Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set

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Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set Page 123

by Paula Berinstein


  “No,” said Ivy. “Your presence will just skew the results.”

  That came as no surprise. “She really hates me, doesn’t she?”

  “I don’t know that I’d use the word ‘hate,’” said Ivy.

  “Yeah, she does,” said Amanda. “Oh well. I’m used to that.” She briefly considered telling Ivy about her friendship failures back in L.A. but decided against it. They didn’t matter anymore.

  “He doesn’t hate you,” said Ivy.

  “Who doesn’t hate me? Simon? I know that.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Simon,” said Ivy.

  “Oh,” said Amanda. Why would she even bring up the subject of Nick? She didn’t know Amanda was in touch with him. Or did she?

  “It wasn’t her,” said Ivy a while later.

  “You talked to her?” said Amanda.

  “Yep. She was crazy excited, but her voice was fine. I’m a little relieved actually.”

  “Yes, that would have been terrible,” said Amanda.

  “So now we’re back to square one,” said Ivy. “You don’t think Darius . . .”

  “Not Darius, never,” said Amanda. “Although . . .”

  “What?”

  “Maybe someone in his production company.”

  “Oh no,” said Ivy. “That would be awful.”

  “Let’s think about this a minute,” said Amanda. “Why would someone leak the stuff about Mr. Kingsolver?”

  “They want to be in the spotlight,” said Ivy.

  “And is anyone in the spotlight?” said Amanda.

  “Only Mr. Kingsolver—oh. It has to be him, doesn’t it?”

  “It sure sounds like it,” said Amanda.

  But as it turned out, it wasn’t Alfie Kingsolver. Liam texted Ivy and told her that he had just fired Twinkle Earnshaw for leaking information about the mechanic to the press. Amanda was not comforted to learn that she’d been right about the girl.

  16

  Poppycock and Balderdash

  The leak was already causing a huge amount of damage. The media was screaming that Camelot had been discovered and that the team had proven that magic exists. They tried to interview J.K. Rowling, yelling questions outside her house like “Who taught you about spells?” “Who is the real Harry Potter?” “Are you a witch?” They went to noted academics and asked them dumb questions about the alchemists Alistair Crowley and John Dee. Fashion designers announced new collections of Guinevere dresses and crowns flew off the shelves at jewelry stores. Dander Bluff, a famous billionaire, announced that he was offering a reward of a billion dollars to whoever could teach him how to do real magic, including levitation and transmuting base metals into gold.

  Alfie Kingsolver’s face was already known to billions of people, and he hadn’t yet been proven a descendant of Merlin. In fact it hadn’t been proven that Merlin was Merlin, but that didn’t matter to the hordes of people hungry for something glamorous to believe in. Within twenty-four hours of the leak, seven new reality shows had been announced, eight hundred individuals had come forward claiming that they too were descendants of Merlin, a number of people reported that they had found additional artifacts from Camelot in their backyards, and Parliament had been disrupted by several MPs who demanded that all government activities stop until the rightful heir to the Crown—Arthur’s descendant—could be found.

  With all this craziness going on, Darius had much more to film than before. The dig and the excavation at the cave had stopped, but now he had Alfie’s trail to follow. He phoned Amanda and asked her if she might be able to help.

  “I’ll have to ask Professor Sidebotham if I can have more time off,” she said.

  “I wouldn’t ask, but with this broken leg I just can’t manage,” he said. “Can you meet me this afternoon to discuss next steps?”

  “Sure,” said Amanda. “I’ll be there.”

  But when Amanda got to the park where she was supposed to meet Darius he wasn’t there, and he didn’t answer her texts or calls either. After an hour she decided to go back and do some schoolwork.

  Later that evening she heard from him. His text said, “Sorry. Time got away from me. Tomorrow?”

  She typed back “Y” and went back to her Logic homework.

  The next day he stood her up again, and this time she didn’t hear from him later in the day, or the next either.

