Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set

by Paula Berinstein

  “Uh, it’s Silurian flag,” he said.

  “As interesting as that,” said Binnie.

  Clive glanced at Amanda. “Yes. It’s a real find.”

  “I knew it,” said Binnie, and glowed. There was an awkward silence and then she said, “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

  “See ya,” said Amanda.

  “See ya,” said Clive.

  “Yes, see ya,” said Binnie, and left in what looked like a rather reluctant fashion.

  “There’s nothing special about that rock, is there?” said Amanda when the girl had gone.

  “Nope,” said Clive. “Not a thing.”

  After Amanda had produced the page and Clive had examined it, he said, “What do you think is in the Bible? Obviously it’s so important that it split the teachers. What could do that? I thought they were doing okay without it for a while.”

  “Not really,” she said. “They tried to hide it but everyone was frantic.” She told him about Professor Feeney’s phone conversation, which she and Simon had overheard a few months back. She’d said that everything would change without the Bible, although she hadn’t used that word, she’d said “it,” and it had.

  “Well, we may know one thing now,” said Clive. “If there’s something physically special about this page, that would explain why only the original Bible will do, not a copy.”

  “Yes,” said Amanda. “You’re absolutely right. There’s something special about the actual object.”

  “You know what I’m thinking,” said Clive. Amanda made a “Tell me” gesture. “I’m thinking that if a page survived, then maybe the rest of the Bible is around somewhere.”

  “I agree. But how in the world did it get from the quarry, where David threw it in the pit, to town?”

  “How did King Arthur’s silver coins get to Penrith?” said Clive.

  “What are you talking—oh, I see. Maybe someone took them, or it. But how could that have happened? We both saw David throw the book in that huge pit of water.”

  “It’s like a locked room mystery, isn’t it?” said Clive.

  “Yes,” said Amanda. “And Thrillkill is the expert on those. Oh dear. Poor Thrillkill.” The idea of Thrillkill being poor anything was quite incongruous, but she did feel sympathy for him, off with those zombies wherever he was.

  “Say, you don’t think one of those divers who looked for the Bible is a spy, do you?” said Clive.

  Amanda had considered that possibility. Anyone could be a spy, even your best friend, although the idea of Ivy working for the Moriartys was crazy. But if that were the case, why was one page floating around by itself? She posed that very question to Clive.

  “Good point,” he said. “In that case, I have another idea. What if the peacocks found the Bible at the quarry and tore it to pieces?”

  “There was no poop at the quarry,” said Amanda. “I was there a bunch of times and never saw anything like that.”

  “I suppose not,” said Clive. “Plus how would they have got down in the pit anyway? They don’t swim, do they?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well then,” he said, “I guess we should start with what we have. Let’s analyze this puppy.”

  “Obviously we have to look at the page under the microscope,” Amanda said a few moments later. “That should be easy.”

  She took the paper over to the nearest microscope and stuck it into the viewing area. Then she fitted her eye to the eyepiece and, “Whoa! I can see the fibers. They look like spaghetti that’s been cooked about a minute—really hard and straight. Here, take a look.”

  Clive edged over and looked into the eyepiece. “You’re right. There’s something plastic about them.”

  “Do you suppose there’s a plastic coating?” she said.

  “Let’s see,” said Clive. He raced over to one of the many bookcases in the room and scanned the titles. “This one looks good,” he said, pulling out a gigantic green volume and placing it on a bench. He opened the book to the index, skimmed a couple of pages, and flipped to a bunch of pictures somewhere in the middle.

  Amanda came over and looked at the book. “Hm, those pictures don’t look anything like what we’re seeing. Those fibers are natural and they look less regular than our page. All ours look the same.”

  “Yep,” said Clive. “I think ours is plastic. Was there such a thing as plastic back when the Bible was created, though?”

  “Let’s find out,” said Amanda.

