The voice entered like a bad wind, blowing the word away so that her mind went blank. As hard as Holly tried, she couldn’t see any letters at all.
Her mouth went dry and her throat pinched.
Holly knew it was over. She was going to fail on her first word; she was going to blow it after all.
She lowered her head and turned to leave but was stopped by Summer, India, Rajish and Peter, who were staring straight at her. Peter held up double crossed fingers. Rajish and India clasped their hands while Summer gave her a confident nod.
The word reappeared in Holly’s mind.
And it was right. She was sure of it.
She spun back to the microphone before her time ran out. ‘e-r-h-o-o-k-s. Tenterhooks.’
Fozdrake’s face was a picture of composure. It was impossible to tell what his verdict would be. Holly tried to read his thoughts, until finally he cried, ‘That is correct!’
The audience erupted in applause.
Holly jumped on the spot and pounded a fist in the air. Her friends gave her a thumbs-up as she rushed back to her seat.
‘I knew you could do it,’ Peter said as she sat beside him. Prince Harry stuck his head out of Peter’s pocket and poked his tongue at Holly. She laughed. ‘Harry knew it too.’
The competition was now in full swing. The tension sizzled in the air. Mr O’Malley withdrew his hanky more than once to wipe his brow. Esmerelda yawned.
Conviction.
Fortitude.
Determination.
‘The next speller is Summer Millicent Ernestine Beauregard-Champion.’
Summer strode to the microphone, oozing confidence, and waved at the audience. ‘Ready when you are, Mr Magnifico.’
‘Your word is imperturbable. This is an adjective meaning composed, collected or cool as a cucumber.’
Summer raised her jaw and clasped her hands in front of her, as if she were about to launch into song. ‘I-m-p-e-r-t-u-r-b-a-b-l-e. Imperturbable.’
‘That is correct!’
Fozdrake called more names, and as each word was misspelled another child left the stage, leaving more and more empty chairs.
‘I would now like to call India Wimple.’
From the back of the auditorium, India heard a cheer and knew it was Nanna Flo. She gave a discreet wave and walked to the microphone.
‘You have a fan?’ Fozdrake asked.
‘My nanna.’ India nodded. ‘She gets a bit excited.’
The audience chuckled.
‘Your word is devotee, a noun meaning an enthusiastic fan or admirer.’
There are moments in every speller’s bee when they hear their next word and are filled with either fear or relief. For India, this was a moment of wonderful relief.
‘D-e-v-o-t-e-e. Devotee.’
‘Which you are lucky to have,’ Fozdrake said. ‘And spell correctly.’
Nanna Flo let out another cheer. Esmerelda Stomp poked her head out from behind the curtain and scowled into the audience. It seems cheer ing was something else she’d liked banned from the Bee.
‘I now call Peter Eriksson.’
A bolt of panic gripped Peter. This was it. This was his chance to make his dad proud. He did his best to look relaxed and in control as he took his position at the microphone. He smiled for the cameras – and secretly for his dad – silently begging, Please, please get this right.
‘Peter, your word is … triskaidekaphobia. This is the –’
‘Fear of the number thirteen!’ Peter blurted. ‘It’s one of my favourite words. It has been since I was little. I’ve always thought it’s odd to have a word for something so specific, don’t you think?’
Esmerelda glared at the garrulous boy.
‘I agree.’ Fozdrake smiled. ‘Now let’s hear you spell it.’
Peter took a calming breath and began. ‘T-r-i-s-ka-i-d-e-k-a-p-h-o-b-i-a. Triskaidekaphobia.’
‘And that, Peter Eriksson, is correct!’
The audience applauded. Peter waved at the camera, hoping his dad knew he was waving at him.
Rajish was next with charisma, while Holly hesitantly spelled pusillanimous. Summer breezed through insouciance, and India took her time with elucubrate. When Peter was asked to spell forefather, he took it as a sign that his dad must be watching.
After only a few more spellers, Fozdrake announced, ‘With the next misspelled word, we will have our grand finalists.’
