The next thing she knew the whole class was howling, some of the students in mock fear, others in delight. One student after another ran to the makeup cupboard and slathered fright makeup on his or her face, screaming all the while. Soon a piercing ululation was emanating from the room, causing Professor Kindseth, the diminutive, thirtyish forensic photography teacher, to stop and peek in. He looked like he didn’t know whether to admonish the students or join them. After about ten seconds, he lifted the camera he always carried and started snapping away, although whether in fun or as proof of misbehavior, Amanda couldn’t tell.
Following his lead, many of the students took out their phones and started to shoot video as they danced around and pretended to be zombies, monsters, and all manner of creatures. Professor Tumble, being hard of hearing, didn’t notice anything untoward at first. After thirty seconds of chaos, however, she shouted, “Children, quiet down,” but no one paid any attention. Finally she threw up her hands and joined them, slathering her own face with silver and gold and sticking diamond-like shiny things to it. The whole room looked like Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” video.
Suddenly, Professor Mukherjee, the very same teacher who had reprimanded the mean kids, was there booming, “Silence!” whereupon the room fell quiet at once. Even Professor Tumble, who actually seemed to hear him, stopped singing that song from “Sweeney Todd” she’d begun.
“You, there,” said Professor Mukherjee, addressing Amanda. “Vomit girl. Did you start this? Professor Tumble, are you quite all right?”
Amanda looked like a gazelle who’d just run into a hungry lion. Professor Tumble’s hearing suddenly seemed to have got worse, for she just stood there looking at Professor Mukherjee with a silly smile on her face.
“She didn’t do anything, sir,” said Simon. “It was my fault.” Amanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Simon Binkle was voluntarily taking the blame. She mentally took back every bad thing she’d thought about the goofy-looking boy.
“Surely not, young man,” said Professor Mukherjee. “This girl is a disease vector. Now look, students. You treat Professor Tumble with respect. I don’t want to hear another sound coming from this room. Work on your disguises quietly and have some dignity. A professional detective works strategically. Never let your emotions get the better of you. Now carry on.”
As she watched the legal issues teacher go, Amanda realized that Professor Kindseth and his camera had disappeared.
8
The Class Project
Although she hated to admit it, after the first few weeks Amanda was starting to acclimate to everything at Legatum except the actual climate, which was abysmal. England was colder than her relationship with her parents, which she’d thought was about as frigid as anything could be. Sometimes it snowed and the landscape took on a kind of desolate beauty, which impressed her when her teeth weren’t chattering. Despite her ability to appreciate the cinematic possibilities of this new environment, she was so uncomfortable that she wore her parka much of the time, even in class, which elicited derision from the other students, who, she thought, had probably never even seen a real beach.
And then on Friday the first of February, something happened that shocked her.
She, Amphora, and Simon were talking in the first-floor hall, where the décor guys had installed shelves full of animal skeletons and prehistoric tools, when the dreaded subject of ancestry came up again. Amphora had said that Professor Tumble was descended from a distant relative of an extremely famous detective and Simon had gotten a weird look on his face.
“What? I suppose you’re going to tell me that that doesn’t qualify her,” said Amphora. “Just because the relative is distant?”
“No. I wouldn’t say anything like that,” said Simon miserably.
“What then? Why are you looking like that?”
“Looking like what?”
“Like a sheep that’s lost its cud,” said Amphora making a chewing face.
“You’re not very nice, you know that?” said Simon, straightening up as if trying to dominate her.
“I’m not very nice,” she said. “You’re the one who pounced on Editta about the luck thing.” She stretched her body upwards in competition. They were now the same height, although Amphora was teetering on her tiptoes and Simon’s feet were firmly planted.
“Hey, keep your voices down,” said Amanda. Sure enough some kids had stopped to stare at them.
Simon lowered his voice and moved in closer, which caused him to lose an inch or two. “I didn’t pounce. Superstition has no place in detection.”
“You did. You were right mean to her,” said Amphora, flattening her feet and trying to talk quietly, which made her words sound fuzzy and sibilant at the same time.
“Was not.”
“Were so.”
“Was not.”
“Cut that out,” said Amanda. “Now you’re both being mean. I can’t stand it.” She clenched her fists and screwed up her face. “And by the way, you were just mirroring each other with that height thing, which means you’re secretly in love.”
“Am not,” said Simon.
“I’m not either,” said Amphora.
“Shut up!” yelled Amanda. She studied Simon’s face and then it hit her. Something was really bothering him.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she whispered, herding the little group into a corner.
“Look,” he said. “If I tell you, neither of you can ever say anything. Swear?” He looked at them hard.
“We swear,” said both girls.
He leaned in close. “Okay. Listen, then. I might not be a real detective.”
“What?!” they said in unison, causing several students passing by to turn and look.
“Shhh,” he said. “I might not belong here.”
“What do you mean?” said Amanda.
“You know how you were just talking about Professor Tumble being too distant a relative? My situation is even worse than that.”