  She did a quick lookup on her phone and said, “Apparently Celluloid was invented back in the 1840s. It was patented in 1869 and 70 by some guy named John Wesley Hyatt. It’s a camphor-modified cellulose nitrate. They made billiard balls out of it. Film too. Ha! This is interesting. There was a big legal fight over who the true inventor was.”

  “Could we be looking at Celluloid then?” said Clive. “The book was created about the time the school was, in 1887. That’s late enough.”

  “Hm,” said Amanda, “I don’t think so. It says here that Celluloid is flammable. Our Bible is supposed to be virtually indestructible.”

  “What do you mean ‘virtually indestructible’?’ said Clive.

  Oops. Amanda hadn’t told anyone what Professor Also had divulged during the summer—that it was almost impossible to destroy the book. She had said something about it being vulnerable to explosion, though, or was it fire?

  “Oh, uh, well, Professor Also kind of told me that it was,” she said. No sense in lying. Anyway, what was the big deal? Everyone knew about the book now.

  “Awesome!” said Clive. “So that means it’s intact somewhere. And based on the fact that you found this page, I’d venture to say that Moriarty doesn’t have it after all.”

  He had a point. There was a lot of reason for hope now. Amanda wished she could tell Thrillkill. He’d be so pleased.

  “Of course the question now is, why are the peacocks so attracted to it?” said Clive. “Do they eat plastic or something? Whoa, I’ve got the most amazing idea.” He grinned at her wide, then wider, then still wider.

  Amanda couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. Surely he wasn’t going to propose that they feed the peacocks a bit of the page. That would be a terrible idea for all sorts of reasons. What else could he be thinking? And then it hit her.

  “You don’t mean . . .”

  He laughed diabolically. “I do!”

  Ugh. It was a disgusting idea. “Do we have to?”

  “You don’t, but wouldn’t you like to get the credit?”

  “Not if it means pawing through poop I wouldn’t,” she said.

  “Aw come on, Amanda,” said Clive. “We’re scientists. We do what’s necessary to solve problems.”

  “Maybe you’re a scientist,” she said. “I’m a detective.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

  “No!” she said, diving into the rubbish to find that piece of poop she’d pulled out of her hair. Where was it now? Rummage, rummage, crinkle. “Ta da!” She held up the discarded poop in triumph. No sooner had she done that than Binnie walked in again.

  “Eeeew,” she said. “What are you two doing? Is that feces?”

  “Uh . . .” said Clive.

  It took Amanda about a split second to realize that this was a great opportunity.

  “Binnie!” she said enthusiastically. “You’re just in time. We’re about to do an important experiment and we could use a helper. Are you up for it?”

  This didn’t seem to be what Binnie had expected when she’d entered the room because she looked at Amanda, then Clive, then hesitated, then said, “Well, I, uh . . .” then looked at Clive again and said, “Uh, sure.”

  “Wonderful,” said Amanda. “We need to analyze this peacock poop.”

  Binnie grimaced, then looked at Clive again and said, “Okaaay. Uh, what do you want me to do?”

  “Well, we were thinking—” said Amanda, but Clive could take no more of it.

  �
��We need someone to document our experiment,” he said generously.

  “Oh, that,” said Binnie. “Of course. What do you need?” She looked immensely relieved.

  “Here,” said Amanda, handing Binnie her camera. “If you could just record us, that would be great.”

  Binnie took the camera and flashed a grin at Clive, who smiled shyly. Then, seemingly realizing that she’d forgotten something, she smiled at Amanda too. “Glad to,” she said. The girl was so obvious.

  Working with the poop was just as disgusting as Amanda thought it would be. They did, however, manage to get through their analysis without any of them throwing up, although Binnie would hardly get close enough to risk such a thing. Fortunately the results were clear: no plastic.

  “So what do we know?” said Clive.

  Amanda thought for a moment. “I’m not sure we know anything,” she said. “This is just poop from one peacock. It doesn’t prove anything.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Clive. “But it might mean that they’re not interested in eating the page. If they had been, there might have been plastic in it.”

