Amanda Lester and the Purple Rainbow Puzzle

by Paula Berinstein

  “Of course, dear. Always.”

  “I need someone who can arrange for us to talk to Blixus Moriarty’s associates in prison.”

  “You what?” shrieked Despina. “Why would you want to do that? That’s too dangerous for you, dear. You should let Jeffrey do it. Ah, but he’s tied up, isn’t he? You say this is for Gaston, is it?”

  “Yes. We need to find Blixus as soon as possible. We’ve got to get Editta back.”

  “Oh yes, Editta. Foolish girl. What could she possibly want with that Moriarty boy? Although he is kind of dreamy, isn’t he?” Amanda suddenly had the most ridiculous image of Despina flirting with Nick. Yeah, that would go well.

  “I’ll tell you what,” said Despina. “Hill knows someone who can fix you right up, don’t you, Hill?” She turned away from the phone and yelled the last part, practically deafening Amanda, who could hear Hill in the background saying, “Say what?”

  “Momentito, dear,” said Despina. “Back in a jif.” Now Amanda could hear the two of them talking, although she could only make out a few words, like “disaster,” “bad haircut,” and “shame on her.” Then Despina returned and said, “Yes. Just as I thought. The person you want is Balthazar Onion. He’s outstanding. Tell him Hill sent you. He’ll bend over backwards to help you. He’s based in Edinburgh, but he travels.”

  “Fantastic. Thank you so much, Despina. Please thank Hill for me too. I’ve got to run, but I’ll call you later.”

  “Toodles, kiss, kiss,” she said, and was gone.

  She had a name! Amanda fervently hoped that Mr. Onion was as good an attorney as Hill claimed. She punched in his number.

  3

  Jackie Lumpenstein

  Amanda had considered talking to prisoners before but hadn’t actually done it. When Blixus and Mavis Moriarty were captured at their sugar factory and sent to Strangeways Prison in Manchester, she’d thought of speaking to Blixus about Nick. She wanted to understand how he could have treated her the way he did. But time and events had gotten away from her and she’d never followed through. Despite the fact that she knew both of them personally—Mavis from her position at Legatum and Blixus from the time he’d tied her up and told Nick to leave her for dead—the thought of meeting them again freaked her out, as did the prospect of entering one of the most dangerous prisons in the UK.

  Now, however, she had no choice. Of course it wasn’t the Moriartys she was trying to see, but there was still the issue of that awful place—a place with such a horrible reputation that it was constantly in the news. She knew, though, that dealing with criminals wherever they were was part of a detective’s job, so she attempted to put the creepy thoughts out of her mind.

  When the receptionist at Onion, Bearbite, Sklippy, and Capfizzle put her through to Balthazar Onion, she talked so fast that her mouth practically outpaced her brain.

  “Mr. Onion, my name is Amanda Lester and I was referred to you by my cousin Hillary Lester at the magistrates’ court and I was wondering if you can help me, I need to talk to some prisoners at Manchester Prison and Hill told me you were the one to see, this is very important because Gaston Thrillkill—you know him, right?—needs to find Blixus and Mavis Moriarty urgently and we thought that interviewing some of their associates might give us leads, and oh, by the way, my father is Herb Lester, he used to work for the Crown Prosecution Service, do you know him?”

  Once she stopped speaking, she realized that she’d babbled incoherently, but Mr. Onion shocked her by matching her thought for thought. In his heavy Scottish brogue he said, “Aye, good plan, I know a couple of the fellas, and I know Gaston well, and yer father and yer cousin—excellent people—and I can help you but only if you meet me in Manchester today, can you get there this afternoon, Miss Lester?”

  This afternoon! That was fast. Could she make it? She hadn’t attacked the rest of the list, she needed to meet with Holmes and Thrillkill about the film, and she had to get her assignment from Darius Plover, but yes, if she left at once she could get to Manchester in time.

  “I can, Mr. Onion. Thank you so much for your help. I can’t tell you—”

  “Thank me later, Miss Lester,” he said. “I will meet you at the warden’s office at half past one sharp.”

  “Goodbye Mr.—” she said, but he was already gone.

