by R. A. Spratt
Friday stood with her back to the dormitory, looking out at all this expanse.
‘Can you see anything?’ asked Melanie. ‘Obviously you can, but I mean something more than the view of the empty school grounds that I can see?’
‘I can see that the thief would have had to move the furniture a long way,’ said Friday, ‘so they must have needed wheels.’
‘A car?’ suggested Melanie.
‘Students aren’t allowed to have cars,’ said Friday. ‘I think they used something simpler. Like a cart. Which they could have got from a place I can’t see.’
‘Now you’re talking in riddles,’ said Melanie.
‘Mr Pilcher’s shed is on the far side of the kitchen garden,’ said Friday. ‘I bet he has a cart. Let’s go and visit him.’
Mr Pilcher was very hospitable when Friday asked if she could look around his shed. He made her and Melanie a cup of tea and gave them two of his own personal stash of cream biscuits before they got started. Friday was a favourite of his now. He was grateful for her faith in his mushroom selection. If he had been responsible for feeding deathcaps to 300 children, he never would have heard the end of it.
Mr Pilcher had two ride-on lawnmowers and even a small tractor, but he kept the key on him at all times. He didn’t have a cart, but he did have a large wheelbarrow. Friday inspected it closely.
‘Is your wheelbarrow always this spotlessly clean?’ she asked.
‘I like to take good care of all my equipment,’ said Mr Pilcher.
‘I can see that,’ said Friday, looking about the shed. ‘Everything is in excellent order. But a wheelbarrow would usually have traces of dirt or muck, whatever you had last carried in it. This wheelbarrow, however, is immaculate.’
Mr Pilcher came over for a close look. ‘It is too,’ he said.
‘What did you last transport in it?’ asked Friday.
‘Um … well, it would have been the fertiliser for the rose beds,’ said Mr Pilcher.
‘What sort of fertiliser?’ asked Friday.
‘Horse muck,’ said Mr Pilcher. ‘The head groom is always very generous with the muck and it makes for excellent mulch.’
‘Interesting,’ said Friday. She leaned right into the basin of the wheelbarrow until her nose was barely millimetres from the bottom, then took a long, deep sniff.
‘Gross,’ said Melanie. ‘Please just don’t lick it.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Friday, straightening up. ‘In fact, it’s quite pleasant. The wheelbarrow smells of lemons. It has been scrubbed with a soluble cleaning product. This is our thief’s mode of transport. They would have cleaned the wheelbarrow so they wouldn’t get horse muck on the mattress.’
‘So the thief is a clean freak?’ said Melanie.
‘I don’t think you have to be a clean freak to not want to sleep in horse muck,’ said Friday. ‘You just need a basic appreciation for cleanliness.’
‘So that rules out 75 per cent of the boys at this school,’ said Melanie.
‘And it means we will soon catch the culprit,’ said Friday, searching through her backpack before taking out a small jar and a large make-up brush, ‘because there will be fingerprints on the handles.’
Friday started brushing dust over both black handles. Then she took out her magnifying glass and closely inspected the results. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘You recognise the fingerprints on sight?’ asked Melanie.
‘No, there are no fingerprints,’ said Friday.
‘The thief was a double amputee?’ asked Melanie.
‘No,’ said Friday, ‘they must have worn gloves. Or wiped the handles clean. That’s clever and thoughtful.’
‘It sounds like someone who knows all about you,’ said Melanie.
‘Perhaps,’ said Friday, as she took a moment to consider all the evidence. ‘Who do we know who is strong, stylish, particular about clothes, clever, knows me well and is in need of a bed?’
‘Can you make it a multiple choice question?’ asked Melanie. ‘You know I’m not good at linear thinking.’
‘Is it a) Ian Wainscott, b) Ian Wainscott or c) Ian Wainscott?’ said Friday.
‘All of the above!’ exclaimed Melanie.
‘Exactly,’ said Friday.
‘But he’s at another school that’s hours away,’ said Melanie.
‘Do we know that for sure?’ asked Friday. ‘You know what his mother is like.’
