Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy

by Paula Berinstein

  Chapter 19

  Thinking Like a Criminal

  Nick looked at Amanda as if she were crazy. “Wait a minute. Did I just hear you say you wanted to plan a crime?” He seemed surprised for the first time since Amanda had known him, which surprised her, since she’d come to believe that he was unflappable. Not that he was exactly flapping.

  “Yup,” said Amanda, trying not to gloat.

  “You really do have a thing for Moriarty, don’t you?” he said.

  “Not like that. I wouldn’t really do it.”

  He made a moue. He looked ridiculous. “Oh, I see. A theoretical Moriarty then,” he said, grinning and tousling her already unruly hair.

  “Cut that out,” she said trying to tousle him back. He was too tall and nimble. “If you want to think of it like that.”

  “All right, then, Professor. Let’s do it,” he said rapping twice on the table in front of the sofa.

  “Excellent. What should we do?” She took out her phone and opened her notes.

  “Hey, this is your project. I’m just a simple sidekick.”

  “There’s nothing simple about you, Nick. Now help me think.” She poised a finger over the phone.

  “We could plan how to steal back the sugar,” he said.

  “Interesting idea. That would involve a lot of equipment. Do you want to include getting the sugar back into our desserts?”

  “It would just be theoretical equipment. I hadn’t thought about what we’d do with it. Write it down and we’ll figure that out later.” He pointed to the phone.

  She thumbed the screen. “Right. Very cheap, theoretical equipment. Well within our budget.” She grinned. “We could plan our own explosion.”

  “Now that seems a bit over the top. Although who doesn’t like explosions? Say, did you ever play that videogame Explosions!?” He punched his hand in the air and mouthed “Pow!”

  “Never heard of it, and again, theoretical. I mean actually doing an explosion, not the game.”

  “Yes, but it’s an awesome game. I’ll show you,” he said, alternately pressing and flicking his phone, which he’d retrieved before they’d gone to the lab. He held it up for her to see. The screen was full of oranges and yellows moving up and outward, getting larger and noisier and swirlier until he stopped the action.

  “Cool.” As if. She didn’t like first-person shooters, although she couldn’t tell if the game actually fell into that category. There were plenty of other ways to make something explode than a gun, of course. This was something they’d have to study if they were going to get to the bottom of the mystery. Then another idea popped into her head. “We could kidnap the cook.”

  “I like it! Write it down.” He motioned to her phone.

  “Ah, I get it now. You like tormenting people. This is the only idea that involves a human.” She made no move to write anything.

  “Not so, Professor. Stealing the sugar means that someone is a victim, and a bomb is a crime against someone’s property. Write it down.”

  “Don’t split hairs. You love it and you know it.” She got in a surprise tousle but dropped her phone. Luckily the carpet was thick and it didn’t break.

  “Hey, no fair,” he said trying to tousle back. “You found me out.”

  “Actually, this is important. It takes a different kind of criminal to commit a crime against a person from one who commits a property crime.”

  “Yes, good point.” He got up and started pacing. She followed him around the room with her eyes.

  “Let’s think about the type of person who would create an explosion,” she said. “There’s a good chance someone will be injured or killed as a result.”

  “That’s true, but when you steal sugar there’s close to no chance.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “So the bomber is a ruthless fanatic and the thief is more interested in money.”

  “That makes sense.” He leaned against the windowsill and absently played his game.

  “To kidnap someone you’re really both, aren’t you?” She held her hand over her eyes to shut out the glare from the window. “It’s hard to see you against the light like that.”

  “Pretty much, yes. Oh, sorry,” he said moving away.

  “So if we plan a kidnapping, we’ll be able to understand both types of criminals.”

  “I don’t know. A thief is one thing. A kidnapper is something else.” He thumbed furiously, then stabbed one last time. “Success!”

  “Let’s just try it and see where it takes us,” said Amanda. “I’m writing all this down.”

  “All right, since it’s only theoretical. Can I see the list?” he said, craning his neck.

  “Here,” she said, handing him her notes. “Now, let’s say we’re going to kidnap the cook. We’ll hold her for ransom, which means we have to target someone who has a lot of money. And someone who cares enough about her to pay that money to get her back.”