  Ancillary Darktower, however, was very much present and he was livid. The idea that the public should go wild over some potential magician, for people were starting to see Alfie himself as a magician, made him so mad that he spent the entire class venting. To be fair, he had a good reason. Alfie Kingsolver had been interviewed by the BBC and had told the bobble-headed reporter that he had begun to feel magical. He was sure he was sensing the paranormal potential of objects around him and had even performed a bit of levitation while brushing his teeth.

  “Poppycock and balderdash,” said Darktower. “This, class, is why logic is so important. If these ignoramuses could think clearly, they’d see right through this impostor. Levitation indeed.”

  “Professor,” said Prudence Starshine, raising her hand. “Do you think this mechanic has a case of cognitive dissonance?”

  “Thank you, Miss Starshine. I do indeed. You’ve covered this with Professor Goodgrief, have you not?”

  The kids looked at each other. They most certainly had not. The profiling teacher had gone off on a rant about the effect of haircuts on a perpetrator’s state of mind and was now threatening to begin a unit on the psychology of circus folk.

  “Um, well, not exactly,” said Prudence.

  “I must speak to her then,” he said. “Cognitive dissonance is an absolutely critical phenomenon to understand. You all know what it is, do you not?” There was some coughing and snuffling from various parts of the classroom. “Really?” said the teacher. “Where have you children been these last thirteen years?”

  Silence.

  “Cognitive dissonance is the tendency of people not to believe evidence if it disagrees with their preconceptions. So, for example, if I believed that eggshells could not break and saw an eggshell shatter when hit with a spoon, cognitive dissonance would keep me from admitting what I’d seen with my own eyes. Despite having seen the eggshell shatter, I would continue to believe that it hadn’t.”

  “Would that also be true about dog bites?” said Owla Snizzle.

  “How so?” said the teacher.

  “Well,” said Owla. “Let’s say I don’t believe a dog would ever bite me. Animals like me and that could never happen. If I were actually bitten, would I refuse to believe that I was bleeding?”

  “Interesting question,” said Darktower. “I think not. Rather you would probably rationalize what had happened by saying that the episode was a fluke. That you’d got some chemical on you that changed your scent or some such.”

  “Why is it, then, that a person can believe that an egg hasn’t shattered when it has, but not that a dog bite hasn’t taken place when it has?”

  Darktower looked the girl in the eye and said, “Because an egg isn’t a dog.”

  This conclusion sounded so ridiculous to Amanda that she couldn’t help raising her hand.

  “Professor,” she said, attempting to stifle a giggle. “Is there a rule of thumb in logic having to do with eggs and dogs?”

  The class erupted in laughter.

  “Silencio!” yelled the teacher. “Miss Lester, I am not going to dignify that with an answer. You will see me after class.”

  Amanda caught Holmes’s eye. He was giving her a tiny thumbs up and trying not to smile. Amphora, who was sitting next to him, saw the gesture and punched him with her elbow.

  “What’s so great about that?” Amanda heard her whisper.

  “It was funny,” Holmes said quietly.

  Amphora gave him a disgusted look. Holmes turned to the front and looked at the teacher beatifically.

  Professor Darktower let Amanda off with a stern warning to take logic seriously. W
hen she met up with Simon later she said, “That guy is really crazy. What was all that stuff about dogs and eggs anyway?”

  “That?” said Simon. “He was just talking rubbish. You saw how upset he is. He wasn’t making sense and he knew it. It was as clear a case of cognitive dissonance as I’ve ever seen. I almost wonder if he did it on purpose as a demonstration.”

  “You have got to be kidding,” said Amanda. “I think the guy is certifiable. I’d like to ask Professor Ducey what he thinks about that egg and dog.”

  “Do it,” said Simon.

  “You mean contact him in Scotland?”

  “Why not?” he said. “They have Internet connections and telephones there.”

  “Okay,” said Amanda. “I will.”

