Amanda Lester and the Purple Rainbow Puzzle Page 35

  So was he. Holmes could do anything Hugh could and more, and would probably soon have to. Amanda couldn’t imagine who or what else could stop him. Unless that girl . . .

  Who was she anyway? Blixus had only the two kids so she wasn’t Hugh and Nick’s sister. The question was nagging at her. Surely she didn’t have anything to do with the rainbows or the gold. The gold! Where had those leprechaun coins come from anyway?

  “You don’t think Hugh was actually creating those leprechaun coins, do you?” she said.

  “Let’s be clear,” said Holmes. “The gold creates the rainbows, which in turn can be used to detect gold. They cannot create gold.”

  “But could he have made the coins some other way?”

  “You mean out of the gold ore?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would be very involved. Even if he could find raw nuggets, he’d have to process them, and shaping them into the coins would require precise work, not to mention the right equipment. But you can only retrieve so much that way. Normally you have to do a lot of work to separate the gold ore from the material around it. I can’t imagine how he could do all that from his computer.”

  “Those men at the zoo then—”

  “What men at the zoo?”

  That’s right. He hadn’t been there. How would he know?

  “When Simon and Clive and I were investigating the rainbows there, we saw gold at the ends of them. Some men were collecting it.”

  She expected him to look aghast, but he took her words calmly. “Gold at the end of the rainbow. Who knew? Blixus’s guys, no doubt.”

  The idea of Holmes accepting that there could be gold at the end of a rainbow was so incongruous that for a moment, Amanda felt as if she must be dreaming. Wait a minute. The idea of her believing that was absurd. Blixus Moriarty had certainly changed her life in ways she never could have imagined. Had her father known what he could do way back in L.A. when he seemed to be having nightmares about the criminal? Why had he left her to deal with him anyway? Perhaps when he’d got over his PTSD he’d change back and come help—assuming Blixus was still at large by then, which she certainly hoped he wouldn’t be.

  “So Blixus did hire people to help him,” she said.

  “It seems so.” Holmes seemed distracted. She had no idea whether he was thinking about strategies to use against Hugh, his lunch, or a forthcoming tryst with Amphora. She didn’t have the right to inquire, though, so she moved the conversation on.

  “What now then?”

  “He has to be stopped, of course,” said Holmes. “I must say, that little girl seems to know more about how to do that than we do.” He laughed.

  “Who is she?” said Amanda.

  “No idea. A cousin maybe? I hope she’s not a hacker too. I don’t see how we could handle two of them.”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t either.”

  The next morning at 9:00 sharp, Balthazar Onion picked Amanda up in his convertible and the two took off for Manchester. Amanda had never ridden in a car with the top down before and hadn’t prepared. Her hair whipped around her face the whole way, getting in her mouth and eyes and tickling her so much that she couldn’t stop sneezing. Mr. Onion regaled her with tales of his cases, including the strange affair of a dog that had divorced its owner. How that could have happened was somewhat murky, despite his repeated attempts to explain.

  The lawyer was a crazy driver and they arrived at Strangeways before 10:30. The new warden was much more conciliatory than Mr. Doodle. A giant of a man with Somalian features, Mr. Okapi slapped the lawyer on the back, kissed Amanda’s hand, and ooohed and aahed over Ivy’s Fender guitar, which he insisted on trying out. Of course he had to play “Stairway to Heaven,” which Mr. Onion told Amanda later was the standard guitar song despite the fact that it was close to fifty years old. The warden wasn’t half-bad on the instrument and seemed reluctant to give it up, but an urgent phone call put an end to his impromptu concert and they once again found themselves facing Manny Companion in the visitors’ room.

  A guard had delivered the shiny red guitar to Manny, who was practically drooling over the thing. If Amanda hadn’t been on the other side of the glass she would have offered him a tissue. Fortunately he didn’t get saliva on Ivy’s instrument and Amanda relaxed.

