“I’d like to beat him senseless,” said Nick.
“Beside dat.”
“I don’t think you’re in any danger. That’s good. He’s a nuisance but he can’t really do anything to you. The best thing you can do is ignore him.”
“Dere’s do ebidence dat he’s drying do hurd be phydically, id der?”
“No, I can’t see that he’s trying to do anything physical to you. I truly think that kicking thing was an accident. I wasn’t there, but you did tell me that he almost kicked Gordon too. That sounds like he just wasn’t paying attention.”
“I dig so. I’b dot worried aboud hib hurtig be.”
“No. I’m not either. Really, I think you can ignore the text now. If he sends you any more, then you can see what you want to do. You’re within your rights to report him.”
“I dode want do.”
“I know. That’ll get Thrillkill involved and kick up who knows what dust. I dode blabe you. Ooops. Sorry. I mean, I don’t blame you.” He winked.
“I cad tank you enub, do,” she said. “You reedy hebbed be.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m always happy to help you. You know that.”
“I’b zo zorry you god hurt.”
“Don’t worry about it. I mend quickly. I consider these crutches a badge of honor, anyway. Want to take my picture?”
“Zhur.” She took Nick’s camera and snapped a couple of shots of him leaning on his crutches. “Youd zend me dose, right?”
“You betcha.”
Suddenly Wiffle barged into the common room shaking his fist. “You!” he said to Amanda. “And you!” he said to Nick. “This is all your fault. They’re putting a note in my file. It was an accident. Why’d you have to make such a big deal out of it?”
“We didn’t,” said Nick. “We didn’t say anything. Amanda can’t even talk.”
“She’s faking it,” said the kid. “You’ll be sorry. Both of you. I’ve got ways of dealing with people like you.” He gave them a dirty look, turned around, and stomped out.
“That was interesting,” said Nick.
“Yed,” said Amanda. “Are you burried?”
“No, I’m not worried. He’s a paper tiger. Are you?”
“I dode no.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I’ll take care of him if he tries anything.”
After what seemed like forever, Simon was back with them. Obviously he wasn’t going to follow the cook anymore, so in order to solve that mystery they would have to change tack. But the more urgent problem was Amanda’s father, and she thought it was time to ask for help.
Simon was devastated to hear the news. He had all kinds of questions, most of which Amanda had no answers for, although she did tell him about the secret room and the watch. Of course by now he knew about the cook as well.
“There’s obviously a connection,” he said waiting for Logic to start.
“You mean between the cook and my father?” said Amanda, who was finally able to talk properly again. She didn’t mind going into it now because all the kids were making noise. The din made it easier for them to keep their conversation private.
“Yes. She steals sugar and stashes it in the secret room. The sugar disappears and your father’s watch is found. Then the cook dies with her head in a sugar bag. Ipso facto.”
“It does seem connected,” said Amanda, looking around to make sure Professor Ducey hadn’t arrived. “But how? You’re not implying that my father was stealing sugar too?”
“No, of course not,” said Simon, playing an imaginary piano on the desk. “But maybe the people who were working with the cook took your father. You know—”
“What?”
“What if there’s a sugar cartel that’s manipulating the supply and price of sugar?” He sat up straight and looked at her as if he’d just had the best idea in the world.
“I actually thought of that but it seems so weird,” she said.
Undeterred by the fact that she’d got there first, Simon persisted. “Not necessarily. Your father is known for prosecuting criminals. Has he ever tried someone from organized crime?”
“I don’t think so. No, wait. There was one summer where they sent me to camp, and I wasn’t around when he talked about his cases. Maybe something happened then.” She didn’t want to admit that there were lots of times he said stuff she didn’t listen to. What if he had revealed something significant and she’d missed it?
“Yes, and if that’s the case maybe those guys have some connections here.”
“I see where you’re going with this. And the connections have grabbed my father to get revenge.” If only she could remember a name.
“Or to send him a message to stay away,” said Simon.
“Yes. That makes a lot of sense,” she said, filing away her guilt for later. “Let’s go with this theory for the moment. How does that explain pink sugar?”
“Good point. That’s a weird one. Maybe the school uses some kind of party sugar.”
“Is that something you guys use over here?” she said.
“No. Never seen it before.” Just because he hadn’t seen it didn’t mean there wasn’t any such thing. Poor Simon. Had he ever been to a birthday party? It was hard to picture him with a lot of friends, although she was coming to the conclusion that he definitely deserved them.
“Well then, maybe not. Unless it’s some kind of institutional sugar that we wouldn’t have seen at home.”
“I don’t see how. Why would they make sugar pink for schools and hospitals and places like that?”
“I don’t think they even use sugar in hospitals.” She’d never been in one, at least not since the day she was born, but with all the hoopla about how bad sugar was for you, which she didn’t subscribe to but knew that other people did, it didn’t seem logical that they would. “It doesn’t add up. Let’s check it out on the Internet.”
“Okay, hang on a sec.” Simon pressed a few keys on his phone and looked through the search results. “I don’t see anything about pink sugar being used for institutions. There’s something about special party sugar.”
“Party sugar? Why would the school be using party sugar? And anyway, have you ever seen any food here with pink sugar in it?”
