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When classrooms start turning up trashed and rumors of a mysterious giant "were-hamster" are whispered in the halls of Emerson Hicky Elementary, Chet Gecko, fourth-grade detective, swings into action. His teacher, Mr. Ratnose, has promised him two get-out-of-detention-free cards and a box of jelly doughnuts if he solves the mystery, and as the case evolves and the moon waxes full, Chet and his mockingbird partner, Natalie Attired, are drawn in deeper and deeper. Soon they are going undercover as potential members of the Dirty Rotten Stinkers gang, hiding out in Dumpsters, and working on the sly for fat-cat Principal Zero.
Savvy readers well-versed in Bruce Hale's hilarious wordplay and detective novel spoofs will not be surprised to see that the denouement of this uproarious mystery involves a few shady characters named Erik Nidd (a tarantula bully), Luke Busy (a badger janitor), and Lauren Order (a meek little hamster), as well as a giant makeshift Habitrail. Other titles in the series include Farewell, My Lunchbag and The Chameleon Wore Chartreuse. (Ages 8 to 12) --Emilie Coulter
From School Library Journal
Grade 3-5-Chet returns for his fifth case, when his classroom is wrecked and he is offered two get-out-of-detention-free cards and a box of jelly doughnuts to find the culprit. The zany text reads like a mixture of stand-up comedy, Raymond Chandler mysteries, old films, and a fourth grader on an overdose of sugar. In order to solve the case Chet and his bird partner, Natalie Attired, infiltrate the Dirty Rotten Stinkers gang to find out more about suspects Erik Nidd, a tank-sized tarantula, and Bosco Rebbizi, a "surly ferret with a chip on his shoulder the size of a redwood tree." A werewolf is sighted and the playground has large tunnels in it. Chet interviews the librarian, an opossum who is an expert on the supernatural and talks like a Beat hipster from the 1950s. Plot development is not built steadily with the finding of clues, and the ending is sudden and contrived. However, the irresistible wordplay and punny humor may elicit giggles from many readers. Illustrations are adequate, but they don't have the originality and appeal of the text.Debbie Stewart, Grand Rapids Public Library, MICopyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.
From Booklist
Gr. 3-5. Fourth-grade gecko detective Chet is back in his fifth mystery, which is filled with the jokes and wordplay his fans have come to love: "My jaw dropped. I didn't pick it up." This time Chet and his feathered sidekick, Natalie, are enlisted to catch the culprit who is trashing the classrooms and to locate a were-beast spotted at school. Could the chaos be the work of the Dirty Rotten Stinkers gang? Chet descends into "deep-doo-doo" more than once as he tries to find out. Hale ably preserves his elaborate comedy construct from first to last, whether it's puns and bad jokes from the hard-boiled, goofball gecko; the over-the-top animal characters (Ol' Ferret Face, Bosco Rebbizi, head of the Stinkers); or the clever details. Kids will have so much fun, they won't care that the mystery is pretty lame. Stephanie Zvirin
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Book Description
Chet Gecko doesn't believe in the supernatural. His idea of voodoo is his mom's cockroach ripple ice cream. But when a teacher reports seeing a monster by the light of a full moon, it falls to Chet and his sleek-winged partner, Natalie Attired, to answer the burning question: Is this the work of a vicious, supernatural werehamster on the loose? Or just another science fair project gone wrong?
Card catalog description
Something is trashing the classrooms at Emerson Hicky Elementary School, and sixth-grade private eye Chet Gecko sets out to find the creature that's responsible.
About the Author
BRUCE HALE is the author of five picture books as well as the Chet Gecko mysteries. A popular speaker, teacher, and storyteller for children and adults, he lives in Santa Barbara, California.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1
A Heck of a Wreck
Some Mondays drag in like a wet dog, dripping puddles of gloom and trailing a funky stink. (Actually, at my school most Mondays are like that.)
But this Monday opened with a bang, like a fat frog fired from a circus cannon. And, like that frog, it turned into an ugly mess quicker than you can say ribbet-ribbet-splat.