  Unlike Mr. Okapi, Manny did not play “Stairway to Heaven.” He played a blues number Amanda was unfamiliar with, and he was amazing. Until now both she and the lawyer had thought he was just talking big, but the man really had soul. When he played, it was as if you’d entered a portal into another universe. Even Mr. Onion was mesmerized, and the guards in the visitors’ room were having a hard time keeping straight faces.

  When Manny had finished playing—and it was difficult to get him to do so—Mr. Onion said, “So, how about Blixus then?”

  Manny looked like he was in seventh heaven and for the longest time he didn’t say a word. Finally Amanda had to nudge him. “Mr. Companion, we had a deal. Where is Blixus Moriarty?”

  Manny gave Amanda and Mr. Onion a long, hard look and said, “It isn’t him you have to worry about. It’s the girl.”

  “You mean Taffeta Tasmania?” said Amanda.

  “Yeah,” said Manny. “Her.”

  Amanda and Mr. Onion looked at each other. Finally Amanda said, “You can tell us about her later. What about Blixus?”

  Manny opened his mouth to say something. He had just managed to get the word “He’s” out when a prisoner sitting at another visitor’s station produced a knife out of nowhere and stabbed him in the heart. Within seconds the guards were on the man, wrestling him to the ground, but there was nothing anyone could do for Manny. He was dead.

  Amanda and the woman visiting the murderous prisoner shrieked, Mr. Onion tried to lunge through the glass, and Mr. Okapi and more guards appeared on the scene. They whisked Manny’s body away, subdued the killer, and escorted Amanda and Mr. Onion back to the warden’s office. Ivy’s guitar had fallen to the floor and the impact had damaged a corner. The warden returned the instrument to Amanda and promised that he would pay to replace or repair it, whichever Ivy preferred.

  Amanda had now seen two people killed in front of her eyes. Was this what being a detective was about? No wonder the teachers were so weird. She wondered how many murders they’d witnessed. The entire way back to Legatum she didn’t say a word and either did Mr. Onion. When they arrived at the guard gate she was finally able to squeeze out a question: “Why did that prisoner kill Manny?” Mr. Onion replied that he didn’t know, but the warden would be opening an investigation. He promised to phone her later in the day to see how she was doing, and then he was off.

  Amanda’s first order of business was to talk to Ivy. She felt terrible about the broken guitar, especially since the sacrifice had failed to deliver the information she’d been promised. Whether that would have happened if Manny hadn’t been attacked she didn’t know. He had told the truth about his guitar skills. Whether he would have also been forthright about Blixus they’d never know.

  As it turned out, Ivy wasn’t particularly upset about the guitar. She decided to have it fixed, though, because she liked the sound. She was curious about the killer, however, and about what Manny had—and hadn’t—said. Why had he been so concerned about Taffeta? What was it about her that made her more dangerous than Blixus? Wasn’t Hugh a greater threat, or did Manny not know about him? It seemed that Amanda had left the prison with more questions than answers.

  When she told the others about what had happened, they were off like a shot to see what they could learn about Taffeta. Their first stop was Harry Sheriff, who sneered at them and kept his trap shut until Simon tricked him into revealing that he’d met Taffeta in Windermere when a mugger had stolen her purse. Simon, being who he was, concluded that the theft was staged and that Taffeta had been targeting Harry from the start. He didn’t tell Harry that, though, figuring that he would just have gotten defensive and tried to make a show of how attractive he was to women.


  There was some talk about trying to get Jackie his meat cookbook, but considering what had happened to Manny, Amanda didn’t try very hard. When Mr. Onion called, he told her that the warden had suspended all visits to prisoners until further notice, so there went that idea anyway.

  After Amanda had spoken with the lawyer her phone rang again. It was Darius Plover.

  “Amanda, super revisions,” he said with a smile in his voice. “You’re hired.”

  “Thank you, Darius.” She was so relieved. She’d had no idea how he would react to her changes. Wait—Darius Plover liked her writing! Hurray!!

  “I have some more scenes for you to do if you’re ready.”

  “Absolutely. Any time.” She couldn’t wait. Nothing this wonderful had ever happened to her. How she’d fit the work in with her other responsibilities she didn’t know, but she’d figure it out.

