After the observation class Amanda met up with Ivy, Amphora, and Nigel in the first-floor hall, which overnight had been hung with medieval tapestries featuring lots of unicorns and white birds. Her new friends were abuzz with news.
“A girl has already been expelled,” said Amphora.
Amanda wasn’t sure if her roommate was horrified or titillated. “What? You’re kidding.”
“No,” said Ivy gravely. “She violated the secrecy oath. They caught her texting something about the school to an outsider.”
“Wow, they don’t mess around,” said Amanda. The teachers at home hadn’t been this strict. Then again the teachers back home hadn’t been very competent.
“Apparently they take it very seriously,” said Amphora. “I suppose they would. If criminals ever found out about us . . .”
Criminals again. It was bad enough being at Legatum without that. Amanda wondered what the others thought about them.
“Do you think we’ll have to deal with any actual criminals?” she said.
“Of course,” said Ivy. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“I thought it was all just theory, right? I mean, you learn how to follow clues and figure out who the murderer is, but you don’t actually have to meet them, do you? Doesn’t that come later, when you have a job?” As if she was ever going to get a job as a detective.
“I wouldn’t think so,” said Amphora. “We’re supposed to be getting real experience at fighting crime.”
“Fighting crime?” said Amanda. “We’re not a SWAT team. We’re thinkers.” She’d forgotten that her father was both a thinker and a crime fighter, and he had to meet criminals all the time.
“Sure we’re thinkers,” said Ivy, “but you can’t think in a vacuum.”
“No you can’t,” said a voice. “Although I tried once when my mum was cleaning the house. Well, I didn’t try, actually. I had this hamster and this theory, you see.” It was the goofy guy from the orientation: Simon.
What a doofus. First he butts into a conversation, and then he starts talking about how he torments animals. I don’t like this guy, or his coke-bottle glasses.
“I’m kidding. I thought maybe the mood needed lifting. I would never hurt an animal. Would I, Nigel? You’re beautiful, don’t ya know?”
This guy really is a nutball. He’s worse with people than I am.
“Have you ever met any criminals, whoever you are?” said Amphora.
“Moi? No, not me. Although I did shake hands with my MP once. And I’m Simon. Simon Binkle.” He rocked back on his heels and up onto his toes.
“Right. I remember you. The mystique guy. I’m Amphora and this is Ivy . . . and Amanda. Are you worried about them?”
“Nah. What’s the big deal? They’ll train us, and then we’ll be able to handle anything. Easy peasey.” He was maddening. Didn’t he get anything?
“I don’t know about that,” said Amanda. “I’m not sure it’s that . . . easy peasey.”
“No,” said Ivy. “If it were, the good guys would always win. They would have caught Jack the Ripper, found the money from the Great Train Robbery, put Moriarty behind bars.”
Moriarty? Oh no! Why did she have to mention him? Not Holmes and his overrated cast of characters again. She could receive a thousand emails from Darius Plover and bask in a million smiles from Nick Muffet, and even with those to soften the blow she couldn’t bear the thought of Holmes, who was pretty much the same thing as Moriarty to her, except that there was a certain je ne sais quoi about the criminal mastermind that she found just the tiniest bit exciting.
“I get it, I get it,” said Simon. You’re right, I’m wrong. No worries.” He smiled in a lopsided kind of way that made Amanda want to grab his cheeks and straighten his face.
“So what about the criminals then?” said Amphora. “Aren’t you afraid of serial killers?”
Chalk one up for Amphora.
“Look, this is the way I figure it,” said Simon. “Everything in life is a challenge. You work, you prepare, you do the best you can. You win some, you lose some. There’s no point in dwelling on the bad stuff as long as you’ve done your best.” He patted down a cowlick.
“I agree,” said Ivy. She bent down and petted Nigel, who looked like he was in heaven.
This philosophy had never worked for Amanda but she wasn’t about to argue. Maybe it worked for this boy, but right now she didn’t want to think about any of it.
