Amanda and Holmes were to create acne scars, a prospect that didn’t thrill her but excited him no end. Come to think of it, was there anything that didn’t excite Holmes? He was so upbeat that sometimes his perpetual sunny mood seemed like an act. At any rate, it was an interesting problem because it involved making depressions in the skin rather than building on top of it. Amanda suggested that they use gelatin or wax as a coating, then make dents with a stipple sponge or spatula knife and cover it all with foundation. Holmes was itching to use latex but realized that it wasn’t the right tool for the job. While they were working, he kept talking about zombies, which Amanda normally would have enjoyed, but because he was who he was, she kept finding flaws in everything he said and snapping at him. Rather than snapping back, though, he just laughed and made more zombie jokes until she felt like a zombie herself.
During the exercise Holmes said, “I wrote up a project plan for the film.” He made a large pockmark in the wax and nodded approval. He looked like he had a crater in his face. Chicxulub? That was the huge impact crater in Mexico that may have been responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs. Amanda thought that if Holmes were to appear in public like that, he might see the extinction of whatever social life he had.
“Without me?” She smeared gelatin on her forehead.
“I thought I’d save you some work.” He made another depression in his cheek. This one was way too small to have caused an extinction, but it could have created a few tsunamis.
What a liar. Try to make it seem like you’re doing this for me while you’re really trying to take over.
“Well, you haven’t,” she said irritably. “I’m going to have to check the whole thing. There may be a lot of rewriting. It would have been easier if you’d let me do it.” She was teetering dangerously on the edge of one-man band territory, a place she’d finally left behind after years of pushing everyone away and going it alone. People had warned her that that wasn’t healthy and she’d finally made progress in licking the tendency, but Holmes made her want to run screaming back to her comfort zone.
“You just can’t let go, can you?” he said cheerfully, despite the Grand Canyon his face was becoming.
“What are you talking about?”
“You. You always have to be in charge.” He said it in a not mean way.
“I do not.”
“Oh, I think you do. And I understand, really I do. Everyone wants to do things their own way.”
“Uh uh.”
“It’s true and I’ll prove it to you. How about if you let me do that for you?” He reached gingerly toward her face.
“What?” She recoiled and dropped her spatula knife. It clattered onto the floor.
“I’ll do you and you do me. What say you?” He was grinning as if he were enjoying a private joke. She wanted to pick up the knife and make a mark that could be clearly identified as having come from it and only it.
“No way am I going to do that, Sherlock Holmes,” she said, not realizing what she’d called him.
He burst out laughing. “Aw, come on, G. Lestrade. It’ll be fun.”
“What did you call me?” she said, sticking her pockmarked face in his pockmarked face.
“What did you call me?” he said, sticking his pockmarked face in hers.
“Stop mimicking me!” She picked up the knife and held it toward him.
“En garde,” he yelled, holding out his own knife. That was what she and Nick had said to each other when mock fencing last term. Holmes wasn’t allowed to say that.
“Shut up!” she yelled. “Get out of my face.”
By this time the whole class had stopped what they were doing and was staring at them. Professor Tumble said, “You two, put those knives down at once. We’ll have no dangerous activities in this classroom, do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison, which annoyed Amanda even more. She didn’t want to have anything in common with that interloper.
“See that you do,” said the professor.
Amanda could feel Simon’s eyes boring into her. Wiffle’s too. She told herself she didn’t care, and in a way she didn’t. What she really cared about was her self-image. How could she have regressed back to square one like this? Sure, Nick still haunted her and her father wasn’t himself, but she thought she’d evolved. Now she wasn’t so sure, and the feeling of failure was getting to her. That Sherlock Holmes. Everything was his fault. He was still reaching out from beyond the grave and she was furious.
Scapulus Holmes said, “Tell you what. Why don’t you look at what I wrote? If you don’t like it, you can redo it. Just do that for me, would you?”