  “Nuts,” said Amanda. “All that icky poo for nothing.”

  “Not nothing,” said Binnie. “Maybe plastic isn’t the whole story.”

  “What do you mean?” said Clive.

  “There might be something else in the paper—or the poop—that they like,” said Binnie.

  It was a good idea. Maybe there was more to Binnie than Amanda had thought.

  “So you’re saying we’ve missed something in the paper,” said Amanda.

  “Yes,” said Binnie. “Maybe it’s a blend or something.”

  “That makes sense,” said Clive. “Peacocks eat plants. Paper is normally made from plants, such as wood and cotton. If there’s plant material in the page, that might be what they’re going crazy for. What kinds of plants do peacocks like?”

  Amanda suddenly got a vision of a gourmet peacock mad for some rare delicacy. It was silly, but could it also be correct?

  “Let’s look it up,” she said, grabbing her phone. She thumbed a few words, quickly finding the information she was seeking. “There’s a huge list of plants peacocks like here. And another one of plants they don’t like.”

  “Such as?” said Clive.

  “Let’s see,” said Amanda. “It seems that they like flowers, as we know. I’ve seen them chomping the heads off of flower stalks. Greedy little things. But they also like vegetables, such as broccoli, cauliflower, and tomatoes. They seem to love California poppies, pansies, and primroses. Hm, good taste, at least in flowers. The vegetables I’m not so sure.”

  Clive and Binnie giggled.

  “What do they hate?” said Binnie. “Just out of curiosity.”

  “The list of plants they don’t like is even longer,” said Amanda. “But guess what: there’s not one vegetable on it.”

  “Say, maybe I can get them to eat my vegetables for me,” said Clive.

  “You wish,” said Binnie, then, seeming to realize that she’d said something too intimate, she clapped her hand over her mouth. Clive didn’t seem to notice though.

  “They don’t like bee balm,” said Amanda.

  “Bee balm?” said Clive.

  “Search me,” said Amanda. “Never heard of it. They don’t like cactus either. I don’t suppose we have to worry about that. This isn’t exactly the right climate for that.”

  “Hardly,” said Binnie. “Did you know that this area has a mean humidity of about 80% and an annual rainfall of 80 inches?”

  Boy, she was knowledgeable about the weather. Amanda was impressed.

  “How do you know all that?” she said.

  “Know what?” said Binnie.

  “That stuff about the weather.”

  “Oh, that,” said Binnie. “I’m really interested in meteorology.”

  At this Clive seemed to perk up. “You are? Do you know anything about cyclones?”

  “Lots,” said Binnie. “Why?”

  “Well, uh, I just thought, well, maybe we could talk about them sometime,” he said.

  Amanda thought she could see a gleam of triumph in Binnie’s eyes. No, not really triumph. That was too smug. Joy. Perhaps the idea of Clive and Binnie wasn’t so weird after all, even if she was about twice as tall as he was.

  “Here’s my number,” said Binnie, even though everyone had everyone else’s number. “Text me when you feel like doing something.”

  Clive looked just about as embarrassed as Amanda had been when she hurled all over Simon’s jacket back at the orientation. “Uh, thanks,” he said, looking like he wanted to run out of the lab screaming. “So this paper,” he said, obviously attempting to change the subject as quickly as he could.

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” Amanda rushed to say, hoping to give him a bit of relief from Binnie’s intensity. The others looked at her, Clive with relief and Binnie with ever so slight irritation. “If there’s plant material in the paper, why didn’t we see any under the microscope?”

  “Maybe we need higher power?” said Clive.

  “To see plant fibers?” said Amanda. “I don’t think so. We’re not talking about viruses or something really tiny.”

  “Maybe it has nothing to do with plants then,” said Clive.

  “You’re not trying to tell me that the peacocks love this special kind of plastic, are you?” said Amanda.

  “It’s a theory,” said Clive.