“Say,” said Simon. “Did you hear that they lost a teacher already?”
“What?” said Amanda. “We heard a girl was expelled but nothing about a teacher. What happened?”
“No one is saying,” said Simon. “But it was very sudden. Dead bodies teacher. Er, pathology. Autopsies. You know.”
“Maybe he—he?” said Amanda. Simon nodded. “Maybe he was taken ill.”
“Or fired,” said Amphora happily.
“Yes, for snatching bodies,” giggled Ivy.
“Right. Good one,” said Simon, and broke into giggles as well.
Amanda didn’t like the idea of body snatching. She wasn’t keen on horror films, and anything associated with them seemed cheap. So she was doubly unkeen on taking the pathology class and felt secretly glad that the teacher was gone.
“They’ve brought in a substitute,” said Simon. “Guy named Basil Hoxby. I guess he starts tomorrow.”
“Ugh,” said Amphora. “He sounds like a dead body.”
At this remark Amanda couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh. “Or a spice. No, wait. An herb. Herb Hoxby.” The others looked at her with appreciation. “I’m allowed to say that because my dad’s name is Herb. Get it?”
“We get it,” said Amphora. “Very cute. Except that ‘herb’ starts with an H, so it’s h-e-r-b.” She sounded the H.
“We say erb,” said Amanda.
“Herb, erb, it doesn’t matter. But listen,” said Simon. “I have this theory, and I thought you might like to help me test it.” He looked excited. Amanda thought his cowlick might even have risen a little as he spoke.
“A theory,” said Amphora. “What kind of theory?”
He leaned forward. “I think there’s something weird going on here.”
“At the school?” said Amanda.
“Yes.”
“What kind of weird thing?” said Ivy.
“I’m not sure, but I think something is wrong,” said Simon.
“Something like what?” said Amanda, half dismissing the idea. Who knew if he was credible?
“I don’t like to be melodramatic, but I think I’ve been hearing things,” he said.
“Things?” said Amphora.
“Odd noises behind walls,” said Simon, motioning toward the right-hand hall wall with his head, then circling toward the left-hand one. The motion made him appear slightly spastic.
“You mean like mice?” said Amphora. “I don’t like mice.” She shuddered.
“No, he’s right,” said Ivy. “Not mice. People.”
“Yes, people,” said Simon, doing that heel-toe rocking thing again.
“Is that what it was?” said Amanda.
“What what was?” said Amphora.
“Ivy heard it. In the bathroom.” She jerked her head in the direction of the offending restroom, then caught herself. She hoped she didn’t look as dumb as Simon doing that.
“Like a scraping?” said Simon.
“Yes,” said Ivy. “And some thumping. No, Nigel. Not you.” The dog was wagging his tail excitedly for some reason only he knew.
“I didn’t hear any thumping,” said Amanda.
“Definitely thumping,” said Ivy, rubbing Nigel’s head.
“It’s probably nothing,” said Amphora. “We’re not used to the school. I’m sure there are all kinds of things they have to do that we don’t know anything about. Maintenance and stuff. Maybe those décor guys.”
“I don’t think so,” said Ivy.
“No, I don’t either,” said Simon. �
�I think it might be something we’re not supposed to know about, and I want to find out what it is.”
“But why do you think that?” said Amphora. “I think you’re overreacting.”
“I don’t think so,” said Simon.
“Why not?” said Amphora.
“Because I saw blood outside the east door.”
6
Funny Desserts
Now that Simon had started hanging around, things were getting interesting. Weird noises could mean anything. Blood was a different matter. You couldn’t dismiss that so easily. The words “The plot thickens” came to mind.
“You saw blood?” said Ivy. She stood stock-still as if listening for it. Amanda wasn’t sure if the idea of listening for blood was funny or just plain nuts.
“Yup,” said Simon, looking satisfied with himself.
“What kind of blood?” said Amanda.
