Amanda Lester and the Red Spider Rumpus Read online

  “She’s still teaching History of Detectives, is she?”

  “Actually no. Since Professor Also came back from Scotland Thrillkill gave the class to her. My mom isn’t teaching anything at the moment.”

  “Does she seem to have a hidden agenda?”

  “Other than making everything about her? Actually yes. She was the one who poisoned the peacocks.”

  Nick turned and punched the window so hard Amanda thought it would break. The woman in front of him was not amused. She harrumphed, got up, and left her seat. Amanda fully expected the porter to show up and lecture them.

  “Tell me you’re lying,” he said.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “She really poisoned the peacocks?”

  She nodded. Nick looked like he was trying to hold something back.

  “You can say it,” she said. “She’s evil.”

  “Nothing to do with you could be evil.” She was astonished. No one had ever talked to her like that, not even Holmes, who had loved her forever. She wanted to cover him with kisses. “There’s obviously something wrong though. Did she say why she did it?”

  “She thought they were distracting me from my studies.”

  “You’re kidding. She’d kill those beautiful birds for no reason? What did you say when you found out?”

  Amanda didn’t want to discuss this. It was too close to her discovery that Lila had also tried to kill Nick. Her mother had sabotaged the helmet meant to protect him from Simon Binkle’s dangerous history machine.

  “What do I ever do? I ran away. Every time I try to talk to her I lose, so I don’t anymore.”

  Nick looked her full in the face, gently cupped her chin, and lifted her head ever so slightly. “I’m going to fix this,” he said. “I will not let anything happen to you. Do you understand?”

  Amanda nodded but she wanted to cheer. The Nick Muffet she knew and loved was back

  When Amanda returned to the school that evening Holmes practically pounced on her. He had come back from the holidays early to work on the code and was so excited he seemed to shine.

  “Where have you been? This is huge! Say, you look sunburned. Have you been outside?”

  Ignoring his questions she said, “Tell me.”

  He grabbed her hand and led her to the cyberforensics classroom—his favorite hangout. He sat her down, shoved his tablet at her, and said, “Read this.” Then he pulled up a chair and sat beside her, really close.

  Amanda read the passage greedily—twice, to make sure she’d got everything—and said, “I don’t get it. Spiders?”

  “Yup,” said Holmes gleefully. “Living sodium pentothal dispensers.”

  “Truth serum.”

  “You got it.”

  “And it really works?” She was coming to respect the abilities of old Lovelace Earful, the school’s founder and the creator of The Detective’s Bible, but he had come up with some pretty weird ideas.

  “Who can say? The point is that Banting Waltz has this page and if he translates it, he’ll know about them.” He tapped the screen for emphasis.

  She pushed the tablet away. “And this matters because—oh, I get it. If he gets a spider to bite someone, they’ll spill their secrets.”

  He leaned forward and moved in so that he was almost touching her. This wasn’t good. Despite their arguments, he obviously still thought there was a chance for them. She was going to have to talk to him about that, but not now.

  “Exactly. Which is why we have to find the spiders first.”

  “So you think he’ll figure it out.”

  “The codes are difficult, I’ll give you that. But if he’s in cahoots with Moriarty, which sounds crazy but you never know, all he needs to do is get Hugh to work on them and he’ll have it all.”

  Hugh, that little weasel. He was always the monkey wrench in the works, or, as the English would say, the spanner. For the umpteenth time, she regretted having set him free.

  “That’s a scary thought. But, Scapulus, he prosecuted the Moriartys. I don’t see how he’d all of a sudden be working with them.”

  He touched her hand, then looked up at her as if pleading. There was a lot of subtext going on under this conversation. She willed herself not to pull away. It would just raise issues.

  “Granted it’s pure speculation, but even without Hugh he could find someone. Not that cryptologists grow on trees, of course, but there are a lot of hackers out there—”

  “Not as good as you.”