No clue tipped me off as I trotted through the gates of Emerson Hicky Elementary mere minutes before the morning bell. One more tardy slip and I'd win a one-way trip to detention with the Beast of Room 3-not my idea of a dream vacation.
I dodged and darted down the halls past other stragglers, trying to beat the clock.
A sleepy second grader wandered into my path. Dazed as a meerkat on a merry-go-round, she stumbled along toward her classroom.
Za-yoomp!
I planted my hands on her shoulders and vaulted over the little shrew easy as slurping a gypsy-moth milk shake. My feet pounded onward.
Rounding the last corner, I was running full tilt-only seconds to go!
Mr. Ratnose's classroom loomed ahead. I bounced off the bright-orange door and skidded for my seat just as the bell went rrriinnnng!
And I would've made it, too, if not for Bitty Chu, the gopher.
Whomp!
Like a crazy cue ball, I hit her at top speed, ricocheted into Waldo the furball, and sprawled across Shirley Chameleon's desk. Private eye in the corner pocket.
Shirley blinked down at me. I tipped my hat.
"Hey, green eyes," I said suavely, "did you get the answer to that second homework problem?"
Shirley snorted and tossed her head.
"What's up, buttercup?" I said. "You've gone all yellow around the edges."
And she had. One thing about chameleons, there's never a dull-colored moment.
"Use your private eye, wise guy," she said.
Since when would Shirley skip a chance to flirt like the cootie machine she was? Something was rotten in the state of Ratnose.
I raised my head and checked out my fourth-grade classroom.
My jaw dropped. I didn't pick it up.
Mr. Ratnose's room was a mess. No-more than a mess, it was the Cadillac of cruddiness, the Titanic of trash, the Grand Canyon of chaos. If that mess were a monument, it'd be the Statue of Litterty.
Desks lay tumbled around the room like blocks in a cranky preschooler's playpen. Half-eaten papers covered the floor. Deep gashes raked the walls. A handful of seeds was scattered by the door. The seeds of destruction, maybe?
Most of my classmates stood gaping, saucer eyed in amazement.
Bitty Chu tearfully fingered a wad of shredded paper. "Somebody's been munching on my math quiz."
Waldo the furball ran a finger along his toppled chair. "Somebody's been slobbering on my seat."
I noticed a jagged cut on the wall had mutilated my latest masterpiece, a safety poster. Somebody'd been slashing up my artwork-and I guessed it wasn't Goldilocks.
What twisted hoodlum was responsible?
Mr. Ratnose stood knee-deep in the mess. His eyes were round as doughnuts, with a dollop of bitter chocolate in the middle. He sputtered like a deranged sprinkler head. Finally he choked out, "Who...is...responsible...for this?"
Nobody moved, nobody spoke.
"Who wrecked my classroom?" he asked.
Bo Newt nudged me. "Whoever it was, he had monster feet," he whispered. "I'd hate to have to shop for his tennies."
I looked at the muddy footprints. Bo was right. Whoever had made those tracks would wear shoes big enough for the football team to float downstream in.
"Who spoke?" said Mr. Ratnose. "Chet Gecko? Do you know something?"
With you as a teacher? ran through my mind.
But for once, I passed up an easy joke. "No, Mr. Ratnose."
Mr. Ratnose's whiskers quivered like an overstrung banjo. He paced up the aisle to me, wringing his paws. "You're some kind of detective," he muttered. "Can't you find out who did this?"
I tilted my hat back and gazed up at him. "I'm some kind of detective, all right-the kind that likes to get paid. If I track down this goon, what's in it for me? Can I get out of doing my science project?"
"No," said Mr. Ratnose.
"Can I get free lunches for a month?"
"Not likely," said Mr. Ratnose.
"Can I-"
"How about two get-out-of-detention-free cards and a box of jelly doughnuts?"
"Done," I said. "Mr. Ratnose, I'm your gecko."
Copyright © 2002 by Bruce Hale
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be mailed to the following address:
Permissions Department, Harcourt, Inc.,
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