“I don’t know,” he said, rather crestfallen. It was obvious he hadn’t thought about this new development carefully. “Drops.”
“How many?”
“I didn’t count them.” He shrugged. “Ten maybe?” His observation skills definitely needed improvement.
“We need to go look,” said Ivy.
“There’s no time,” said Amphora. “We already missed breakfast and now we’re about to miss lunch. I’m going to keel over from hunger.”
“Yes,” said Amanda. “Let’s eat. The blood will wait.”
They hurried to the dining room, where the only choice left seemed to be prawn sandwiches and stewed tomatoes. It really was true what they said about English food, Amanda thought. The dishes were not the most appetizing. But she was starving and so were the other girls. Simon was now onto some other subject—Formula One racing or some such—and failed to notice that no one was listening. They were all too hungry to care, and rushed besides. Their next class was in ten minutes.
“I’ll just take Nigel outside and meet you at logic class,” said Ivy.
“Okay. Sorry we’re so rushed,” said Amanda, stroking Nigel. He really was a sweet dog. She wished her parents had let her have a pet. Even a tiny little dog would have done, but they’d refused, even when she pleaded with them and promised to take care of everything herself.
She looked down and saw hair all over the floor. Oh well. That was the price you paid for love.
The logic class was taught by an energetic young man, Professor Ducey. He wore large black-rimmed glasses and sported a crew cut, and bore an uncanny resemblance to the rocker Buddy Holly. Amanda knew about Buddy Holly because her grandparents were big fans of fifties music and they were always playing his records. For some reason she thought Professor Ducey looked like a surfer, even though he didn’t have a “bushy bushy blond hairdo” like the Beach Boys, another of her grandparents’ favorites.
“In this class you will learn how to build a case,” said Professor Ducey, looking way more pleasant than either Professor Stegelmeyer or Sidebotham. “Deduction, inference, and abductive reasoning will be our tools. By the time you’ve completed this introductory course, you will be able to call all your suspects together in the drawing room and get the murderer to admit his crime. Ha ha ha!” He rapped the table and enjoyed his own joke. Amanda couldn’t decide if he was a lunatic or endearing. No, she knew. He was both.
“In building a case, you must research all the elements of the crime and keep your mind open. You do not want to jump to conclusions. Gather your evidence first and be as thorough as possible. Of course you will learn to do this in your other classes. Then you begin to put together the puzzle. One thing you must do is distinguish truth from the appearance of truth, so you will need to be skeptical. Doubt everything until you can prove it to your satisfaction.”
“Professor,” said a voice in the back. Amanda turned to look. It was Nick. “Isn’t abduction an invalid form of logic?”
Whoa. Good looking, creative, nice, and brainiac too. Amanda turned back to the teacher, eager to hear his answer, even though she had no idea what abduction was. It sounded like a made-up word.
“Not invalid, Mr. Muffet, but tricky,” said Professor Ducey bounding around the room. He seemed to know Nick’s name already. Amanda wondered if he magically knew hers as well. “With abductive reasoning, you are looking not only for a logical conclusion, but the best logical conclusion. As with inductive reasoning, you make a conclusion based on information you have. However with inductive reasoning, you reach but one conclusion, which may or may not be valid. With abductive reasoning, you are looking at more than one conclusion that may or may not be valid and attempting to select the best one. Phew. That was confusing.” He laughed again.
Amanda liked a person who could poke fun at himself but she had no idea what he’d just said. She stared at him blankly, then turned to look at Ivy, who was sitting there with her mouth hanging open.
“For example,” continued Professor Ducey, smiling, “let’s say you have eight suspects, all of whom have motive and opportunity. However only one of them is in a desperate situation that would have caused him to snap. With abductive reasoning, you would consider him most likely to have committed the crime. You see?”
“But isn’t that a bit simplistic, Professor?” said Nick in a way that wasn’t smug at all.
“Why do you say that, Mr. Muffet?” Professor Ducey looked interested.
