Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set

by Paula Berinstein

  Amanda asked the boy whether the cracks were thick or thin. The kid said they were very skinny. Amanda tried to explain that they weren’t worrisome, but no one wanted to listen. It seemed that the quake had turned all the kids in the dining room into drama queens.

  Then there was a great swish and clatter as the kitchen door opened and a young blonde man ran out with some brooms, which he started handing out with instructions to clear the floors and be careful when walking. He was followed by a tall older man with a Yorkshire accent so thick Amanda couldn’t understand him. At first she thought they were two new janitors, but from the way they were talking, she discovered that they were the new cook and his assistant. She didn’t know why it had never occurred to her that the cook might be a man, but here he was, and now she knew why Amphora had kept looking toward the kitchen. The young guy was a hunk. Whether he was the cook or the assistant she didn’t know. Catching Simon’s eye, she gestured toward each of the men and made a stirring motion, which Simon answered by pointing to the younger guy. He was the cook.

  This was certainly something new, and if the earthquake hadn’t disrupted everything Amanda would have been eager to question Amphora. As it was, she and Simon told Ivy to stay put with Nigel and started pushing the brooms around the hall, piling up debris near the baseboards. A couple of the other kids joined them, and soon they were running into each other with such enthusiasm that they declared they had invented the game of bumper brooms. Amanda felt mildly guilty enjoying herself in the midst of a disaster, but after a bit of thought she decided there was no harm in making the most of the situation. The main downside was that the brooms coughed up a lot of dust and debris, which precipitated a round of furious sneezing.

  Soon the broom wielders were adding flourishes to their game. If you were able to evade an oncoming broom, you got five points. Dodge two at a time and you got extra credit: fifteen points. Steal the debris from someone else’s broom and make it your own, five points. Get your own debris back, five points. Hit a pedestrian, minus five points, unless it was a teacher, and then your entire score was zeroed out and you had to start over. Push your broom and debris all the way down the hall without losing anything, twenty points.

  A few minutes after the game had started, Simon was in the lead with sixty points. Amanda wasn’t doing as well as she’d have liked—ten points. She’d lost points when she hit a couple of kids who had come down from their rooms to see what was happening. Fortunately she’d missed Mrs. Scarper, the matron, who had followed them. Euphoria Mouse, a fourth-year, had managed to accrue forty points and was just about to score a big one when a powerful aftershock hit and the cleanup team ran for the closest doorways. Amanda was really worried about Ivy, so despite the shaking she ran back to the dining room to check on her. Because the floor was so slick, she slipped and fell, practically doing the splits on the gritty surface, but recovered quickly. When she got to the dining room, she could see that Simon had been hit with something—plaster and paint flakes, she thought. He looked like he’d been out in the snow. Then a painting fell off the wall and narrowly missed him because the dummy had left his shelter under the table and was actually standing up. Seeing that he was okay, Amanda kept running toward Ivy and Nigel, who had again taken refuge under a table. Simon followed her and she yelled for him to grab a doorway but he wouldn’t listen. The aftershock lasted so long that more paintings fell off the walls and broke. When the shaking stopped, the cook came out again and observed that one of the pictures he really liked had been destroyed. Then he made a reference to his motorcycle, which explained Amphora’s attraction even more. Amanda had to admit that he cut quite a dashing figure.

  When the shaking stopped, instead of texting as before, Holmes ran in and asked if everyone was all right. Where he had been was anyone’s guess, but he seemed fine. Hearing that yes, they were okay, he grabbed a broom. Working quickly, he set up trash receptacles and made short work of the mess, looking cool and collected the entire time. Amanda watched in amazement. She didn’t have the energy to resent him but she vowed that she’d indulge in a satisfying I-hate-Holmes session later.

