Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set

by Paula Berinstein

  “What about him?” said Simon.

  “He was working for Blixus.”

  “So perhaps Blixus is in Ulverston near Crocodile’s flat,” said Clive.

  “Crocodile has been dead for a while,” said Amanda. “But Blixus might have been there at some point, yes.”

  “What was this Crocodile working on?” said Amphora.

  “Bee thefts,” said Amanda.

  “Excuse me?” It did sound weird out of context. If you didn’t see the words written out, you might have thought she’d said “berefts” or “B thefts” or “beef thefts” or something like that.

  “He was the head of a bee theft ring,” said Amanda. “You know, apiaries.”

  “What’s an apiary?” said Amphora. “Nothing to do with gorillas?”

  “No, it’s a bee house,” said Clive.

  “Oh, you mean a hive,” said Amphora.

  “Not exactly,” said Gordon, grabbing a scrap of paper from his pocket and looking around for a writing implement. Spotting a pen on the floor, he picked it up and made a quick sketch. “It’s man-made. It looks like a chest of drawers. They cultivate bees that way.”

  “Yick,” said Amphora, half-looking at the drawing. “I wouldn’t want bee thefts in my bureau.”

  Now there was an image—Amphora opening a drawer and bees flying out. Amanda couldn’t decide if it was funny or horrific. Probably funny as long as they didn’t sting.

  “That’s as may be,” said Simon, not rising to the bait for once. “However, it seems likely that Blixus had something to do with these bee thefts.”

  “And I have a list of addresses of farms with bees,” said Amanda.

  “What?” said Gordon, whipping his head around to look at her. She wondered what he’d been thinking about. Probably glitter explosions. “Way to go. Give me a high five.”

  Amanda thought he looked like a caricature behaving that way. “I thought only Americans did that,” she said.

  “You’re American,” said Gordon.

  “But you aren’t,” said Amanda.

  “Just do it already,” said Simon.

  Gordon slapped Amanda’s hand and grinned. It was obviously a guy thing.

  “So, these addresses,” said Ivy.

  “I’ve made a map,” said Amanda, turning her tablet around so everyone could see it. “They’re kind of all over the place, but they’re all in the Midlands.”

  “I wonder if that’s because Crocodile was located here or he moved here for the project,” said Ivy.

  Simon giggled. “Project,” he said. “It sounds like school or something.”

  “All right, gig, caper, antic, I don’t know,” said Ivy.

  “We also know that Crocodile had the phone number of a truck rental place in Birmingham,” said Amanda. “I mean lorries. We say trucks.”

  “We know what trucks are,” said Simon.

  “Fine,” said Amanda. How was she supposed to know what American English they did or didn’t know? Amphora hadn’t known what a cookie was. To be fair, of course, Amanda hadn’t realized that English people called cookies biscuits. But now she knew. She knew lots of English English, like “bonnet” for the hood of a car and “torch” for flashlight. “But this sounds to me like Crocodile was renting trucks to transport the bees,” she said, trying to yank her brain back to the subject at hand.

  “I don’t see what this has to do with Editta, and David’s roommates,” said Gordon.

  “We’re getting there,” said Simon.

  “So Crocodile was doing business all over the Midlands, and especially in Cumbria,” said Amanda. “Blixus knew this. In fact, he probably put him up to it, right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Blixus gets out of prison,” said Amanda, “and what does he do?”

  “Makes crystals,” said Gordon.

  “Yes, but what else?” said Amanda.

  “Causes trouble,” said Gordon.

  “To be sure,” said Amanda. “But he also checks on his bee theft business.” The man may have been evil, but he had to make money somehow. Gordon would have to learn about business if he wanted to be a detective. Come to think of it, why didn’t Legatum offer a business class? If things ever settled down, she’d suggest it to Thrillkill.

  “Oh, right,” said Gordon.

  “So he goes to see Crocodile,” said Clive.

  “Bingo,” said Amanda. “And that was recently. He’s only been out of prison a short time.”

