The Most Marvelous International Spelling Bee

by Deborah Abela

  “Mr. O’Malley,” India said. “We’ve just spoken to Esmerelda.”

  “Ah.” He slipped his silk cravats from their hangers and tossed them into his bag. “So you know.”

  India hoped he would tell her it wasn’t true, that he knew who was behind the accidents and that he would fix everything, that they shouldn’t worry about a thing because the spelling bee would continue with him at the helm.

  But he said none of that.

  “I have been fired”—the wrinkles on his faces deepened—“for incompetence.” The energy seemed to drain from him, and he sank onto the bed. “I love the spelling bee, and my job as the Queen’s representative is the most magnificent privilege of my life.” For a brief moment, he smiled, until misery swooped in and stole it away again. “At least it was.”

  “It’s not fair!” Summer jammed her fists into her hips.

  “None of the accidents were your fault,” Peter chimed in.

  “My job was to make sure everything ran smoothly.” Mr. O’Malley looked as if he could barely lift his head. “And it most certainly did not.”

  India felt a rush of sadness at the sight of Mr. O’Malley. “There’s obviously someone behind this.”

  Holly felt it too. “But instead of catching them, they fire you.”

  “I’m sorry to say,” Rajish said, “it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I appreciate your kindness, I truly do, but it is only right that I get sent away. But the Queen—I’ve worked with her for years.” A tear quivered on his eyelash, fell, and splashed onto his hands. “She trusted me, and now she’ll want nothing to do with me.”

  One of the guards looked at his watch. “We’re sorry, Mr. O’Malley, but it’s time to go.”

  “Of course, Hector.” He closed his suitcase and lifted it from the bed. He stroked the royal crest on his suit, which he’d neatly laid out on the couch. “Please ensure this is sent back to the palace.”

  The guards nodded keenly and led Mr. O’Malley from the room. The children followed in silence and took the elevator to the lobby, where he was escorted to a waiting taxi.

  “It has been a pleasure meeting you, children.” Mr. O’Malley recovered a trace of his former, more confident self. “You are a true inspiration.”

  He took one last look at the Royal Windsor Hotel and stepped into the shadowy interior of the cab. As they drove away, his head fell, and his shoulders shook. India had simply never seen anyone so miserable in her whole short life.

  And she was going to do something about it.

  20

  Culprit

  (noun):

  A criminal, a wrongdoer, a real baddy.

  They were determined to find the culprit who committed the crime.

  India shivered with fury as she watched Mr. O’Malley’s taxi disappear into the snarl of traffic. “We need to find out who sabotaged the bee.”

  “How?” Holly asked.

  “We’ll find proof of the real culprit.”

  “Maybe we can help.”

  India turned to see the security guards who had ushered Mr. O’Malley out. They were tall, muscular, and wore name badges saying “Hector” and “Carlos.”

  “We have been at the Royal Windsor Hotel for more than nineteen years.” Hector’s long mustache wriggled as he spoke, and his eyes had the gleam of a fan. “I’ve worked with many people, and Mr. O’Malley is a true gentleman.”

  Carlos slammed a fist against his broad chest, and his voice cracked with emotion. “He was like a brother.”

  “He has looked after us very well. In preparing the hotel for the bee, he ordered us special dinners if we worked late and gave us presents of handmade royal chocolates. They were delicioso,” Hector said.

  “Muy delicioso!” Carlos swayed his bald head dreamily.

  “The ones with the hazelnuts were the best,” Hector decided.

  “No, no, no.” Carlos shook his stubby finger at his friend. “The best were the ones with the tiny dried cherries.”

  “¿Estas loco?” Hector slapped his forehead. “The best were the—”

  “You can help us prove he didn’t do it?” Rajish was keen to get them back on the subject of Mr. O’Malley.

  “Sí.” Hector searched either side of him and lowered his voice. “We have access to the security footage from all the cameras in the hotel. If we look closely, maybe we’ll find a clue.”

  “But it will take many eyes.” Carlos nodded with cool composure.

  Hector and Carlos held their heads high, as if posing for a calendar of World’s Best Security Guards.

  India and Rajish swapped confused glances. “Do you think we can see the footage?” India asked.

  “Absolutamente!” Hector cried. “Follow us.”

  The guards led the way through a labyrinth of corridors in the hotel’s interior to the security room. It was small and dark and lined with a network of monitors.

  Hector stuck his thumbs in his belt and hitched his pants higher. “This is the heart of the Royal Windsor. If anything sneaky has happened, we will find it here.”

  “There will be no escape for the person who did this.” Carlos slammed a fist into his hand. “We need to be tough and fearless and…”

  Prince Harry climbed out of Peter’s pocket and onto his shoulder.

  “Aah!” Despite Carlos’s size, he jumped into Hector’s arms.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Peter said and patted Prince Harry to prove it. “He doesn’t like to miss out.”

  Hector placed Carlos back on the ground, making sure he was OK. “Bueno?”

  “Sí, bueno, gracias.” Carlos moved away from the scaly creature. “I watched Godzilla as a kid and had nightmares for years.”

