Amanda Lester, Detective Box Set

by Paula Berinstein

  “Well what is your fault then?” said Simon.

  “I don’t know,” said Kindseth.

  Simon and Amanda looked at each other. The man was making about as much sense as the new profiling teacher.

  “It, whatever it is, is your fault, but it isn’t your fault that the wretches kidnapped Thrillkill,” said Simon.

  “That’s right,” said Kindseth.

  Simon rolled his eyes. Behind his thick glasses they made Amanda think of a giant squid. “Then what is your fault?”

  “I drove her away,” said Kindseth softly.

  Simon and Amanda looked at each other. “Are you telling us that she took Professor Thrillkill to get back at you?” said Simon.

  Kindseth wouldn’t even look at them. He just spoke into his arms. “That’s what I’m telling you.”

  “What did you do, Professor?” said Amanda, giving Simon a look that said “Don’t you dare.”

  “I had to,” said Kindseth.

  “Had to what?” said Simon, ignoring Amanda. He was so angry Amanda was afraid he’d assault the teacher.

  “I had to keep it secret,” said Kindseth.

  “Keep what secret?” yelled Simon. “Man, can’t you answer a question? And can you please look at us?”

  “Simon!” said Amanda. “This is a teacher you’re talking to.”

  “The school,” said Kindseth, raising his head. The desk was all wet from his tears. Amanda hoped there wasn’t any snot there. “Legatum. I couldn’t tell her about it.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Simon. “Are you saying that you kept your secrecy oath like you were supposed to and she left you?”

  “Yes,” said Kindseth sheepishly.

  Amanda and Simon looked at each other again. What was he talking about?

  “So what?” said Simon. “You did what you were supposed to.”

  “Not according to her,” said Kindseth.

  “This isn’t your fault, Professor,” said Amanda.

  “Yes it is,” said Simon. “He could have told us what was going on. We could have found Thrillkill and Fern and Gordon and your relatives, Amanda.”

  “I should have,” said Kindseth. “I was a coward.” He started sobbing again. Yup. There was snot coming out of his nose. Amanda looked around for a tissue. Ah, there in the corner. She grabbed one and gave it to him.

  Simon snorted. “You do realize you might have got them all killed?”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” said Kindseth, wiping his nose. The one tissue wasn’t enough. Amanda grabbed the whole box and set it in front of him.

  “You’re not a very good detective,” said Simon.

  Amanda had to agree. While she liked Professor Kindseth immensely, his behavior had bordered on the criminal. He had shielded a kidnapper. And all for what—his ego?

  “I think he’s right, Professor,” said Amanda. “I’m sorry to say it, but you’ve done a very bad thing.” She turned to Simon. “Maybe Scapulus can trace the signal.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Simon. “The last time he tried he couldn’t.” He took out his phone and sent a text. “Let’s see what he can do though. Come on, Amanda.” He gave the teacher a dirty look. Amanda followed him out of the dining room and he said, “Can you believe that? I thought he was a better person than that. I don’t want to have anything more to do with that guy.”

  “I hate to say it, but I don’t either,” she said. “Do you think they’re dead?”

  “I have no idea,” said Simon. “I’ll tell you one thing though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I hope Salty doesn’t find out about this. He’ll kill the guy.”

  “What are we going to do?” said Amanda when they’d retreated to the common room.

  “We’re going to have to tell Sidebotham,” said Simon. He was doing that pacing thing with one foot touching the other. “We don’t have any choice.”

  “She’ll fire him.”

  “It’s his own fault.”

  “Maybe Professor Kindseth can do something to fix this,” said Amanda, brightening. “Then we won’t have to and he can keep his job.”

  Simon snorted. “That bawling mess? Are you kidding?”

  “It does seem out of character for him to behave this way,” said Amanda. “But he’s a detective. He’s strong.”

  “Bah,” said Simon.

  Suddenly there was a commotion out in the hall. Two policemen appeared in the common room, followed by Professor Sidebotham.