He let the possibility of those words hang in the air. Each remaining speller knew they were one step away from the Grand Final but only one incorrect letter away from leaving.
‘Millie Olsen, it’s your turn.’
It was the girl India saw in the foyer with the yellow ribbons and overzealous mother.
‘Your word is harangue. This can be a noun or a verb, meaning criticism or to be lectured or berated.’
The girl was shaking so much her dress quivered. ‘Harangue.’ She looked into the audience, as if searching for an answer.
Come on, India thought. You can do this.
‘Fifteen seconds, Millie,’ Fozdrake said as gently as he could.
‘H-a-r-a …’ She wrote the word on her hand. ‘n … g …’
She shook her head and sighed in frustration. ‘e?’
Fozdrake took longer than usual to reply. ‘Millie, I’m afraid that is … incorrect.’
Millie nodded and almost immediately stopped shaking.
The pronouncer looked at the crestfallen girl. ‘Millie Olsen, let me congratulate you for your courage, and praise you for your poise. You are spectacular for having succeeded this far in the competition. Don’t we agree, audience?’
The crowd rose to their feet, applauding and cheering Millie, who attempted a brave smile, when a woman ran down the centre aisle, waving her arms and screaming. ‘Nooooo!’
A furious look planted itself on Esmerelda’s face.
‘She deserves a second chance!’
Esmerelda was not having it. She jabbed her finger at two security guards, who hurried towards the distraught woman, trying to intercept her before she reached the stage.
‘All those tutoring fees!’ she cried, crumbling to the floor, sobbing. ‘Wasted! I’ll sue – mark my words!’
The guards struggled to help her to her feet; her body was weighed down by disappointment. They gently redirected her to the exit, followed by the diminished figure of Millie. ‘It’s not fair.’ The woman’s voice faded as the door closed behind them.
Fozdrake carried on with ease. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee grand finalists!’
The audience sprang from their seats. There was no stopping them. Mr O’Malley lost himself momentarily and threw his arms around Esmerelda, who couldn’t decide what made her more furious – the unruly audience or the uncalled for hug.
‘We did it?’ Holly wanted to make sure. ‘Of course we did,’ Summer said through closed teeth, making sure to beam at the cameras before they stopped rolling.
Rajish leaned over to India. ‘Nice work.’
‘You too.’ India felt so happy she thought she might float out of her chair.
Fozdrake let the cheers whirl around him as he made his final farewell. ‘Tune in tomorrow for the Grand Final, when we discover who will be the spelling champion of the world! I’m Fozdrake Magnifico, until then, may your evening be most marvellous.’
He blew the audience a kiss, which sent them into a frenzy.
When the broadcast was over and the music ended, Mr and Mrs Kapoor were the first parents on stage, smothering Rajish in hugs and kisses.
‘My son!’ Mr Kapoor was crying. ‘My beautiful, clever son!’
The Wimples raced up the steps, with Dad equally teary.
Mr Eriksson swept his grandson off his feet. ‘I knew you could do it, Peter! I just knew it!’
‘I made it through!’ Summer was on the phone with her parents. ‘I’m in the Grand Final!’
Holly watched all the hugging and
crying, and her heart ached just a little. She was used to seeing other parents make a fuss over their kids – at debating finals, school plays or athletics carnivals. It always happened. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy other people’s happiness, but these were the times when she thought about her real parents. The ones who would have swung her into the air and cheered like mad about how proud they were.
‘You were really good.’
Holly turned to the voice behind her. It was her dad, who seemed a trifle shocked. ‘And under so much pressure.’ He shook his head in wonderment. ‘My daughter. A champion speller.’
And in that moment, Holly saw something in her father’s eyes that she had never seen before.
‘You really could win this,’ he said, as if he only just now realised.
Making it through the first round made Holly feel dizzy, but hearing her dad call her a champion made her feel as if she were flying.
‘Can I have your attention?’ Mr O’Malley stood beside Fozdrake, positively ebullient with how smoothly the first round of the Bee had run. His face was a beacon of admiration for the spellers before him. ‘Congratulations to all of you and to Mr Magnifico for his usual perfect pronunciation! We look forward to more moments of brilliance during the Grand Final when –’
Mr O’Malley said no more, because a whooping alarm bellowed throughout the ballroom.
