Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set

by Paula Berinstein

  Two days later, after identifying a match in a DNA database, Liam found Alfie Kingsolver, a mechanic from Aberystwyth and a possible descendant of Merlin the magician.

  14

  Poison Pills

  Alfie Kingsolver’s DNA, which matched that of the skeleton in the Welsh cave, had been found in the UK criminal DNA database. However, the man was not in prison, having served but one day in jail some five years before. It seemed that he had been arrested for a rather strange reason: he had accumulated so many unpaid library fines that the town of Aberystwyth had issued a warrant for his arrest, and the erstwhile bookworm had found himself cooling his heels down at the station until his lawyer had arrived and arranged bail.

  When Liam dug into the man’s records, he discovered that Mr. Kingsolver had a habit of visiting as many libraries as he could and checking out books on butterflies. The books had been found in his home and confiscated, and despite the additional charge of grand theft (he had stolen that many books), he eventually got off with a fine and a suspended sentence. During his active period, the libraries of Great Britain had experienced an acute shortage of butterfly books and had to keep ordering more, much to the chagrin of their boards, which wanted them to spend more on computer science and business books and less on nature. Of course the shortage did help the local bookshops because library patrons would frequent them instead, and they experienced a notable drop in income when the books Mr. Kingsolver had been hoarding were returned to their rightful places.

  Alfie Kingsolver’s crimes aside, Liam very much wanted to meet the man who might just be Merlin’s descendant. But how to get a meeting without spooking the fellow? Would he phone up and say, “I’m an archaeologist and I think your ancestor was the most famous magician in history”? It was the truth, but the mechanic might think he was a crackpot and refuse to speak to him. He could try a ruse such as “I’m collecting blood for the local NHS Blood and Transplant Bloodmobile. May I have some, please?” Or “I’m a fellow lepidopterist and I’d like to compare notes.” Still, how would she feel if someone called her up and said those things, Amanda wondered. She would not be inclined to speak to them.

  But of course that was Liam’s problem, not hers. She had bigger fish to fry—much bigger fish, in the shape of peacocks. For the peacocks had become visibly ill.

  In an off moment away from the dig and all its excitement, Amanda and Holmes had decided to see if they could find any more pages from The Detective’s Bible. With the peacocks spending much of their time around the lake, the kids thought their best bet was to go to the place where the birds liked to congregate, the scene of Amanda’s collision.

  Holmes still had not cracked either of the two codes in the Bible, but he had some ideas for ways to proceed and was optimistic. Actually, optimistic was a bit of an understatement. In truth he seemed downright giddy. This was not a state one usually associated with him, and Amanda was glad to see him so happy. His mood was contagious, and as they made their way toward town they found themselves cracking jokes and laughing till tears ran down their faces. They hadn’t been like that together for a long time, and Amanda was thoroughly enjoying his company.

  “So, ready to make another film?” he said when they’d got to the peacock hangout.

  “Always,” she answered. “Any ideas?”

  “We could do something about peacocks.” He laughed and she could see his beautiful filling-free teeth. Her own were not quite as pristine, unfortunately.

  “Who do you think we could get to star in it?” she asked.

  “That’s easy. Ethan Hawke.”

  Amanda roared with laughter. “And his leading lady, Claudia Cardinale.”

  Holmes was beside himself. Amanda thought he was going to break a rib he was laughing so hard. She had never seen him so happy. She reached out to touch him, then stopped herself. What was she doing? If she did that, one thing would lead to another and everything would be even more of a mess than it already was. She pulled back.

  Holmes had been doubled over and hadn’t seen her reach out to him. Or so she thought. But suddenly he straightened up, became very serious, looked into her eyes, and said, “Amanda,” in the softest voice imaginable.

  He looked like he was about to reach for her too when all of a sudden she heard someone say, “Coming through!” A kid on a skateboard was heading their way at about fifty miles an hour. They jumped apart and he shot between them. Amanda looked at Holmes and he looked at her, and then behind him she caught sight of some peacocks and shrieked.

  “Scapulus! Look at them!”

  “Wha—”

  “The peacocks. I think they’re sick!”

  The birds looked terrible, or at least some of them did. Several of them were sitting on the ground listlessly, stray feathers scattered on the grass around them. Bare white patches dotted their bodies and their eyes looked red. Their combs lay flat on their heads and their wings hung slack.

  “What’s happened to them?” she said.

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t look like molting, does it?” He squatted down to get a better look.

  “It can’t be,” she said. “They look really sick.”

  “We have to find a vet,” said Holmes.

  “Scapulus,” said Amanda, “what if they die? They’re so rare.”

  “Let’s not panic,” he said. “We’ll find someone. Here,” he took out his phone and thumbed. “I’m looking.”

  “Do you think they ate some pages from the Bible? Maybe that’s what’s making them sick.”

