Something else occurred to her. If the glasses worked the way she thought they might, they might also allow her to get secrets out of Ramon’s brain.
If she was right, and that was a big if, she needed to get her hands on those glasses ASAP, both to prevent Stencil from doing whatever he planned to do with them and to help her find out what Ramon knew.
She snapped a picture of the sheet, carefully closed the safe, and made her way back outside. Then she ran to where Ivy was waiting, sloshing through puddles all the way.
Ivy was excited to hear Amanda’s theory. “We need to talk to Basilica,” she said. “Find out more about those glasses. Let’s phone her right now.”
“And tell her I broke into Stencil’s house?” said Amanda. “She’ll wonder why. I can see a web of lies forming here. I don’t want to get involved in that.”
“What we go through to keep people from knowing we’re detectives,” said Ivy. “No wonder Professor Kindseth got into so much trouble when he refused to tell Charlotte the truth about Legatum. It gets difficult sometimes.”
Amanda sighed. “Should we come up with a cover story?”
Ivy mashed her lips together. “Don’t tell her you broke into Stencil’s house. Just tell her you were thinking about the glasses and wondered why someone might steal them. Ask her . . . wait. I’ll phone her. I’ll make up something.”
As it turned out she didn’t have to. Basilica was distracted and didn’t seem at all curious. She had a photo shoot to go to and was running out the door. She told Ivy that she didn’t feel any different when she wore the glasses, other than really cool, but that was because of the gold frames. She had liked them, the photographer had liked them, and that was it. She didn’t even ask why she wanted to know.
“Well, that doesn’t tell us anything but at least we know that Taffeta has the glasses,” said Ivy after hanging up. “Or suspect it anyway.”
“I don’t understand,” said Amanda. “Why would Stencil break into Basilica’s house if he thought Taffeta had them?”
“Because he didn’t know that at the time,” said Ivy. “I don’t know how he knew that Basilica had them, and I don’t know how he knew that Taffeta—wait a minute. That’s it! Stencil didn’t break in. Taffeta did! And he knows it.”
“Why in the world would Taffeta break into Basilica’s house?” said Amanda. “She doesn’t even know who she is.”
“Maybe she does,” said Ivy. “And that means she has the glasses.”
“And a whole lot more than that,” said Amanda.
So That’s What Happened
Simon was worrying about his parcel. He’d thought mailing the newfound Detective’s Bible page to himself would protect it from the ravenous peacocks who’d been following him, but when it hadn’t turned up day after day, week after week, he’d had to revise his outlook. It seemed a simple matter to take a package mailed at the Windermere post office, drive it up the hill, and deliver it to Legatum, but apparently that wasn’t the case. So what had happened to the darn thing?
It was odd that individual pages kept turning up but not the entire Bible. Ramon had claimed Nick had discovered it in the pit where David had thrown it and had made off with it, but as dubious a fellow as Nick could be, Simon didn’t believe that, especially coming from a bozo like Ramon. Still he wondered if it was possible to fish for the book as Ramon had described. Legatum had had the pit dredged more than once to no effect, but that didn’t mean something hadn’t occurred before they’d got there. Perhaps someone had retrieved the thing earlier. He wanted to find out if such a maneuver would actually work.
To conduct his experiment he would need a fishing pole. That meant the basements. Surely the décor gremlins, Noel and Alexei, would have one. They kept everything under the sun down there, including much rarer and more exotic items, such as antique obelisks and weird fossils. He hadn’t had a chat with them for a while. Keeping on their good side was shrewd politics. He’d go find them and ask.
In the deepest reaches of the basements he discovered Noel in the musical instruments room. Simon wasn’t the least bit musical but Ivy was, which meant he was deeply interested in anything along that line, and what in the world was Noel doing? He’d got the top of a grand piano open and the strings were hanging out all over the place.
“Greetings,” said Simon. “That’s quite a mess you’ve got there.”
