she said. "You're as clueless as a duck in a disco! And there's only one period left!"

  She tossed her head and pranced back to her desk.

  I looked at the facts of the case. She had a point. Number 1, I hadn't found her brother yet, and time was running short. Number 2, I didn't have a clue how all my clues added up. And number 3, I would be spending the next two days in detention.

  I was really making some progress. Any more of this progress, and I could consider a career as a bathroom monitor.

  Last period dragged by. When the bell rang, all the other kids ran screaming out to the football field for a pep rally.

  I thought maybe Ms. Glick wouldn't miss me too much if I skipped detention—just this once. I plunged into a knot of third graders and tried to blend in. With luck, I could make it to the cafeteria undiscovered.

  I bent lower as the group swept past Room 5, past Room 4. Freedom was waiting up ahead. And the end of the case was so close, I could almost ta
ste that stinkbug pie. I bent lower stiU as we rushed past the dreaded Room 3.

  Almost there. And then I sensed kids changing direction.

  I kept my head down and my feet flying—and ran headfirst into what felt like a brick wall. I rubbed my head and looked. It was a brick wall with big scaly feet and hangnails!

  "Hello, Chester," said Ms. Click. "Nice of you to join us."

  Nice of you to run off and join the zoo, I thought. But I didn't say that. The Beast of Room 3 clamped her jaw down on my coat collar and carried me into detention hall like an old sack lunch.

  She dumped me behind a desk. I slumped in my seat. Now how would I get free to solve the case in time?

  I looked around the room. The pride of the school surrounded me: A dim-witted toad named Willie. A loudmouthed mynah bird named Amy.

  And the two Rat Sisters.

  My, my.

  15 Detention Ain't for Sissies

  The Beast made me write I will not be a tardy gecko until I filled up the chalkboard. While I wrote, my back was turned to the Rat Sisters. I listened to their whispers.

  "I can't believe we're missing it," said Rizzo. "Herman's big revenge is happening, and we're stuck here in detention."

  I leaned back to listen, and kept writing.

  "I'd like to see the look on their faces when they—" Nadine stopped.

  "Get an earful, Gecko?" said Rizzo.

  "What?" I asked. I looked around innocently. She pointed to the blackboard, where I'd written I will not miss Herman's big revenge.

  Oops.

  Nadine's whiskers bristled. "Keep your nose out of our business," she said. "If you don't want to lose it."

  "Shhh!" said Ms. Click, from her desk.

  "Where's Billy?" I whispered. "Where's that chameleon?"

  "Aww," said Nadine. "Didn't the Big Baboo tell you anything?"