“Are you going to attack the school?” Not that he’d admit to such a thing.
“No,” he said softly, almost gently.
Did he really think she was going to fall for this act? “Would you stop being so cryptic?” No comment, no smile, no anger: he just looked at her in a way she couldn’t read. “Fine. Then you can listen to me. Give Editta and David back. Are they still alive? Their parents are going crazy. I don’t care what you think of me, but have some compassion for their families.”
David Wiffle and Editta Sweetgum had run away to be with the Moriartys, but for different reasons. David had freaked out when he learned that his dad, Wink Wiffle, had once been romantically involved with Mavis Moriarty. Editta, on the other hand, was so besotted with Nick that she had abandoned the detective school, her friends, and her family to chase after him. As far as Amanda and Acting Headmaster Sidebotham knew, both were still with the Moriartys, or at least with Blixus. Hugh’s whereabouts were anyone’s guess.
Nick sighed. “I don’t have any influence with them.”
Another bald-faced lie. “What are you talking about?” she said, throwing off the afghan and getting up. She felt a stabbing pain in her head, wobbled, and fell back onto the couch. “Editta is mad for you. She’ll do anything you say.”
He leaned back against the slightly dirty cream-colored wall and crossed his ankles. “Not anymore.”
Boy, was he brazen. Did he really expect her to believe this nonsense? “Rubbish.”
“Trust me,” he said without irony. If she didn’t know Nick, she’d think he was sincere. He seemed so straightforward. “She has no interest in me.”
“Trust you? That’s a good one.” If Editta really didn’t care about Nick anymore, why hadn’t she come back?
“Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it?” This time there was irony in his voice.
“Then please do something about David at least.”
“I can’t. David won’t go back. He feels that there’s no point in rules anymore. Look how far they’ve got him. He reckons that nothing matters, so he may as well stop fighting my dad and join him.” It was the longest thing he’d said since she’d awakened.
“That’s terrible.” Wait, had she just insulted him? Of course she had. Blixus was Nick’s father, and she’d just implied that it was terrible for David to be with him. But it was true: it was terrible. Still, Nick didn’t seem bothered. Then again, why should he? He had the upper hand. He didn’t need to defend himself or his father.
“Look, we have to get them both back one way or another. We’ll never stop trying.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Now she was annoyed. She glared at him. “Why are you so mean?”
He laughed. “I’m afraid it’s in my genes.”
She wanted to punch him in the nose. “That’s an excuse,” she said, then realized she’d been making excuses about her own Lestrade genes, which, having been passed down from Sherlock Holmes’s sometime colleague G. Lestrade, definitely had their flaws. “For once be straight with me, will you? Why are you really here?”
He looked at her long and hard—for at least the third time. “To talk to you.”
She blew a raspberry. “That was taking a risk. Oh, right. You’re so arrogant you can’t imagine you’d ever be caught. Anyway, whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”
He looked sad and said, “I deserve that.”
He had a lot of nerve trying to look hurt. She could feel herself start to steam. “You always were a good actor, but don’t try that on me anymore. I’m not so gullible these days.”
“I know that. Which is why I came. You know I know you will never believe me, which is why I have to make you believe me.”
Either she was still woozy or he was making no sense. “What?”
He chuckled. “That was pretty tangled up, wasn’t it?”
Good. It was him, not her. “I hope the inside of your brain doesn’t look like that.”
“Please,” he said. “Just hear me out. Then if you want to turn me in, you can. If you want to run away and never speak to me again, you can. Just a moment—please?”
She didn’t trust him one bit, but she was curious to find out what kind of story he’d come up with this time. After that she’d report him. “Okay, talk.”
He approached the couch and started to sit down next to her. It was an assertive move. She would have to skootch over a bit to make room for him. She was tempted to stay right where she was and force him to sit in that stupid chair, but her body had other ideas. For some stupid reason it moved over just enough to let him fit. He was so close she could feel his warmth and smell his scent, and she remembered how much fun he used to be. Then she caught herself and edged away. It was so easy to forget what he really was sometimes. Stupid, stupid Amanda.
“I know this sounds incredible,” he said, breaking into her thoughts, “but I came to ask for your help. I know I have no right and you’d be perfectly justified to spit in my face. But please, look at this.”
He turned to her and raised the long sleeves of his blue T-shirt. His arms were so bruised they were all the colors of the rainbow. When she’d got a good look, he rolled them back down and lifted up the front of the shirt. More bruises, more colors.
She couldn’t help herself. She gasped. “Are these still from the fight in the tunnels?”
He lowered his shirt. “No,” he said sadly—or was it angrily? He was suddenly so full of emotion she couldn’t tell. “My father. He used to hit me a lot, but my mum would stop him sometimes. Now that she’s gone he’s gotten worse again.”
“And you can’t call the authorities for obvious reasons.”
“Correcto. And this isn’t the half of it. Amanda, I have to get away from him.” He paused and looked off into the distance, then back into her eyes. “This might sound a bit weird, but I need to divorce my father.”
