Amanda Lester and the Purple Rainbow Puzzle Page 38

  “Well I suppose if you didn’t see the bird lying on the ground, it must have been all right,” he said in a rather more jolly way than the situation warranted.

  That was true. Except that she hadn’t seen the bird at all, before, during, or after colliding with it. Maybe she should go back and check. She felt stupid for not at least asking Nick. Would he have said something if the bird had been injured or killed? She wasn’t sure. Suddenly she realized she didn’t even know if he liked animals. He’d never objected to Nigel, Ivy’s beautiful guide dog, but he’d never showered him with affection either, the way Simon did. Of course a dog wasn’t a bird. It was kind of hard to pet a bird.

  By the time Eustace arrived about a half second later, Amanda had convinced herself that she had killed the peacock. Or perhaps the peacock had killed itself by crashing into her. At any rate, she was so sick with worry that she forced Eustace to drive her by the spot where Nick had found her, just to make sure. But even though the two of them searched the area for what must have been fifteen minutes, there was no peacock to be found, so he drove her back to the school with a promise to keep an eye out for an injured bird, and clattered away.

  As Amanda was trundling up the front steps she heard a huffing and puffing behind her. She turned around to see a huge man bearing down on her. He looked like a figure out of a Rembrandt painting, with long, dark hair, a midnight beard, and black boots. His stride was about three times the length of her own. She imagined he could walk from Legatum to Windermere faster than she could get there on her skateboard.

  “You there,” he thundered. “Where is the headmaster’s office?” Amanda looked up at him—he was as tall as a skyscraper. The man was staring down at her as if she were a bug. She glared at him, then said, “Who are you?”

  The giant glared right back and said, “Just answer the question, missy.”

  What the man didn’t know, and Amanda had put out of her mind for the last few hours, was that Headmaster Thrillkill was missing. He and two students, one of them Ivy’s sister, Fern, plus Amanda’s cousins from Liverpool, had been kidnapped by a band of zombies, and no one knew where they were! Well, not really zombies, but they looked like zombies, and some people thought they moved like zombies, although from the few glimpses Amanda had got, she didn’t agree. But whatever the creatures were, the state of affairs around Legatum was far from normal, and she wasn’t about to let just any old weirdo invade not just the school but the headmaster’s office. The man didn’t look like a zombie, but for all she knew he was working with them.

  “How do I know you’re really supposed to be here?” she said, planting her feet on the step.

  The scary man peered at her closely and said, “I see you haven’t been paying attention in your History of Detectives class, young lady. If you had, you’d know exactly who I am. Now if you can’t answer the question, just say so and I’ll be on my way.”

  “I can’t answer the question,” she said, then turned around and, not gracefully at all, stomped into the foyer. As she entered the building, the man pushed past her and stormed into the hall. She was so outraged that she stuck her tongue out at him, but as he was way in front of her by then, he didn’t catch the gesture. She was so mad she texted Ivy and Simon, told them what had happened (not about Nick though), and asked them to meet her in the Holmes House common room.

  Because the décor gremlins, Alexei Dropoff and Noel Updown, had experienced a rancorous split just a week before, the room looked exactly the same as it had since June, three months earlier. It still resembled Downton Abbey, with its red leather sofa, Victorian fainting couch, green silk drapes, grand piano, and gold-brocaded Queen Anne chairs. Normally the gremlins changed the décor every day so that Professor Sidebotham, the observation teacher, could devise pop quizzes to test the kids on what they’d seen. But Alexei had left with the Punitori, the teachers who had abandoned the school following the loss of The Detective’s Bible, and despite their combative relationship, Noel didn’t seem to be able to work without him.

  Simon showed up first. In characteristic fashion he clomped into the room and plopped down on the sofa with a whomp. “Interviewee, most likely,” he said without preamble. He patted his cowlick. “Sidebotham is trying to find replacements for the teachers who left. What does he look like?”

  Amanda described the man. “Sounds like a pirate,” said Simon, whereupon Ivy entered the room with Nigel, the golden retriever, and said, “I don’t want him teaching us. He sounds dreadful. How rude of him to speak to you that way.”

  “We need to find out who he is,” said Amanda. “I really hope he’s not the new lab teacher. I’d want to throw beakers at him.”

  The kids laughed. “Sounds like it’s time to use our listening devices,” said Simon, pulling a small gadget out of his pocket. “Got ‘em?” Amanda nodded. She always carried her listening device, phone, and an evidence kit with her. Ivy, of course, had amazing hearing and seldom used hers. “Let’s check him out. I wonder if there’s a way to keep him from being hired.”

  “Too bad they don’t ask our opinion,” said Amanda. “Come on.”

  But when the kids got to the headmaster’s office it was empty. There was, however, a thick pile of what looked like resumes on the desk, just ripe for snooping.

  “Here, Simon,” said Amanda. “You do this pile. Ivy, you do this one and I’ll do the rest,” she said, dividing the papers into three roughly equivalent groups. “Just take snaps, Ivy. We’ll look at those later.”

  With the three of them working on the task, it didn’t take the kids long to go through the collection. Unfortunately, the information contained in the resumes was horrifying. The scary man was Ancillary Darktower, a specialist in logic with a creepy background. When the kids googled him they found all sorts of disturbing things. For one thing, he had been involved in a court case having to do with someone’s private collection of rat teeth. It looked like he’d been an expert witness, but he might have been some kind of relative of the defendant. For another, he’d been arrested for vagrancy when he was found living in an illegal caravan (“trailer” to Amanda) under a bridge that was known as a meeting place for all types of lowlifes. And then Amanda found a tiny article that mentioned him spreading thousands of dead flowers outside Lewis Carroll’s former house. And Legatum was thinking of hiring the guy?