  “Simon Binkle?” said the one who seemed to be in charge, a tall, pale middle-aged man with a crewcut.

  “What’s up?” said Simon, eyeing them up and down.

  “Come with us,” said the cop, producing a pair of handcuffs.

  Amanda couldn’t believe her eyes. It wasn’t Simon’s birthday, so this couldn’t be a joke. Or could it?

  “Hey,” said Simon. “What are you doing?”

  “Arresting you,” said the cop.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Simon, trying to back away. The cop blocked him. “What’s the charge?”

  The policeman pulled Simon’s hands behind his back and clapped the handcuffs on. Then he pulled him roughly toward the door.

  “Fraud,” he said. “You and that Halpin guy. They’re going to put you both away for a long time.”

  24

  The Peacock Whisperer

  With the collapse of the chapel everyone at the school was shaken, but when Simon Binkle and Liam Halpin were arrested, people got mad, especially Ivy. Rather than breaking down under the pressure, the tiny redheaded girl who was known for her even temperament just about burst into flames.

  “Darktower!” she said.

  “The animation,” said Amanda. “He gave it to the authorities. They think your dad planted those manuscripts and faked the Merlin artifacts. But why would they arrest Simon?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ivy. “But I’ll tell you one thing. That was not Dad in the animation.”

  “Of course not,” said Amanda. “Who do you suppose it was?”

  “Twinkle,” said Ivy. “She’s evil. She framed him so she could get all that attention.”

  “But can we prove it?” said Amanda. She didn’t believe for a moment that the culprit was Twinkle, but she wasn’t going to say anything until she had proof. All of this—the mechanic-magician, the artifacts, the animation—pointed to Blixus. He wanted to be the next King Arthur, the dig was looking for Arthur, and the mechanic was pretending to be part of the Arthurian legend. If Blixus Moriarty wasn’t involved in all this—if he wasn’t the one in the animation—she’d eat her camera.

  “If only Darius had set up a camera to watch the tunnel,” said Ivy. “Then we’d have surveillance footage. By the way, where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” said Amanda. “He’s been gone for ages. You’d think he’d want to be here in the middle of all this drama. For the film, I mean.” She wouldn’t want Ivy to think all Darius cared about was his film. Come to think of it, she didn’t know if that was true. It might be. But he’d acted as if he cared about Liam. On the other hand, if that was the case why had he disappeared? “I hope nothing’s happened to him.”

  Then suddenly a lightbulb went on. The truth had been hiding in plain sight all this time. All those remarks about Blixus. They hadn’t been idle curiosity. Darius wanted to find him. He really was serious about making a film about the guy. So serious that he was willing to abandon the dig in order to do it.

  “Oh no,” she said. “I think I might know where he’s gone.”

  “Where?” Ivy was pulling at Nigel’s fur and clumps were coming out. Nigel was looking up at her quizzically.

  “He’s been making some pretty weird remarks about Blixus,” said Amanda. “I didn’t think much of them, but all of a sudden . . . Ivy, he’s gone after him!”

  “But why would he do that? Doesn’t he care about the dig? About my dad?”

  “Romance? Drama? I don’t know.”

&nb
sp; “And you think Blixus has him? That’s why he hasn’t come back?”

  “It’s a possibility. Oh dear, oh dear.”

  Now Amanda was even more determined to get to The Falls. In addition to the possibility that Nick was hiding pages from the Bible, despite what he claimed he might know where Blixus was and she might be able to find a clue. She wasn’t about to tell Ivy though.

  “We have to get them out of jail,” said Ivy, breaking in on Amanda’s thoughts.

  “Yes! We need to raise bail.”

  “Why would Professor Darktower do this?” said Ivy.

  “I don’t know,” said Amanda. “Because he’s crazy? Anyway, I’ve got to call Mr. Onion.”

  “The lawyer who took you to Strangways?” Not “the lawyer who’s representing Nick Moriarty in his divorce from his father.” There was no way Amanda wanted Ivy—or anybody—to know about that.

  “Yes. He’ll get them out.”