Amanda felt a pang of sympathy, then stopped herself. This was Nick. He had probably made those bruises himself. It was probably all a trick. She wondered what he really wanted. Then again, even if he had made the bruises there was good reason for him not to be with Blixus. She decided to play along and see what else he’d come up with.
“That seems reasonable,” she said. “But how are you going to do that? You’ll need to go to court. And if you do you’ll be arrested. Not only that, but how are you going to find him to sue him?”
“The second part can be taken care of,” he said, getting up again and pacing around the tiny room. “There are ways of serving people you can’t find. If you make a reasonable effort over a long enough period of time you can do it.”
Her eyes followed him around the little space. “I see you’ve been doing your homework.”
“Yes. I think I might also have a way out of the first problem, but not without help. That’s why I came to you.”
Uh oh. She could tell what he wanted. He wanted her to vouch for him or help him make a deal so he could get immunity from prosecution. Well she wasn’t going to do it.
“I know what you’re thinking. I’ve abused your trust. I’ll understand if you don’t want to help, but all I’m asking for is a lawyer. I realize your dad wouldn’t help me if his life depended on it, but you must know someone.”
This request threw her for a loop. She’d expected him to ask for more. “But surely you know lawyers. With all your connections.”
He smiled sardonically. “Oh, sure. I know lots of them—all on my dad’s payroll. No, I need someone clean and untouchable.”
She thought about this for a moment. The whole idea was incredible. Although she had to admit it was a gutsy thing to do. When Blixus found out he’d be furious. And then what? His wrath could be lethal. And just in logistical terms, how would Nick live on his own?
“Let’s say I find you someone,” she said. “What do you expect to do if and when you get this divorce? You’re thirteen. Are you going to keep thieving and cheating to support yourself?
”
“No, of course not,” he said. There wasn’t the slightest bit of outrage in his voice. If anything he sounded determined.
“Then what?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. He’d probably come up with some cockamamie scheme and pressure her to become involved. Well he could think again. She wasn’t having it, whatever it was.
He stopped pacing and looked into her eyes. She could barely stand it. It was as if he was looking straight into her soul. She wished he’d quit the act and just be Nick—good old nasty Nick. At least then she’d know what to expect.
“I want to become a detective,” he said. “For real.”
She just about fell over. The very thought was so outrageous—it was the one thing she’d never have expected. She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at him. Finally she settled for eye rolling and sarcasm. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’ve never been more serious.” He certainly looked it, but that didn’t mean anything. “I want to redeem myself. I’ve done terrible things. If I were to meet the Nick who treated you the way I did, I’d beat him senseless. Anyway consider this. I know how criminals think, how they work. What better detective is there than someone who understands the enemy?”
He was right about that last part. He knew everything about the Moriartys’ psychology, and their operations. He could be incredibly helpful to the detectives—if he told the truth. Of course there were ways of making sure he did. Now that she thought about it, he might actually have something here. But if he thought he was going to spy on the detectives again, he had another think coming.
“Well sure,” she said cautiously. “That’s useful. But what about being able to trust you? No one will ever do that.” If he didn’t admit that obvious fact, she’d know he was trying to spy again.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I wouldn’t know how to begin to prove that I’ve changed.”
Well, well. He’d passed the first test. But that one was easy. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to see him fail. She’d push until he did.
“Are you sure you have changed? Maybe you think you have because of this crisis with your mom and the way your dad is behaving, but you might just be experiencing post-traumatic stress. Do you even know how to be good?”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
Hm, honesty again. He really was laying it on thick. It was insulting. Did he really believe she’d learned nothing since he’d betrayed her. She started to fume. “Then how can you expect me to help you?”
“I can’t,” he said testily. “Never mind. This was a bad idea. I’ll let you go now. Here, I’ll help you up.” He reached for her. She recoiled. He sighed loudly but didn’t try again. “Do you feel well enough to make it back?”
“I’m all right. Anyway, Eustace will take me,” she said, grabbing her skateboard and getting to her feet. This time she was steady.
He looked puzzled. “Eustace?”
“The tram driver. From the quarry. Remember? I was on my way to see him when I had my accident.” Eustace had been a doll about driving her around. Of course he had to work, but he seemed happy to help out when he could. Yikes! It had been hours since she was due to meet him. He was probably crazy worried by now.
“Oh, right. The surfer. Shall I go with you? You don’t look too steady.”
That was a weird thing to say. Eustace would turn Nick in to the police in a second. Come to think of it, anyone would. The boy was taking a real risk hanging around Windermere. Surely there were other places he could go. Did he want to go to jail? Because if he wasn’t careful, that was exactly where he’d end up. Amanda wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Nick in prison. He deserved it of course, but it would be like caging a wild animal.
“I’m fine,” she said. “See?” She jumped up and down and waved her arms. “Prima ballerina.” He smiled just the tiniest bit. “What, you think I’m a clod?”
“Only in self-defense class.” He was referring to the time David Wiffle had kicked her in the nose while practicing karate moves.
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault. David—”
He winked. “I know. I just like getting your goat.” She glared at him. “Anyhow, you do look okay. Very well then. Off you go.”