  They each sat in front of a monitor, and Hector explained how to operate the equipment. “Watch for anything unusual or anyone acting suspiciously.”

  They examined the black-and-white footage. Most of it was of empty corridors, kitchens full of chopping and stirring, or the main lobby bustling with guests, hotel staff wheeling carts of luggage or cakes, and dog owners grooming pooches.

  It was tedious. It was monotonous.

  Until Holly noticed something unusual.

  “I think I’ve found something,” she said.

  Everyone gathered around. “This is the kitchen the night before the dinner.”

  They saw the chef take one last look around before he turned off the light. The room was thrown into darkness, apart from the green glow of the exit signs.

  Holly fast-forwarded the footage before pressing Play.

  “There!” Holly’s excitement was heightened by the blue glow of the screen. “See?”

  The others squinted, trying to find what she’d spotted.

  She pointed at the corner of the screen. “Here! You can see movement.” It was like watching a shadow within a shadow. “Someone’s there.”

  “I can see it!” Peter said.

  It was subtle, but someone was definitely there.

  “Watch what happens next.” Holly peered at the screen with mounting anticipation.

  The tall, thin figure disappeared for a few moments before he reappeared in the glow of the exit sign.

  But this time, he was carrying something.

  As he opened the door to leave, light from outside splashed over him, lighting up his face and the item he was holding.

  “It’s a can of food,” India said. “Can we zoom in?”

  Hector enlarged the image until they saw the tin and the intruder’s face more clearly.

  Holly raised an eyebrow. “Well, surprise, surprise.”

  Peter shared her delight. “Gravy powder.”

  “Fantastico!” Hector twirled his mustache.

  “Muy fantastico!” Carlos seemed more relaxed now that he was nowhere near Princ
e Harry.

  “I’ve seen that man,” Summer realized. “In the hotel lobby on the day we arrived. He was standing beside a housekeeping cart, and I asked him if the hotel had pink sheets, because they’re my favorite, but he said he didn’t know, and I asked him how he could work at the hotel and not know such an important detail, but he raised an eyebrow and walked away.”

  “How terrible for you. Were you OK?” Rajish offered Summer a sympathetic hand, which she met with a raised eyebrow.

  “I had a long bath to recover.”

  India found footage of the lobby from two days earlier. It was brimming with guests and staff.

  “That’s him.” Summer pointed to a man wearing a long coat with a hat drawn low over his face. “He’s the only person not moving, and he’s looking up.”

  “Let me guess,” Rajish said. “It’s only moments before the banner falls.”

  At that very second, that was exactly what happened.

  “Yes,” India said. “And everyone in the lobby is suitably shocked—except for him.”

  The man in the coat offered a smug, knowing smile before pulling up his collar and casually leaving the hotel.

  “It’s hard to see his face in that hat,” Rajish said. “How can we be sure it’s him?”

  “The ring.” Summer pointed to the image from the kitchen. “There’s a skull ring on his pinkie finger. Here and”—she pointed to India’s screen—“here.”

  “Who notices a ring?” Peter asked.

  “I do,” Summer said. “Everyone knows a skull ring is a fashion disaster.”

  “Keep looking.” India was more determined than ever to find out if this was their man. “I bet we’ll find more evidence.”

  Buoyed by their findings so far, they searched further, scrutinizing every frame on every monitor, when suddenly Peter cried, “There he is again!” In a dimly lit corridor, they saw a man dressed in a sweat suit and cap. “Watch what he’s holding behind his back.”

  The man looked all around before opening a door and disappearing inside…with a set of wire cutters. And this time, they clearly saw his face.

  “Where does that door lead?” Rajish asked.

  Hector double-checked the number on the monitor. “It’s the rear entrance to the Heritage Ballroom.”

  Peter read the time code on the video. “Seven forty-five in the evening. When was the blackout?”

  “Just before eight,” Carlos said. “I know because I was supposed to finish at eight, but they asked us to stay on after the trouble for extra security.”

  Summer leaned closer to the screen. “Can we see his face again?”

  Peter rewound the footage and stopped it the second the figure turned to the camera. This time, his face could be clearly seen.

  “He’s the waiter who spilled water on Holly’s mom during the dinner.”

  “I’ve got that footage.” Rajish rewound the footage. Various angles of the ballroom flashed on his screen. “That’s him!” He pressed pause on the image of a waiter serving dinner.

  “And there’s the skull ring.” Summer shivered at the thought of it. “How does anyone even think that’s OK to wear?”

  “Do you know who that man is?” Rajish asked Hector and Carlos.

  “I can check the hotel’s staff list.” Carlos moved to his computer and began flicking through security photos of all the employees. He scrolled past each one until he found a match.

  “Reko Nelson.” Carlos read his details. “He’s been here for three weeks.”

  “People…” Summer wasn’t ready to drop the detective act. “Looks like we have our man.”

  India felt her heart quicken. “Can you find out when he’s working next?”

  Carlos looked through the rosters; his face slowly brightened. “He is here now, preparing the Imperial Dining Hall for a special dinner.”