  That he did. Balthazar Onion was a great lawyer. He had Simon and Liam out of jail within a few hours. But they were still facing fraud charges and both would need to hire attorneys.

  When Simon returned to Legatum, he told the kids he was being accused of tampering with evidence. Apparently the university had got hold of the animation and declared that while they were suspending Liam because they had no choice, they were certain that he was innocent and Simon had framed him. The idea was so ludicrous that Amanda would have laughed if things hadn’t been so serious.

  Despite his release, Liam was so devastated he drew into himself and Ivy had to find a lawyer on his behalf. She would have hired Mr. Onion, but the lawyer had advised her to get someone else as he would be representing Simon. She thought of phoning her mother, the judge, but fortunately, Mr. Onion was able to refer her to a colleague called Heidi Tidy, who was supposedly top-rated. Even more fortunately, Ms. Tidy agreed to take Liam’s case, so at least that part of the crisis was under control. But unanswered questions loomed in the air like storm clouds, a metaphor that turned out to be apt when Binnie announced that a big storm was coming and there would be flooding all over the Midlands. What that would mean for the dig site she wasn’t sure, but it did not sound good.

  By the time Amanda got to the boat it was pouring. Drops bounced off the lake as if they were tiny tennis balls, they were hitting the water so hard, and she was soaked through. She hoped the peacocks were all right, although considering how sick they were that was unlikely. She ducked into a doorway near the dock to think.

  She would have to get Nick away from the boat so she could search it. How might she best accomplish that? She would need at least twenty minutes to conduct a thorough search. Throwing a stone at his window wouldn’t do the trick. If she had a confederate, she could pretend to have another collision—he might come to the rescue—but she didn’t. Get the harbormaster to order an evacuation of all boats? Obviously out. Start a fire? She was desperate but that seemed excessive.

  Actually there was a way, but it was both mean and risky. She could text Nick—or phone him—and tell him that Legatum had relented and was willing to consider admitting him but they wanted to meet with him. Would he fall for something like that and leave the boat right away? Nick was no dummy. It seemed an obvious ploy, and there was a huge risk that such a tactic would backfire. If that were the case, she might never be able to search the boat. Not only would she never find out if Nick had more Bible pages or rescue Darius, but she’d never find Blixus, get a lead on Hugh, or clear Liam and Simon.

  But time was a-wasting and it was all she had. A text would be better. No shaky voice to give her away. She took out her phone and punched: “Legatum open 2 U. I convinced them. Can U come right away?”

  Within about two minutes, Nick came barreling out the cabin door and headed in the direction of the nearest bus stop. Her ploy had worked! She was surprised but was not about to waste time wondering how she’d been so lucky. She made a beeline for the cabin door and found it locked. Fortunately she had expected this. She reached in her bag and took out Ivy’s lock picks, which she’d borrowed under a pretense. Within seconds she was inside the warm, dry cabin. Well, dry before she got there. She was dripping all over the floor. That wasn’t good. Unless she was able to clean up her mess, Nick would know someone had been there.

  But she didn’t have time for cleanup now. She had to search. Where to start? Well, the most obvious places. When she had searched Nick’s room at Legatum, she’d found a video and her picture underneath a drawer and inside his mattress, respectively. Perhaps that was Nick’s MO. She’d do that first.

  The idea of Nick’s mattress still creeped her out, so she went for the drawer. There was a dresser, a desk, some kitchen drawers, some workshop drawers, and one or two in the tiny bathroom. She decided to go for the desk first.

  She pulled out the bottom drawer. It contained printer paper, some colored pencils, and a bunch of thumb drives. The last might be extremely useful. She didn’t want Nick to notice that anything was missing, so she grabbed only two of them and threw them in her bag. Then she removed the drawer and looked underneath. Nothing. She checked the sides and the back. Nothing. Then she removed the contents and felt for secret compartments. Nothing.

