The Hamster of the Baskervilles (6 page)

Full moon was tomorrow night—the night of Science Fair. If some supernatural critter terrorized the big event, the school supervisor would bust Mr. Zero from fat cat to alley cat quicker than you can say
kitty litter.

My feet carried me toward Mr. Ratnose's room. But I stopped just down the corridor. I looked at the hall pass in my hand.

How often do you get a pass from a principal? A smile tugged at my lips. I'd be going back to class the long way.

***

By the time you reach second grade, you start to learn the ropes. If you need nursing, see the nurse. If you seek aggravation, bug a vice principal. If you want the lowdown, ask a librarian.

I eased open the library door. The air was chilly as a truant officer's smile. I caught a whiff of old books, fried brain cells, and high-test espresso.

Cool Beans was Emerson Hicky's head librarian and resident expert on the supernatural. An opossum the size of a refrigerator, he had a head for strange facts and a body for ripping phone books in half.

He was as hard to miss as a stegosaurus on a sesame-seed bun.

Cool Beans was shelving books. His sleepy eyes surveyed me from behind wraparound shades.

"What's the word, Winston?" he rumbled. "Did you fall by for a good book?"

"No, I need the hot scoop on a bad wolf."

"Lay it on me."

I pushed back my hat. "I've heard reports of a werewolf, or a were-hamster—something like that, on campus. Is it possible?"

Cool Beans lifted a lazy paw to scratch under his blue beret. "Wolves are scarce round here, but there's more wild things in this wigged-out world than you can even imagine, daddy-o. And that's the word from the bird."

"Huh?"

"It's possible."

Questions chased each other like kindergartners after an ice-cream truck. I picked one. (A question, not a kindergartner.)

"But a were-
hamster?
" I said. "I've only heard of were
wolves.
"

Cool Beans pointed at a book on the cart. I passed it to him. As he slipped it into place, he said, "There's all kinds of were-critters—wolves, bears, frogs, even bunnies. Why not a hamster?"

"But
were?
"

"Anywhere, man."

I shook my head. "No, I mean, what makes an animal
were?
"

"Oh, a curse, sometimes, or a bite from another were-thing. It bugs 'em out, makes 'em wild."

At this, an inner door opened and a student entered. She shuffled along, head down, a hamster with glasses and curly brown—a
hamster?!

I leaned toward Cool Beans and whispered, "Don't look now, but there's a hamster behind you."

He turned.

"I told you not to look," I said. "That could be the were-hamster."

The big possum chuckled. "What, Lauren? Man, are you blowin' on the wrong kazoo. Lauren Order is my assistant. She's a were-critter like I'm the ringmaster of a flea circus."

All the same, I kept an eye on her. Lauren nodded to the librarian and mumbled, "Omga gabacca brewers shastnow."

"Huh?" said Cool Beans and I together.

"Gonna go back to Ms. Burrower's class now," she repeated, slightly louder.

"All reet, sugar beet," said Cool Beans. "Catch you on the flip side."

She slipped out the door as softly as a ghost's whisper. I handed the possum another book. He cocked his massive head.

"A were-thing at school, huh?" he muttered. "What do you know?"

I cleared my throat. "So do these were-creatures stay that way all the time?"

"Naw, just for a few nights around the full moon," he said. Cool Beans patted the book. "Rest of the time, they're just regular goofs."

I leaned forward. "So if this were-creature is just a normal animal in the daytime, how am I supposed to find it?"

He grinned. "I dunno. You're the gumshoe, Jackson. I'm just a librarian."

"Thanks for reminding me," I said. "Sometimes I forget."

After the cool cave of the library, the sun's heat slapped my face like a spurned cheerleader. I squared my shoulders and plowed onward. It takes more than a sunny day to stop this private eye.

The halls were empty—just the way I like them. I decided to stretch my luck by making one more stop before returning to class.

Just down the hall from the library, the cafeteria squatted like a happy hippo, widemouthed and full of interesting smells. I smiled. Might as well grab a snack and check for evidence at the same time.

First I headed for the kitchen, where I knew the cafeteria ladies would give me a warm welcome.

But before I could step inside, I met a chilly attitude.

"You there, Gecko!"

It was Ms. LaRue, just leaving the cafeteria, as warm and cuddly as a king-sized cactus in high heels. She nibbled a grub-worm cookie and wore her usual frown.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Well, I—"

"Get back to class at once. You can detect on your own time."

I knew that look in her eyes. I'd get as far arguing with Ms. LaRue as I would trying to tow the entire football team in a little red wagon.

"Then I guess this is where we say so long," I said.

She snarled in response. I didn't know a hedgehog could snarl.

"As they say in Rome,
Harry Verducci.
" I turned and ambled back to class, wondering idly why she didn't want me detecting just then.
Hmph.
There's just no pleasing some teachers.

Mr. Ratnose's classroom was as full of fun as a warm bucket of boogers. Most of the kids stood in tired clusters around their science projects—except for the oddballs like Igor Beaver, who were rootin'- tootin' and rarin' to go.

Shirley Chameleon looked up as I slid into my seat. "So what did Principal Zero want?"

In the next group over, Bosco made with the radar ears. "Just the usual," I said. "A mean tongue-lashing, followed by a serious tail chewing."

"
Eeew,
" said Rynne Tintin. "Sounds painful."

"You don't know the half of it, sister."

Igor wrung his paws together. "People, please. Can we get back to work?"

I rolled my eyes and prepared to dive into Dullsville. But just then, another miracle occurred: recess.