‘Fire!’ a voice wailed.
Fear quickly spread and people rushed to the doors. The whooping grew louder.
Mr O’Malley watched on, rigid with fright, until Esmerelda shoved him out of the way and snatched the microphone. ‘Head to your closest exit,’ she barked. ‘Make your way to the assembly point outside the hotel.’
The pandemonium of panic was only added to by the activation of the fire sprinklers.
Water sprayed over the entire room to frantic shrieks and cries. The television crew threw plastic covers over their cameras. Spellers jumped from the stage, while others froze in terror. Parents scrambled to reach them. Arms and legs flew in all directions.
The edge of a boot struck the glass podium holding the trophy. It toppled back and forth for a few precarious seconds, as if determined not to fall, but another escaping parent slammed into it with the full force of his body. The trophy flew from the stand and tumbled through the air, hitting the stage in a series of sickening thuds.
Mr Eriksson spied their nearest exit and took charge. ‘Stay calm, everyone, and follow me.’
Mum and Nanna Flo took Boo’s hands while Dad held onto India.
Summer looked lost until India reached out. ‘Come with us.’
Mr Trifle held tight to Holly, and the Kapoors nestled Rajish between them.
Parents bundled their children to safety. Some slipped in puddles of water; others tripped over forgotten bags and lost shoes.
A little girl fell in front of Mr Eriksson and was in danger of being trampled. He held onto Peter while scooping her up with one arm.
As the crowd inched towards the doors, trying to stay on their feet and avoid flying elbows, India felt her anger rise. She was sure that this was no accident. The banner, the ruined dinner, the blackout and now this – someone was behind these acts of malfeasance.
Of treachery.
Of chicanery.
When they reached the exit, India turned back to see Mr O’Malley still on stage, his suit dripping with water, his silvery black hair plastered against his face, looking like a captain about to go down with his ship.
‘Cancelled?’ Nanna Flo cried.
‘That’s what it says here.’
It was much later, after the Wimples went back to their room and changed into dry clothes, that Boo saw a note had been slipped beneath their door.
‘What a load of piffle! They can’t just cancel the competition – these kids have worked too hard!’
If it was possible that a heart could sink, India’s did just that. ‘What else does it say?’
Boo read on. ‘It is with great sadness that, due to several mishaps that have occurred during the opening days of the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee, it has been decided, for the safety of all concerned, to cancel the competition.’ Boo looked up. ‘I’m sorry, India.’
‘Who wrote the note?’
‘It’s signed, Esmerelda Stomp.’
India wasn’t about to let this happen, not without a fight. ‘Maybe we can change her mind.’
‘Great idea.’ Nanna Flo rolled up her sleeves. ‘And I can tell her what I think of her cancellation.’
‘Maybe it’ll be better if I go with the other spellers?’ India sent a pleading look to Dad, worried that Nanna Flo may not be the best person to sort things out.
‘Good thinking,’ Dad agreed.
‘India’s right,’ Boo joined in. ‘It’ll be more convincing coming from kids.’
‘Oh, I can be pretty convincing, believe me.’
‘You sure can.’ Mum was also anxious about how helpful Nanna might be. ‘But it’ll be harder to say no to kids.’
Nanna Flo still had her doubts. ‘All right,’ she dug into her bag and took out her phone, ‘but the second you need me, you call.’
India kissed Nanna on the cheek. ‘I will.’
She phoned the others and they met in a secluded lounge area in the hotel foyer. They leaned in close so they wouldn’t be overheard.
‘Rajish is right,’ India began. ‘These accidents aren’t accidents at all. I think they were acts of sabotage so the Bee would get cancelled.’
‘And it worked.’ Peter sighed.
‘For now,’ India said. ‘But what if we discovered who’s behind it, then maybe the Bee could go on.’
‘How are we going to do that?’ Holly wondered where they’d even begin their search. ‘It could be anyone.’