Why she should do anything for him was beyond her, but she’d been unconscionably rude already. “All right,” she said. “I’ll look at it after class.”
He gave her a big satisfied smile that stretched his pockmarks in all directions. “Thank you,” he said. And then he did the unthinkable. He winked at her again.
Before Amanda could read Holmes’s project plan, Simon corralled her, Ivy, and Amphora in the hall. “The listening devices will be ready tomorrow,” he said in a whisper.
“Yay!” Ivy said, whispering back.
“Hurray!” said Amanda quietly.
“Good,” said Amphora loudly, looking as if she didn’t believe him.
“Keep your voice down,” he said to Amphora. “I’ll have them for you before Fires and Explosions. Just wait outside the door and I’ll slip them to you.” He executed a fancy maneuver that involved turning his back to the girls and flapping a hand behind his butt.
“Sounds like a plan,” said Amanda, who thought he looked like a peacock trying to impress a peahen.
“Why do you Americans say that?” said Simon, turning back to them. “Of course it’s a plan.”
“Why do you put Rs in words that don’t have them?” Amanda said.
“I do not,” said Simon.
“Right. You don’t call me Amander sometimes.”
“Nope.”
“We do,” said Ivy. “You just don’t hear it.”
“See?” said Amanda.
“No,” said Simon. “I don’t and you’re wrong.”
He wasn’t quite a maddening as Holmes, but he could still be annoying. Amanda wondered whether he and Amphora would be able to get through the scars and bruises exercises without killing each other. Come to think of it, would any of them get through the class without doing each other in?
When Amanda read Holmes’s plan she was dismayed to find that it was pretty good. She’d meant to rewrite it, but considering that there was the mystery of the missing item to solve, homework from her other classes to do, and Editta to worry about, she decided to let it stand. She could change it later. She dreaded telling him, though, because he’d just grin at her again with that I-told-you-so expression, and OMG, he might even wink again. Maybe if she texted him she wouldn’t have to see that incessant smile and that condescending wink quite so soon.
She pulled her phone out and wrote, “Plan OK.”
The answer came instantly: “. You’re okay, Lestrade.”
No one but Nick ever called her that, and she hadn’t liked that. She would set him straight right now. She texted back, “It’s Lester.”
Another instant response: “Yes, and it’s Scapulus.”
She felt herself go red. There was no way she was going to admit that his reply had served her right.
8
Blackpool
The next morning, Thursday, the girls met Simon outside the Fires and Explosions classroom. He ushered them down the hall and into a huddle, then carefully passed each of them a tiny device. He even gave one to Ivy so she could experiment. It was possible that he’d need to fine-tune the hearing aids, and her input could save him a lot of time.
The devices looked like tiny megaphones. The idea was that they would boost the sound coming in on certain frequencies but not others. So, for example, if someone was playing a tuba in th
e hall, Simon, Amanda, and Amphora would hear it normally, but if a person was talking, the kids would hear them more loudly than usual. Whether loud would translate into clear remained to be seen. Simon had made only one device per person, so they would have to make do with one boosted ear and one normal one.
“Don’t put them in now,” said Simon. “We don’t want anyone seeing.”
“Too late,” said Amphora, who had already installed hers. “Hm, you’re pretty loud, Simon.” She jiggled the device.
“That’s one drawback of these,” he said, turning his around in his fingers. “There’s no adjustment for distance, so voices close to you might be a bit overpowering.” He leaned over to Amphora and said, right in her ear, “Like this.”
“Ouch!” she said. “Cut that out.”
Simon grinned. He loved getting her goat.
“Maybe wear them with an earplug in that ear or something?” said Amanda.
“Hm,” said Simon. “Interesting idea. Say, how about cotton? There are plenty of cotton balls in the lab.”
“Yes, let’s try that,” said Ivy.
“Are you going to give one to Editta?” asked Amanda.
“Sure, why not?” said Simon. “She’s crazy, but she can still be useful.”
“She’s not crazy,” said Amphora.