“I’m not sure how we’d know.” He flicked through a few more results.
“Well, for one thing, yellow cake would end up more of a puce.”
“Good point. All right then, forget the idea of party sugar. Maybe a different kind of sugar beet?” He pressed a few more keys and flicked.
“The Web doesn’t say anything about that.” She was now searching too.
“Maybe she just threw some food coloring in there then,” he said.
“What did you say?” She looked up.
“I said maybe she just threw some pink food coloring in the sugar.”
“That’s it! The chemistry of the sugar is different,” she said.
“Hm, good point. Maybe it’s been treated in some way. Hey, we can run some tests in the lab.”
“Great idea! Simon, I could kiss you!”
Simon went as red as a sugar beet, or at least a regular beet, and stopped talking.
25
3D Printing
Amanda was getting pretty good at lab work. It also didn’t hurt that Simon had a natural talent for it. They had a bit of trouble getting a sample of the pink sugar, but they found a spoonful that had spilled between the kitchen and the secret room and scooped it into an evidence bag.
The first thing they did when they got it to the lab was deposit some of the substance on a slide and put it under the microscope. But when they looked they saw nothing unusual.
“I’m surprised,” said Simon, fiddling with the slide as if he thought it wasn’t properly seated.
“Me too. I really thought—”
“Wait. We can try a more powerful microscope. Come on.”
He took the slide to the farthest corner of the lab, where an expensive electron microscope
sat, and inserted it into the slot. Amanda thought it was weird that the teachers didn’t lock it up, but she speculated that they might have left it out to show the students they trusted them.
The electron microscope had much more power, but they still weren’t able to tell anything. “Hang on,” said Simon. “There’s got to be more to this.” He went to one of the many bookcases in the lab, skimmed the titles, and pulled a book off the shelf. Flip, flip, flip, “Nope,” then flip, flip, “Nope,” until finally he stopped at a page and read for a minute. “Ah,” he said. “We need to process the sample first.”
“Process how?” said Amanda.
“We need to do something called negative staining,” he said. “But that’s a long process involving a centrifuge. I wonder if there’s an easier way.”
“Let me try a search,” she said. Thumb, thumb, flick, flick. “Hey, this is amazing! Simon, you’ve got to see this.”
Sure enough, Amanda had found an article describing a smartphone microscope that let you see viruses. A professor at UCLA had invented a portable attachment that could be used in the field. “Look here. It says you can make one of these using a 3D printer.”
“That’s great, but how are we supposed to get the instructions?” said Simon. “We’ve got a few 3D printers around here, but wouldn’t we have to pay for the program?”
At that moment Professor Kindseth stuck his head in the lab, and seeing the pair said, “Cheers, Miss Lester. Mr. Binkle.”
This wasn’t good. They’d been found out. Surely the teacher would kick them out of the lab and report them for using the electron microscope unsupervised and Simon would be expelled. Amanda was speechless for a moment, then after a few seconds said as calmly as she could, “Oh, hello, Professor. How are you?” Her voice was all wavy and she was sure he’d notice.
“Hullo, Professor,” said Simon nonchalantly. Amanda thought it was odd that he wasn’t upset. Maybe he was a good actor.
“What are you two up to?” said Professor Kindseth, bounding into the lab. “Say, Miss Lester, bang up job on the makeup.”
This was surprising. He was complimenting her on her monster makeup from weeks ago rather than reprimanding them. “Th-thank you, Professor,” she stammered, confused as all get-out.
“I got some great pictures,” he said. “Want to see?”
“Uh, sure,” said Amanda.
“Yes, let’s,” said Simon enthusiastically.
The professor pulled out his tablet and tapped a couple of times, then stuck it in their faces, first Amanda’s and then Simon’s. “Aren’t they great?”
She had to hand it to the teacher. The pictures were good. Somehow he’d taken a chaotic scene and turned it into art. The compositions, the lighting, the poses were all expertly done. Amanda looked forward to taking Professor Kindseth’s forensic photography class. But wait a minute. What was that?
“Can I see that one again?” Amanda asked, pointing.
“Yes. I particularly like that one,” said Professor Kindseth. “You look quite festive, Miss Lester.”
“What is that in the background? There, outside the window.”
“Whoa,” said Simon. “I see that. It looks like the cook out there. Or at least someone dressed in white with gray hair like the cook.”
“Let me see that,” said Professor Kindseth. He examined the photo carefully. “I think you’re right. But what’s that pink thing she’s got? It looks smashing against the winter landscape. You’ve got all this brown and white and gray and then this dab of pink. Very artistic.”
“What do you know?” said Amanda. “You caught her red-handed on film, Professor. By accident. Please may I have a copy of this picture?”
“Of course you may,” said the teacher. “I’ll text it over. I must send a copy to Professor Thrillkill as well. This could be significant to our investigation into the cook’s death.”
Amanda looked at Simon. He nodded. More fuel for the fire. And they had the date: the third day of school, January 9th. That was way before Mr. Lester’s kidnapping. The gang, if that was what it was, had been busy with the sugar for some time before that happened. The cook did seem a bit careless, though. Anyone could have seen her during the day like that.