‘Not just anyone,’ India replied in a conspiratorial tone.
Rajish moved in even closer. ‘Who do you think it is?’
India waited a moment before she revealed her suspect: ‘Esmerelda Stomp.’
‘Why would the Spelling Bee director ruin her own Bee?’ Peter asked.
‘Before our meeting yesterday, I met her in the elevator. She told me she didn’t like spelling bees or kids and that she wouldn’t mind if the competition was cancelled.’
‘Someone’s in the wrong job,’ Summer quipped.
‘Also, the night the dogs ran through the Imperial Dining Hall, Esmerelda didn’t help one bit and instead stood back, smiling, as if she was enjoying every minute.’
‘That doesn’t prove she did it,’ Rajish said carefully.
‘I know, but it makes her a suspect.’
‘How do we prove it?’ Holly asked.
Summer leaned on the table and clasped her hands before her lips, like a detective in a movie. ‘We get her to confess. We tell her what we know and make her admit she did it.’
‘You mean go and see her?’ Peter turned pale. ‘When?’
‘Now,’ Summer decided. ‘Who’s in?’
They all held up their hands. Except Peter.
‘She seems kind of angry all the time.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ India said. ‘We’ll be together.’
Prince Harry appeared from Peter’s coat.
‘You think I should go too, don’t you?’ The crested gecko poked out his tongue. ‘All right, I’m in.’
‘I’m terribly sorry you feel that way,’ Esmerelda’s irritated voice could be heard through her door. ‘But if your daughter is that upset, I suggest calling room service and ordering a new box of tissues!’
Whatever small amount of patience Esmerelda may have had was clearly gone.
The five spellers stood outside her room. India threw back her shoulders, wriggled her fingers and tried to ignore the increasing urge to run away.
She knocked.
The director’s voice snarled from within. ‘What now?’ Her footsteps thudded closer. Peter slipped behind Summer.
Esmerelda wrenched the door open, her face p
uce with anger.
‘See?’ Peter whispered. ‘She is angry.’
Prince Harry buried himself deep inside Peter’s pocket.
‘If you’ve come to complain about your ruined clothes, send your dry-cleaning bills to hotel reception and we’ll pay for the damage.’ She was about to turn away when she added, ‘Oh, and we’re sorry for any upset caused.’
Esmerelda did not look sorry at all. Actually, she looked more like someone in need of a very long holiday.
‘Now, I have to go. I’m very busy.’ She began to close the door.
‘Ms Stomp.’ India stuck her foot in the doorway.
Esmerelda scowled as if a muddy dog were trying to barge its way into her home.
‘We’re sorry to disturb you, but we wanted to tell you …’ India found it hard to keep her voice steady. ‘We think someone is behind all the accidents at the Bee.’
Esmerelda released the door and slowly crossed her arms. ‘Do you now?’
India wasn’t sure exactly how Esmerelda did it, but she sounded even more unwelcoming than before.
‘Yes.’ India knew she had to be careful. ‘And we were wondering … we wanted to ask … if it was you.’
‘Me?’ The director moved closer, like a spider crawling towards a moth trapped in its web. ‘What makes you think it was me?’
India gulped. She glanced at Rajish, who gave her an encouraging nod. ‘When I first met you in the elevator, you told me that you didn’t like spelling bees or kids, and that you wouldn’t mind if the Bee was cancelled.’
‘That’s true.’ She loomed even closer, her jaw clenched. ‘What else?’
‘When the dogs ruined the dinner, you stood back and smiled, as if you were enjoying every minute.’
She nodded. ‘That’s true too. I was enjoying it very much.’
Holly was puzzled. ‘So you did it?’
‘I don’t believe in dog shows and dressing up animals to be something they’re not. When I saw those dogs chasing that cat, I was happy because that’s how dogs are supposed to act – not prancing about with ribbons in their fur. It’s been the highlight of all the Spelling Bees so far.’
‘So you didn’t do it?’ Holly was still trying to decipher what Esmerelda was saying.
The Most Marvellous Spelling Bee Mystery Page 11