“Yeah, she is,” said Simon. “She believes in bad mogambo.” He put his fingers on either side of his head and made pretend horns, then wiggled them.
Just then Professor Pole appeared and said, “Good morning, everyone. Ready for some fireworks?” The kids stashed their listening devices and followed him into the room, where there was a nice empty seat waiting for Editta, who was nowhere to be seen.
After class there wasn’t much time until Crime Lab, but the kids were dying to try out the devices, so they stuck them in their ears as surreptitiously as possible and ventured out into the hall. Amanda could hear some students talking low about twenty feet away, and their conversation was as clear as could be.
“I can’t wait to blow up the Sphinx,” Gareth Gubb was saying.
“I’m going to explode all those tall buildings in Dubai,” said Trevor Gravespoon.
“And Hong Kong,” said Arthur Modulo.
Wow, this thing works really well. Simon is a genius. Amanda turned the other way and listened. There were two girls way at the end of the hall, whispering. This time she had to strain her ears a little. She could hear some words but not others.
“Professor . . . in the lab . . . broke it,” said a third-year named Polly Pogo.
“Worried . . . never mind . . . he’s so cute,” said the other third-year girl, Apple Moon.
Amanda wondered who was so cute. Surely they weren’t talking about Professor Stegelmeyer, who was so not cute it wasn’t funny. Nah, they were probably talking about one of the older boys, like Carlos Fapp or Harry Sheriff. All the girls had crushes on them. Except her, of course. She didn’t have time for such folderol.
She ran down the hall and caught up with Ivy and Amphora. “Did you try it?”
“Yes,” said Amphora. “It works pretty well. I heard Prudence talking about her stubbed toe from really far away.”
“Mine is a bit strong,” said Ivy, fiddling with the device in her ear. “But I’m going to try the cotton.”
“Mine was great,” said Amanda. “At least if you’re within maybe twenty or thirty feet. After that it gets a bit spotty.”
“What’s spotty?” said Simon, joining the group. “Is this something about Professor Tumble’s scars and bruises?” Amanda was sure he knew perfectly well it wasn’t but couldn’t resist the opportunity to be gross.
“No,” said Amphora. “We were talking about the listening devices.”
“Oh, right,” said Simon. “How are they working?” He looked at each of the girls—even Amphora.
“Really well,” said Amanda, declining to tell Simon about Apple’s crush on Carlos, or was it Harry?
“Mine’s a bit loud,” said Ivy.
“Right,” said Simon. “Well, let’s see what happens when you damp it.”
“Why would she put water on it?” said Amphora with a disgusted look on her face.
“Not dampen,” said Simon. “Damp. It means to weaken an effect. So if I damp a noise, it isn’t as loud.”
“That’s dumb,” said Amphora. “It sounds like you’re wetting it.”
“Hey, I didn’t invent the language,” said Simon, holding up his palms.
“Well, you don’t have to use it,” said Amphora.
Simon gave her a look. “What is wrong with you?”
“Would you two cut it out?” said Ivy. “We have important work to do.”
“Anyway,” said Amanda, “I think these are going to work out pretty well. Thanks, Simon.”
“Yes, thank you, Simon,” said Ivy.
Amphora hesitated, then after about ten seconds said, “Yeah. Me too.”
The cotton did prove helpful, and the kids listened as much as they could over the next day or so but didn’t hear anything earth shattering. They did, however, learn a lot about which kinds of shoes made you look the tallest, which skateboards were hot, and a little too much about Olive Tweedy’s skin problems, as well as how Professors Also and Pargeter were feeling about the gremlins (a little uneasy, to be honest; their designs were becoming more and more outlandish, and the two women were concerned that it would be too easy to observe the details). Mostly, though, they heard about the upcoming field trip, which was to take place on Saturday.