  She was dying to know what was on those thumb drives, but there was nothing she could do with them until she got back to Legatum, so she moved on to the middle drawer. This one was full of papers. At a glance she could see that they were notes for what looked like Nick’s stories. One of them said, “London Bridge trolls.” Another scrap said, “Worldwide maze.” The ideas looked interesting. No surprise there. With no school, no work, and maybe even no criminal activity to engage in, Nick would have to do something with his time. He was a good writer. Why not? She performed the same exterior check with this drawer and slid it back into the desk.

  Now to the top drawer. She started to pull it out when she heard the door slam, squeaky shoes, and a voice.

  “What are you doing, Amanda?”

  She spun around. It was Nick, sopping wet. He looked like a drowned rat. Wherever he’d gone he was back. Obviously he hadn’t traveled all the way to Legatum. He probably hadn’t fallen for her text after all. Where he’d gone or why she didn’t know. What she did know was that she was in for it now—unless she struck first.

  “You poisoned the peacocks!” she said.

  This accusation stopped Nick in his tracks. “What?” he said. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

  “Because of the you know what,” she said loudly.

  “What you know what?” He looked genuinely confused.

  “Don’t play dumb,” said Amanda. “That secret thing. With the peacocks”

  He looked at her blankly. A puddle of water was forming around his feet. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Why did you make that deal with Scapulus?” she screamed.

  “What deal?”

  “You really are something, you know that? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “All right,” he said. “I admit I made a deal with Holmes. But I didn’t touch the peacocks and I’ll prove it to you.” He grabbed her hand and started for the door.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

  He pulled her out the door, locked it, and led her to the peacocks. The rain was coming down so hard it hurt, but he didn’t stop. Streams of water were racing along the streets, down hills, around obstacles, into the drains and culverts. The place was alive with running water.

  When they got to Passelthwaite Park, Nick let go of her hand and walked right up to the birds. They didn’t try to run or fly away at all. They just stared at him. Then she heard him say, “Hello, there. You’re looking rather wet today, my friends.” Then she heard the birds coo. She was astonished.

  Nick turned around and motioned for her to join him. “They’ll fly away,” she said.

  “No they won’t. Come here.” He motioned again
, then turned back to the birds and said, “Don’t worry about her. She’s cool.”

  Amanda had no idea what he was up to, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to get closer so she took a tentative step toward the birds.

  “You don’t have to be so timid,” he said. “Just get over here.”

  Whatever, she thought, and marched over to where Nick was kneeling. The birds eyed her but didn’t budge. She thought she heard more cooing.

  “They’re really sick, aren’t they?” she said.

  “They need medicine,” said Nick, ignoring her question.

  “I actually have some,” she said, remembering that she’d shoved a vial of the stuff in her bag.

  “Give it to them,” said Nick.

  “They won’t hold still.”

  “I think they will.”

  “Nick, they’re going to run away.”

  “Just try it.”

  Amanda found the vial, extracted a pill, and approached the nearest bird. It didn’t move. When she hesitated, Nick nodded. She took the peacock’s beak, opened it, dropped the pill in, and closed it.

  “Rub its throat,” he said. Then he said to the birds, “Now Amanda is going to give you some medicine. Don’t be afraid. This is good for you. You’ll feel much better. You’ll see.”

  Amanda was so shocked she could barely move, but she managed to stick her hand out and reach for the bird’s wet neck. It didn’t move. Slowly, as Nick continued to talk, she moved her fingers toward the throat. Still no attempt to run away. She made contact and rubbed gently.

  “Doesn’t that feel good?” Nick said. “Pretty soon you’re going to feel like new.” Then to Amanda, “A little more, then do the next one.”

  Amanda thought she was having another dream. What she was seeing, feeling, and hearing was so incredible that she simply could not process the information. Nick calming wild birds with his voice? The same boy who had asked her to kill his father? The same birds who would fly away if you moved an inch in their direction?

  With Nick talking softly the whole time, she finished giving the birds their medicine and the two of them headed back to the boat. They’d left in such a hurry he hadn’t had time to grab rain gear, and they were both as wet as fishes.