“No,” said Amphora, who was once again shorter than Simon, if not by much.
He looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. “Yes. I’m on probation because my relative is a bit of an iffy connection. She’s sort of a relative by marriage. The stepdaughter of a second cousin of my mother’s.”
“You what?” said Amphora, stepping back as if hit by a dart.
“You heard right. Thrillkill let me in on the condition that I prove myself. If I don’t ace this first term, I’m out.” He looked so unhappy that Amanda wanted to pet him.
“Oh, brother,” she said. “That isn’t good. But do you really think they’ll care?” It seemed like a really stupid reason to expel someone. He was obviously qualified and seemed to care deeply about the profession.
“Yes, they will, so please, don’t tell anyone because they’ll try to sabotage me. You know what the competition around here is like.”
“What a stupid school,” said Amanda. She couldn’t believe people could be so petty. “Who cares who you’re related to? Everything should be based on merit. What is it with you Brits anyway?”
“It’s not a British thing,” said Simon. “It’s a detective thing.” He pulled at his cowlick.
“I’m so sorry,” said Amphora, moving back into the little huddle. “I didn’t mean to be mean. I didn’t know.”
“I know,” said Simon. “Just please don’t tell anyone.”
“We won’t,” said Amphora.
“No, of course not,” said Amanda.
“Good. Thank you,” said Simon, turning to go into the gents’.
“Do you believe this?” said Amphora when he’d gone.
“I’m as shocked as you are,” said Amanda. “I had no idea they could do this to people, or that Simon was in this position. Boy, he’s on thin ice, isn’t he?” She balled her fist and leaned her chin on it. She didn’t know him well, or even like him that much, but she wanted to do something to help him. Still, since he wasn’t actually i
n trouble that seemed rather pointless.
“Ha ha!” said Amphora. “Sure, if he goes outside.” Amanda was glad to see Amphora joking. Sometimes she got so prickly.
“Very droll.” Actually, it was, but she didn’t want to inflate Amphora’s ego. She was already difficult enough.
“Yes, I suppose that wasn’t very sympathetic.”
“He’s so smart,” said Amanda. “He’d be a great detective. How could they throw him out?” Her blood was beginning to boil. “We need to help him.”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do. And anyway, everything’s fine. What are you worrying about?”
“I don’t know. These detectives are hard-hearted. It’s like they’re not even people.”
“I guess they have to be like that,” said Amphora. “They have a tough life.” She was probably right, but Amanda didn’t like the implications.
The following Monday, the entire class was called together for an assembly in the same room in which the orientation had been held. The rain was coming down in buckets, creating a racket on the roof. Amanda was nervous about returning to the scene of her crime and the noise didn’t help, but she forgot her qualms when Ivy pulled her aside and whispered, “I know what this is about.”
“You do?” If anyone did, it was Ivy. She seemed to know everything. Amanda hoped she had good news.
“Yes. The class project.”
“What class project?” Why did Ivy always know about things she didn’t?
“You know, the one they give us that takes the whole term. A mystery we have to solve.”
“Do we get to pick the mystery?” said Amanda. “Maybe we can look for more blood on the walk.” She wriggled in her seat trying to get comfortable. Her parka was thick and for some reason it wouldn’t smooth out.
“No. They give you a mystery,” said Ivy. “When my sister was a first-year they had a poisoning.” Ah, her sister. Now there was a good source of information. No wonder Ivy knew so much.
“A real poisoning?” Poisonings, teachers disappearing. This place was really dangerous. Amanda wondered how many people had died at Legatum.
“No. It was a mock poisoning but it was very realistic. She got a good mark on it but it was grueling. They act like you have no other homework, and it takes a lot of work.”
“So your sister went here too?” said Amanda. Imagine having two detectives in the family. Well, more obviously, because most of the parents were detectives too, but still . . .”
“Actually, she still does. She’s in her fifth year. One more to go.”
“What’s her name?”
“Fern. She looks just like me. Except for being blind, of course.”
“Fern, Ivy. What’s your mom’s name? Rose?”
“Ha ha, very funny. No, her name is Zelda, if you must know. If you want to see a picture, take my phone—here—and go to the photo section.” She pulled out her phone and pushed it at Amanda, who thought it was a little strange for a blind girl to have a photo collection.
“Ah, I see,” she said, thumbing and flicking. They were a handsome group, all tiny except for Ivy’s father, who was normal-sized.
“What’s your mum’s name?” said Ivy.
Argh. That was the last thing she wanted to discuss. “Um, Lila.”
“Wait a minute. Lila Lester? Are you kidding me?”
“No.” Here it comes.
“Lila Lester the mystery writer?”
“Yes.” She was used to this. As soon as people found out that her mother was Lila Lester the famous mystery writer, they started gushing. It made her sick.
“I love her stuff!” Ivy sounded like one of those old cartoons where the girl held her hands together between her knees, wriggled her shoulders, and said, “My hero.”