This would be the first field trip Amanda’s class had taken and excitement was running high. Blackpool was legendary and the kids figured they’d get to run wild. There were now about forty of them in the class, so they would fit nicely on one bus, even counting Professors Sidebotham, Buck, and Ducey, who would be “escorting” them. Amanda thought that was a chicken way of saying “chaperoning,” which was what they were really doing.
On the appointed day they all went to the south door, where a dirty, smelly old school bus awaited them. The kids didn’t care if it was old and battered except to wonder if its appearance and condition would be on any tests. They were now so accustomed to having to examine everything they saw in so much detail that they were becoming a bit OCD. Perhaps the tendency would pass, though, Amanda thought, in much the same way that medical students lose their hypochondria once they’re actually practicing. She certainly hoped so. Some of the kids were becoming hyperactive.
There was much stomping and confusion as they boarded the bus. It seemed that there were no assigned seats, so there was a lot of jockeying for position. Some kids lucked out and others didn’t. Amanda, for example, got to sit with Ivy and Nigel, but Simon was stuck with Gordon Bramble, who was most unhappy to have been separated from David Wiffle, who in turn had to sit next to Editta, who, uncharacteristically, failed to count even one thing, freaking out her friends. Holmes ended up next to Amphora, who seemed over the moon about her good fortune and kept giving him goo-goo eyes.
Amanda, Simon, and Amphora weren’t wearing their listening devices for two reasons: one, they didn’t think there was much possibility of getting valuable intelligence since there were only three teachers with them, and two, the fact that they were at such close quarters would probably make for crossed signals anyway. But Ivy’s hearing was as acute as always, and she overheard plenty. Despite the presence of Professors Sidebotham, Buck, and Ducey, there was a lot of gossip about teachers, none of it very interesting except for a rumor that Professor McTavish’s parakeet, Angela, had learned to say “Voldemort.” Ivy also heard Gordon trying to impress Editta with the amount of weight he could lift (“I could lift two of you without breaking a sweat”) and Binnie Belasco telling Clive Ng that she was absolutely fascinated by rocks and would love to go prospecting with him sometime. Ivy kept up a running commentary imparting all of this to Amanda, who was pretty skeptical about ninety percent of what she was hearing.
About a half hour into the journ
ey Professor Sidebotham jerked the kids out of whatever reveries they were enjoying by saying, “Class, we’re going to do an exercise now.” The students, of course, responded with much moaning and groaning, so she said, “The next person who complains will attend detention for a week,” which shut them up abruptly. Then she said, “I want you to examine as many substances on this bus as you can and text me what you find. Go!”
The bus devolved into complete chaos. Kids were looking at seats, the floor, ceilings, and in a couple of cases, each other. They were finding all kinds of stuff, like bits of soil and plant matter, fibers, oil and grease, bits of fingernails, hair (especially Nigel’s), pollen, and grape juice. Gordon swore that he had found some lizard skin, but Wiffle told him it was just dead leaves. Simon wondered if Professor Stegelmeyer would want them to analyze everything and captured as much as he could in evidence bags just in case. Holmes was texting madly, which led Amanda to imagine that he’d found more than anyone else, but she decided that was just her antipathy talking. Ivy was at a bit of a disadvantage with all the visual stuff, but her senses of smell and touch were running at full blast, and she too was texting a lot. At one point, Amphora decided that Simon was looking at her too closely and told him to stop. He said he wasn’t, and she said, “Well, you’re supposed to be,” which confused him so much that he got dizzy and had to sit down.
Then the two of them got into a heated debate about how to look at a scene. Simon said you were supposed to make multiple passes with your eyes, concentrating on different things each time, while Amphora said no, you’re supposed to notice everything at once. Simon said it’s impossible to do that and you’ll miss things, while Amphora said that his way was like making a bunch of little trips to the store and why not get all the shopping done in one fell swoop. Simon then asked what a fell swoop was anyway, and Amphora responded by declaring that a fell swoop referred to leaping over mountains and fells, but Simon said it probably had to do with felling a tree and watching it topple all at once.
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 42