‘Obsessed with growing vegetables,’ said Melanie.
‘That would grow tedious quickly,’ said Friday. ‘He may have become fed up with living at home.’
‘So where could he be?’ asked Melanie.
‘He would need a room,’ said Friday. ‘An empty room. A place where he would know for sure that he wasn’t going to be disturbed.’
‘But there are students all over the school,’ said Melanie. ‘No room stays empty for long.’
‘But there are lots of outbuildings and sheds around the grounds,’ said Friday. ‘I’ve got it!’
‘You have?’ said Melanie.
‘You have brothers,’ said Friday. ‘You must know something about sport.’
‘You’ve got two brothers, too,’ said Melanie.
‘Yes, but they’re physicists, they don’t count,’ said Friday. ‘Aren’t some sports only played in certain seasons?’
‘I believe so,’ said Melanie.
‘And its winter now,’ said Friday. ‘So which sports aren’t played in winter?’
‘Surfing,’ said Melanie.
‘At this school?’ said Friday.
‘Cricket,’ said Melanie.
‘That’s right,’ said Friday. ‘It’s only played in summer. So right now, in the middle of winter, the cricket dressing room would be entirely empty, and would stay that way for the next five months.’
It was a long walk to the cricket stand. Friday and Melanie had to cross two cricket pitches to get there. As they grew closer they could hear something.
‘Is that music?’ asked Melanie.
‘He’s not exactly being subtle about hiding his location, is he?’ said Friday.
The girls walked around the back of the building. For modesty’s sake, the window was eight feet off the ground so the players could have privacy while they were changing.
‘I want to have a look,’ said Friday. ‘Can you give me a boost?’
‘No,’ said Melanie. ‘Lifting other people up is not something I do.’
‘Fair enough,’ conceded Friday. She looked about. There was a metal garbage bin nearby. She picked it up and set it down by the wall, then carefully climbed up. When she stood on her tippy-toes she could just see in through the dirty window pane.
‘What can you see?’ asked Melanie.
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Friday.
‘Can’t believe what?’ asked Melanie.
‘The way he’s got it set up,’ said Friday. ‘It’s just like … waaaaahhhh!’
Friday had stretched up on her toes too far, tipping the bin back. The bin toppled over and she fell forward, banging her head on the wall.
‘Oww!’ yelled Friday.
‘Friday!’ yelled Melanie.
‘What’s going on!’ yelled Ian, as he burst out of the back door.
‘Ian, it is you!’ said Melanie. ‘Friday is going to be so glad to see you when she regains consciousness.’
Friday was lying unconscious in a clump of large weeds. There was a large scrape across her forehead that was just starting to bleed.
‘Urrrgh,’ groaned Friday.
‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Ian.
‘Tristan hired Friday to find his bed,’ said Melanie.
‘Typical,’ said Ian. ‘Trust her to fall in with the most amoral boy in school.’
‘To be fair,’ said Melanie, ‘she didn’t do it for moral reasons, she did it for the money.’
‘Urrrrrgh,’ moaned Friday.
‘I suppose we should get her inside and stop the bleeding,’ said Ian.
&
nbsp; ‘How very thoughtful of you,’ said Melanie.
Ian bent down and picked Friday up. She was not heavy but she was a dead weight, so he staggered a bit as he stood up with her.
‘I wish I had a camera,’ said Melanie. ‘This would be a great snapshot to be able to show your grandkids.’
‘Would you mind getting the door?’ asked Ian.
‘Of course,’ said Melanie.
Ian lumbered into the change room with Friday and dumped her on his bed. Well, to be strictly accurate, it was Tristan’s bed. But Ian had gone a long way to make himself feel at home. The change rooms had been kitted out with all his personal belongings, including his doona from home. Even his school books were neatly stacked on his stolen desk.
‘I like what you’ve done with the place,’ said Melanie.
Ian went to the sink and wet a washcloth then walked over and dabbed it on Friday’s bloody forehead.
‘Oww!’ wailed Friday, her eyes snapping open. ‘What did you do to my head?’
