Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set

by Paula Berinstein

  She remembered Professor Feeney’s furtive phone call, which was the first time she had heard anything about something not being where it should be. Professor Feeney taught the criminals and their methods class, so maybe the item had something to do with criminals. Of course most things the detectives did had something to do with criminals, so this conclusion was rather a big duh, but what specifically? Could the whatsit be proof of a crime, or something that would lead to a criminal’s capture? She wrote:

  Something to help put criminals away.

  Or, it might be a way of fighting criminals. Perhaps it was a defensive technology, like a weapon or a security device. Or perhaps it was an offensive technology, like a secret bioweapon. Professor Feeney had said that everything would change if the item fell into the wrong hands. A bioweapon would certainly qualify. The thought of that was really scary. Amanda wrote.

  Offensive or defensive technology.

  Perhaps it was something that incriminated the detectives, or harmed them in a legal or financial way. The deed to the school? Money? Compromising photos, dirty secrets? She wrote:

  Something that could harm the detectives’ ability to operate.

  Perhaps Professor Feeney meant that if the item weren’t recovered the detectives might no longer exist. Did that mean they would all be killed? That was a horrifying thought. Would the criminals infiltrate them more than they had before, or somehow take them over, like a conquering nation? Would the school be destroyed or unable to function? She wrote:

  The end of the detectives.

  She had heard them mention Moriarty. Ivy and Gordon had too. Could Blixus Moriarty have taken the item? If so, where was it? Had the cook or the crooked doctor, Mr. Tunnel, taken it? How about Mavis or Nick? Could it be lying in the factory rubble? The crime scene investigators had already sifted through that. Perhaps they had found something she didn’t know about. She had spoken to the nice crime scene woman at New Scotland Yard once before. The woman had called to tell her that after she had set off the fire sprinklers and melted all that sugar, ants had descended on the ruins. It might be a good idea to call her and see what she had to say.

  Amanda looked up the number and hit the call icon. The woman she’d spoken to before, Nimba Pencil, answered.

  “Why hello, Miss Lester,” she said. “Say, I meant to tell you that the ants are gone. The exterminators did a bang-up job.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said Amanda. The thought of millions and millions of ants, even all that way away in London, turned her stomach. She reached for a gingersnap. “I was wondering if it might be possible to get a list of the evidence you gathered. I suppose this must be a rather strange request but—”

  “Normally it would be, yes,” said Ms. Pencil. “However, in this case I think we can make an exception. After all, if it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have captured the Moriartys.”

  And Nick wouldn’t be dead.

  “We do ask that you keep the list strictly confidential, though,” said Ms. Pencil. “Consider this a professional courtesy.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Amanda. “Thank you so much.” She was astonished that the woman was practically breaking the rules to do her a favor.

  Ms. Pencil texted her a link to a secure storage site and rung off. Amanda entered the site and looked at the list:

  Moriarty Sugar Factory Evidence List

  Computers, thumb drives.

  Industrial equipment and supplies, including trolleys.

  Oh boy. This was looking pretty boring. She hoped the list would get more interesting.

  Schematics, a dossier on Herb Lester, receipts for sales of the sugar weapons.

  These were obviously critical. They shed light on the entire operation and would be important for the upcoming trials of the Moriartys and their cronies. She could also understand why the cartel had kept a file on her dad, but what did it say? Anything related to the missing item? She didn’t see what that would be, but it was a possibility. She put a check mark next to “Dossier.”

  A framed wedding picture of Mavis and Blixus Moriarty.

  Amanda had never thought about the Moriartys’ personal lives. It was weird to imagine this intimate moment. She wondered what Mavis’s dress had looked like. They had probably made a beautiful couple. They were both so attractive. No wonder Nick—

  Stop it! Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? There were exercises you could do to help you remember, but she’d never heard of anything to make you forget. Unless Editta’s mother had some voodoo remedy. Oh for heaven’s sake. She was really losing it. She could see why so many of the teachers were crazy. Being a detective made you nuts. Not that she could leave Legatum now with so much at stake. Argh. Back to the list.

  Remnants of Schola Sceleratorum, the Moriartys’ secret school for criminals: furniture, books, blackboards, refrigerators, microwave ovens, plastic skeletons, grease paint, cameras, film, videotape, disguises, skates, martial arts uniforms, flashlights.

  No doubt the grease paint was Nick’s. Thinking about him made her angry this time, though, which was a good thing. If she could maintain that feeling maybe he’d stop haunting her. It was infuriating that the criminals had set up a school to train people to be bad. And Nick had been proud of that. What gall.

  She wondered what the school had been like. Who would go to such a place? Who taught the classes? It was so hard to imagine the parents sending their kids there the way the detectives’ parents did. Was it possible that for every good person in the world there was an evil counterpart? If that were the case, fighting the bad guys would be hopeless. There were too many of them.

