Hiss Me Deadly (8 page)

"Knock, knock." She stared at me.

"Oh, all right," I said. "Who's there?"

"Amarillo."

I sighed. "Amarillo who?"

"Amarillo-fashioned cowboy!" She cackled. "Get it?
Real old-fashioned?
"

"I get it. Now can we get out of here?"

Natalie tossed her hay aside. "Let's mosey, podnuh."

By this time, the school was filling up with kids and parents, many of whom were dressed like Natalie. I winced. Private eyes and cowpokes don't mix.

The playground had a strange Wild-Bill-Hickok-Meets-Barnum-and-Bailey feel. Hay bales and corrals stood cheek by jowl with the Tilt-A-Whirl and Whack-A-Worm booths. Jugglers and stilt walkers competed with lasso twirlers and pony wranglers. And over by the trees, a huge circus tent held (according to its banner) the Wonders of the Western World.

Two off-duty policemen in cowboy duds stood by its door. They were about as inconspicuous as a scorpion on a shortcake. (But not nearly as tasty.)

I nudged Natalie. "See the cops?"

"How can you tell?" she asked.

"Real cowboys don't carry billy clubs and walkie-talkies."

She fluffed her feathers. "You get the feeling Mr. Zero is worried about the thief striking again? Maybe going after the Flubberjee Egg?"

"Just a little, yeah."

It was encouraging to know how much faith our principal had in us.

Natalie and I walked the circuit, keeping an eye peeled for Luz Lipps, Percy the rattlesnake, and any other suspicious characters.

"Notice anything?" said Natalie.

"You're not the only one dressed like Hopalong McHayseed?"

"Nope," she said. "No clowns."

I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

As we passed the kissing booth, a mouse named Frenchy LaTrine called out.

"Hey, Chet!" she said, toying with her ribbon. "Want to buy a smooch?"

I stepped back. "
Eew.
You couldn't
pay
me to pucker up."

"It's for a good cause." She batted her fudge brown eyes at me.

"I've got a better one," I said. "Avoiding your cooties."

Natalie snickered. We rounded a group of kids, and I bumped right into Johnny Ringo.

"Excuse you, you didn't see me," I said.

"Watch it, buster," growled the sleek raccoon.

Rolf the wolverine stood behind him, flexing his muscles. "You like I should bimp 'em, boss?"

Ringo straightened his vest. "Nah, we'll settle their hash later."

"What are
you
up to?" said Natalie.

"It's a free country," said the raccoon. "I'm just being me."

I eyed him and his pet wolverine. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"I got my ticket, amigo," Johnny said, smiling. "I'm gonna go see the wonders just like everyone else. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

I hate it when the bad guys are right.

Satisfying myself with a parting sneer, I turned to go. Just then, wild fiddle music burst from speakers mounted on poles. Although it sounded to me like the death throes of a bobcat with laryngitis, the crowd seemed excited.

Coach Stroganoff's voice boomed through the speakers. "Come on over to the Hens' Hoedown, cowpokes! It's chickies' choice; time to shake your tail feathers!"

Natalie looked over at me. "
Chickies
" choice? Coach needs some lessons in how to talk about girls."

"That's not all he needs," I said. "Never mind, we've got bigger bugs to fry."

But before I could take ten steps, someone grabbed my tail.

"Easy on the merchandise," I said. "That thing comes off."

"Where are you going?" said Shirley Chameleon. "We have a dance date, remember?"

I turned and reclaimed my tail. "I must have been dreaming," I said. "Or insane."

"But you
promised,
" said Shirley with a pout.

Natalie leaned over my shoulder. "A promise is a promise, big guy."

"But—" I said.

"Go dance with your girlfriend," said Natalie. "I'll keep on patrolling."

"That's super!" said Shirley, seizing my arm.

"She's
not
my girlfriend," I protested as the chameleon dragged me off.

The dance floor was a big square surrounded by hay bales, over near the Wonders of the Western World tent. Chattering girls linked arms with boys who looked as nervous as garden slugs in a salt mine.

Bo Newt was so discombobulated, he tripped over his own tail and sprawled in the dirt. Onlookers clapped and cheered.

Coach Stroganoff, a massive groundhog in a dinky yellow hat, stood on a bale. He bellowed out the dance instructions:

"
Alley-oop left with your left hand,
Do-si-do with a baby grand,
Promenade and hinkey-doo,
Squeeze your partner, coochie-coo!
"

He might just as well have been reciting the times tables in ancient Greek, but a few couples actually made the same moves. Shirley tugged me into their midst.

"Isn't this
fun?
" she gushed.

"As jolly as a day at the dentist's office." I tried not to stub my toes.

As we whirled about, I spotted Johnny Ringo's mocking face in the crowd. When I looked again, it had vanished.

The second song started. Shirley grabbed my hands.

I said a silent prayer:
Please get me off this dance floor. Any distraction will do.

Five seconds later, my prayer was answered. And I realized I should have been more specific.

Honking madly, a small pink car squealed to a halt. The doors burst open, and a pack of characters popped out. Deranged characters with wild hair, painted faces, and red, rubbery noses.

No, not tax accountants.

Clowns.

The onlookers cheered as a seemingly impossible number of clowns piled out of the pint-sized car. Even the cops at the tent ambled forward to see.

The jokers juggled eggs and footballs and firecrackers; they slipped on banana peels. They honked their shiny horns and wove in and out of the crowd, leering with their crazy clown faces and laughing their creepy clown laughs.

My palms got clammier than the New England seashore. My stomach clenched. "Urgh," I moaned, backing away.

