Free The Mystery of Mr. Nice by Bruce Hale

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    HARCOURT, INC.
San Diego • New York • London

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    Copyright © 2000 by Bruce Hale

    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
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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.,
6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777
    www.harcourt.com
    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hale, Bruce.
The mystery of Mr. Nice: from the tattered casebook
of Chet Gecko, private eye/Bruce Hale.—1st ed.
p. cm.
"A Chet Gecko Mystery."
Summary: When the principal of his school begins
acting nice to him, Chet Gecko realizes that he is an
imposter and so sets out to find the real one.
[1. Geckos—Fiction. 2. Lizards—Fiction.
3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Mystery and detective stories.]
I. Title.
PZ7.H1295My 2000
[Fic]—dc21 99-50914
ISBN 0-15-202271-6
    Text set in Bembo
Display type set in Elroy
Designed by Ivan Holmes
    First edition
ACEGHFDB
    Printed in the United States of America

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For my brother, the one and only Matteo Grande

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A private message from the private eye...
    Nobody appreciates great artists when they're still alive.

    Take that Vincent van Gogh guy, for example. He chopped off his ear because nobody liked his art. That must have hurt. Both the lack of respect and the ear chopping, I mean.
    But I know how he felt.
    How do I know? I'm another unsung artist.
    True, most folks know me as the best lizard detective at Emerson Hicky Elementary, but it's not all knuckles and know-how with Chet Gecko. I've also got my artistic side.
    And if it wasn't for my art, I might never have stumbled over the clue that started me on this case.
    Don't get me wrong. I'm not going to quit detective work and chop off my ear anytime soon. (Geckos don't have ears.) But I wouldn't mind a little more respect for my talents.

    After all, who do you think put the
art
in
smart aleck?

1. Wombat Kisses
    It was a hot, slow day. History class crept by like a slug on ice. Mr. Ratnose stood at the blackboard, trying to make some history of his own as Most Boring Teacher Ever. Half the class was asleep, and the other half was trying to look like they weren't.

    Me, I was watching Mr. Ratnose's long whiskers droop like the seat of a kindergartner's pj's.
    Suddenly, inspiration struck.
    I whipped out a sheet of paper and a pen. Behind the cover of my open history book, I began a truly great cartoon. It started with Mr. Ratnose, and for the sake of Art, I made his nose four times the size it usually is.
    And that's pretty big.

    Then I pooched out his lips. With great detail, I drew in Marge Supial, the school nurse, puckering up for the mother of all kisses.

    Before I'd even finished, I heard a smothered giggle. I glanced over at Bo Newt.
    "Eeew, wombat kisses!" he whispered.
    He giggled some more. Shirley Chameleon scooted her desk closer, trying to see what all the fuss was about.
    "
Shhh,
" I said. An artist must have silence. I bent to my work. I had just labeled the characters in my latest masterpiece, when IT fell on me.
    The teacher's shadow.
    "What do you call
this?
" said Mr. Ratnose.
    "Um ... art gecko?" I said.
    "And who is that supposed to be?" He pointed a clawed finger at the big-nosed rat.
    Duh. It was obviously him. But I couldn't say that.
    "Um, it's an Afro-Cubist rendering of a rare lumpenhuffer in a Post Toasties—influenced style," I said. That's the kind of stuff I read in my parents' art books at home. No fooling.
    "It looks like me kissing a wombat," said Mr. Ratnose. He bared his long front teeth.
    The kids sitting near me were trying so hard not to crack up, they were snorting like pigs at a mud festival. Bo Newt's eyes bulged like two pumped-up grapefruit.