  He stroked the table absently. “Better than me, Amanda. Seriously.”

  “But you said the codes can have multiple interpretations. Surely the meaning is hard to figure out.”

  “It is. But I’m not unique.”

  “Of course you are.” She didn’t want to look into his eyes and give him the wrong impression, but Nick notwithstanding, she still had feelings for him, and she had to fight not to.

  “Don’t do this,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I’m not doing anything. You are an incredible hacker.”

  “I’m not talking about that and you know it.”

  She was not about to get into an argument with him, so she simply said, “I’m sorry,” and he let it go. But there was still pain in his eyes.

  After a long silence he said, “We have to stop him.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?”

  “We have to find the spiders before he does.”

  Amanda had had enough. She needed to find out more about the man her mother was seeing. The nerve of him to call himself her stepfather. Who did he think he was anyway? Herb Lester’s replacement, apparently, both professionally and personally, for Waltz had taken her father’s job at the Crown Prosecution Service as well as his wife. She wished her dad were around. Ever since he’d gone off to Tibet to find himself she’d barely heard from him. Despite their disagreements about her ancestor G. Lestrade, she loved and missed him. Didn’t he love her too? How could he leave her like that?

  She was sitting in the dining room with a cup of tea pondering this very point when Professor Scribbish, the evidence teacher, ambled in.

  “You’re looking glum,” he said. “Something I can help with?” He reached into his pocket and produced a candy bar. It was one of those really good ones. “Chocolate?”

  “Thanks, Professor,” she said, “but I’m not hungry.”

  He put the candy away. “It’s serious then.”

  “Yes, it is.” He took a seat and she couldn’t help noticing his handsome face. Of all the teachers, he was the biggest dish. With that curly dark hair and those brilliant green eyes, he could have been a movie star.

  The teacher didn’t say anything, just waited. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get into the problem with him. You bring in a teacher and all of a sudden whatever it is becomes official. But Waltz was Legatum’s problem too, so she said, “You know that guy we talked about.”

  “Banting Waltz? Your mother still dating him?”

  She sighed. “Unfortunately yes.”

  “And?”

  “You’re right, Professor. He is a bad man.”

  Professor Scribbish looked duly sympathetic. “What’s he done?”

  Amanda was torn. Should she tell him about how Waltz had taken the pages from her and Holmes? If she did, something might happen to her mother, and despite everything she wasn’t sure she wanted to be the one to unleash that storm. On the other hand, the man was evil and obviously up to no good. The detectives could take him on better than she and her friends could. But she’d have to explain how they’d been carrying the pages around for weeks without saying anything and how they knew about the invisible peacock feather ink and about Edgar Allan Poe and the reason for the Bible in the first place, and then the teachers would get mad that she hadn’t told them before, and they’d probably take it out on her and Holmes, and what if they found out that Nick knew about it too? So she simply said, “He’s claiming that he’s my stepfather and he isn’t.”


  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said the teacher.

  Then something horrendous occurred to her. “You don’t think he really is my stepfather, do you? I mean that my mom got married and didn’t tell me.”

  “Surely not,” said the professor. “I know your mum. She wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “Well then, why would he say it?” said Amanda, failing to explain when or where he might have done such a thing.

  A hint of a smile appeared on Professor Scribbish’s face. “Maybe he’d like to be.”

  She wasn’t amused. “My stepfather? Why would he want to do that?”

  “Maybe he loves your mother.”

  “No, not that part. I mean the stepfather part.”

  “Perhaps he likes you.”

  It was obvious that Professor Scribbish was trying to be tactful, but Amanda wasn’t buying it.

  “Professor, with all due respect, please don’t lie to me. Detectives have to have thick skins. I want the truth.”