  No, the thought was crazy. There was no way half the people in the world were bad. Probably more like a thousandth or a millionth of the population. She’d have to discuss this question with Professor Also when things calmed down.

  Skateboards.

  Bicycles.

  Soccer and rugby balls.

  Really? The thought of the criminals riding skateboards and bicycles made them seem too normal.

  Lab equipment.

  Lockers.

  Cell phones.

  Tablet computers.

  It figured that they had labs too. That would have been where they made the sugar virus and its antidote. Was it possible that the whatsit had been kept in one of the criminals’ laboratories? She put a check next to that one.

  Remnants of the sugar weapons.

  Ugh. Those things were so creepy. But related to the whatsit? She didn’t see how.

  Décor from Moriarty’s office.

  Now that was nice stuff. All steampunky. She had to admit that Blixus had done a beautiful job—every bit as good as the décor gremlins. Maybe he had an artistic streak. Maybe that was where Nick had got his theatrical talents, and would you shut up about Nick already?

  Paperback novels, including one or two by Lila Lester: Time and Broken Glass and Glare.

  Ugh, that was so yucky. Was this part of them surveilling her mother? If so she’d better tell her, although she was sure Lila wouldn’t listen.

  Was there anything special about those two titles? She tried to remember what the two books were about. She’d only read the first one. Time and Broken Glass featured Lila’s most popular detective, Neville Vanilla. As Amanda recalled, it was set at Oxford University and featured a group of anthropology students and their teachers. Something about an ancient civilization they were arguing over. She didn’t see what that could have to do with the whatsit, and she really didn’t understand why the Moriartys would be interested. The second book, Glare, was less familiar, but she thought it had something to do with Iceland. What that had to do with anything she couldn’t imagine either.

  Cars and lorries and their contents. Maps and flashlights, wrenches, pliers, and bolt cutters.

  Not surprising, but again, pretty run-of-the mill.

  Lunch pails.

  Probably smelling of onions. Those guys she’d hid from had eaten so many onions they stunk.
That was how she’d been able to follow them and find the school for criminals—and Nick in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Keys.

  Now that was interesting. Maybe one of the keys opened a safe or locker. She put a check mark next to “Keys.”

  Weapons: guns, knives, swords, coshes.

  Ick, ick, ick.

  Lighters.

  Like the one she’d used to set off the ceiling sprinklers. Nick had never expected that.

  Cigarettes and cigars.

  Yick, smelly.

  Whiskey and beer bottles.

  Ketchup and mustard containers.

  Food wrappers.

  Food trays, dishes, eating utensils.

  More yick, smelly.

  Sugar samples.

  Chemicals.

  The sugar samples would contain the virus the cartel had developed, so they were important. Chemicals fell into the same category. She didn’t see how these could be related to the whatsit, but they might be. She checked both “Sugar samples” and “Chemicals,” even though the detectives already had some sugar samples on file. Maybe these contained a different virus.

  She thought about the list carefully. What were the Moriartys doing with her mother’s books? Surely they didn’t enjoy reading them. There must be some nefarious purpose to their possessing them. Were they studying her mom?

  Was it possible that Nick’s cell phone was among the items, with his game Explosions! and the link to the film they had been making on it? Maybe she should phone Ms. Pencil back and ask her, although neither the game nor the film was related to her purpose. She was just curious, and she couldn’t justify bothering people for that.

  What about all the files on the computers? Was it possible they contained something that could lead to the whatsit? Was the data even salvageable after having been drenched in sugar water and burned to a crisp? Maybe she couldn’t justify calling Ms. Pencil about Nick’s phone, but the computer files were another matter.

  She phoned back. Fortunately Ms. Pencil was still there. When Amanda had posed her questions, the woman told her that she was afraid they hadn’t been able to salvage any digital data so far, even from the cell phones, but they were still working on it.

  Without access to the Moriartys’ phones and computers, that avenue was closed. As for the other items, the team might be able to follow them up later but it wouldn’t be easy. They’d have to jump through all kinds of hoops with the Metropolitan Police. For now it would be easier to pursue whatever they could get their hands on locally.

  Amanda turned her attention back to her own list. The points were pretty vague but they might get the kids thinking. She sent the list to the others and thought about the next step. She kept coming back to the question of what had changed between Professor Feeney’s phone call, when the teachers were concerned but not panicked, and now, when they were almost hysterical. Whatever it was couldn’t have anything to do with the earthquake because the teachers had been discussing it in Thrillkill’s office before the quake had hit. So what was different?

  For one thing, most of the students had gone home for spring break. What could have happened during that week to change things? Where did the teachers go over the holiday? Now there was a lead. Amanda and her friends needed to find out where the teachers had been and what they had been doing. Maybe they should pay special attention to Professor Feeney, which would be difficult because she wasn’t even their teacher. Amanda wrote:

  Where were the teachers over the break, especially Prof. Feeney?