  “So either Crocodile was already dead when he got there,” said Simon—

  “Or he was alive and Blixus killed him,” said Amphora.

  “Or . . . he was alive and someone else killed him after Blixus left,” said Gordon.

  “Yes!” said Amanda. “Good going, Gordon.”

  Gordon looked chuffed. Amanda wondered if David ever complimented him. She doubted it.

  “My money is on Blixus,” said Clive.

  “Mine too,” said Amanda, “but we have to prove it.”

  “Let’s say he did kill Crocodile,” said Simon. “Why?”

  “Dispute over money?” said Ivy.

  “Crocodile wasn’t doing his job properly?” said Amphora.

  “Blixus got stung and he blamed Crocodile,” said Gordon. Everyone looked at him. Clive seemed especially skeptical. “Why not? It could happen.”

  “Maybe,” said Simon. “Sounds a little over the top though.”

  “People flip for all kinds of reasons,” said Gordon, causing a general discomfort among the group. Amanda was sure she wasn’t the only one to think of David. She wondered what Gordon knew about him that they didn’t. Not that she cared all that much. For a detective she wasn’t especially nosy about people’s private lives. There was too much important stuff to worry about. She hoped Professor Sidebotham wouldn’t start asking them to pry into each other’s personal business just so she could test them on what they knew.

  “What if Blixus went to these farms to inspect Crocodile’s work?” she said.

  “So what?” said Simon.

  “Hang on. I’m not finished.”

  “Sorry.”

  Amanda started mumbling as she sorted out the facts. “Blixus goes to the farms with Crocodile. But he doesn’t kill him there because the body was found in Crocodile’s flat, and it didn’t seem to have been moved. So maybe Blixus goes out there and when they get back to Crocodile’s flat they argue. Or maybe Crocodile refused to take him. Or maybe Crocodile admitted that there was a problem, so Blixus killed him.”

  “It would have to be a pretty bad problem,” said Amphora. “If he killed Crocodile, who would fix it?”

  “Maybe he was going to bring in someone else,” said Ivy.

  “Good point,” said Amanda. “Let me think. Blixus, Crocodile, bees. Obviously something went wrong or Crocodile would still be alive. You don’t suppose one of the farmers whose bees were stolen killed Crocodile, do you?”

  “It’s possible,” said Clive. “Maybe it wasn’t Blixus at all.”

  “We need to track down these farms,” said Amanda, consulting her map. “Talk to the farmers.”

  “Stake them out,” said Gordon. Everyone looked at him. It was a wonderful idea. Amanda felt proud. It had to be her little group’s influence. Wait, was that arrogant?

  “Gordon, I could kiss you,” she said.

  “Hey,” said Simon.

  “Fine. You kiss him, Simon. Don’t you see? We can set up cameras and watch the farms.”

  “Brilliant, Amanda,” said Ivy.

  “Fab,” said Amphora.

  “Not bad,” said Clive.

  “I want to do it,” said Gordon. Yup. He really was coming along. All he’d needed this whole time was a little encouragement. Amanda wondered how he’d fallen in with David in the first place.

  “So it’s settled then,” she said. Everyone nodded. “Then what about these numbers? Anyone know what they mean?

  She showed them the picture she’d taken of the sheet of numbers
in Crocodile’s accordion folder.

  “Not Fibonacci,” said Simon. Amanda gave him a look. “What? I said it isn’t Fibonacci.”

  “What’s Fibonacci?” said Gordon.

  “It’s a sequence of numbers in maths,” said Simon. “It’s connected with the golden ratio.”

  “Golden ratio?” said Amanda.

  “I’ll explain later,” said Simon.

  “Read them to me,” said Ivy. Amanda did. Ivy listened carefully. “It’s an inventory.”

  “What?” said Amphora. “How do you know?”

  “I probably would have figured it out anyway, but hanging around with Editta taught me a lot about accounting,” said Ivy. “It’s an inventory. Probably of bees and the money that was paid for them.”