  “Why does it smell so foul in here?” came a loud voice suddenly.

  No one had heard the door open, but there, plain as day, was Lila Lester. Surely she knew that there were lots of smells in laboratories. She wrote about them, for Pete’s sake.

  “Just some experiments,” said Amanda, hoping she’d go away.

  “What kind of experiments?”

  Why did each word that came out of her mouth sound like an accusation? And did she have to have her fingers in everything? “Just some evidence.”

  Wrong thing to say. “Evidence from what?” said Lila. “Has Professor Scribbish got you working on something dangerous?”

  “No, of course not, Mom,” said Amanda. “It’s just a project.”

  Lila’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not one of those explosions, is it?”

  Amanda groaned inwardly. “No. Nothing like that. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Who are you?” Lila said, finally noticing Binnie.

  “Binnie Belasco, ma’am,” said Binnie nervously.

  “Belasco?” said Lila. “Like David Belasco the theater impresario?”

  Amanda was shocked that her mother had heard of David Belasco. After all, she practically shunned anything having to do with show business.

  “No relation,” said Binnie. When Clive looked at her quizzically she said, “I get asked that all the time.”

  “Oh, right,” said Clive. It was obvious that he’d never heard of David Belasco and didn’t care who he was.

  “I don’t understand why they don’t put better ventilation in these labs,” said Lila. “The place stinks.”

  “Occupational hazard,” said Amanda.

  “Nonsense,” said Lila. “There’s no reason you have to breathe foul air while you’re doing your science things. I’m going to speak to Acting Headmaster Sidebotham about this.”

  “She won’t—” Amanda began, then realized nothing she could say would derail her mother from this latest obsession.

  “She will,” said Lila. “Be sure you wash your clothes when you leave here, dear. It’s important to follow hygiene rules to the letter.”

  Amanda sighed. Wouldn’t it be great to be invisible right about now?

  Suddenly Binnie said, “Amanda, your phone is vibrating.”

  “Just ignore it,” said Amanda, worrying that whatever it was, if Lila saw it she’d make a big deal out of it.

  “You’d better answer it,” said Lila. “It might be Trixie—er, Professor Sidebotham. Perhaps there’s
news about Professor Thrillkill.”

  Amanda gave her mother a look and took the phone from Binnie. When she saw the text she practically dropped the phone. It was from Nick.

  “What is it, dear?” said Lila.

  “Wrong number,” said Amanda, deleting the text as fast as her fingers would move.

  10

  Fine Feathered Friends

  The last thing Amanda needed was for Lila to find out that Nick was nearby. The second last thing she needed was for Lila to discover that she was in touch with him. And the third last thing was for Lila to find out that they were actually on good terms—ish. Having her on campus was going to be even trickier than Amanda had first thought. If her mother was going to keep popping up here and there, she’d never be able to keep anything from her—even things that weren’t secrets. She’d have to find a way to keep Lila off her back or she’d go crazy. What that might be she had no idea.

  But she soon forgot about her mother—at least temporarily—because the next day Clive came up to her and said, “Did you know that peacocks have ultraviolet vision?”

  “Sorry?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said. “They can see things we can’t. And did you know that they have designs on their feathers that can only be seen with ultraviolet vision or light?”

  “What are you talking about?” she said.

  “I’ve been researching peacocks. They can see things we can’t.”

  Suddenly the light bulb went on. “Come on!” she cried, and practically pulled Clive to the lab.

  When she got there, she went looking in various cupboards until she’d found what she wanted—a small black light. She shut the blinds, turned it on, and ran it over the page. There, on the surface, were shiny-looking letters they hadn’t seen before.

  “Voila!” she cried. “Clive, you’re a genius. There’s a whole layer of writing here that’s invisible to the human eye!” She shoved the page in his face.

  “Wow!” he said. “Would you look at that?”

  “OMG, this is amazing,” she said. “Perhaps this is why the peacocks were so attracted to the pages. They like the letters. But why?”