  Hector straightened his tie. “Not for long, because we are about to pay him a visit. Vámonos, Carlos.”

  Within ten minutes, Carlos and Hector entered the control room with Reko Nelson firmly wedged between them.

  He balked at the sight of the spellers standing by the screens. “We have company, I see.”

  “Please,” Hector said as he pulled out a chair, “have a seat.”

  “Will this take long?” Reko flashed a smile that reeked of confidence. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Not long.” Carlos gripped Reko’s shoulders with more than a little force than was friendly. “These children just have a few questions they would like to ask.” He slapped Reko’s back before folding his arms and nodding at India. “He’s all yours.”

  “In the last few days, there have been a series of accidents at this hotel,” India began.

  “Yes, I heard.” Reko shook his head in mock sympathy. “There’s been quite a lot of bad luck going around.”

  “Bad luck?” Holly said. “We think they were more deliberate than bad luck.”

  “Deliberate?” Reko feigned shock. “That’s terrible, but I’ve got to get back to—” Reko tried to stand, but Carlos’s hands again landed on his puny shoulders.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Carlos said with a smiling sneer.

  “Not anywhere,” Hector repeated in a low, menacing voice.

  “Ready everyone?” India asked.

  The spellers spun their chairs toward the monitors. “Ready.”

  One by one, they showed Reko the footage, explaining their sabotage theory. With each incident, his cocky smile was whittled away.

  Reko glanced behind him. The hulking bodies of Hector and Carlos stood before the door, blocking any chance of escape.

  “Why did you do it?” Holly asked.

  “Money.”

  “You ruined an international spelling competition for money?” India again felt her anger rise.

  “It was more than I could earn in a year,” he argued.

  “Who paid you?” Rajish asked.

  “Why should I tell?” He snorted.

  “Because at the moment,” Hector said, hovering close to his ear, “you’re going to take the blame for all this.”

  Carlos hissed quietly into his other ear. “And possibly go to jail.”

  “Oh.” Strangely, this didn’t seem to have occurred to Reko. “But they were just a few harmless pranks.”

  “Harmless pranks!” Now it was Summer’s turn to get mad. She paced the room, doing a very good impersonation of a lawyer about to argue her case. “Oh no, my friend, you have broken quite a few laws. There’s malicious damage of property, intentionally endangering human life, cruelty to animals, and, most importantly”—she was only inches away from Reko’s face—“recklessly threatening to damage haute couture.”

  Reko was confused. “Haute couture?”

  “That was an Armani dress I was wearing at dinner.” Summer sat down and flicked her hair over her shoulders. “Best guess is five years in prison before you get parole. If you confess, the judge is likely to be more lenient.”

  Reko laughed. “Five years? In prison? What would you know? You’re just a kid.”

  “With parents who are two of Australia’s top lawyers. Didn’t I mention that?”

  What little confidence Reko had finally dripped away, much like the color in his face.

  “If I confess,” he said quietly, desperately trying to figure out his next move, “it’ll be better for me?”

  “Oh yes, much better.”

  Reko’s voice lost all its spark. “It was Harrington Hathaway.”

  For a few moments, no one said anything, mostly because it was exactly the opposite of what they had expected to hear.

  “The spelling bee champion?” India said in disbelief.

  “That’s the guy.”

  “But why?” Rajish, like the others, was finding it hard to take in.<
br />
  “He never said. He wanted me to mess things up a little—not hurt anyone, just ruin the bee for someone, and then he would pay me. Handsomely.”

  “Someone who? One of the contestants? A parent? The Queen?”

  “I don’t know, but whoever it is, he has a real grudge against them.”

  “Come on.” Hector lifted Reko to his feet with one hand like he were made of straw. “We’re going to Ms. Stomp’s room so you can tell her the truth.”

  Carlos put his hand on his heart. “Nice work, mis amigos.”

  They shuffled a deflated Reko from the room.

  Summer quickly reached into her pocket for her phone. “Wait until Mr. O’Malley finds out we have evidence that will clear his name.” She bit her lip and waited until he finally answered. “Mr. O’Malley, it’s Summer. We have good news. We know who caused the accidents at the bee.”

  The others shared looks of glee.

  “It was a waiter at the hotel, and you are not going to believe this, but he was paid by Harrington Hathaway. He was doing it to make someone look bad, but we don’t know who.”

  There was another pause. Summer’s excitement slowly faded. “Oh.”

  The others stared as she kept listening.

  “Of course,” she said. “We’ll meet you there.”

  “What did he say?” India was confused. Mr. O’Malley should have been ecstatic, but that’s not what seemed to have happened at all.

  “He wants to meet us at Café Mistero across the road from the hotel. He says he knows why Harrington did it.”

  “Why?” Holly asked.

  “Because of something that happened a very long time ago.”

  21

  Revelation

  (noun):

  Disclosure of a surprising fact or truth.

  The revelation shocked them all.

  In a cozy booth in the far corner of Café Mistero, Mr. O’Malley and the five spellers gathered beneath a dim overhead light. Their mugs of hot chocolate released steam into the air, as if their collective gloom had risen up between them.