Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy

by Paula Berinstein

  Chapter 25

  3D Printing

  Amanda was getting pretty good at lab work. It also didn’t hurt that Simon had a natural talent for it. They had a bit of trouble getting a sample of the pink sugar, but they found a spoonful that had spilled between the kitchen and the secret room and scooped it into an evidence bag.

  The first thing they did when they got it to the lab was deposit some of the substance on a slide and put it under the microscope. But when they looked they saw nothing unusual.

  “I’m surprised,” said Simon, fiddling with the slide as if he thought it wasn’t properly seated.

  “Me too. I really thought—”

  “Wait. We can try a more powerful microscope. Come on.”

  He took the slide to the farthest corner of the lab, where an expensive electron microscope sat, and inserted it into the slot. Amanda thought it was weird that the teachers didn’t lock it up, but she speculated that they might have left it out to show the students they trusted them.

  The electron microscope had much more power, but they still weren’t able to tell anything. “Hang on,” said Simon. “There’s got to be more to this.” He went to one of the many bookcases in the lab, skimmed the titles, and pulled a book off the shelf. Flip, flip, flip, “Nope,” then flip, flip, “Nope,” until finally he stopped at a page and read for a minute. “Ah,” he said. “We need to process the sample first.”

  “Process how?” said Amanda.

  “We need to do something called negative staining,” he said. “But that’s a long process involving a centrifuge. I wonder if there’s an easier way.”

  “Let me try a search,” she said. Thumb, thumb, flick, flick. “Hey, this is amazing! Simon, you’ve got to see this.”

  Sure enough, Amanda had found an article describing a smartphone microscope that let you see viruses. A professor at UCLA had invented a portable attachment that could be used in the field. “Look here. It says you can make one of these using a 3D printer.”

  “That’s great, but how are we supposed to get the instructions?” said Simon. “We’ve got a few 3D printers around here, but wouldn’t we have to pay for the program?”

  At that moment Professor Kindseth stuck his head in the lab, and seeing the pair said, “Cheers, Miss Lester. Mr. Binkle.”

  This wasn’t good. They’d been found out. Surely the teacher would kick them out of the lab and report them for using the electron microscope unsupervised and Simon would be expelled. Amanda was speechless for a moment, then after a few seconds said as calmly as she could, “Oh, hello, Professor. How are you?” Her voice was all wavy and she was sure he’d notice.

  “Hullo, Professor,” said Simon nonchalantly. Amanda thought it was odd that he wasn’t upset. Maybe he was a good actor.

  “What are you two up to?” said Professor Kindseth, bounding into the lab. “Say, Miss Lester, bang up job on the makeup.”

  This was surprising. He was complimenting her on her monster makeup from weeks ago rather than reprimanding them. “Th-thank you, Professor,” she stammered, confused as all get-out.

  “I got some great pictures,” he said. “Want to see?”

  “Uh, sure,” said Amanda.

  “Yes, let’s,” said Simon enthusiastically.

  The professor pulled out his tablet and tapped a couple of times, then stuck it in their faces, first Amanda’s and then Simon’s. “Aren’t they great?”

  She had to hand it to the teacher. The pictures were good. Somehow he’d taken a chaotic scene and turned it into art. The compositions, the lighting, the poses were all expertly done. Amanda looked forward to taking Professor Kindseth’s forensic photography class. But wait a minute. What was that?

  “Can I see that one again?” Amanda asked, pointing.

  “Yes. I particularly like that one,” said Professor Kindseth. “You look quite festive, Miss Lester.”

  “What is that in the background? There, outside the window.”

  “Whoa,” said Simon. “I see that. It looks like the cook out there. Or at least someone dressed in white with gray hair like the cook.”

  “Let me see that,” said Professor Kindseth. He examined the photo carefully. “I think you’re right. But what’s that pink thing she’s got? It looks smashing against the winter landscape. You’ve got all this brown and white and gray and then this dab of pink. Very artistic.”

  “What do you know?” said Amanda. “You caught her red-handed on film, Professor. By accident. Please may I have a copy of this picture?”

  “Of course you may,” said the teacher. “I’ll text it over. I must send a copy to Professor Thrillkill as well. This could be significant to our investigation into the cook’s death.”