"What's the matter?" asked Shirley.

"Hate ... clowns," I said through clenched teeth. "Must ... go."

"Chet?"

And I staggered away from their puke pink car and spooky, rubber-kneed antics. Pushing through the crowd, I stumbled blindly on.

Cool, dark shade fell over me, and I stopped. Blinking, I looked around my sanctuary: the big tent.

It was deserted. Everyone had left to see the painted weirdos, who were now shooting off fireworks.

I sagged against a tent pole and caught my breath. After a minute, I walked around stiff-legged, shaking it off.

Here were models of the pyramids, gleaming golden in the subdued light. There stood a big Aztec-looking stone disk, covered with carvings.

I wasn't sure what this odd mishmash had to do with a school fair, but it looked pretty cool. Toddling onward, I noticed a spangled cowboy hat, a life-size sculpture of an emerald cow, and copies of the
Mona Lisa
and other fancy-pants paintings.

And then, at the far end of the tent, I saw it: on a pedestal by itself, the Flubberjee Egg.

Wow.

Lit by a single spotlight, cradled on black velvet, the egg was bigger than my head and encrusted with enough rubies and sapphires to make an empress drool. It pulled me closer and closer.

Then a thought struck me: Why was it unprotected?

A flicker of movement caught my eye. I looked up. There was the glass case, hanging safely in the coils of ... a really,
really
big snake.

I gasped.

"Yesss," he hissed. "Beautiful, isssn't it?"

"Uh, yeah."

The giant boa had scaled the tent's steel frame. His massive body was as thick as a tuba and twice as twisty. His gaze was as cold as a polar bear's heinie.

The snake effortlessly held the glass case with his tail while his front half slithered down to just above my head.

I stepped back.

"Balthazar Boa, at your ssservice," he said. His forked tongue flitted out, and his red eyes gleamed.

I clenched my fists. "So
you're
the scumbag that ripped off my little sister."

"Why, yesss."

"You robbed the wrong student, buster."

A nasty grin played across his mug. "Ooh. Bold wordsss from the cluelesss shamusss. How droll."

I hate it when the bad guys mock.

"Oh, yeah?" I said. "We already caught your partner in crime, Luz Lipps."

The boa slithered a little lower. "Have you? I bet she didn't confesss."

"Not yet," said Natalie from behind me. "But she will."

I shot her a warm glance. "That's right. We detectives have our ways."

Balthazar Boa chuckled, a sound like dead leaves blowing over a gravestone. "Your waysss? Like the way you misssed me at the serpentsss' protesst?"

"You were the anaconda with the signs?" I said, shaking my head. "Dang. I always did have a problem telling boy snakes from girl snakes."

Natalie crossed the tent floor. "So you and Percy are in it together."

The boa scoffed. "That wusss? Percy and his idealisstic foolsss provided a perfect cover for me to cassse the ssschool and contact my little thievesss."

Natalie cocked her head. "But why did Luz leave school grounds that day?"

Bal Boa slithered closer still. We backed up.

"To make a drop-off at my tree, of courssse," he said.

"Your tree?" Natalie elbowed me. "I
told
you we were being watched."

"No, you didn't," I said. "
I
told you."

The huge snake scowled. "Enough chitchat. I'm
taking thisss egg, and you can't do a thing to ssstop me.

"Oh, yeah?" I circled nearer to the treasure. "And how will you carry it without any hands, Stretch?"

I reached for the jeweled egg.

"Like thisss," said the boa.
Wham-bam!
His wedge-shaped head shot out, and the Flubberjee Egg was gone!

"Put that back!" cried Natalie.

"Unh-hrmm," said Bal Boa around the egg in his mouth.

"Natalie, get the cops!" I cried.

She crouched, ready for action. "What are you going to do?"

I eyeballed the snake, now slithering back up onto the tent frame. "I'll, uh, think of something. Go!"

She flew to the door.

Just then—
kzzatch!
—the glass case shattered on the floor, and—
ka-ka-BOOOM!
—the fireworks exploded outside.

"You'll never get away," I said. "You can't slither fast enough."

"Hghah!" laughed Balthazar Boa. The egg had worked its way into his throat. "I don't hghave to!"

Footsteps pounded behind me. I whirled. Was it the cops?

No such luck. Two beefy iguanas stood there, dressed in whiteface, baggy pants, and multicolored wigs.

"Gah," I said, staggering back.

Not clowns again.

Anything but clowns.

The painted iguanas stood between me and the door. Somehow, under the makeup, they seemed familiar.

"You don't listen too good, do you, bright boy?" said Squinchy Eye. "We told you to leave town."

Nose Ring advanced on me. Under his ruff, he wore pearls—Mom's pearls.

"Give ... those ... back," I choked out.

But I couldn't raise a finger. I crouched against the wall, cornered by clowns.

"Can oy squeeze 'im now?" said Nose Ring.

"Don't sssqueeze
hghim,
" said the massive boa. "Sssqueeze
me.
"

Thunk!
He plummeted to the floor like an elephant high-wire act.

"Ooh," said Nose Ring. "Eight-point-five!"

Squinchy Eye addressed the snake. "I don't follow, chief."

"Danged peristalsisss," said Boa, slithering up to them. "I cgh-can't stop ssswallowing the egg, so you must sssqueeze it ogh-out of me."

"Ah, right you are," said the iguana. "Grab his tail," he told Nose Ring.

The second lizard moved into place. Squinchy Eye wrapped his hands around the bulge in the snake's gullet.