Noel looked up with a confused expression on his face. “Oh, it’s you, Binkle. Say, come over here for a minute and hold this, will you?” He held up a string.
Simon tromped over to the piano and peered inside. “What are you doing? Did something happen?”
“Just hold this please,” said Noel.
Simon grabbed the string and pulled tight.
“No, not like that,” said Noel. “Just keep it out of the way.”
“Oh,” said Simon. He felt like an idiot standing there holding a loose piano string. But he was too curious not to ask. “What are you doing?”
“I dropped something. I need to get it out.”
“What?” He peered deeper. There was a teensy tiny frog inside. “Oh, I see it. Wait, it’s alive!”
“That’s right, it’s alive, and it’s going to be a disaster if I don’t get it out. It belongs to Professor Pargeter and it’s very valuable. It’s also poisonous so don’t touch it.”
“Really?” said Simon, reaching for the animal. “How poisonous?”
“What did I just say?” said Noel slapping Simon’s hand.
“Oh, sorry,” said Simon. He withdrew the hand but stared intently at the little thing, which was obviously so frightened it was turning colors.
“Now look what you’ve done,” said Noel. “It’s brought the poison to the surface. Stand back or it will spit.”
Simon dropped the string and stood back. Noel moved away from the piano as well and sighed.
“How did it get in there?” said Simon.
“Never mind,” said Noel. “The point is that it’s in there now and I have to get it out—alive. Alexei will kill me if anything happens to it. Not to mention what Professor Pargeter will do. They’re uh, well, you know.”
Simon had heard that Alexei was enamored of the toxicology professor but considering the obvious fact of his incompatible sexual preference hadn’t believed it. And being Simon, that is having no tact whatsoever, he said, “With a woman?”
Noel looked him up and down and said, “I will not dignify that remark with an answer. Now help me get this animal out of here unscathed.”
“Uh, have you tried vacuuming it out?” said Simon.
Noel gave him a disgusted look. “I said alive.”
“Well, you could use a gentle vacuum.”
“Forget it, Binkle,” said Noel. “You’re no help whatsoever. What do you want anyway?”
Simon brightened. “A fishing pole.”
Noel shook his head. “My life is falling apart and you want a fishing pole. Very well, go to Room 72 and pick one out. If it isn’t back by the end of the day you are banished from my basements forever, do you hear? Now off you go.”
Simon broke into a run. The day was growing long and if he didn’t get to the quarry soon he’d have to wait a whole twenty-four hours more. Since a delay like that was completely unacceptable he’d have to pour on the speed.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. Four o’clock. It would be dark by six. The quarry was miles away. Skateboarding would be too slow. Maybe he could get someone to drive him. Whom should he ask? Fern? Professor Kindseth?
He found the fishing rod in Room 72 and raced back up the stairs. As he opened the door he almost hit Scapulus Holmes in the face.
“Oh, sorry,” he said.
“Going fishing?” said Holmes, looking at the rod doubtfully.
“Conducting an experiment. I need to find a driver.”
“Where are you going?” said Holmes.
“To the quarry,” said Simon.
“You’re
going to see if Moriarty could have fished the Bible out of the pit, aren’t you?” said Holmes with annoyance. “Trying to prove his innocence, are you?”
“Nope,” said Simon. “Trying to prove mine.”
Homes eyed him up and down. Then he got a glint in his eye and said, “Come with me.”
After Simon had picked up a large book to use for his test, A History of Soil Evidence in UK Criminal Cases, Holmes led him out the front door and past the guard gate. He picked up a rock on the side of the road and marched to a Citroen that was parked in front of a large gray house. He glanced around, then bashed in the window.
Simon gaped in horror. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Shut it,” said Holmes. He reached inside and opened the door, then pulled off his shirt and used it to sweep out the glass, just as Nick had done with an unfortunate Vauxhall a few weeks before. “Get in,” he said, motioning to the passenger side.