  This time she couldn’t leave campus without telling Thrillkill. If she failed to show up for their meeting he’d be furious. Would he let her do something so dangerous, though? Maybe she should make up some other reason for being away. No, that wouldn’t do. If anything went wrong he’d find out anyway, and besides, he’d told her to pursue Blixus and Mavis. She was doing exactly what he wanted. As far as danger was concerned, she’d already been involved in treacherous situations and he’d never admonished her. Legatum took a sink or swim approach to learning, and as the headmaster had told them on their first day, the students would not be coddled. No, he wouldn’t mind. He might even be glad.

  She didn’t usually phone Thrillkill—it was better to text so she wouldn’t interrupt him—but this news required real-time interaction. When he answered her call, she started to deliver her breathless spiel again, but he stopped her with one word: “Go.”

  Amanda grabbed her bag and skateboard and rushed out the front entrance of the school. It would take her about twenty minutes to get to the train station on her skateboard. Then two hours or so on the train and she’d be there.

  Fortunately she was too preoccupied to worry about the ride. Amanda did not have a happy history with trains. During spring term when she’d ridden to London to find her father, she’d encountered a cheeky monkey who’d peed on her. Then last term when she and Simon had traveled to London again to search for crystals in the sugar factory ruins, they’d run into a couple of nasty clowns in full costume, and two young toughs who had punched Simon in the nose. Editta would have said that bad things come in threes (although how could that be if the number three was lucky?) and would have warned her that this was the third time riding the train, but not being superstitious Amanda wasn’t worried. She should have been, however, because something happened this time too. Well, two somethings. No, actually three.

  As she was making her way through town, she caught a glimpse of a boy and a girl kissing. She thought nothing of it until she realized the boy was Harry Sheriff. Typical, she thought, and wondered which girl he had mesmerized now. For some reason she just had to know, so she maneuvered herself into a position where she could see better.

  The girl, who was older than Amanda, had long blond hair and a stunningly beautiful face. She was wearing turquoise shorts and a red T-shirt—a rather bold but aesthetically pleasing combination. Harry had changed from the T-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing earlier into a tank top and shorts that showed off his muscles. His golden hair was all messed up from the girl running her hands through it.

  Big deal, Amanda thought. He sure was full of himself. Then he came up for air for a second, caught a glimpse of Amanda, and winked. Terrific. Flirting with one girl while you’re in the midst of kissing another. He would do something like that. How could Amphora like him?

  Seeing Harry like that was a little weird, but not that bad. What was weird was that she could have sworn she saw something that looked like a zombie sneak into an alley. The person—she couldn’t tell if it was male or female—looked almost exactly like one of those ghouls from a horror movie: discolored skin, wild-eyed, slovenly, with torn clothing. She almost ran after it but stopped herself when she remembered that she might miss her train. Once she’d boarded she realized she’d been acting silly, that she’d probably seen a homeless person and had let her imagination run away with her. Obviously the pressure of all the critical tasks she was responsible for was getting to her. Zombie indeed.

  The third thing that happened was much more serious. When Amanda got to the station she thought she saw Nick getting on a train. Not the train she was supposed to board, but another one. He, if it was he, was by himself, wearin
g a black turtleneck and a dark gray backpack. The idea of sweltering in a turtleneck on such a warm day was ludicrous, and it made Amanda wonder if it was supposed to be part of a disguise. But the boy was gone so quickly that she couldn’t be sure it actually was Nick.

  She picked up her skateboard and ran toward the train, but the doors shut in her face and it moved out of the station. She looked at the schedule board to see where it was headed: Oxenholme Station, the first stop on the way to London. Had the Moriartys returned there? If so, she was going the wrong way: Manchester lay in the opposite direction.

  Should she hop the next train to Oxenholme or meet Mr. Onion as planned? If it wasn’t Nick, she would have blown her opportunity to interview Blixus’s associates. If it was, wouldn’t it make sense to follow him? But could she catch up with him? By the time he’d have got to Oxenholme, he’d be too far ahead of her. She’d never be able to tell where he’d got off. She concluded, sadly, that there was no way to follow him. She’d been so close. Unless, of course, it hadn’t been Nick at all, which she supposed was possible.