“That makes one of us,” Amanda said without thinking.
“You don’t like your mum’s books?”
“Nope.”
Ivy’s face fell. “Whyever not?”
Amanda hesitated. Anything she said would make her seem like a bad daughter. She opted for evasion.
“It’s a long story.”
“Some other time then.” She looked crushed.
“Some other time.” Amanda touched her hand as if to say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burst your bubble. I really want to apologize for not being able to tell you the truth because I like you, but I still think my mother’s books are stupid, and by the way, so is she.”
“Gosh, I can’t imagine someone not liking Lila Lester,” Ivy said shaking her head.
“Can we just hear the announcement now?”
“Sure. Let’s see what they’re going to say.”
Amanda insisted on sitting as far away from the scene of her incident as possible, which meant that they ended up in the first row. She didn’t like being so close—it made you conspicuous and people on the stage could spit on you if they got too enthusiastic—but the good thing was that she couldn’t see any of the other students except the ones to either side. Of course if she threw up again for any reason, everyone would see, whereas if she were in the back no one would, unless they turned around.
While she was contemplating the optimum seating arrangement, Headmaster Thrillkill, Professor Stegelmeyer, and Professor Scribbish took the stage.
“Hm ummm,” Thrillkill cleared his throat. The hubbub stopped instantly. “Good morning, class,” he said. “We are here today to tell you about your term project, which will take place under the supervision of Professors Stegelmeyer and Scribbish.” The two teachers looked out at the class sternly. The mood seemed way more serious than the occasion warranted and Amanda was tempted to laugh. She looked over at Ivy, who looked like she too was stifling the giggles.
“The project will count for half of your grade. You may work with others but you must turn in your own report, which will be due the last day of school. The report will comprise at least a hundred pages and is to include images documenting the crime scene, evidence, suspects, and any locations you deem important. You will upload your report to the Legatum intranet. You will also present your findings at a special assembly that day. The four houses—Holmes, Father Brown, Dupin, and Van Helden—will compete against each other. The winning house will enjoy special privileges next term, including a custom tour of London. We encourage teamwork, but if you are found copying someone else’s work you will be summarily expelled. Legatum has a zero tolerance cheating policy.”
Boy, this was something. A hundred pages? The only time Amanda had ever written a hundred pages was when she’d created screenplays, and those had tons of white space. This report sounded way harder, although she did like the idea of having special privileges if her house won, which she was sure it would. With her, Ivy, Amphora, Simon, and Nick working at it, they couldn’t fail. Fortunately the Wiffle kid was in another house—Van Helden, she thought. She wouldn’t want to have to depend on him.
“I want to make it clear that while this is a mock crime, you should take it extremely seriously. Everything has been set up for you just as it would be if it were real. You will be expected to use all the skills you’ve learned in your classes in order to solve the mystery. You will have access to the crime lab between the hours of 5:00 a.m. and 11:00 p.m. Under no circumstances are you to be in the lab outside those hours.”
Not a problem. Amanda had no intention of being at the lab at 3:00 in the morning. Why would he think anyone would want to do that?
“You will not hoard evidence. You must make available to the other students anything you find in the state in which you find it. You will also follow standard crime scene investigation procedures so as to protect the evidence. If you accidentally damage evidence, you must log the details on the intranet.
“We will not tell you what the crime is. You will know it when you see it. It will be your job, however, to ascertain its scope, deduce why it was committed, and identify the culprit or culprits. We are here to answer general questions but we will not comment on specifics of
the case. If you want to know anything that has to do with school rules and policies, we will help you. If you run out of supplies, we are here to help. We will also direct you to sources that may assist you with topics that are covered in your classes. But we will not answer questions about personnel or evidence, and we will not help you in the lab. You are detectives. You will solve the crime. Are there any questions? Yes, Mr. Muffet.” He looked at Nick, who was holding his hand up.
“Professor, does it matter how you arrive at your conclusions as long as you’re correct?”
“We expect you to show your work. We will decide on the merit of the methods. We heavily discourage guesswork, for example.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Other questions? Miss Halpin, please come see me this afternoon to discuss your special requirements.” He peered over his glasses at Ivy.
“Yes, Professor.” Ivy would have a hard time providing images. Amanda couldn’t imagine how she’d solve the mystery but she didn’t seem to be worrying about it.
Thrillkill turned to leave the stage. “You are dismissed. Good luck, everyone.”
9
Pink Powder
After the assembly the first-year students were abuzz. A real mystery so soon? It was exciting but a little scary. What was really frightening was the idea of such a long paper amounting to half their grade. An almost palpable wave of anxiety traveled through the group, with virtually all the students expressing doubt that they could ever produce that much, even if they included lots of pictures.
Simon raised an interesting question at lunch. “Do you think those noises and the blood have anything to do with the project?”
Amanda, Ivy, and Amphora stopped eating and looked at him as if he’d just announced the arrival of space aliens.
Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 8