Simon was wide-eyed. “You’re going to steal a car?”
“You said you wanted a ride,” said Holmes, shaking out his shirt and putting it back on.
“Not like that,” said Simon eyeing the broken glass doubtfully.
“Fine, suit yourself,” said Holmes, strolling away from the mess.
Simon stared at the broken window, Holmes, and the rod in his hand. Should he or shouldn’t he? He knew it was wrong and yet . . . the deed had already been done. There was no taking it back.
“Where are you going?” he said. “It’s getting late.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Holmes, sliding into the car and fiddling under the dash while Simon got into the passenger side.
It was obvious that Holmes had no idea what he was doing. “Move over,” said Simon. “I’ll get it started in two seconds.”
Holmes grinned. “I knew you were all right, Binkle.”
“You really hate him, don’t you?” said Simon as they sped toward the quarry.
“I don’t hate anyone,” said Holmes, swerving for no apparent reason. He was not a good driver.
“Sure you do,” said Simon. “I can understand that. I have mixed feelings about the guy myself.”
“If you’re talking about Moriarty then sure, I hate him. He’s a criminal.”
Simon turned toward Holmes. “Don’t play games.”
“Fine,” said Holmes. “I’m angry. Who wouldn’t be?”
“I get that,” said Simon. “But the dreads, the muscles, those aren’t you.”
“They are now,” said Holmes. He pulled over to the side of the road and let the car idle. “Look, Simon, you’re her friend. There’s only so much I can say to you.”
“I understand that,” said Simon, “but you do realize you’re overreacting. I mean stealing a car. Come on, it’s so obvious that you’re trying to be like him.”
“You hotwired it,” said Holmes. “You’re just as culpable as I am.”
“Prove it,” said Simon. “And that isn’t the point.”
“Don’t go all Ducey on me,” said Holmes.
“It isn’t Ducey, it’s Mukherjee.”
Holmes glared at him. “Want to go back then?”
Simon sighed. “Just pull out, okay? I want to see if it’s possible to grab hold of a book with a fishing rod. It will just take a second.”
Holmes gave him a look and got back onto the road. “He didn’t do it, you know.”
Simon looked at him sharply. “Nick? I know that. I just want to see if someone else could have. I’m surprised you’re defending him though.”
“I’m not defending him. Just stating a fact.”
“Oh really? How do you know it’s a fact? You didn’t take the Bible, did you?”
“No,” said Holmes. “I just know, that’s all.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to tell me you think there’s something good about Nick?”
Holmes stopped the car and turned to Simon again. “There are a lot of good things about the guy. I just don’t like the fact that there are fewer good things about me.” He stepped on the accelerator and wove back onto the street.
“Well I’ll be,” said Simon. “You’re all right, Holmes. You really are.”
Holmes kept his eyes straight ahead. “Whoop de doo.”
Holmes pulled into the quarry parking area and the two boys jogged to the pit. It was still full of muddy water, although the boulders had been removed. Simon fished in his pocket and attached a gizmo and a hook to the end of the line, then threw the book in. He waited a moment so it could sink to the bottom, then cast the hook into the yucky water. With his other hand he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
“Purple icon, second screen,” he said, handing it to Holmes.
“Good thinking,” said Holmes, grabbing the phone and bringing up Simon’s app. “Hm, seems adequate. Not exactly rocket science of course.”
“It’ll do,” said Simon.
“You need to let more line out,” said Holmes, checking the display. “The sensor is nowhere near the bottom. Or the book. I can see it way down there. What was it? Swedish Police Procedure from 1985 to 2011?”
Simon let more line out. “Something like that. Not a popular title at any rate. Hm, I’m not sure the parameters are exactly the same without those boulders. Shoulda brought Clive. He could start another avalanche with his acoustic levitator.”
“It doesn’t hurt to try this way,” said Holmes.
“It does if you get caught for stealing that car,” said Simon.