  Amanda looked at Simon. He nodded. More fuel for the fire. And they had the date: the third day of school, January 9th. That was way before Mr. Lester’s kidnapping. The gang, if that was what it was, had been busy with the sugar for some time before that happened. The cook did seem a bit careless, though. Anyone could have seen her during the day like that.

  “By the way,” said the teacher after he’d fiddled with the picture. “If you weren’t a detective, Miss Lester, I’d say you had quite a future in films. Your makeup was brilliant.”

  Amanda burst out laughing. Professor Kindseth had lifted her spirits about twelve stories high.

  “Say, I was sorry to hear about your father,” he said. “But they’ll solve the case. Don’t you worry. The Yard has their best people on it.” He smiled a big, silly smile. “So, what are you two doing? Mixing up potions?” He laughed at his own joke. Amanda was beginning to think he was as goofy as Simon.

  “Just doing some analyses,” said Amanda.

  “Yes, we’re trying to see what’s in this sample,” Simon blurted out, shoving the sugar into Professor Kindseth’s face.

  “Simon!” yelled Amanda.

  “Lovely,” said the professor. “What’s this then?” He took the bag and examined it. “Looks like powdered sugar. But why is it pink?”

  “Why indeed?” said Simon. By this time Amanda had returned to her previous mood and was worried sick. They weren’t supposed to be there, she was sure of that, although now that she thought about it, maybe she was overreacting. They did have a class project to do and all the teachers knew it. She really was becoming paranoid. Or was she? She was so confused she didn’t know which way was up.

  “Why do you want to analyze this?” said Professor Kindseth.

  “We have a theory,” said Simon brightly.

  “Oh? Tell me.”

  “You tell him, Amanda,” said Simon, apparently thinking he was being generous in letting her explain. She thought nothing of the kind.

  “Simon,” she said, nudging him.

  “Amanda,” he said, nudging back.

  Well, if Simon wasn’t worried, what did it matter? It was his neck on the line. She’d tried to protect him but he was having none of it, so she told Professor Kindseth the whole story about the sugar, the blood, the glinting, and the other things she and her friends had seen. “We don’t think this has anything to do with the class project,” she said finally.

  “I see,” said Professor Kindseth, rubbing his chin. “So then, how are you going to do this? You could do negative staining. Wait, I know. I was recently reading about this device some UCLA bloke invented. You attach it to your phone and—”

  “That’s it,” yelled Simon. “That’s exactly what we want to do. We just don’t know how to get the program for the 3D printer so we can make it.”

  “Oh, that,” said Professor Kindseth. “I can get that for you in two seconds.”

  Amanda and Simon looked at each other in astonishment. How could he—

  “We detectives have our tricks,” said the teacher. “Meet me in my classroom in half an hour. We’ll make the device together.”

  You could have knocked Amanda over with a feather, although Simon took this announcement the same way he did practically everything else, as if
it were obvious. The professor turned and scurried out of the lab.

  “Wow,” said Amanda. “He’s pretty cool.”

  “Yes,” said Simon. “He really liked your makeup.”

  “I know! I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was going to report us. What a nice man.”

  “He’s a pretty cool guy,” said Simon. “And—”

  “Ssssh,” said Amanda, putting her finger to her lips. She pointed to the doorway. Someone was in the hall, speaking. It sounded like they were on the phone. Amanda crept closer to the door, being careful to stay out of sight. Simon followed.

  “I don’t know where it is,” said the voice. “Yes, I know how critical it is. If it falls into the wrong hands everything will change. Where have you looked?” The voice was quiet for a few seconds. “That doesn’t seem right. Something is definitely wrong.” Quiet. “Yes, I’ll be on the lookout.”

  The voice went silent and Amanda could hear footsteps receding. She crept closer to the door and peeked out. She could see Professor Feeney, the Goth teacher who taught the criminals and their methods class, walking away.

  “It’s Professor Feeney,” she whispered to Simon.

  “Let me see,” he said, moving to the doorway and sticking his entire head out.

  “Simon, get back. She’ll see you.”

  “We’re allowed to be here, Amanda.”

  “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. But that’s not the point. Did you hear what she said? Something is terribly wrong. The teachers wouldn’t get upset over nothing. They’re too hard and experienced. This doesn’t sound good.”

  “Just another mystery to solve,” said Simon in that maddeningly calm way of his. He glanced at the clock. “It’s time to meet Professor Kindseth. Come on.”