  He looked at her and held out a finger. “Hello?” he said into the phone. “Is this the veterinary hospital? Yes, we have an emergency.” Pause. “In Windermere.” Another pause. “No, I can’t bring my pet in. Your listing says you make house calls.” Pause. “Peacocks.” Pause. “Yes, that’s what I said: peacocks.” Pause. “We’re at Passelthwaite Park. There are five peacocks here and they look quite ill.” Pause. “Losing feathers, combs flattened, sprawled on the ground . . . yes.” Pause. “Fifteen minutes? Good, we’ll be here. Thank you.”

  Holmes put the phone away and led Amanda to a nearby bench.

  “I can’t bear to look,” she said.

  “Fifteen minutes. That’s all it will be. Here, hold my hand.” He took her hand in his and squeezed. His strength was comforting and she exhaled.

  “Scapulus,” she said, looking at the ground, “what do you think happened to the rest of the Bible?”

  “It doesn’t add up,” he said. “Moriarty doesn’t have it. The divers didn’t find it. If someone does have it they don’t have the whole thing. And if they don’t, then the rest is still around somewhere.”

  “Perhaps if we just wait the other pages will turn up,” she said.

  “We may have no choice. Look, I think that’s them.”

  He motioned to a white van that was pulling over to the side of the road. On its door in large red letters were the words “Toby and Jackson Veterinary Hospital.” He got up and ran over to the slender red-haired woman who was getting out.

  “You’re the one who called?” she said when she saw him. She was wearing old jeans and a white jacket. The visage of a St. Bernard had been embroidered above her name, Ellie.

  Holmes nodded.

  “Hm,” said the vet, looking at the peacocks. “Unusual.”

  Amanda wasn’t sure if she was referring to the species or the state of the birds.

  Ellie—was it Toby or Jackson?—approached the birds, who suddenly seemed to get their energy back. They stood up, fluttered noisily, and moved away.

  “There, there,” she said, moving closer.

  The birds fluttered some more, squawked, and scooted even farther away. Ellie extracted some broccoli florets from her pocket and held them out to the birds. They perked up for a moment, cocked their heads, then shrieked and moved away again.

  “Can’t you use a tranquilizer on them or something?” said Amanda.

  “You’ve been seeing too many movies,” said the
vet. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “What are you going to do then?” said Amanda.

  “I can’t tell for sure unless I examine them, which obviously I’m not able to do, but I suspect they’ve eaten something poisonous.”

  “I knew it,” said Amanda. “Those gardeners planted the wrong thing and the peacocks ate it.”

  “That’s a possibility,” said the vet. “Peacocks aren’t always very discerning about what they consume.”

  “What do we do?” said Holmes.

  “Medicine,” said Ellie.

  “You’re going to give them some?” said Amanda.

  “No,” said the vet. “You are.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Amanda. “How are we supposed to give them medicine when we can’t get near enough?”

  “That’s a problem,” said Ellie. Amanda was beginning to think that this vet wasn’t very helpful. “Sometimes you can put it in food or water, but they may not eat the food and it’s hard to get enough into them with water because the medicine dilutes. The best way is to catch them and force it down their throats.”

  “Right,” said Amanda, attempting to hold her temper. “And we do that how?”

  “Well,” said Ellie, “you might be able to throw a net over them, but that’s probably it. They’re very tricky.”

  Amanda hadn’t needed a vet to tell her that the birds were devious. She was already all too aware of their natures.

  The vet dug in another pocket and pulled out a vial. “Here,” she said, holding it out. Amanda looked at Holmes and Holmes looked at her. Finally he took it. “Now look. This is what they need. You must give them these pills twice a day for seven days. However, I have to warn you that there are side effects.”

  “Side effects?” said Amanda.

  “Yes,” said the vet. “Poop. Lots of it.”

  “More than usual?” said Amanda, swallowing hard.

  “Much more,” said the vet. “Be forewarned.”

  “Lovely,” said Amanda.

  Holmes winked at her. Come to think of it, she didn’t care what the birds did. Not when he looked at her like that.

  When Ellie had left, Holmes turned to Amanda and said, “We should at least try to catch them.”

  “And do what?” she said, eyeing the birds doubtfully.

  “Shove the pills down their throats,” he said, pantomiming how such a maneuver would be accomplished.

  Did he know anything about animals? She wasn’t exactly an expert, but she had spent a lot of time around Nigel. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve seen it done with dogs and cats.” He smiled, as if that were the answer.

  “But they’re tame,” said Amanda. The peacocks most definitely were not that.

  “These birds like you,” said Holmes, grinning at her. “They might hold still if you talk to them nicely. I would.”

  “Oh brother,” she said. Although the thought of the two of them canoodling was quite pleasant.

  “What does it hurt to try?” said Holmes, coming close and touching her face.

  She just about died. She couldn’t refuse him anything. “Okay. Why not?”

  She reconnoitered. The birds were still, so she hunched down so as not to be threatening and slowly inched toward them.

  “You’re very lovely,” she said quietly. “Would you like to star in our movie?” Holmes laughed. “Shh,” she said without turning around.

  The peacocks stayed put. Maybe this would work after all.