She picked up her skateboard and was about to flounce out when she realized he had actually done something kind. She forced herself to turn to him and said, “Um, I appreciate your looking after me. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, crossing his arms. “Just watch out for speeding peacocks from now on.”
“I will.”
“And don’t worry,” he said gruffly. “You won’t see me again. Goodbye, Amanda.”
It sounded so final. No matter how she felt about him, the thought that she might never see him again knocked her off balance. She couldn’t say it back, so she just said, “Later.”
She made her way up the stairs from the cabin and onto the deck, then down to the dock. Then she put the beat-up board down and skated away.
When she’d gone about forty yards she hit a rock and the board stopped. She didn’t know why but she turned around and looked back at the boat. There was Nick watching her from a porthole. When she caught his eye, he turned and was gone.
2
A Darktower Day
Once Amanda was out of sight of The Falls, she checked her phone. Yup, ten messages from Eustace, increasingly frantic. Three from Ivy, also worried. And two from Simon, whining that if she was up to something she should have asked him to come with her. She figured she should at least text Eustace and let him know she was okay, but her mind was racing so fast she needed a moment to regroup.
Suddenly she was hit by a sadness so profound that she felt it in her chest, and her eyes, and her breath. Did she have a concussion? She found a bench in a park, sat down, and patted her head. No bumps or tenderness. It did hurt a little though. Maybe she should call Eustace. She looked at his icon and almost pressed it, but she stopped short. She knew her collision had nothing to do with how she was feeling. This was about Nick. It was always about Nick. What she didn’t understand was why she felt this way. Bruises notwithstanding, she wasn’t sorry for him. He was still trying to manipulate her and she was furious.
It was true that his father was a sadistic, evil man, and it was also true that his mother was no longer around to act as a buffer. Whether or not Mavis had ever done so she wasn’t sure. Amanda didn’t know that much about her, but she did know that the woman was capable of deep feeling. Her unrequited love for David’s father, whom she’d dated before she met Blixus, was proof of that. Amanda had read the love letters Mavis had sent to the man, and they were among the most passionate pieces of writing she had ever seen. So it was possible that Nick’s mom had loved her son too and had attempted to protect him, as he had claimed.
Why had the blonde girl, Taffeta, shot Mavis in the first place? Had she really intended to kill her? Chaos had reigned in those tunnels beneath Penrith. It had all started because Amanda had revealed the relationship between Mavis and Wink. Blixus had been furious and had tried to slug his wife. When Nick attempted to intervene, Blixus kicked him. Taffeta had run to Nick then, in what seemed to be sympathy, or maybe even love. Amanda remembered with annoyance that she’d felt jealous, as if she actually cared for him. Obviously Taffeta did, so perhaps she had been aiming for Blixus and Mavis got in the way.
Now that Mavis was dead, how would things change for Nick? Amanda had got the impression that mother and son had enjoyed a strong bond. She didn’t know why she thought that though. She’d never actually seen them interact—not even when Mavis was pretending to be the Legatum cook’s assistant and Nick was a student at the school. But there was something about the way Nick had spoken about her, as little as he’d done, that implied tenderness and affection. Never had he spoken the same way about Blixus, and no wonder, the way the man shoved him, insulted him, and may have beaten him.
So perhaps it was true: Mavis had undoubtedly made living with Bl
ixus bearable for Nick. Perhaps she’d had some influence on Hugh too. At eleven, that kid was already more trouble than any of the violent offenders in Strangeways Prison. Imagine what he’d be like with his mother gone.
Of course Nick wasn’t blameless. He was a criminal too, and he seemed to like being one. Amanda may have been tempted to worry about him, but in the end he was like the snake who promised not to bite the man who carried it across the river, then did anyway. It would be reckless to forget that no matter what Nick said and did, he was still a Moriarty.
All that rot she’d come up with after the incident in the tunnels, it was ridiculous. She remembered how she’d lain on her bed and mused that Nick was some special being who had a deeper connection with the universe than most people. Where had she come up with that? All this chasing after pink sugar and orange crystals and purple rainbows must have affected the chemistry of her brain or something. Well whatever the cause, she would exorcise that demon and stop fooling herself. A detective needed a clear head. A detective didn’t go around mooning about touchy-feely things. A detective didn’t feel sorry for people.
She was done with Nick Moriarty, Muffet, whatever his name was. After months of wavering, she was sure. It was over. She could go back to Scapulus Holmes, the boy who was crazy about her, and tell him she loved him with a clear conscience. Yes, that was exactly what she would do. Except, of course, she couldn’t because Holmes was dating her roommate, Amphora Kapoor. Oh well. It was her own fault. She’d had her chance and she’d blown it, but never mind. It was best not to be distracted from becoming the world’s best detective and filmmaker anyway.
Amanda decided she was ready to call Eustace. When he’d made certain that she was all right, he broke into raucous laughter.
“You collided with a peacock? How did you not see it, Amanda? Was it hurt?”
“Um, I forgot to look.” She wasn’t going to tell him she’d been with Nick. Eustace would be all over the boat in half a second if she did that.
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 108