Boy Meets Squirrel "Uh..." I gaped. "You, uh, want to hire me?" Mr. Zero leaned onto his forearms. "Gecko, despite all your faults, you actually have solved a case or two." "Gee, thanks," I said. The principal's claws emerged. His eyes narrowed. "And now I've got a case that needs solving. Things have begun disappearing around school." Yeah, like my mom's necklace, I thought. "At first, we didn't worry much—a watch here, a camera there. But last night, two computers went missing from the library." I whistled. "Them's big potatoes. Any clues?" Mr. Zero's claws sank into his scarred desktop. "None," he rumbled. "No sign of a break-in; no evidence left behind." "Impressive," I said. "This operation is slicker than greased duck snot." The principal raised an eyebrow. "If you'll, uh, pardon the phrase," I said. "I want you to help me shut down this thief," he said. "Pronto." I spread my hands. "I'm flattered, boss man. Lil' old me? But why haven't you called in John Q. Law—you know, the cops?" "You're suspicious for a fourth grader." "It's a suspicious world," I said.