  “Nice birds. I won’t even ask you to audition.”

  She moved closer. One of the birds flapped its wings and sidestepped.

  “There, there,” said Amanda. She lowered her voice even more. “Where will you keep your Oscars? You will win all the awards, of course.”

  At that the birds squawked and half ran, half flew another twenty feet away.

  “You can write your own dialog,” Amanda said softly. The birds screeched and moved even farther away from her. She turned around to Holmes and said, “This isn’t working.”

  “Well, we tried,” he said. “Nice bird talk.” He winked. “Where will we keep our Oscars?” She thought she’d die. She could feel herself shaking at the thought of them together. Then he got serious. “Time for another strategy. What if we were to put the pills in something they like to eat?”

  “Hm,” said Amanda, attempting to recover her composure. “That could work. If we move far enough away.”

  “How about sunflower seeds?” said Holmes.

  The peacocks loved those. But they seemed rather impractical. “How do you get a pill into a sunflower seed?”

  That must have really tickled him because he started to laugh and couldn’t stop. He would start to calm down, then think of what she’d said again and start all over. Each time he got a new wind he would laugh harder, until at last he held his stomach and said, “I can’t take anymore. You really get me, Amanda.”

  “I guess it is kind of a silly image,” she said, whereupon he took off again and went on laughing for another three minutes.

  “You liked that, did you?” she said.

  “You’re so funny. You make me happy.” He put his arms around her and held her.

  No one had ever held her like that before. He was so tender and so strong at the same time. She wanted the moment to go on forever. But at last he pulled back and said, “Sunflower seeds?”

  She let go—reluctantly—and said, “Yes. We’d better.”

  Of course Holmes had never intended that they try to shove a pill into a sunflower seed. His idea was crush the pills, add water, and soak the seeds in the mixture. There was also the possibility of making a paste from both.

  The first way was easier because it required only that they crush the pills. They bought a mortar and pestle and a bowl and decided to go with the first idea because it only required pulverizing the pills, not the seeds.

  It didn’t work. The peacocks came close, but they wouldn’t touch the stuff.

  “Do you think we added too many pills?” said Amanda.

  “It’s possible,” said Holmes. “Maybe the smell is too strong.”

  So they tried again, this time adding more seeds to the mixture to cut it.

  Same result.

  “How about if we mix it with something else they like?” said Amanda.

  “Tomatoes?” said Holmes.

  “Yes. And broccoli or something.”

  So off they went to the grocery store to buy vegetables for the birds. But that didn’t work either. Obviously the smell from the pills was very strong.

  “You would think there would be a way to make pills that don’t smell,” said Amanda.

  “Yes,” said Holmes. “And taste bad.”

  “I know! It would be so much easier to take them. It’s so icky when they get caught in your throat, or dissolve on your tongue.”

  “I thought I was the only one,” he said.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” she said. “I can’t swallow pills very well. If they’re big I’m hopeless.”

  “Just one of the many things I love about you,” he said.

  Whoa. She knew he cared about her, but he’d never actually said he loved her. She wanted to kiss him so badly but she didn’t dare. He obviously wanted it too, but instead he said, “I wish we could stay here forever, but we’d better try that net thing.”

  “Yes,” she said, ruing the day she’d seen the peacocks. “I guess we should.”

  Off they went to get some netting. That took some doing. You would think sporting good and gardening establishments would carry the stuff, but you’d be wrong. The only thing even close was plastic-wrapped chicken wire, which was too stiff for their purposes. Finally after about five tries they found a boat store that carried about a dozen types of netting. They bought yards and yards of it and took it back to where the peacocks were hanging out.

  “How are we going to do this?” said Amanda, realizing that they hadn’t made a plan.

  �
��You take one end, I’ll take the other, and we’ll throw it over them,” said Holmes.

  That sounded a bit iffy. “Won’t they run away?” she said.

  “Not if we’re quick enough.” He made a flash gesture.

  “Hm,” she said. “I don’t know.”

  “We have nothing to lose,” he said. “So what we’ll do is unroll the netting, spread it out away from them, then move slowly and quietly and all of a sudden throw it over them and pull the ends down to the ground.”

  Amanda had visions of screeching peacocks flying in all directions and the two of them on the ground with an empty net. “Uh, okay.”

  Somehow they managed to move within fifteen feet of the birds and unroll the netting without anything untoward happening. “Stay low to the ground,” said Holmes. “We don’t want to spook them.”

  Amanda crouched. Holmes did the same and they each grasped a side. He nodded and all at once they lifted the net and ran for the peacocks, but by the time they got there the birds had squawked off.

  “Nuts,” said Holmes.

  “Try again?” she said.

  “We’ll have to wait a while. How about something else? What if we were to climb these trees and throw the net down?”

  “Scapulus, you are really good with computers, but I don’t think you’re much of an engineer.” She smiled so as to soften the criticism.

  But Holmes wasn’t bothered. “I know,” he said. “I suck at engineering.”

  “Do you want to call Clive?”