  That was one lead. Another might have to do with Editta’s disappearance, although it was hard to see how. Still, anything out of the ordinary should be investigated.

  What did Amanda really know about Editta and her family? She knew that her mother was superstitious. That was where Editta had got that trait. What else? Where was Editta for those couple of days? Why wouldn’t she say? Could she be ill? Family problems? Something to do with criminals? Amanda wrote:

  More about Editta and possible connection to whatsit.

  What else had changed? Was it possible that there was another mole inside the school and the teachers had hushed up the scandal?

  This idea was particularly disturbing because it made her suspicious of everyone, even her friends. That wasn’t good. How did she, or anyone, know that people were who they said they were? The school had supposedly checked out Nick and Mavis and they’d missed the truth. What would keep that from happening again? Or . . . OMG! What if the criminals could turn a student or a teacher who had been good to start with bad? How could you tell? Even if Amanda knew what to look for, how could the four of them watch everyone? The prospect was overwhelming. Even so she wrote:

  How can you identify a mole?

  Suddenly she got three texts at once, all responding to the list she’d sent. Amphora said, “4.” Simon said, “4.” Ivy said, “All of the above.”

  All of the above! Of course. That had to be it. Whatever was missing was so critical that it would affect everything, just as Professor Feeney had said.

  Amanda looked at the list again. The detectives were the last line of defense against the criminals, and as she’d seen, the bad guys weren’t just bent on stealing money. They were also developers and users of weapons of mass destruction. Without the detectives to keep them in line, they would threaten the entire world!

  No wonder the teachers were so upset. She still didn’t know what had changed, but she was certain that the stakes were even higher than she’d imagined. Maybe it was time to hold her nose and do something she really, really didn’t want to do. Maybe it was time to ask Scapulus Holmes for help.

  17

  Crystal Weirdness

  Amanda debated about asking Holmes for help. It was unlikely that the four friends could solve the problem of the whatsit alone, but to invite the new kid into their group was a big deal. For one thing, it would put all of them, especially her, in Holmes’s debt. For another, it would be humiliating. If he thought she needed him, he’d gloat. And if he said yes, he’d be hanging around even more than he already was. She should probably think the matter through a little longer before committing herself.

  But before she was able to reach a resolution, something else happened: the crystals started to exhibit strange properties.

  Amphora burst into their room and told Amanda that the crystal she had been wearing had dimmed. They decided they should see if the same was true of the others, so they went to the lab where most of the rest of them had been taken. The same thing had happened. In addition, the color had changed. The beautiful apricot hue had lost some of its saturation and faded to a pale orange. The crystals were still lovely, but they looked like they’d lost their oomph. Amanda could relate to that. She felt the same way.

  “What do you think this is about?” said Amphora. “Are they more poisonous now?”

  “Would you cut that out?” said Amanda. “You can put it back on, you know. It isn’t dangerous.” She picked up Amphora’s crystal and rubbed it all over her face and hands. “See? Am I sick? No. They’re fine.”

  “Hang on,” said Amphora. “You did something.” She moved close to the crystal in a tentative way and peered at it. “It looks different.”

  “It does n—whoa! You’re right. It got darker again.” Amanda picked up the crystal and held it up to the light. Then she moved it around. “You know, I didn’t notice before, but it looks kind of like David Wiffle’s hair.”

  Amphora laughed. “You’re right.”

  “It’s not coppery enough to look like Ivy’s,” said Amanda. “Hers has much more red in it.”

  “Ivy’s hair looks more metallic than this,” said Amphora. “This is softer, more of a pastel.”

  “Yes,” said Amanda, “but I don’t understand.” She put the crystal in her palm and tapped on it. The light got brighter.

  “This is really weird,” said Amphora. “Do it more.”

  Amanda hit the crystal against a lab bench. It glowed eve
n more strongly and its color became saturated again. “I wonder if the same thing would happen with the crystals in the skull.”

  “Let’s check with Professor Hoxby,” said Amphora. She forgot that she was afraid of the crystal and grabbed it out of Amanda’s hand.

  The two girls practically ran to Professor Hoxby’s office, which was right next to the autopsy room. When they blasted through the door, Amanda noticed that the poor man looked even more purple than usual. She wondered if there was something wrong. Well, besides the whole whatsit thing and the skeleton.

  “Ladies,” he said, “you seem in a hurry. Is there another body to examine?” He looked almost excited at the prospect.

  “No, Professor,” breathed Amphora. “It’s just that, well, uh, I, you tell him, Amanda.”

  Amanda thought Amphora should have been the one to ask the questions because it was her crystal, but that was never going to happen so she said,” Professor Hoxby, have you noticed any changes in those crystals from the skull?”

  “Which skull?” he said, as if there were so many to choose from.

  “The one with the body,” said Amanda.

  “My dear, skulls almost invariably come with bodies. Although occasionally they are separated. You know, there’s a wonderful collection of skulls at—”