  Everyone was still pretty frazzled, but after Holmes’s beautifying routine things had calmed down enough that people were starting to comment. Simon kept saying how cool the quake had felt and wow, he had no idea how powerful earthquakes could be. He wondered if Professor Pole was going to talk about this in Fires and Explosions. Not that either a fire or an explosion had occurred, but the quake was close enough that Simon thought he should address the topic. Then he started asking Amanda questions about earthquakes because, after all, she was the expert. He peppered her with so many of them (Isn’t there a lot of wasted storage space when you can’t put glass things on high shelves?” “What happens to houses that were built before the building codes were upgraded?” “Does American health insurance cover earthquake injuries?” “Do a lot of trees fall down?”) that she soon became exasperated and decided to go off somewhere else.

  That somewhere else proved to be the Holmes House common room, where she searched for news on her phone. It seemed that the effects of the tremor had been felt all around the UK, and also in Belgium and France, of all things. The strength on the moment magnitude scale, which had replaced the old Richter scale in most places, was a whopping 5.5, the strongest officially recorded in the country since 1931, when a 6.1 quake off the coast at Dogger Bank in the North Sea had rattled the area. The epicenter was located in Aspatria this time, on the north side of the Ellen Valley in Cumberland, about thirty-five miles from Windermere.

  Five point five. Wow. That was huge, especially for the UK. There had to be major damage. What had happened to the school remained to be discovered. Amanda shuddered. She couldn’t bear the thought of anyone having been killed, or even injured. Even if that weren’t the case, with each aftershock things could change. It was terrifying.

  As she was contemplating a variety of horrific possibilities, the décor gremlins rushed into the room and began to clear things up. They had decorated the lounge in an alpine lodge style, and there were skis, poles, and antlers all over the place. The basement was a mess too, they said, and it was going to take them weeks if not months to assess the damage and clean it up. Furthermore, some of the reversible walls had been thrashed so they might not be able to keep up the decorating pace they’d set in the past few months. Amanda was relieved. She was tired of Sidebotham’s quizzes.

  Just as the situation in the vicinity of the dining room looked like it was stabilizing, Amanda received another text. It was Amphora telling her that Thrillkill had broken his leg in the last aftershock. Amphora! How was she doing? Amanda texted her back and asked, fortunately to be told that everyone on the third floor of the dorm was fine. She brought Amphora up to date on her own news, purposely neglecting to mention the new cook. There would be time for that later. The next thing she knew was that a rumor had started flying around the school that Thrillkill was dead. However, his appearance on crutches a bit later quickly scotched that one. It turned out that Professor Also had also been injured. Apparently she was completely black and blue and had taken refuge in the nurse’s office.

  Then Amanda heard a siren. Someone had been hurt, or worse! There was such an unreliable grapevine in place at this point that she thought it almost completely useless to ask if anyone knew what was going on, so she ran to the south entrance of the main building and looked out onto the driveway. There, in front of the school, two paramedics were loading Professor Kindseth into an ambulance! He looked unconscious. Professor Buck was standing nearby, supervising.

  This was terrible! Amanda was very attached to Professor Kindseth, who was just about the nicest adult on campus. Last term he’d admitted to her that he, too, had wanted to work in the film biz, but his interest lay in cinematography rather than writing and directing, which were Amanda’s specialties. Ever since then she’d felt a particular kinship with the little man. Simon would be crushed to hear about his injuries. He an
d Professor Kindseth had worked so hard to identify the sugar virus and had hit it off so well. Of course Simon wouldn’t show his feelings, but he’d be plenty upset.

  Amanda watched as the ambulance left with its precious passenger. She’d better check on Amphora—and Editta! How was she? Where was she?

  She ran down the cleaner but still messy hallway and tromped up the stairs to the third floor. There she found Amphora cowering under her bed, which was a neat trick considering how low the bed was. Fortunately, unlike in Nick’s room, there was a minimum of dust underneath, although since the quake, there was plenty everywhere else. Amphora was alternately sneezing, crying, and chattering so hard she had practically bitten her tongue off.