“By the way,” said the teacher after he’d fiddled with the picture. “If you weren’t a detective, Miss Lester, I’d say you had quite a future in films. Your makeup was brilliant.”
Amanda burst out laughing. Professor Kindseth had lifted her spirits about twelve stories high.
“Say, I was sorry to hear about your father,” he said. “But they’ll solve the case. Don’t you worry. The Yard has their best people on it.” He smiled a big, silly smile. “So, what are you two doing? Mixing up potions?” He laughed at his own joke. Amanda was beginning to think he was as goofy as Simon.
“Just doing some analyses,” said Amanda.
“Yes, we’re trying to see what’s in this sample,” Simon blurted out, shoving the sugar into Professor Kindseth’s face.
“Simon!” yelled Amanda.
“Lovely,” said the professor. “What’s this then?” He took the bag and examined it. “Looks like powdered sugar. But why is it pink?”
“Why indeed?” said Simon. By this time Amanda had returned to her previous mood and was worried sick. They weren’t supposed to be there, she was sure of that, although now that she thought about it, maybe she was overreacting. They did have a class project to do and all the teachers knew it. She really was becoming paranoid. Or was she? She was so confused she didn’t know which way was up.
“Why do you want to analyze this?” said Professor Kindseth.
“We have a theory,” said Simon brightly.
“Oh? Tell me.”
“You tell him, Amanda,” said Simon, apparently thinking he was being generous in letting her explain. She thought nothing of the kind.
“Simon,” she said, nudging him.
“Amanda,” he said, nudging back.
Well, if Simon wasn’t worried, what did it matter? It was his neck on the line. She’d tried to protect him but he was having none of it, so she told Professor Kindseth the whole story about the sugar, the blood, the glinting, and the other things she and her friends had seen. “We don’t think this has anything to do with the class project,” she said finally.
“I see,” said Professor Kindseth, rubbing his chin. “So then, how are you going to do this? You could do negative staining. Wait, I know. I was recently reading about this device some UCLA bloke invented. You attach it to your phone and—”
“That’s it,” yelled Simon. “That’s exactly what we want to do. We just don’t know how to get the program for the 3D printer so we can make it.”
“Oh, that,” said Professor Kindseth. “I can get that for you in two seconds.”
Amanda and Simon looked at each other in astonishment. How could he—
“We detectives have our tricks,” said the teacher. “Meet me in my classroom in half an hour. We’ll make the device together.”
You could have knocked Amanda over with a feather, although Simon took this announcement the same way he did practically everything else, as if it were obvious. The professor turned and scurried out of the lab.
“Wow,” said Amanda. “He’s pretty cool.”
“Yes,” said Simon. “He really liked your makeup.”
“I know! I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was going to report us. What a nice man.”
“He’s a pretty cool guy,” said Simon. “And—”
“Ssssh,” said Amanda, putting her finger to her lips. She pointed to the doorway. Someone was in the hall, speaking. It sounded like they were on the phone. Amanda crept closer to the door, being careful to stay out of sight. Simon followed.
“I don’t know where it is,” said the voice. “Yes, I know how critical it is. If it falls into the wrong hands everything will change. Where have you looked?” The voice was quiet for a few seconds. “That doesn’t seem right. Something is
definitely wrong.” Quiet. “Yes, I’ll be on the lookout.”
The voice went silent and Amanda could hear footsteps receding. She crept closer to the door and peeked out. She could see Professor Feeney, the Goth teacher who taught the criminals and their methods class, walking away.
“It’s Professor Feeney,” she whispered to Simon.
“Let me see,” he said, moving to the doorway and sticking his entire head out.
“Simon, get back. She’ll see you.”
“We’re allowed to be here, Amanda.”
“Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. But that’s not the point. Did you hear what she said? Something is terribly wrong. The teachers wouldn’t get upset over nothing. They’re too hard and experienced. This doesn’t sound good.”
“Just another mystery to solve,” said Simon in that maddeningly calm way of his. He glanced at the clock. “It’s time to meet Professor Kindseth. Come on.”
When they arrived at Professor Kindseth’s top-floor classroom, the photography teacher was grinning and pointing to his workstation. Sure enough, he had the program to make the virus detection device with a 3D printer.
“See?” he said. “Nothing to it.”
“But how did you get that so fast?” said Amanda. “We thought it was proprietary.”
“It is,” said Professor Kindseth. “I have a friend at UCLA who owes me a favor. Anyway, we’ve got it. Let’s make it.”
There just happened to be a 3D printer in the photography classroom to turn photographs of things into the things themselves, and the teacher downloaded the program into it.
“Won’t this take hours?” said Amanda. The apparatus looked intimidating.
“Nope,” said the teacher. “About half an hour.”
“How is that possible?” said Amanda.
“See this printer?” said the teacher. “It isn’t an ordinary 3D printer. This is a model we had specially designed. It’s incredibly fast and extremely accurate.”
“Wow,” said Simon. “Let me take a look at that.”
“You can see while it’s printing, Mr. Binkle,” said Professor Kindseth. “Let’s turn it on.”
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 20