  Simon ran over to Ivy, grabbed her, and kissed her on the lips. She looked pleased. “See?” he said. “Equal opportunity kisser.” Amanda gave him a little kick.

  18

  Penrith

  As great as Gordon’s idea was, actually getting to the farms and setting up the cameras was another matter. Amanda didn’t have time to worry about it, though, because she had to meet Holmes and make some progress with Thrillkill’s film.

  When she arrived at their table he was already sitting there, fidgeting. The little session with Despina probably hadn’t done him any good either.

  “So, we’ve finished the interviews,” Amanda said. It wasn’t much of an opening but it might get him talking.

  “Yes,” said Holmes. “I did the last of the Neutrals this morning. Professor Kindseth.”

  “That sounds weird: Punitori, Realists, Neutrals.”

  “A little melodramatic, I’d say,” he said rather acidly. He was definitely in a bad mood.

  “Yes.” She wondered if Professor Pickle had come up with the names before he’d gone to prison. He was the school’s language expert, after all.

  “You think so too?” Holmes finally met her eyes, then looked away.

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

  “I thought you wanted lots of drama. That’s what you told me last time.”

  “I said drama, not melodrama.” That sounded harsh. She didn’t mean it that way.

  “I see.” He was humoring her and she didn’t like it.

  “You don’t have to get all snippy.”

  “I’m not being snippy,” said Holmes.

  “You seem to think that just because I want to make the villains complex I’m being melodramatic,” she said.

  “What villains?”

  Amanda started. What was she talking about? The villains were in Darius Plover’s film, not this one.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I was confused.”

  “Okay, no problem.” Despite his words, Holmes didn’t look forgiving. “So now that we know the positions, what are we going to do with them?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It isn’t anyone’s fault.”

  “Who said it was anyone’s fault?”

  “You did.”

  “I did not.”

  “Didn’t you say that I should have known better?”

  Holmes gave her a long look. “I did no such thing.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” What was she thinking?

  “Do you want to reschedule?” he said.

  “No, not at all. Let me think a second.” She stared off into the distance. There wasn’t much to look at. The walls were still bare. Since the earthquake, the paintings had been removed and stashed in the basements so they wouldn’t hurt anyone if they fell.

  “Okay, I’ve got it,” she said after a few minutes, during which time Holmes had got them each a cup of tea. “We need to reunify the teachers and save the school. But we can’t be didactic. They’d just tune out.”

  “Agreed. No preaching.”

  “We can use a carrot or a stick, or both,” she said.

  “Right,” said Holmes. “Scare them straight, inspire them to come together, or a little of each.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “But it would be easy to alienate them either way, wouldn’t it?”

  “I think so,” said Holmes. “They’re not in a very conciliatory mood. Except the Neutrals.”

  “So we have to soften them up.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. How?” He seemed to be relaxing a bit.

  “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but hear me out.” He nodded, but knowing him as she did she had absolutely no confidence that he’d sit still for what she was about to say. “We should make a musical.”

  “What?” said Holmes, spilling his tea all over the table.

  “I told you, please just hear me out,” she said, grabbing a napkin.

  “Fine. Whatever.” Her taking charge of his mess seemed to irritate him. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got it.” He mopped up the tea with his own napkin.

  “Music goes straight to the nervous system,” she said. “There’s no barrier between the message and us. It’s visceral.”

  “Yes,” he said hesitantly.

  “There are happy musicals and sad musicals. The music is written to reflect the mood.”

  “Uh huh. And?”

  “We want to bring the teachers together and save the school, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “So we give them inspiration. An uplifting story set to music. We give them,” she hesitated for effect, “The Detective’s Musical.”

  Holmes looked stunned, and not in a good way. “I don’t see how that’s going to work.”

  “Have you seen any musicals?” she said.

  “I’ve seen ‘Glee.’ Once.”

