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suggested.
    The squirrel's face shut down tighter than a
candy store on Sunday. "Uh, nobody I can remember. Look, I'm kinda busy..."
    I swept an arm out. "Go," I said. "Monitorize. But if you think of any—"
    "I'll let you know," Luz interrupted. "Now I gotta—Hey, you! I saw you drop that candy wrapper!" She hustled off after a litterbug.
    "Anything strike you as suspicious?" asked Natalie.
    "Other than the shifty gaze, the quick change of subject, and the rushing away?" I said. "Nothing. Why do you ask?"
    "I think we should keep an eye on Luz Lipps."
    "Fair enough," I said. "But we're using
your
eye."

9. Clue in the Face
    Sometimes being a detective is a bit like being a baker. A private eye has to take the slimmest of leads and weave a whole case from it. (Okay, maybe it's more like being a rug maker. But you get the picture. Detecting is hard.)
    After a side trip to the snack machine for a Pillbug Crunch bar, Natalie and I decided to follow our slim lead and do some hall monitoring of our own.
    The corridors were mostly deserted. We spotted Anna Motta-Pia sweeping. She glanced up, startled, and then gave us a friendly wave.
    The next two hallways were as quiet as a whisper at midnight. But over by the third-grade building Natalie and I caught a break.
    As we rounded the corner, a stealthy movement captured my eye. Two rooms down, a big furry someone was fiddling with a doorknob.
    We ducked behind a trash can. When I poked my nose around the edge, I saw...
    "Mr. Mauler!" whispered Natalie.
    "Sneaking into a classroom."
    The big lynx opened the door and glanced up and down the hall.
    We pulled back behind the can. A soft
click
sounded. I looked again, and the music teacher had slipped inside.
    "Something's fishy," said Natalie.
    "As a dolphin's dinner," I agreed. "Let's go take a peek."
    "Are you nuts?" she hissed. "He'll spot us."
    I jerked a thumb at my chest. "Not this wall crawler. You coming?"
    Natalie shook her head.
    Moving as quietly as a mouse at catnap time, I scaled the wall. When I was just below the windows of the room Mr. Mauler had entered, I slowly raised my head to peer inside.
    A hideous, mutant face stared into mine.
    1 gasped.
    Then I relaxed. It was a drawing—a lame drawing, at that. The teacher had taped her students' artwork
into every other pane. I slipped over to the next window and pressed my face to the glass.
    Gustav Mauler was just closing the desk drawer. His back was half turned, so I couldn't tell what he was doing. But it seemed like he slipped a paw into his vest.
    What was the wildcat up to?
    Finished, Mr. Mauler turned and made for the door.
    Whoops.
No time to run.
    As he reached for the knob, the lynx started to look toward my window. Quick as a flash, I made the most revolting face I could, and froze.
    Mr. Mauler flinched. "Ug-
ly,
" he muttered. "And dey call dot
art.
"
    He slipped through the door below me. I held still, praying that he wouldn't look up again.
    My luck held. The door shut, and footfalls padded down the corridor.

    "Okay," whispered Natalie after a few moments. "He's gone."
    I scrambled down. "Caught him red-handed," I said.
    "What did he steal?" asked Natalie.
    "I'm not sure, but he was red-handed. That might be the wrong-o who ripped off my sister. Let's catch up to him."
    We hotfooted it down the hall.
    The lynx must have picked up his pace. We caught a glimpse of a bobbed tail as he slipped around the next corner.
    "Hurry!" cried Natalie.
    "
Hurry
is my middle name," I said.
    "I thought it was Rambo."
    I broke into a jog. "Less chat, more hustle."
    But by the time we passed the next building, Gustav Mauler was nowhere to be seen.
    "Dang!" I said.
    Natalie and I patrolled the corridor, heads swiveling. Across the grass, we spotted a line of snakes pressed to the school fence in silent protest. But no kitty. Mr. Mauler had given us the slip.
    Our feet led us at last to the library.
    I scratched my head. "Now, where did that cat scat to?"
    "Search me,"