  He displayed the chocolate bar again but Amanda shook her head. He settled in his chair. “Very well. I have no idea why he’d say something like that. But honestly, I hope he doesn’t become your stepfather. I’ve told you why but there’s something else. I was thinking about the Moriartys’ trial the other day—I was there, you know—and I could have sworn I saw a look pass between him and Blixus. I wasn’t absolutely sure, but for just a moment it seemed that they both knew something no one else did. That’s all. It was probably just my imagination. You know how I can be.”

  Actually she didn’t. She barely knew the teacher, for he was one of the most mysterious of the whole mysterious lot. No one knew anything about him, and no one knew why no one knew anything about him. Why was that? On the surface he seemed an open book—charming, affable, helpful. But at the same time there was something impenetrable about him. Maybe he was just private in a private business, or maybe there was something weird going on. Not for the first time she toyed with the idea of making a film based on his character, a character she’d develop herself. It was better than prying. She hated snooping into the teachers’ lives, even if doing so could be incredibly useful.

  “Surely you don’t think Blixus Moriarty and Banting Waltz work together?” said Amanda.

  “It is an outrageous thought,” said the teacher. “Although nothing surprises me anymore.”

  That would be terrible! If Waltz were working with Blixus, then Blixus would have access to the Bible pages at last. And with Hugh to decrypt them, he’d know everything the detectives did. More perhaps.

  Suddenly she wished Holmes had decked Waltz that day he’d surprised them in town. Nick would have, without hesitation. The same boy who could calm peacocks no one else could touch wouldn’t have let Waltz get away with anything. Had the idea even occurred to Holmes? If so, had he rejected it out of hand? Or had he been so stunned by Waltz’s galling behavior he’d just frozen? Perhaps he just wasn’t like that. She’d never seen him resort to violence, although he did zap Nick and Blixus pretty hard with his phone that time. But use his bare hands? She couldn’t imagine the preppy boy doing such a thing.

  That stupid Bible. That crazy book had caused so much trouble. It had driven David Wiffle mad, nearly got the peacocks killed, turned her “stepfather” against her, split the teachers—all for some mysterious information that might or might not actually matter. Would the secrets help them get Blixus? So far they’d been no help at all.

  She looked up at the teacher. He wasn’t a tall man, not like Thrillkill, but he was way taller than she was, even sitting. “Professor, what would cause a Crown Prosecutor to go bad like that?”

  He got up and sidled over to the sideboard, then looked back at her. “Tea?” She shook her head so he made himself a cup, talking to her over his shoulder as he poured and stirred. “You’re assuming he was ever good, Amanda. We don’t know that. The man has been practicing law for twenty years, and for all that time he’s been suspected of planting evidence and bribing juries. He seems to want to win at any cost. There are people like that.” He placed the tea on the table and sat back down. The steam was practically opaque in the cool winter air, which always managed to seep into the old building.

  “But why? Don’t they want to challenge themselves? If it were me, I’d want the satisfaction of doing it on my own.”

  “Apparently not. Maybe they’re afraid they’ll fail.”

  That made sense, although it wasn’t encouraging. Amanda was afraid of failing, but she’d never consider cheating to ensure that she didn’t. That wouldn’t be any fun.

  Professor Scribbish stared into the distance. He seemed to be far away. “You know his ex-wife is a member of Parliament.”

  “Banting Waltz is divorced?”

  “Yes. Recently, as far as I know. His wife is very powerful. Has cabinet-level ambitions. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were prime minister someday.”

  “Wow,” said Amanda. “So he probably has an inferiority complex.”

  “I see you’ve been paying attention in your profiling class,” Professor Scribbish said cheerfully. If he only knew. The new profiling teacher, Professor Goodgrief, was a disaster. The only thing Amanda had learned from her was that she never should have been hired. The woman almost made her look forward to taking the class from mean old Professor Buck.

  “You may be right,” Professor Scribbish continued. “His brothers are very successful too. One is a famous talent agent and the other is the world’s most noted vegetarian. He even has his own media empire. Perhaps you’ve heard of him, Minor Waltz? And Waltz’s parents, Wanda and Willy, are immensely successful in their own right. They own a manufacturing conglomerate. They supply wheels for vehicles, skateboards—check yours sometime, you’ll see—trolleys, bicycles, furniture. They are known as real wheeler dealers.” He laughed.

