After what seemed like forever, Simon was back with them. Obviously he wasn’t going to follow the cook anymore, so in order to solve that mystery they would have to change tack. But the more urgent problem was Amanda’s father, and she thought it was time to ask for help.
Simon was devastated to hear the news. He had all kinds of questions, most of which Amanda had no answers for, although she did tell him about the secret room and the watch. Of course by now he knew about the cook as well.
“There’s obviously a connection,” he said waiting for Logic to start.
“You mean between the cook and my father?” said Amanda, who was finally able to talk properly again. She didn’t mind going into it now because all the kids were making noise. The din made it easier for them to keep their conversation private.
“Yes. She steals sugar and stashes it in the secret room. The sugar disappears and your father’s watch is found. Then the cook dies with her head in a sugar bag. Ipso facto.”
“It does seem connected,” said Amanda, looking around to make sure Professor Ducey hadn’t arrived. “But how? You’re not implying that my father was stealing sugar too?”
“No, of course not,” said Simon, playing an imaginary piano on the desk. “But maybe the people who were working with the cook took your father. You know—”
“What?”
“What if there’s a sugar cartel that’s manipulating the supply and price of sugar?” He sat up straight and looked at her as if he’d just had the best idea in the world.
“I actually thought of that but it seems so weird,” she said.
Undeterred by the fact that she’d got there first, Simon persisted. “Not necessarily. Your father is known for prosecuting criminals. Has he ever tried someone from organized crime?”
“I don’t think so. No, wait. There was one summer where they sent me to camp, and I wasn’t around when he talked about his cases. Maybe something happened then.” She didn’t want to admit that there were lots of times he said stuff she didn’t listen to. What if he had revealed something significant and she’d missed it?
“Yes, and if that’s the case maybe those guys have some connections here.”
“I see where you’re going with this. And the connections have grabbed my father to get revenge.” If only she could remember a name.
“Or to send him a message to stay away,” said Simon.
“Yes. That makes a lot of sense,” she said, filing away her guilt for later. “Let’s go with this theory for the moment. How does that explain pink sugar?”
“Good point. That’s a weird one. Maybe the school uses some kind of party sugar.”
“Is that something you guys use over here?” she said.
“No. Never seen it before.” Just because he hadn’t seen it didn’t mean there wasn’t any such thing. Poor Simon. Had he ever been to a birthday party? It was hard to picture him with a lot of friends, although she was coming to the conclusion that he definitely deserved them.
“Well then, maybe not. Unless it’s some kind of institutional sugar that we wouldn’t have seen at home.”
“I don’t see how. Why would they make sugar pink for schools and hospitals and places like that?”
“I don’t think they even use sugar in hospitals.” She’d never been in one, at least not since the day she was born, but with all the hoopla about how bad sugar was for you, which she didn’t subscribe to but knew that other people did, it didn’t seem logical that they would. “It doesn’t add up. Let’s check it out on the Internet.”
“Okay, hang on a sec.” Simon pressed a few keys on his phone and looked through the search results. “I don’t see anything about pink sugar being used for institutions. There’s something about special party sugar.”
“Party sugar? Why would the school be using party sugar? And anyway, have you ever seen any food here with pink sugar in it?”
“I’m not sure how we’d know.” He flicked through a few more results.
“Well, for one thing, yellow cake would end up more of a puce.”
“Good point. All right then, forget the idea of party sugar. Maybe a different kind of sugar beet?” He pressed a few more keys and flicked.
“The Web doesn’t say anything about that.” She was now searching too.
“Maybe she just threw some food coloring in there then,” he said.
“What did you say?” She looked up.
“I said maybe she just threw some pink food coloring in the sugar.”
“That’s it! The chemistry of the sugar is different,” she said.
“Hm, good point. Maybe it’s been treated in some way. Hey, we can run some tests in the lab.”
“Great idea! Simon, I could kiss you!”
Simon went as red as a sugar beet, or at least a regular beet, and stopped talking.
Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy Page 62