  She pulled out her phone, looked up Professor Ducey’s number, typed “Hi Prof D. May I phone?” and put the phone back in her pocket.

  “We have to do something,” said Simon, poking at a spot on his knee.

  “Come again?” she said.

  “We have to fix this,” he said. He ripped a thread out of his jeans and looked at it, then threw it on the floor.

  “Fix what—Alfie Kingsolver?” Amanda motioned to the thread with her eyes. Simon ignored her.

  “Yup.”

  “Simon, there’s nothing we can do. This is too huge. You’re not really going to leave that thread lying there, are you?” She pointed to the rubbish. “Why should the maids have to pick up after you?”

  “I am, and I don’t believe that,” he said. “We can do this.”

  “Ah, a full-blown case of cognitive dissonance then? What is it with you and impossible problems? How’s that tilt of the earth thing coming along, by the way?”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’m making a lot of progress. And no, it isn’t cognitive dissonance.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s cognitive dissonance. You need to apologize to Ivy.”

  “Nuh uh.”

  “Nuh uh it isn’t cognitive dissonance, or nuh uh you don’t have to apologize to Ivy?”

  “Both.”

  “Simon! You were really mean to her.”

  “She is a little Miss Sunshine. How is it mean to tell the truth?”

  “Since when is having a positive outlook on life a criminal offense?”

  “She’s too saccharine. She gets to me sometimes.”

  “Look, Dracula, you need to get over it. Ivy is a great person.” Simon snorted. “Okay, what she said to you wasn’t nice.”

  “Oh, you noticed?” he said, absently picking at his jeans again.

  “I’m sure she’s sorry for it,” said Amanda.

  “Then let her apologize,” he said, tearing off a thread with a flourish.

  “You hurt her first,” said Amanda.

  “Now who’s counting angels on the head of a pin?” said Simon.

  “You really are exasperating,” she said. “Look, if you want to help Professor Halpin, you have to be able to work with other people, and in order to do that you have to get along with them. Apologize to Ivy.”

  “Oh all right!” Simon exploded. “I’ll do it. Now can we just move on?”

  “Promise?” said Amanda.

  “I promise already,” he said.

  “All right then,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

  Her phone vibrated. There was a text from Ivy and it wasn’t good: “Twinkle’s accusing my dad of faking the whole thing. He’s been suspended!”

  17

  Putting the Genie Back in the Bottle

  Amanda couldn’t believe Twinkle would be so vindictive. Leaking the existence of Merlin’s descendant was bad enough, but accusing Liam of fraud was beyond the pale. What this would do to his career she couldn’t imagine. Even if he could prove she was lying, nothing would ever be the same. Doubts would linger, people would wonder, and his reputation might never recover. Amanda wanted to wring Twinkle’s bouncy little neck.

  “Simon,” she said.

  “Ssh. Hang on.”

  He took his phone out of his pocket and typed something. Amanda could see the word “Ivy” in a text he was writing.

  “What are you doing?” she said. “Didn’t you hear the text I read you?”

  “Just a second,” he said. He pressed the phone one more time and stuck it in his pocket. “Sorry. Have to go.”

  “Simon. Didn’t you hear?”

  “I heard all right. I’m going to apologize to Ivy. I’ve been a complete jerk.”

  “Yes, you have,” she said.

  Simon raced out of the common room, leaving behind a pile of blue threads. He almost bumped into Holmes, who was entering the room.

  “What was that?” said Holmes. He set his laptop down on the reading nook couch next to Amanda (today’s theme was library) and scooched in next to her.

  “Good news,” said Amanda. His presence made her want to smile, but she felt guilty doing it under the circumstances so she tried hard not to. Unfortunately that made her jaw tight and her words came out distorted.

  “You okay? You sound funny.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve just been talking to Darktower,” he said.

  “Whatever for?”

  “I know. He’s a prat. But just listen.”

  She turned and looked at him, then glanced away. She just couldn’t deal with that amazing face at a time like this. She needed to concentrate. “I’m listening.”