‘I’m administering first aid,’ said Ian, dabbing her head a little more forcefully than he needed to.
‘Oww!’ said Friday. ‘Stop it.’
‘I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just left me well enough alone,’ said Ian. He went over to the first-aid cupboard on the wall and took out a dressing and elasticated bandage.
‘What are you even doing here?’ asked Friday. ‘You were expelled from Highcrest.’
‘Thanks to you,’ said Ian bitterly.
‘I’m not the one who got the paper with the watermarks made up,’ said Friday.
‘But you were the goody-two-shoes who had to point it out to everyone, weren’t you?’ argued Ian.
‘If you’re so angry about everything I would have thought you’d be glad to get out of here,’ said Friday.
Ian clammed up, pressing his lips together.
‘Oh Friday, for a super-clever person you can be quite the dope sometimes,’ said Melanie.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Friday.
‘Ian is just like you,’ said Melanie. ‘He comes from a really dysfunctional family. This is his home.’
‘Where does your mother think you are, anyway?’ asked Friday. ‘Won’t she put out a missing person report when she realises you’re missing?’
‘She thinks I’m on a month-long hiking trip with an outward-bound group that specialises in helping young people come to terms with their anger issues,’ said Ian.
‘How did you convince her of that?’ asked Friday.
‘I got her to sign the application forms and drive me to the station,’ said Ian. ‘And I’ve arranged for someone who actually is on an outward-bound hiking trip to send her postcards from me once a week from remote locations.’
‘You didn’t pretend to poison the whole school last night, did you?’ asked Friday.
‘What?!’ exclaimed Ian.
‘Someone conducted an elaborate deathcap mushroom poisoning hoax,’ explained Melanie.
‘But it was stroganoff night!’ exclaimed Ian. ‘I can understand wanting to poison the school, but ruining such a good dinner, that’s just wrong.’
‘There have been a lot of strange things going on here since you left,’ said Friday.
‘We’ve missed having you around. You know what you should do?’ said Melanie. ‘Hire Friday to find out who framed you with the forged letters.’
‘I’m not asking for favours,’ said Ian.
‘It wouldn’t be a favour,’ said Melanie. ‘It would be like Tristan and the furniture. You’d be hiring her to do a job.’
‘So I’d be the boss?’ said Ian, smiling for the first time.
‘Exactly,’ said Melanie.
‘Hey,’ said Friday, ‘I don’t have to take the job.’
‘Of course you do,’ said Melanie. ‘There is an irresistible mystery here. Someone fired all the teachers and framed Ian. Someone is stirring up trouble with the poisoning and the other weird things going on. You’d have to investigate that even if Ian wasn’t your boyfriend.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ said Friday.
‘No,’ said Ian, ‘now I’m your employer.’
‘If I do take the job,’ said Friday, ‘what will you pay me?’
‘I haven’t got any money,’ said Ian.
‘I don’t need money,’ said Friday. ‘My school fees are paid up for the next nine months.’
‘What do you want?’ asked Ian.
‘I don’t know,’ said Friday. ‘A favour. A blank cheque favour. I can ask you to do one thing at any time, no questions asked.’
‘No way,’ said Ian.
‘Fine,’ said Friday, starting to stand up, ‘I’ll get back to class.’
‘All right, all right,’ said Ian. ‘You’ve got a deal. If you find out who framed me and get me re-admitted, I’ll owe you one favour.’
They shook hands on it.
‘What are we going to tell Tristan about his furniture?’ asked Melanie, as she and Friday walked back to the main buildings of the school.
‘We’re going to return them,’ said Friday.
‘What?’ exclaimed Melanie. ‘But Ian’s using them.’
‘We’ll just shove Harris’ furniture across to Tristan’s side of the room and tell him they’re his,’ said Friday.
‘Isn’t that immoral?’ asked Melanie.
‘Only if I accept payment for solving the case,’ said Friday.
‘Are you going to accept payment for solving the case?’ asked Melanie.
‘Of course,’ said Friday. ‘I’ll give it to Harris. He deserves compensation for having to share a room with Tristan for so long.’