A massive sigh of relief blew like Hurricane Jezebel through the room. I wove between the departing kids and headed for the candy machine. This having two cases at once was working out just fine. Now if I could only figure a way to get out of the rest of my classes....

I fed my quarters into the slot, popped the button, and grabbed a Sowbug Twinkie. As I peeled back the wrapping, a familiar face poked through the passing crowd.

"Hey, Chet," said Natalie. "Do you know what the guests sang at the Eskimo's birthday party?"

"No, and I'm not sure I want to."

"
Freeze a jolly good fellow,
" she sang. "Get it?"

Mockingbird humor is an acquired taste. I hope I don't acquire it any day soon.

"Time for a powwow," I said.

"Lead the way, chief."

Munching on my treat, I steered us through a
pack of playful mice. We flopped down on the grass beside the sandbox. I savored each bite of the snack while Natalie filled me in on Bosco's latest activities: bullying, bribery, and shakedowns.

She said he'd even jammed up the drinking fountains with peanut butter. That reminded me of something, but I couldn't place it.

"So he—
mmm
—didn't do anything suspicious, eh?" I said.

"Just the usual. Now stop stuffing your face and explain this whole werewolf deal."

I stopped stuffing. I gave Natalie the lowdown from my meetings with Cool Beans and Principal Zero. Then my eyes wandered back to my half-eaten Twinkie.

Natalie sat up quickly. "When was this were-whatever first spotted?"

"Um, yesterday, I guess."

"And when did the vandalism start?"

"Yesterday."

"
Hmm
..." She leaned forward. "Chet, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I doubt it. I was wondering how they get the sow bugs into the filling of the Twinkie."

Natalie frowned. "Chet!"

"Sorry," I said, gulping the last of my snack. "You were saying?"

My partner hopped up and began to pace. "Don't you see? This were-creature could be the one who's wrecking classrooms and—"

"And digging holes?" I asked. "Come on. What is this,
Revenge of the Were-Gopher?
"

"I don't know," said Natalie. "But there's one way to find out."

"There certainly is," I said. "What is it?"

Natalie's eyes glittered. "We stake out the school and catch it in the act."

I scratched my head. "And when we find out the truth—that the
gang
is actually doing the vandalism?"

"Then we hope they don't catch us first," she said. "Simple."

...As tap dancing through a minefield.

Time spent on stakeout is as long and lonely as a python without a date. After school, Natalie and I discussed the best time for our surveillance. I voted for nighttime.

"There's only two problems with that," said Natalie.

"Oh yeah?" I said.

"Your mom and my mom."

"Oh yeah," I said. "So that leaves..."

A grin stretched across Natalie's beak. "Early morning. My favorite time of day."

Morning—
yuck.
What a rotten way to start the day. Still, if it would help us solve two cases at once, I'd march down Main Street with purple underwear on my head.

Or ... maybe not.

Anyhow, much as I hated to admit it, Natalie was right. We agreed to meet before sunrise the next day.

"Cheer up, Chet," she said. "Early to bed and early to rise—"

"Makes a guy's eyeballs spin counterclockwise," I said. "Spare me the poetry. See you in the morning."

Next day, I told my mom I had to be at school early, to study. Strangely enough, she believed me. My skateboard waited in the garage. I dropped it in the driveway, hopped on, and rolled down the dark streets in a stupor, like a mummy on wheels.

If I never wake up that early again, it'll be too soon.

But early as it was, Natalie waited by the flagpole.

"Good morning, sunshine!" she chirped. "Ready to catch a monster?"

"Ready to catch some more z's," I muttered. "Where's that walkie-talkie?"

We each took one of the radios and headed for opposite ends of the school, to spread a wider dragnet.

Yellow security lights cast deep shadows. The sky was the color of burnt toast. An almost-full moon leered at me like a game-show host.

Minutes stretched like lazy cats. Nothing stirred. Even Maureen DeBree hadn't arrived yet.

I sat on my skateboard and tried to keep my eyes open. From far away came the siren song of my own sweet bed.
Sleeeep, beeeoootiful sleeeep,
it sang. I started to hum along, when a rude noise startled me awake.

Kkzzsch!
"Come in, Chet. Over." It was Natalie's voice on the walkie-talkie.

I thumbed the talk button. "Yeah, what is it?" I yawned.

"Chet, you're supposed to say
over
when you're done talking. Over."

"
Over.
Over."

"Ha, ha," said Natalie. "All quiet here. Anything happening there? Over."

I scanned the empty school yard. "Nothing shaking but the leaves on the trees."

Natalie's voice came back, the only sound in the lonely predawn. "Let's check in later. Over and out."

"Roger, dodger," I said, just for yuks. I thought I heard Natalie snort, but it could have been static.

I set down the walkie-talkie and propped my elbows on my knees. Being a private eye isn't all glamour and gunshots, you know. Sometimes you've got to face down Mean Old Mr. Boredom on a stakeout.

If I kept sitting, sleep would claim me soon. I stood and stretched. My joints popped like an army of cheerleaders in a gum-chewing contest.

Couldn't hurt to take a spin past the library,
I thought. Stepping onto my skateboard, I drifted down the hallways. I'd like to say my eyes were peeled and my senses were alert, but Mom always tells me not to he. My brain felt like it had been wrapped in cotton and dipped in molasses.

Nothing happening by the library, either. I sat down again to keep watch. I watched my eyelids droop, lower ... lower....

I was dreaming. I dreamed a huge shadow freed itself from the darkness of a nearby wall and flowed