  “Ha ha,” said Amanda, who wasn’t in the mood for humor.

  “Sorry,” said Professor Scribbish. “But you see my point. He has a lot to live up to.”

  “Yes,” said Amanda, feeling even more depressed. “I guess that explains it.”

  “I wish I could suggest something,” said Professor Scribbish. “I mean about Waltz and your mother.”

  “That’s okay,” said Amanda, who was becoming more and more determined to do something about the guy if she could only figure out what. “You’ve been very helpful already.”

  As soon as Professor Scribbish had left, Holmes came running in and said, “You’ve got to hear this.” He waved his phone at her.

  “If it’s about Waltz I already know,” she said.

  “You know about the bananas?” Amanda looked at him as if there were an iguana on top of his head. “You don’t know about the bananas. Well here it is. Waltz was involved in a banana scandal. It was huge.”

  This sounded farfetched. What could possibly be scandalous about bananas? “What are you talking about?”

  “Counterfeiting. Money,” he said, pulling a pound note out of his pocket. He placed it on the table in front of her. “Did you know that banana fiber can be used to make currency?”

  She glanced at the note, sat back, and folded her arms. “Come off it, Scapulus.”

  “No, I’m serious,” he said, picking up the note and turning it over. “It can, and there was a group that used it to make fake money in a variety of currencies. Just look at those fibers. The rumor was that he was involved, but the record only shows that he defended the suspects in the UK. For all anyone knows, he’s got millions of fake pounds somewhere.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a thing,” she said, examining the note. There were fibers in it all right, but no way were they from fruit. “Banana fibers can’t possibly look like real money.”

  “They can and they do,” he said. “But listen to this.” He consulted his tablet. “There was a major trade case involving a banana conglomerate. Some rumors about shenanigans in South America.”

  There was something about what he was saying that rang
a bell. Why was that? Peru, Brazil, Chile—wait a minute. “South America! Don’t Professors Also and Pargeter go there a lot?”

  He laughed. “Yes, but it’s a big place and I wouldn’t expect them to know anything about this.”

  “But they might.” A detective should never ignore a clue, no matter how tiny. Holmes wasn’t looking at her idea that way though.

  “Like what? Also goes for vacations and Pargeter goes looking for plants.”

  “Bananas are plants.”

  He gave her an exasperated look. “Amanda! You’re wasting time.”

  “Oh, all right. Never mind.” Now she was getting frustrated. Something else was nagging at the corners of her memory. If she could only figure out what.

  But it seemed that something was bothering him too. “On second thought . . .”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t Moriarty kidnap your dad by throwing a banana peel in his path?”

  Now he was seeing connections in weird places. “Scapulus! First you tell me I’m making too much out of this banana thing, and now you’re trying to connect things that are so unlikely to be related it’s ridiculous. Anyway, you’re implying that Waltz was behind my father’s kidnapping when you know it was Blixus who took him.”

  But he’d got hold of something now, and he wasn’t going to let it go. His eyes were ablaze. “What if Waltz and Blixus are connected? We know Waltz is dodgy. Why can’t he be on Blixus’s payroll?”

  The Waltz-Blixus thing again. Maybe there was something to it. Too many people were coming to the same conclusion. She told Holmes what Professor Scribbish had said about the look between the two men at the Moriartys’ trial.

  “That’s a horrifying thought,” he said, frowning. “That would mean Blixus has access to just about everything your mum knows about the detectives. I mean . . . I’m sorry to say that.” He touched her hand. He was a tactile sort of person when things were good between them.

  She smiled. “It’s okay. We both know she’s not exactly perfect. But this is crazy. We can’t connect a banana peel to a fruit scandal.”