  “Are you okay?” said Amanda, bending down to see meet her eyes. “Can you come out of there?”

  “N-o, and n-n-n-o,” said Amphora, peering out between her fingers.

  “It was a 5.5. The epicenter is in Aspatria.” It was hard to talk all hunched over like that. Her voice caught.

  “N-o w-w-onder! It was p-p-p-ractically u-u-underneath us.” Was that a sign of life? Even if all Amphora could express was panic, at least she was talking.

  “By the way, we’re all fine except that Thrillkill broke his leg and Professor Kindseth just left in an ambulance.”

  “Oh n-o! Is he d-ead?” Amphora chattered even harder. Amanda reached under the bed and took her hand, which was ice cold.

  “I don’t think so. I don’t really know anything. Where’s Editta? Is she okay?”

  “I have n-n-n-no idea. Did you l-l-look in her ro-om?”

  It was a stupid question. If Amphora had spent the last however long under her bed, how would she know what was going on with Editta?

  “No,” said Amanda. “Hang on. I’ll take a peek.”

  She opened the door and surveyed the hall, which was so dusty that just looking at it made her want to sneeze. The way was clear, though, so she walked carefully down to Editta’s room and knocked. Nothing.

  “Editta,” she called. “Are you in there?”

  Silence.

  “Editta?”

  “What do you want?” Aha. She was in there, although extremely muffled.

  “Are you okay? The earthquake was 5.5.” She thought her friend might respond better if she mentioned numbers.

  “Go away.”

  “I will if you answer my question.” It would be delicate trying to deal with her. Amanda decided to act as non-threatening as possible. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Her voice was weak.

  “Can I come in and see?” What if she’d been hit in the head or something?

  “Mm.”

  Amanda took that as a yes. She pushed the door open and peeked inside. Editta was lying on her bed, stomach down, with her hands over the back of her head, as if trying to protect herself. She had it half right. She would have been safer underneath.

  “Can you turn over?”

  Editta made no move to do so, so Amanda came close and looked at the bit of her face that was showing. She looked uninjured, but who could tell?

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Do you want to talk about the quake? I have information.”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to talk about anything?” Maybe considering the situation she’d open up about whatever it was that had been bothering her.

  “No.”

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No.”

  Amanda thought it best not to push, so she simply said, “Okay. Text if you need me,” and left. What was going on? First the teachers, then Ivy, and now Editta. Could whatever was bothering them be the same thing? If so, what was it? She’d better find the missing item, and fast.

  Upon returning to her room, where Amphora was making tentative progress toward emerging from her sanctuary, Amanda received a call. It was her mother wanting to find out how she was. Apparently she and Herb had felt the quake too, but much less strongly. After all, London was more than 300 miles from the epicenter.

  “Do you want to come home?” said Lila. “I can make you some chicken soup.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. We’re all fine. No one needs chicken soup.”

  “It’s too dangerous. I’m going to come get you.”

  This was just about the worst idea Amanda could think of and she wasn’t about to let it happen.

  “Mom, please don’t. The teachers are looking after us just fine.” This was a bit of a stretch, but how would her mother know that? “The cracks are hairline,” which was true, “and I’m pretty sure the structures are sound. They’ve called the engineers. Really. You don’t need to worry. We’re on basalt here anyway.”

  As if. Basalt was one of the safest foundations possible, but she had no idea if that was really the case. She hoped her mother wouldn’t look up the geology of Windermere.

  “Your father isn’t feeling too well,” said Lila. “Why don’t you send him an email? It might cheer him up.”

  “Sure. I’ll do that right now. What’s wrong with him?”

  “Same old same old. He’s listless. He’ll snap out of it, though. I’ve bought him some videos on PTSD. They give you exercises to do every day. He’ll be fine in no time.”

  Amanda doubted that some video could fix what was ailing her father but she had no intention of saying so. That would just lead to a lot of I-know-what’s-best-don’t-you-question-me stuff, which she really didn’t need, so she mumbled assent and got off the phone as gracefully as she could.

