Chapter 27
Putting Two and Two Together
When they all met back at the common room, Amanda brought everyone up to date on the facts. “Let’s summarize what we know so far,” she said. “Maybe we can make sense of all of this.
“The cook was sneaking around with bags of sugar she took from the pantry. These ended up disappearing. We assume she stole them, but we don’t know why or what she did with them. I wish there were a blackboard in here.”
“Hang on,” said Simon, racing for the door. “I’ll get us one.”
“He’s nice,” said Ivy, when he’d disappeared.
“Yes,” said Amanda. “He’s a good guy.”
Amphora looked at her feet. Amanda suspected that she and Simon still weren’t getting along.
Clack, clack, clack. Simon came back through the door with a portable blackboard in tow. The chalk on its ledge rattled as he navigated over rug edges and floor seams.
“Here ya go,” he said, brushing some dust off his hands and getting it all over the group.
“Simon,” whined Amphora. “We’re sitting right here.”
“Oh, sorry.” He sat down with his hands underneath his butt as if he were trying to contain the dust on them.
“Thanks, Simon,” said Amanda, standing and picking up a stubby piece of chalk. “Nothing longer than this, huh?” Simon started to get up. “Never mind. This will do.” She began to write on the board, which still had bits of letters left over from its previous use. It looked like someone had been discussing prisons and jails, but she couldn’t be sure.
Squeak. Everyone covered their ears as Amanda wrote. “We found spots of pink powdered sugar around the school. This sugar was different from the white sugar in the bags, not only in appearance and texture, but also because it had been treated with some kind of a virus by person or persons unknown for unknown reasons.”
“The glusoheptaminecytorazzmatazz virus,” said Simon.
“Easy for you to say,” said Ivy, grinning.
Squeak. “There is also the secret room Nick and I found with bags of the pink sugar in it, and the slime mold that was eating the pink sugar,” said Amanda, drawing a really dumb-looking picture of the gluppy things. They looked like lava lamp lumps or some half-formed jello bits. “So probably all this pink sugar was stored there and the spots we saw were just leakage. That pink sugar has also disappeared, except for the samples we collected. We do know that my father was kept in that room because we found his watch there, but we’re not sure exactly when. We don’t know how he got there or who took him.”
“What is that you’re drawing anyway?” said Amphora.
“It’s slime mold,” said Amanda. “Never mind. I’m in a hurry.” She suddenly had visions of Jill and Laurie and the stick dogs. Sometimes Amphora reminded her of them. “Anyway, we also know that the cook made some kind of weird phone call. And now she’s been murdered and her body has disappeared. It’s probably safe to say that the cook was killed because of whatever has been going on with the sugar, and probably with my father’s kidnapping as well. I mean her head was in a bag of sugar. That’s a message if I ever saw one.”
“Yes,” said Amphora. “And that blood Simon saw, I’m afraid to say, was probably your father’s, Amanda. I’m so sorry.” Now she was being nice. You could never tell with her.
“Thanks,” said Amanda, deciding that Amphora meant well but was just gauche sometimes. “Unfortunately, you’re probably right. Unless it was the cook’s or whoever she might have been working with. Although that doesn’t make sense. Simon saw the blood weeks ago and she’s only been killed just now. I suppose it’s possible it was just an injured animal or something and has nothing to do with any of this.” She cringed thinking about the poor squirrel or bird it might have been.
“Probably true,” said Ivy. “There’s no reason to think it was your father’s. That was quite a while ago.”
Squeak. “Of course there’s also the explosion and Professor Pickle’s disappearance,” said Amanda, illustrating her point with a drawing of a pickle that looked like something she didn’t want to name. “Don’t say it, Amphora.”
“Who, me? I’m not saying a word,” said Amphora eyeing the shape and grimacing.
“We suspect the slime mold used to live over by the garage and the explosion destroyed their habitat,” said Amanda. “That’s why they ended up near the pink sugar and the secret room.”