  The whole way to Manchester she couldn’t get Nick out of her mind. Had he been hiding out near Legatum this whole time? If so, what was he doing? Where was Editta? What had his parents done with the white van in which they’d left the quarry? Did any of them have the Detective’s Bible?

  By the time she got to Strangeways Prison, Amanda had got herself all in a tizzy. She was certain they wouldn’t let her in and she’d have to go back empty-handed. However her fears proved groundless and soon she was standing outside the warden’s office, waiting for Mr. Onion to conclude his business.

  “Miss Lester, I presume,” he said when Amanda walked in. He was a large middle-aged man with a florid complexion and a receding hairline. He could have stood to lose a few pounds, which might have improved the fit of his rather rumpled suit.

  “Yes, sir,” said Amanda, reaching out to shake his hand. His grip was so strong she thought he might break one of her bones.

  “Warden Doodle,” said the little man behind the desk. He was so short than when he stood up to shake hands, he was no taller than Amanda, who was all of five feet. His face was so nondescript that Amanda couldn’t remember what it looked like when she was actually looking at him. He head-motioned to her purse. “Bag stays here. No phones, writing implements, or paper. No bobby pins, jewelry, or hearing aids. You got any hidden piercings you take the studs out, okay?”

  Amanda nodded. Only her ears were pierced, and she wasn’t wearing earrings. She did wonder about the fillings in her teeth, though. Was she allowed to bring those in?

  “Ten minutes with each prisoner,” said the warden. “Starting . . . now.”

  Balthazar Onion grabbed Amanda’s hand and pulled her out of the warden’s office to the security station, where they were frisked, x-rayed, and given a stern lecture. Then the guard let them into the visiting room, which was outfitted with bulletproof glass separating inmate from visitor. However, unlike in the movies you didn’t have to speak by phone. You could actually hear each other.

  Amanda and Balthazar Onion sat down in front of an empty pane of glass and watched as a prisoner in chains was brought out from the cell area by two burly guards. Mr. Onion leaned over to Amanda and said, “Jackie Lumpenstein. Caught in the sugar factory raid last March.”

  Amanda did indeed recognize the man. She’d seen him briefly when she’d hidden from him and another Moriarty associate when she’d come looking for her father. He did look like a lump, probably as a result of eating all those burgers and onions and drinking all that beer he seemed to consume. Come to think of it, he still smelled like onions, even through the thick glass.

  “What do you want, Onion?” he said as he sat down.

  “Where’s Moriarty?” said Balthazar Onion.

  “Never heard of the guy,” said Lumpenstein. He eyed Amanda suspiciously. “Who’s the kid?”

  “My daughter,” said Mr. Onion without missing a beat. “Don’t get cute with me unless you want to end up in solitary. There are no onions there. Know what I mean?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Lumpenstein smugly. “Why’d you bring her here? I ain’t interested in children.”

  “I don’t care what you’re interested in,” said Mr. Onion, leaning forward in a menacing way. “I just want to know where Blixus is. That’s nae such a tough question, is it?”

  Jackie looked at the ceiling. Amanda wondered if he was going to start whistling. She’d seen characters do that in the movies when they were trying to be cool. “Wouldn’t be if I knew the guy. Your wife must be quite a looker. The girl ain’t half bad.”

  “Shut up,” said Mr. Onion. “She’s on work-study and I’m her supervisor. Now, about Moriarty . . .”

  “Work-study at eleven?” said Lumpenstein.

  “I’m thirteen,” said Amanda. Realizing that he’d successfully baited her she clamped her hand over her mouth.

  “Gotcha,” said Lumpenstein, grinning. A silver upper tooth sparkled.

  Then Amanda got an idea. “I’m actually looking for Nick Moriarty,” she said. “I’m his girlfriend. I’ve got something of his.”

  “I’ll bet you do, sweetie,” said Lumpenstein, showing that awful tooth.

  Mr. Onion opened his mouth to say something but Amanda pinched his arm so tightly that he shut it.

  “I need to give him a key,” said Amanda.

  “Key to what?” said Lumpenstein with interest.

  “It’s private,” said Amanda.