  She was dying to say something to Amphora about the cutie pie in the kitchen, but she figured now wasn’t the time, so she turned to go back down to the dining room to check on her friends. However, before she could get through the door she got another text from Thrillkill telling everyone to stay in their rooms until further notice. Coincidentally, Ivy and Nigel appeared at just about that time, Ivy having decided that Simon was very sweet to offer to help but she’d prefer to keep Nigel at her side.

  Thrillkill’s dictum did not sit well. Amanda and Ivy were way too headstrong to allow themselves to be confined. They were willing to clean up the room a bit, but once the place was usable they agreed that they would go out and nose around. At this point Amphora was texting madly with her parents and seemed not to see or hear anything Amanda and Ivy were doing. Ivy pointed at her and then vaguely toward the kitchen, and Amanda took her hand and made a yes sign in her palm. They were wise to Amphora’s tricks now, and though neither of them was particularly nosy, they were curious about her little crush.

  Amanda, Ivy, and Nigel sneaked down the stairs, although they didn’t have to be quite so careful because everyone was preoccupied. When they reached the bottom they noticed several teachers looking around and making notes. Then they heard something disturbing. Professor Snaffle and Professor McTavish were saying that they hadn’t seen Professor Redleaf anywhere. She wasn’t in her office or her classroom and no one could find her. All the other teachers were accounted for, so this development was particularly worrisome.

  Suddenly both Amanda’s and Ivy’s phones buzzed. What now? Amanda was getting phone shy. Every time a text or a call came through it was something she didn’t want to hear. But nothing she had received so far was as bad as this news. Simon was texting them to tell them that Professor Stegelmeyer had found Professor Redleaf under a bookcase and she was dead!

  10

  Mushy Letters and Candy Stashes

  Upon hearing the terrible news about Professor Redleaf, Amanda’s first thought was that this was another trick meant to test their powers of observation, but after texting back and forth with Simon, she became convinced that the cyberforensics teacher—Holmes’s friend—had really been killed.

  She was so upset she couldn’t think. Ivy burst into tears and clutched Amanda and Nigel at the same time. Nigel was still pretty shook up and seemed to bask in the attention. Simon, however, was texting all sorts of questions, which were hard to igno
re. Did the accident have anything to do with the gremlins’ placement of the bookcase, and if so, what would happen to them? Was this really a murder meant to look like an accident? What would happen to Professor Redleaf’s course? Would Amanda and Holmes still make the film? Amanda was so overloaded and freaked out that she could barely read the texts, let alone consider their implications.

  She wondered if there was any way to get news about Professor Kindseth. Surely he was still alive, although how could she be sure? Why wasn’t Thrillkill letting them know about his condition? Would they have to evacuate the school? And what would happen on Monday, when classes were supposed to resume?

  Professor Redleaf’s death hit the students hard. No one but Holmes had really known her, but they still took her loss personally. Bonds at Legatum went deep. There was a fierce us vs. them mentality at the school, and Professor Okimma Redleaf had definitely been one of “us.”

  The next day, Sunday, everyone was dragging around. They’d all been up late because of the earthquake, and the aftershocks during the night hadn’t helped them get any rest. Around ten in the morning, Amanda received a text from Thrillkill asking her to come see him. When she arrived, he told her that she and Holmes would have to postpone their film because Holmes was needed elsewhere. He was going to take over Professor Redleaf’s class.

  Despite the fact that she hadn’t wanted to make the film in the first place, this news infuriated her. Who was Holmes to be teaching the class? He was twelve, for Pete’s sake. Actually, he might have been thirteen—she didn’t know—but in either case, cyberforensics? How could he possibly know enough to teach that? The inconvenient fact that Amanda herself was supposed to teach a class managed to escape her. Holmes was an arrogant twit. She was a qualified story expert who had something wonderful to share.