“Do we think the explosion and the pink sugar are connected?” asked Simon. “If the explosion was the class project, it doesn’t seem likely. The teachers wouldn’t murder someone for a class project.”
“No,” said Amanda. “I don’t think they are. And my father—” She started to choke up. “That’s not part of the class project. No way.”
“No,” said Ivy. “Of course not. But it does seem that the sugar, the cook, and your father are connected somehow. The explosion is separate. It has to be.”
“And Professor Pickle?” said Amanda, erasing the shape so as to forestall any more adverse reactions from the group.
“Tricky,” said Simon. “We don’t have a clue about what’s going on with him. It’s possible he’s connected to the sugar thing, but his car was also at the center of the explosion. That would be some coincidence.”
“He may have nothing to do with either of these things,” said Amanda.
“That doesn’t seem likely,” said Ivy. “His car . . .”
Squeak. Amanda attempted to draw a picture of Professor Pickle’s car. “If that’s the case, he’s connected with the class project somehow. But it does seem weird. His classes have been suspended because they couldn’t get anyone else to teach them. Would the teachers go that far? Making a teacher disappear while he’s needed at the school?”
“Who can tell about these teachers?” said Simon. “You wouldn’t think they’d blow up a building and everything in it just as an exercise either, would you?”
“No,” said Amphora. “That’s pretty loony.”
“Do you suppose Professor Pickle is your father’s kidnapper?” said Simon.
“Oh boy,” said Amanda. “That’s a mind-boggling idea. I don’t see how. Why would one of the teachers do something so terrible?”
“I don’t believe it,” said Ivy.
“Me either,” said Amphora. “The man is weird, but that doesn’t make him a criminal.”
“But someone around here is,” said Amanda. “Someone killed that cook and took her body. That sounds like a criminal to me.” She shuddered.
“Back to the project,” said Simon. “We haven’t begun to solve that. Who blew up the garage and why?”
“Good question,” said Amanda. “We seem to have gotten stuck on it. We haven’t been able to find any trace of a bomb. We’re not sure if Professor Pickle was the target, although he seems to have had a lot of enemies. We have no other likely targets, motives, or suspects. But let’s see if we can figure out this sugar thing and the cook’s murder. Maybe that will lead us to all the answers. I think we should start by profiling the cook.”
“Yes,” said Simon. “Who was she, and why was she involved in whatever this is?”
“I can tell you something,” said Ivy.
“What’s that?” said the others all at once.
“She isn’t really a cook.”
“You can say that again,” said Simon sticking his finger into his throat. Everyone laughed. Not all that appetizing to begin with, the food had definitely deteriorated since the beginning of the term. Sometimes Amanda was so frustrated she wanted to invade the kitchen and do the cooking herself, although she wasn’t that good. She’d never cooked for more than about four people anyway and couldn’t imagine what it would be like preparing meals for more than two hundred. The thought made her shiver. Maybe they did have something to thank the cook for.
“No, I mean she really isn’t a cook,” said Ivy, who herself looked thinner. Apparently no one liked the food these days.
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nbsp; “How do you know?” said Amphora.
“I heard her talking.”
“What did she say?” said Amanda.
“She said, ‘I had to fake that reference. As you know I’m no cook.’”
“Well, she must have known something about cooking,” said Amphora, “or how else could she feed all these people?”
“Her assistant,” said Ivy. “She was doing all the cooking.”
This was new. Why hadn’t Ivy spoken up before? “Why would she go along with that and not tell?” said Amanda, suddenly noticing that today’s decoration was 1950s sitcom, complete with a starburst clock over the fireplace.
“Because the cook had something over her,” said Ivy.
“Blackmail?” said Simon. “This place is really messed up, isn’t it?”
He had a point. Every two minutes some other weird thing happened or was revealed. Amanda felt dizzy just thinking about everything she was having to keep track of. She pulled out her phone and made more notes. She certainly couldn’t keep these gazillion facts and theories in her head. “You heard her say this?”