Chapter 18
The Case of the Coloured Eyes
Friday wasn’t sure how to start off in her investigation to clear Ian’s name. She was sitting in study hall, tilting back in her chair and staring at the ceiling, which was usually something Melanie did, but in Friday’s case she was wide awake and scowling with concentration.
‘It’s frustrating that we don’t have internet access here,’ said Friday. ‘What I really need to do is investigate paper.’
‘Paper?’ said Melanie. ‘What is there to know? It’s flat. It’s white. It absorbs ink.’
‘I need to know more about watermarks, for a start,’ said Friday. ‘The stationery used to fire all the teachers was very elaborately forged. My general knowledge is much greater than the vast majority of the population, but even I have no idea how you would go about forging a watermark.’
‘Ahem.’
Friday looked up. Gretel Dekker and Johanna Ottarson were politely standing over her. They were two tall blonde girls. Gretel was the school’s badminton champion. Johanna looked like a surfer, but when she spoke she sounded like the Swedish chef from The Muppet Show.
‘Can I help you?’ asked Friday.
‘I don’t think Gretel really does have a scratchy throat,’ said Melanie. ‘So I’m pretty sure the only reason she would make that noise is because she wants your help but is too polite to disrupt you while you’re thinking.’
‘We do have a slight problem,’ said Gretel. ‘We don’t know if it’s something you could help with. But we don’t know who to turn to.’
‘A member of the teaching staff has more authority than me,’ said Friday.
‘But this situation was created by a member of the teaching staff,’ said Johanna.
‘It’s VP Pete,’ said Gretel. ‘We’re in his genealogy class. We tried complaining to him, but he just laughed and told us that independent problem-solving was part of the education process. We wouldn’t learn if he solved our problems for us.’
‘So what is the problem?’ asked Friday.
‘We’re being bullied,’ said Gretel.
‘And he set this up?’ said Melanie.
‘Yes, to teach us about racism,’ said Johanna.
‘He’s teaching you to be racist?’ asked Melanie.
‘No,’ said Gretel.
&
nbsp; ‘Actually, if you think about it, he kind of is,’ said Johanna, looking confused as she came to the realisation herself.
‘Okay, you’d better start from the beginning,’ said Friday. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Our class has been selected to take part in a sociological experiment,’ explained Gretel.
‘You poor things,’ said Melanie. ‘Getting selected for something is never good.’
‘What’s the experiment?’ asked Friday.
‘The blue eyes/brown eyes experiment,’ said Johanna.
‘Ah,’ said Friday, ‘the experiment developed the day after Martin Luther King Jr died to demonstrate for an all-white group of children how racism worked.’
‘That’s right,’ said Gretel.
‘How does it work?’ asked Melanie. ‘The experiment, I mean.’
‘In the class all the children with brown eyes have to sit at the back of the room wearing brown collars, and the blue-eyed children sit at the front and are given preferential treatment,’ explained Friday. ‘Longer breaks, less work, extra courtesy, things like that.’
‘That’s right,’ said Johanna. ‘Except VP Pete is doing it the other way around. The brown-eyed children are getting preferential treatment.’
‘And Mirabella Peterson is using it as an excuse to be really mean,’ said Gretel.
‘Mirabella is always mean,’ said Melanie.
‘But now she’s getting away with it,’ said Johanna.
‘The worse she behaves, the more delighted VP Pete is,’ said Gretel. ‘He says it shows that his experiment is really working.’
‘And if anyone gets upset or cries about the bullying,’ said Johanna, ‘he’s ecstatic. He says that shows we’re really learning how terrible racism is.’
‘I’ll come and investigate,’ said Friday.
‘I’ll come, too,’ said Melanie.
‘Thank you,’ said Gretel. ‘You’ve both got brown eyes, so you should be all right.’
‘Although they were threatening to bring in a hazelnut test,’ said Johanna.
‘What’s a hazelnut test?’ asked Friday.
‘They hold up a hazelnut next to your eye,’ said Gretel. ‘If your eye is darker than the hazelnut, you’re considered superior to people with light brown eyes.’