  She wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed. Everyone should at least see “West Side Story” and “Camelot.” Suddenly she wondered what Holmes would think of the movies she’d made, like “Lunchpail,” her best, and “Mynah Bird,” a close second. Of course they weren’t musicals, but she was immensely proud of them. The way he’d been acting lately he probably wouldn’t give them a chance, but then what difference did it make? He was obviously determined not to like her anymore and there was nothing she could do about it. She’d have to do the best she could with whatever he was willing to give.

  “Good enough.” Not. “Don’t you feel inspired when you watch it?”

  “That’s just feel-good stuff, Amanda. A drug.”

  She didn’t see it that way but she wasn’t going to argue. “In a way, sure. But underneath the feelings are messages. Subliminal.”

  “Now you’re talking about advertisers’ tricks?” said Holmes.

  Patience. “Not so crass as that.”

  “I should hope not,” he said. He was being a bit high and mighty for her taste. She hoped he’d get over it soon. Maybe if she showed him how effective her way would be he’d calm down.

  “Look, I’ll come up with a synopsis and you’ll see. How about that?”

  “If you say so.”

  “Tomorrow same time?”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Look, Scapulus, you know I know what I’m doing.”

  “You used to,” he said, looking toward the door. “Hey, Amphora,” he called, catching sight of Amanda’s roommate. Amanda could see them both perk up as they walked out together.

  Amanda was not a happy camper. What was that “You used to know what you were doing”? Holmes couldn’t really mean that. He was just hurt. How she wished she could find Nick, resolve their issues, and end this tension. She’d have to try harder.

  She was about to go to her room to work on the synopsis for the musical when Simon entered the dining room and sat down facing her.

  “Weird stuff happening,” he said.

  There was always weird stuff going on at Legatum. It was getting to the point where weird was normal and you didn’t even have to use the word anymore. “What weird stuff?”

  “More zombie sightings.”

  “In Windermere?”

  “Nope. Penrith.”

  “Penrith?” It seemed that the zombie
s were expanding their territory. “Despina and Hill just went there to look at stone circles. I wonder if they’ll see them. Oh, brother. I should have gone with them. That’s a long way away.”

  “Twenty miles or more, I’d say,” said Simon.

  “So they’re spreading,” she said.

  “Sounds like it.”

  “Did anyone get pictures?”

  “I haven’t seen any.”

  Everyone was aware of the zombies, but no one was getting a good look at them, or even snapping a picture from far away that they could enlarge. It was as if these so-called zombies were really supernatural. Not that she believed that for a second.

  “We have so much to do, I don’t see how we’re going to be able to keep up with this,” said Amanda. “I wonder if I should ask Despina to keep a lookout. Ugh. What a terrible idea.”

  “I agree that we’re busy,” said Simon. “But twenty miles isn’t that far. We could get Eustace to take us. It wouldn’t take long. That way you wouldn’t have to get Despina all excited.”

  “I think he’s working,” said Amanda.

  “Too hilly for bikes and skateboards. Too far to walk.”

  Amanda contemplated the options for a moment. “How about Fern?”

  “Ivy’s sister?” said Simon.

  “She might be able to take us.”

  “In what?” said Simon.

  “It’s summer,” said Amanda. “She’s got a car.”

  “Whoa,” said Simon. “Good thinking. I could kiss you.” He looked into her eyes, then down at her mouth.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  A few minutes later they were standing in the hall outside the dining room. When Fern had heard what they wanted to do she’d got so excited she’d stepped on her own skirt and torn it. She’d had to run back and change or they’d have departed immediately.

  On the way to the car they zoomed past Professor Stegelmeyer so fast they almost knocked him down.

  “Hey,” he yelled after them. “Construction debris. Watch it.”

  “Sorry, Professor,” yelled Amanda.

  Then they ran into Drusilla Canoodle.

  “Oh, Miss Lester,” the dean of admissions and head of administration called out. “A letter has come for you.”

  Amanda came to a screeching halt. “A letter? On paper?”