  “Ha ha, I’ll bet it is,” said Lumpenstein lasciviously.

  “Shut up, Jackie,” said Mr. Onion.

  “No, he’s right, Dad,” said Amanda, playing along with the cover story. “It is quite something. Now, wouldn’t you like to see Nick happy?”

  “I wouldn’t like to see that kid at all,” said Lumpenstein, failing to realize that he’d just admitted to knowing the Moriartys after all, which of course he did since he worked in their factory. “All full of himself, he is.” He wasn’t the first person to say that. Ivy and Amphora felt the same way. Amanda still didn’t see what they were talking about.

  “It’s important for Blixus too,” she said hoping he didn’t feel that way about Nick’s father too.

  “Look, girlie,” said Lumpenstein. “I ain’t fallin’ for that. You ain’t got no key, and there ain’t nothin’ special that Moriarty kid needs that goes with a key, so forget it.”

  “It’s for his boat,” Amanda blurted out.

  “Boat?” said Lumpenstein. “You mean that old fishing boat, The Falls?”

  Aha. So Jackie knew about the boat. “That’s the one.”

  “Bah,” said Lumpenstein. “They left that at Windermere. They ain’t going to use it again.”

  Amanda and Mr. Onion looked at each other. Jackie Lumpenstein obviously knew exactly where the Moriartys were. She got an idea.

  “They will when Nick realizes that he left his Explosions! game there,” said Amanda. “He loves that. And don’t say he can get a new one because that one has all his saved games on it.” That was actually true.

  “And the key is for what?” said Lumpenstein.

  “He put the game in a lockbox and left it there accidentally,” said Amanda, continuing to invent. “Look, I know you think we have ulterior motives, and maybe we do,” Mr. Onion gave her a sharp look, “but I love Nick more than anything, and no matter what else he might have done I want him to have his game. It’s the only way I can show him how much I care. Someday he’ll be caught and he’ll want it when he’s in prison. Don’t you miss any of your possessions?”

  “Yeah, I miss my twenty million pounds,” said Lumpenstein. “And my Cambridge University class ring.” He chuckled.

  It seemed that Lumpenstein was a real joker. He certainly had the name for it. Gazillions of comedians were named Jackie, or used to be in the old days anyway.

  “I can see that you don’t appreciate the relationship between a boy
and his game,” said Amanda. “Fair enough. But surely there’s something in this world you love. Isn’t there? Whatever it is, wouldn’t you love to have it right now?”

  Lumpenstein looked at her for a moment. “Well, there is my annotated meat cookbook,” he said hesitantly.

  It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, but if he wanted a meat cookbook, she could work with that.

  “What if I could get that for you?” said Amanda. Mr. Onion kicked her softly under the counter. She kicked him back.

  “Tell you what,” said Lumpenstein. “You get me that cookbook and I’ll find a way to get that key to Nick. Okay?”

  “It’s a deal,” said Amanda before Mr. Onion could say anything.

  Lumpenstein gave Mr. Onion a look of triumph, blew Amanda a kiss, and asked the guard to return him to his cell. As he walked through the door to the prisoners’ area, he did a little dance, causing his chains to rattle.

  “What was that?” said Mr. Onion when Lumpenstein had gone. “You realize he can’t take your key.”

  “I know that,” said Amanda. “But since I don’t actually have one, it doesn’t matter. Now we know he knows where they are, right? So all we need to do is send in an undercover agent to watch him and we’ll find out.”

  “Is that what you think?” said Mr. Onion. “Miss Lester, this is nae television. We canna just grab an MI-5 agent, send him in there, and sit back and wait. And you do realize that he’s going to tip the Moriartys off, do you not?”

  “I understand, but consider this. I don’t have a key, but I do have Nick’s game. Well, I don’t have it, but Headmaster Thrillkill does. Nick would want that game. I think he’ll come looking for it.”

  “Don’t be naïve,” said Mr. Onion. “The boy is as ruthless as his da. He would never take a chance like that.”

  Apparently he didn’t know Nick the way she did. “He would,” said Amanda. “He thinks he can get away with anything. He’ll come after it. He may not have thought about the game for a while, but once Jackie mentions it, he’ll remember.”