“Don’t worry. We’ll wipe the prints off.”
“Bah,” said Simon. “I’d catch you in two seconds.”
Holmes snorted. “I don’t think so. Don’t forget who I am.”
Simon gave him an icy look. “I didn’t think you were the type to trade on your ancestry, Scapulus.”
“I’m not,” said Holmes, undaunted. “But that doesn’t stop other people from doing it.”
“You—hang on. It’s stuck!”
“I’ll say,” said Holmes, watching Simon’s screen. “There’s some kind of a cavity in there. You’re right at the edge of it. The line must be tangled.”
“You’re kidding,” said Simon. “You mean another hole?”
“More than that,” said Holmes, wide-eyed. “A tunnel. There’s an opening off to the side. So that’s where it went.”
“How far can you see with that sensor?” said Holmes.
“Depends,” said Simon. “If I can bounce the signal off the walls and descry the space, then I can probe it. If it’s open-ended I might have a problem.”
“I can’t tell if it’s closed or open,” said Holmes. “I definitely don’t see the Bible though. I see your book but that’s it.”
“You would if it were there,” said Simon. “The app would be able to tell.”
“Hm,” said Holmes. “We need to probe that opening. Who knows how far it goes.”
“You don’t suppose . . .”
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Holmes. “I’m thinking it too.”
“That the earthquake opened up a channel down there?”
“Yup. And carried the Bible down to the lake.”
“That would explain how the peacocks got the pages,” said Simon. “The rest of the Bible must be in Lake Windermere.”
“If it is, I don’t know how we’re going to find it,” said Holmes. “We can’t exactly dredge the lake.”
“Say, you don’t suppose it’s stuck in the channel, do you?” said Simon. “Whether or not it goes all the way to the lake. No, wait a minute. It would have to go that far or the peacocks wouldn’t have got the pages. We’ve got ourselves an underground stream, Scapulus. It has to be miles long. Now that is really something.”
“I’m surprised we didn’t think of that,” said Holmes.
“You and me both,” said Simon. “I normally would have. It was probably all those spores. Remember how crazy they made us?”
“They didn’t affect me,” said Holmes, sniffing.
> “The hell they didn’t,” said Simon. The bloke sure had a selective memory when it came to Amanda. Until the earthquake those two had hated each other. The spores, which you couldn’t avoid inhaling, had changed everything. He wondered if they would have got together otherwise. Amanda had always been meant to be with Nick. He’d seen it that first day when she’d come back from the ladies’ with his jacket—on both of them. Anyone with half a brain could have told they were made for each other. Anyone but the two of them, that is.
After they had wiped their prints off the car and returned it to its original spot Holmes said, “I don’t think we should tell anyone about our findings yet.”
“Why not?” said Simon, fiddling with his cowlick. In addition to its usual misbehavior it was all dusty.
“Let’s find the Bible first. We might be wrong. I wouldn’t want to get people’s hopes up.”
“Not even Clive?” said Simon. He always shared things with his best friend.
“Not just yet,” said Holmes.
Simon eyed him suspiciously. “You have something up your sleeve.”
“No I don’t,” said Holmes, in a way that convinced Simon not one bit.
“Look, Scapulus,” he said. “I know you’re up to something. I will give you the benefit of the doubt this once, but if you hurt Amanda you’ll have me to deal with. Are we clear?”
Holmes laughed wryly. “Crystal.”
10
The Ivy-forte
Lila Lester was excited. She was bringing a bevy of resources to the cartel, not the least of them the detectives’ secrets she’d been privy to. She hadn’t seen The Detective’s Bible but she knew a lot about the school. This information, she was sure, would lead her and Waltz to the stolen secrets and their metadata, and probably the lost Bible as well, if indeed it still existed. So she decided she’d sit down to analyze everything she possessed and see where it might lead. Then she would draft a killer plan.
Amanda Lester and the Gold Spectacles Surprise Page 8