  “Say, what’s this I hear about King Arthur?” he said.

  Amanda just about dropped the phone. How did he know about the coins?

  “I, uh—”

  “I think this discovery would make a blockbuster film. I want you to work on it with me. Deal?”

  He wanted her to work on a new film with him? She had to be dreaming. “Um, did you say—”

  “I did. You and me, kid. How about it?”

  “Sure!” she said so loudly she scared herself.

  “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll see you Friday then.”

  What? Here in England? In person?

  “Amanda?”

  “Um, yes?”

  “Friday okay?”

  Of course it was. Sunday at 3:00 in the morning would be okay. Darius Plover was coming to meet her. What did it matter when, even if it was in the middle of Professor Feeney’s seminar, which had been cancelled anyway?

  “Yes. Friday is wonderful. See you then.”

  Darius’s announcement that he was about to arrive in Windermere was just about the worst news Amanda had ever heard. Actually it was the best news she’d heard. No, wait, everything was in chaos and she might have to run off. It was the worst. No, it was the best. After a few minutes during which she weighed just about every possible outcome, she threw up her hands and decided to split the difference. She’d take whatever came her way.

  What came her way next turned out to be outrageous, to say the least. Harry Sheriff was indeed expelled from Legatum, but first he was debriefed. He explained the whole series of events to Professor Kindseth. He had met Taffeta, been completely smitten, and resolved to impress her. He’d wanted to take her into the trove but he couldn’t bring her in through the school so he’d had to break her in from the outside. That was why he’d stolen Clive’s acoustic levitator—to raise the hinges on the outer gates so he could open them. Taffeta had been mightily impressed with that. No doubt that was why she had kidnapped Clive—so he’d make some of those devices for her, although Harry hadn’t known about any of that.

  Inside the trove Harry had showed the girl the drawers, and she’d tempted him into committing a whole series of misdeeds, asking leading questions like, “Don’t you want to know what’s in them?” and “Wouldn’t it be fun to try to put this puzzle together?” By that time he was so completely under her spell that he’d have done anything for her. He planted a secret camera in Professor Snaffle’s office so he could find out how to open the locks. That hadn’t worked, but he had learned about the vault in Penrith and had told Taffeta. At that point he hadn’t thought about the risk to the metadata. If Taffeta wanted something he’d give it to her, no matter what the consequences might turn out to be. Of course he hadn’t known that the metadata wasn’t really in the vault. Presumably Taffeta and Nick had learned that when they’d broken into the barrow, but she hadn’t discussed that with Harry.

  Harry and Taffeta had returned to the vault to make out and had accidentally discovered that the locks were odor-controlled. It seemed that Taffeta made her own perfume, and just by chance the formula happened to match the one the detectives had come up with. When the locks suddenly clicked the pair had investigated, and the girl had convinced Harry to explore the snippets. That was when they’d taken pictures of the secrets to see if they could decode them. What she’d done with the pictures he didn’t know.

  As if Harry’s actions weren’t outrageous enough, instead of being angry with him, a bunch of students had turned him into a hero! Many of the girls, including Amphora, defended him. “He was only trying to help.” “How can you be so harsh with him?” “If you kick him out I’m going too.” They began to see him as a martyr. At the same time many of the boys admired him for scoring with such a beautiful girl. They wanted to know how he’d met her, how he’d won her over, and whether she had a sister. Amanda, Ivy, Clive, and Simon were so disgusted they could barely stand to be around these kids. Holmes was furious, and his outright refusal to keep his mouth shut led to a number of quarrels with Amphora.

  Amid this craziness the remaining Punitori left the campus. They were pleasant enough to the students but they ignored the other teachers, even the Neutrals. Amanda thought their behavior small-minded. She was very fond of Professor Also in particular, and she didn’t like seeing her or any of them behave this way.

  As the group was heading toward the door to the parking lot, she noticed that Alexei Dropoff was with them.