“I heard enough,” said Ivy.
“What did she have on the cook?” said Simon, standing up and pacing.
“I don’t know. What’s wrong with your foot, Simon?”
“Nothing,” said Simon. “I just tripped a little. You heard that, did you?”
“You know what this means?” said Amphora.
“What?” said Simon, putting one foot carefully in front of the other as if to measure them.
“She was the one who killed the cook,” said Amphora. “She had a very strong motive.” She looked pleased with herself. Amanda hadn’t seen her look like that before. Suddenly she realized that she’d been unfair to her friend. She seemed to be hurting and Amanda hadn’t even noticed. She was glad Amphora had found something to feel good about, even if it was on such a miserable subject as this one.
“She did,” said Ivy, “but she wasn’t the one.”
“How do you know?” said Amanda.
“Because I know who did,” said Ivy.
“You know?” said Amanda. “Who was it?”
“The doctor.”
“How do you know?” said Simon.
“I heard his footsteps,” said Ivy. “Just like I can hear yours right now, Simon.”
Simon stopped pacing and turned toward Ivy with a “Cut it out” look. Amanda stifled a laugh.
“Where? When?” said Amphora.
“In the secret room. I heard them through the bathroom wall.”
“Okaaaaaay,” said Amanda. “And how did you know it was the doctor?”
“You can see me doing it right now. I can tell people’s gaits, weights, and shoes,” said Ivy. It was amazing enough that Ivy could identify footsteps at all, but to tell whose was whose through a wall and on another floor was mind-boggling.
“Wow, you are a genius,” said Amanda. “But how do you know that just because the doctor was there he was the one?”
“I heard him say so,” said Ivy.
“Of course you did,” said Amanda. “Silly me. When was this?”
“At the time I wasn’t sure, but when I went to see him about my cold, I heard him talking really softly on the phone. He said, ‘It’s all been taken care of. We won’t have to worry about her anymore. Just a little blunt force trauma.’”
“That’s not really admitting it,” said Simon. “It’s pretty circumstantial.” He plopped down in front of an antiquated-looking vacuum-tube TV and played with the knobs.
“It’s good enough for the moment,” said Ivy. “Please don’t do that, Simon. It’s distracting.”
Simon looked embarrassed and stopped what he was doing.
“For our working theory,” said Amanda. “We’ll need more proof than that, of course.”
“Of course,” said Ivy. “And we’ll get it.”
“I have no doubt of that, Ivy,” said Amanda. “You’re our secret weapon.” She grinned. “So the doctor did it. He was obviously in on the whole sugar thing, although we don’t know why. The cook wasn’t really a cook. Is he really a doctor?”
“I’m pretty sure he is,” said Ivy.
“He is,” said Amphora. “My parents know him.”
“Your parents know him?” said Simon. “I guess they were fooled too then.”
“Yes,” said Amphora. “They’re going to be pretty unhappy when they find out.” Amanda was feeling bad for her again. Things hadn’t been going so well for her roommate lately. She’d have to try to cheer her up.
“They were probably doing it for the money, then, right?” said Amanda.
“That’s a good working hypothesis,” said Simon, attempting to look into the heart of the TV’s vacuum tube.
“One thing I don’t understand,” said Amphora, “is how they hired her. If she isn’t a cook . . .”
“I was wondering that,” said Amanda. “But you did hear her talking about a reference, Ivy.”
“Yes, that must be it,” said Amphora. “You know, we’ve got to tell Thrillkill about the doctor. I must say I’m not looking forward to my parents hearing about this.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Amanda. “This just shows us how easy it is to be fooled. We’re going to have to be extra careful from now on.”
But when they went to tell the headmaster what they’d discovered, Nick intercepted them. “You can’t go in there,” he said, motioning toward the hospital.
“Why not?” said Amanda.
“It’s a crime scene,” said Nick. “The doctor’s been murdered.”
Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy Page 69