“Because a person who engages in careful planning is just as likely to commit a crime as someone who’s impulsive.”
“Ah, that is possible. It depends on the nature of the crime, doesn’t it? I didn’t specify, and Mr. Muffet was correct to call me on that. A murder committed as a result of momentary passion is not the same as a calculated attempt to take possession of a victim’s money, for example. Both types of suspects may be desperate, but one is more organized than the other. I’m glad we had this discussion in our first class because it demonstrates how important it is to look at all the information, not just pick and choose that which supports your thesis. Nicely done, Mr. Muffet.”
Nick sat back with a grin on his face. Amanda couldn’t help thinking that if it had been that Wiffle kid, the grin would have been obnoxious, but on Nick it had a touch of humility about it.
“Now for your first homework assignment, I want you to do the following puzzles in your textbook:
Kakuro
Shinro
Fox, goose, and bag of beans
Stained glass
Monkey and banana
Balance puzzle
Sudoku numbers 8, 12, 23, 37, and 246.”
Wow, who knew that logic was going to be fun? Amanda loved doing Sudoku, nonograms, and logic mazes. And Professor Ducey was so cool! This class would be a blast, except all that stuff about adhesives, er, abductive reasoning, was really confusing. Still, she was already looking forward to the next session.
After class, Amanda, Amphora, Ivy, Nigel, and Simon met up and headed for the east door. Amanda was sure that this so-called blood Simon had seen was either not blood at all or was drippings from some meat in a leaky package. But she figured she may as well tag along.
Simon opened the door for the girls and Nigel, and they all stepped out onto the stone walk outside the east common room, which was Holmes House’s stomping grounds. “There,” he said, pointing to an imaginary spot.
“There’s nothing there,” said Amphora giving a cursory glance.
“No, there isn’t,” said Amanda, looking more closely.
“Of course there is. It was only an hour ago,” said Simon, kneeling down and crawling all over the area.
“Nigel isn’t sniffing anything,” said Ivy. “Although if it was old blood he wouldn’t.”
“I don’t understand,” said Simon. There was a lot of blood.” He looked really let down, as if no one had shown up to his birthday party.
“Now it’s a lot of blood?” said Amphora. “A little while ago it was ten drops.”
“Ten drops, twenty drops, two drops, I don’t know,” said Simon. �
��It was just blood.”
“Well, it isn’t now,” said Amphora folding her arms in a Stegelmeyer sort of way.
“No, it isn’t,” said Simon, looking to see if he’d missed anything.
“You’re sure you really saw it?” said Amphora.
“Yes, of course I did,” said Simon. “I’m not delusional.”
Amanda didn’t want to mention that he should have taken a picture of the blood, although she was pretty sure she would have. She was starting to get the feeling that Simon didn’t have a lot of confidence in himself, even though he sometimes acted like he did.
“You don’t seem delusional,” she said.
“I’m not,” said Simon.
“We’d better go back in,” said Ivy. “It’s freezing, and there’s no blood.”
“Guess so,” said Simon. “I really did think . . .”
At dinner that night, everyone was agog with talk of all the new experiences they’d had, and the fact that a girl had already been expelled and a teacher lost. The food was much, much better than it had been at lunch, and everyone at Amanda’s table was in high spirits.
A plain, beaky girl with limp dark hair was sitting on the far side of Ivy. “I think it’s bad luck about that girl and that teacher,” she said to no one in particular. “You just wait. Bad things come in threes.”
“Ha ha ha,” said Simon. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no such thing as bad luck. Or good luck, for that matter. Luck is a human construct.”
“Is not,” said the girl. “My mum taught me—”
“Your mum,” said Simon. “You believe everything your mum says?”
“Yes, actually I do. Why shouldn’t I? She’s older than me. More experienced.”
“You’re pretty gullible, aren’t you?” said Simon with a bit too much relish.
“Why are you being so mean to her?” Amanda blurted out. Did I say that?
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 6