  “Good. Darktower wants to discredit this guy Alfie Kingsolver. He figures that’s the way to put the genie back in the bottle.”

  “Sounds reasonable.” Even if the originator of the idea wasn’t.

  “Of course the devil is in the details. God, you look good.” She could feel him staring at her.

  “Shut up. You just told me this is serious.”

  “It is, and you really do.” She could feel his eyes boring into her. She loved how he made her feel, but now wasn’t the time.

  “Scapulus.”

  “Okay, I’ll be good.” He was nothing of the kind. He kept looking at her until she reached out and turned his face away. “He figures the way to make the guy look bad is with logic.”

  “Show that the things he’s saying don’t add up.” Not exactly an illogical approach for a logician.

  “Exactly.”

  “So what does he propose?”

  He was way too cheerful for the situation. “Guess.”

  She huffed. “I have no idea. A debate?”

  “Close. Try again.”

  His scent was wafting its way into her nose. She was finding it difficult to concentrate. “An op-ed piece?”

  “Amanda, it’s so obvious. I’m surprised at you.” He shouldn’t have been. Surely he knew by now how crazy he made her.

  “OMG, a film!”

  “Yes!” said Holmes. “Although plural. Videos.”

  “Of course,” said Amanda. “That’s a perfect idea.” It was quite exciting if you forgot the reason—and the suggester.

  He lowered his voice. “There is a bit of a problem though.”

  Of course there was. It was Darktower, wasn’t it? He wanted something from her and had sent Holmes to do his dirty work. “He doesn’t know how to make a film?”

  “Kind of,” said Holmes. “He can’t be in them.”

  That wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting but it made sense. He’d have to lie low, wouldn’t he? “Because of the school’s secrecy thing?”

  “Yes. So he’s got to find an actor to play his part.”

  “Are you asking me if I know anyone?”

  Holmes ducked down and looked up at her face. “Earth to Amanda. You do know someone.”

  “Darius!”

  Now she looked at him. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Darius.”

  “Hm,” she said, taking in that beautiful smile. She felt weak in the knees. “There’s one eensy problem with that.”

  He went serious all of a sudden. “Amanda, you can’t possibly feel that you’re imposing on him. This is
critical. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

  “No, it isn’t that.”

  “What then?”

  “He’s missing. I was supposed to meet him and he stood me up. I haven’t heard from him for two days.”

  Holmes was less bothered about Darius’s failure to communicate than Amanda was. He attributed the director’s absence to his profession and assured her that her mentor would show up soon. The question remained, however, what to do about the video—or videos—Professor Darktower wanted to make.

  “What are these videos supposed to be anyway?” said Amanda. “Looking for an actor is premature.”

  “You’re right,” said Holmes. “Why don’t you come with me and discuss the project with him?”

  “Me?” said Amanda. Sure, she knew film, but she had no desire to work with the man who had been so rude to her.

  “You’re the authority,” said Holmes.

  “I know, but—”

  His voice got husky. “Do it for me.”

  It wasn’t fair of him to do that. He knew she couldn’t resist him. “Oh, Scapulus. Please don’t do this to me.”

  “Think of Ivy, Amanda. This is for her. For her dad.”

  “Talk about logic,” she said. “You really know how to use it.”

  “I know,” he said, grinning again.

  “All right. Let’s go.”

  “Ah, the smart aleck,” said Professor Darktower when they’d appeared at his office.

  “Professor,” Amanda nodded.

  “Tell her what you told me,” said Holmes.

  “Well, as I was saying,” said Darktower as the two cautiously seated themselves in front of his desk, “I intend to discredit this Kingsolver impostor. I will be making videos putting forth the logical arguments against the claim he’s making,” he harrumphed. “Magic indeed.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” said Amanda tactfully.

  “I need someone to read my arguments on camera,” said the teacher gruffly.

  “An actor,” said Amanda.

  “If you want to call him that,” said Darktower.

 

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