  “Alexei!” she called. Why bother to call him Mr. Dropoff when he was leaving?

  “Amanda, dahlink,” he said without enthusiasm.

  “You’re going?”

  “I’m afraid so. The rift between myself and Noel has grown too wide. He supports those dreadful Realists. I am more of the mind of these soldiers. And so I shall betake myself to Scotland.”

  “We’re at war with the Moriartys too. Can’t you stay and fight with us?”

  “I’m afraid not, my love. Noel and I no longer agree, and besides, I’m awfully fond of your Professor Pargeter. I’ve discovered that I can’t live without her.”

  The poisons teacher? Honoria Pargeter was one of the most cantankerous, ungenerous, nutty teachers on the staff. That was one for the books.

  “I’ll miss you,” she said, trying to hide her surprise.

  “Of course. We’ve always got along.” She noticed that he didn’t say he’d miss her too.

  “Goodbye, Alexei. Good luck.”

  “Dasvidaniya, dahlink,” he said, and then he was gone.

  Amanda felt completely drained. She decided to lie down for a while, but as she was heading to her room she ran into Professor Kindseth.

  “I’m afraid I have bad news, Amanda,” he said. “The rescue team has looked everywhere for Headmaster Thrillkill, Miss Halpin, and Mr. Bramble. They found signs that someone had been living in those northern tunnels but no one was there when they arrived.”

  This was disconcerting. “Any clues at all?”

  “Not yet,” he said softly. It seemed that the energy had gone out of him as well. “We’re going to have to regroup.”

  “Have you told Ivy?” she said.

  “No. I’ve only just found out myself.”

  “Do you have any theories?”

  “Not a one.” His phone rang. His ringtone was the theme music from “Rear Window.” He pulled it out of his pocket. “What’s this?”

  The two of them looked at the screen and Amanda gasped. There, quite the worse for wear, was the streaming image of Thrillkill, Fern, Gordon, Despina, Hill, and Jeffrey tied up and surrounded by a throng of ghoulish figures. Whether they were male or female was hard to tell, but they looked like they’d been living below ground their whole lives. Scratches marred their green-white skin, unwashed hair fell in repulsive strings, and dark circles ringed their bulbous eyes. They stood menacingly against a granite wall upon which the words “wretch society” had been scrawled in white letters.

  “Despina!” Amanda screamed, and the connection failed. The screen went dark. “Professor, get them back!”

  “I’m trying,” said Professor Kindset
h, punching and swiping. “Nothing’s happening.” He fiddled and fiddled without success. Finally he shook the phone, but the picture was gone for good. “Who were those people?”

  Amanda looked up at him. He was so short that she barely had to tilt her head. His lips were white and his eyes were wide. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. Of course the idea was ridiculous, and yet here was the most solid proof she’d seen. She’d have to say what she was thinking, if only so he’d laugh and dismiss the notion for the insane thing it was and they could get on with solving the problem.

  She looked at him again. The color hadn’t returned to his face. If anything he was even paler, like the things on the screen. That frightened her. He was never afraid of anything. What did he know that she didn’t?

  Of course—that was it. Something wasn’t adding up big time. Despite all their observations and theories, the kids hadn’t been able to figure out the mysteries because they lacked vital information. And who had that information? Who else—the teachers. There was so much they were still holding back. With their layers and layers of secrets and lies, they were much more like onions than the lawyer. Even Professor Kindseth, the nicest of all of them, knew things she couldn’t imagine. She was beginning to think she and her friends would never solve anything without that knowledge. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right to be left out. They’d have to learn the secrets themselves or force the issue with the teachers. And it would have to happen soon, before things deteriorated beyond all possibility of repair.

  But first they’d have to rescue Thrillkill and the others, and the only way to do that was to say what she was thinking, even if it wasn’t much, and even if it was crazy.

  “Professor?” she said. He looked at her numbly. “I might have a clue. Do you want to hear it?” He nodded ever so slightly.

  She couldn’t understand why she was so nervous. She cleared her throat but it didn’t help. She could hardly get the words out.