  “Yes, which in the case of the cook hardly seems likely,” he said, looking out the window again.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Whoever is in on this sugar-stealing plot with her obviously has connections. She needs equipment, places to store the sugar, and fences. There’s no way she planned this all herself. She’s working with someone who has brains. What are you looking at out there?” She got up and joined him at the window.

  “Nothing. Just moving around,” he said, returning to his chair and falling into it with a thud. “I get restless just sitting sometimes. Good thinking. But we’d need to find out who that is. You don’t suppose it’s one of the teachers, do you? A mole?”

  “Now there’s an interesting thought,” she said. “Do you think that’s possible? I’ll bet it’s Thrillkill.”

  “Thrillkill? Not a chance. If it’s any of them, I’d say Kindseth or Ducey.” He drew a happy face in the condensation on the window.

  “Really? They seem the least likely of anyone. They’re so nice.” She moved forward as if anticipating some juicy gossip.

  “Exactly. That’s why it’s probably one of them. Assuming there’s actually a mole, of course.” He added a mustache to the happy face.

  “But Thrillkill is so mean,” said Amanda. “He seems like the perfect criminal. And his position as headmaster not only gives him access to everything, but also makes a great cover. I think it’s him.” She flashed a huge “Isn’t making up stories fun?” grin.

  “Care to make it interesting?” said Nick, rubbing his thumb against his fingers in a money gesture.

  “You’re on! What should we bet?”

  “I know,” he said. “If it’s Kindseth or Ducey, you have to get a picture of that weird Professor Feeney who teaches the criminals and their methods class without her Goth makeup. If it’s Thrillkill, I’ll steal his hair dryer.”

  Amanda thought Nick was getting the better deal out of that one, but she didn’t believe she’d lose so it didn’t matter. “What if there is no mole?” she said.

  “Then we’ll both cut class and go into town and get some real chocolate. Sound fair?” He erased the happy face and wrote “Clean me” on the window.

  “Perfect,” she said. “So now we’ve got a theoretical crime to investigate, except it isn’t theoretical because we’re already investigating the cook.”

  “Excellent.” He gave her a thumb-finger circle.

  “And we know that our first task is to find out who she’s working with. Next we need to figure out a way to grab her and a place to hold her.” She looked at him expectantly.

  “We have a place.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t mean that awful slime-moldy secret room, do you?” she said.

  “The very same.” He was obviously enjoying this.

  “Well, you can clean it out. I’m not going in there.” She folded her arms in so-there fashion.

  “Just theoretical, remember?” he said.

  “Okay
. You can theoretically clean it out.”

  “No problem. Where’s my theoretical broom?” He looked around as if searching for the phantom implement.

  “So how do we grab her?” she said, pretending to get the broom for him.

  “We need to do it in a way that no one sees us,” he said, air-accepting it and sweeping.

  “How about this? If we follow her and find her in a place where no one is about, we can take her without anyone being the wiser.”

  “Huzzah!” He held up the imaginary broom like a trophy.

  “Well, look who’s here. We thought you’d gone back to America,” said Amphora, entering the room with Ivy and Nigel on her heels and looking none too pleased.

  “Yes,” said Ivy. “Where have you been?” Her tone was far less accusing than Amphora’s. More hurt.

  “Investigating,” said Amanda putting her phone down. “You?”

  “Investigating,” said Amphora eyeing the phone suspiciously.

  “Find anything?” said Amanda, following Amphora’s gaze and noting her expression. Why was she being so nosy all of a sudden?

  “Not really. No one can seem to identify the point of origin,” said Amphora coldly.

  “Doesn’t that seem weird to you?” said Amanda.

  “It sure does,” said Ivy. “The explosion had to come from somewhere.”

  “So what have you found?” said Amphora.

  Nick looked at Amanda. Her face was blank.

  “Not much,” he said. “You?”

  Amphora looked skeptical. “Nothing really.” Her tone implied that they’d actually found quite a lot. “Have you heard anything about Professor Pickle?”

  “No,” said Amphora. “No one seems to know what happened to him. Boy, this school is harder than I thought it would be. Nobody knows anything.”

  “We’ll get there,” said Nick.

  “I’m sure we will,” said Amphora narrowing her eyes.

  When the girls had left, Nick turned to Amanda. “Why didn’t you tell them anything?”

  “Why didn’t you?”