  But he wasn’t the worst one. When Amanda saw the other resumes she was sure she would throw up. Because one of them was from her own mother, Lila Lester!

  It seemed that, following the defection of one of Legatum’s most beloved teachers, Professor Winifred Also, Lila had applied to teach History of Detectives in her place. As a famous crime novelist, she was actually well qualified for the position, but the woman was a disaster. Yes, she had her good points, including an over-brimming enthusiasm for fighting crime, gobs of intelligence, and prodigious talent, but she was overbearing, narcissistic, and completely deaf to anything Amanda said. Things always had to be done her way, she knew best, she had the answers to everything—you know the type.

  “Maybe they won’t hire her,” said Ivy hopefully. “Who are the other candidates?”

  “There’s one good one here,” said Simon. “A retired policeman from a little town down south. Oh, wait. He was a traffic cop. Is he kidding? And look at this one: an editor of a reference book on detectives. It’s called What They Got Wrong: Flaws in Detectives throughout History. She sounds like a real winner.”

  “Perhaps more resumes will come in,” said Ivy.

  “I just know they’re going to hire my mother,” said Amanda. “She’s already got the connection with the school, she knows the subject matter, and she’ll bully her way in if they don’t give it to her. What am I going to do?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Ivy. “Anyway, maybe you won’t have to take the class this term. You might petition to take something else—Profiling, for example.”

  “I guess,” said Amanda. “I don’t think old Sideboth
am would let me do that, though.” With Thrillkill missing, Professor Sidebotham got to make all the usual headmaster decisions. Thrillkill was strict, but she made him look like a slacker. The woman was a martinet.

  “Oh, brother,” said Simon. “Look at these weirdos who want to teach the weapons class: a cop who left his job because he couldn’t pass his firearms test, an Australian boomerang champion, an ex-motorcycle gang leader, and oooh, a ninja. Cool! I’d take that class.” He busted a couple of karate moves and banged his hand on the desk. “Ow!” He stuck the two fingers he’d just smashed in his mouth.

  “You have to take that class, Simon,” said Amanda. She eyed the fingers. “Tasty?”

  “Well, then, I hope they hire the ninja, and yes, if you really want to know, they are. Salty.” He took the fingers out of his mouth, examined them closely, and licked them.

  “For heaven’s sake,” yelled Amanda. “Go get some ice, would you?”

  “Don’t need it,” said Simon, holding the fingers as far away as he could, then bringing them close to his eyes. “Hm, they’re puffing up.”

  “I can hear that,” said Ivy. “You’re being gross, Simon.”

  “Am not.”

  “I’m not rising to the bait,” said Ivy. “Amanda’s right. Go get some ice.”

  “Later,” said Simon. “This is too entertaining. Say, look at these Criminals and Their Methods applicants. And we thought Professor Feeney was weird. An elderly cat burglar who’s just about to get out of prison. A reformed kleptomaniac. A gangster’s moll who claims she knows everything there is to know about criminals. Does anyone actually use the word moll anymore? And would you look at this: Jeffrey Lestrade.”

  “What!” screamed Amanda. “Let me see that.”

  She grabbed the paper Simon was holding so violently that she almost tore it. Sure enough, her idiot cousin Jeffrey, a detective inspector at Scotland Yard who had also been kidnapped by the zombies, had applied to teach Legatum’s weapons class. When he would have had the chance to apply Amanda couldn’t fathom. The current weapons teacher, Samuel Snool, had only just departed, and Jeffrey had been missing as long as that. Even more baffling was why he’d want to teach at Legatum in the first place. He was thrilled to have become the second Inspector Lestrade. (The first one, of course, was the one who sometimes worked with Sherlock Holmes and was Amanda’s great-great-grandfather.) There was no way he’d give that up. Unless . . . he had applied some time ago and the school had kept his resume on file. Or maybe Amanda’s cousin Despina, his mother, also missing, had submitted it for him sometime in the past—perhaps before he had made it to Scotland Yard. Yes, that had to be it. Despina was always sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. Amanda could picture her typing up the resume, adding some exaggerated tidbits to whet Thrillkill’s appetite, and sending it off with a big kiss.

  “He’d be popular,” said Ivy.

  “I know!” said Amanda. “That’s the problem.”

  “He is a bit of a twit, though, isn’t he?” said Simon, who had got tired of looking at his fingers and was riffling through more resumes.

  “Who’s a twit, and what are you children doing in my office?” said Professor Sidebotham from the doorway.

  “Oops,” said Amanda.

  “Uh, we were just talking about Jackie Lumpenstein, the Moriarty associate in Strangeways,” said Ivy, attempting to deflect the teacher.

  “Criminals are not twits, Miss Halpin,” said Professor Sidebotham firmly. “They are dangerous and need to be dealt with harshly.”

  Suddenly Amanda could see the scary man lurking behind Professor Sidebotham. She wanted so badly to stick her tongue out at him again, but she didn’t dare.

  “I see you’ve noticed Professor Darktower,” said Professor Sidebotham, using her creepy observational powers. “Children, this is your new logic teacher, Ancillary Darktower. Please greet him appropriately.”

  Amanda couldn’t believe it. This hulking bully was going to replace wonderful Professor Ducey? Why did the Punitori have to leave anyway? She just knew the next thing that would happen would be the employment of her mother. And then she’d die.

  “Uh, hullo, Professor Darktower,” said Simon.

  “Hello,” said Ivy.

  Amanda hesitated. She did not want to say hello to this rude man, but if she didn’t, Professor Sidebotham would probably send her to detention, and school hadn’t even started yet. She thought she’d choke on the words, but she said, as politely as she could, “Pleased to meet you.”

  “What was that?” said Professor Sidebotham. “I didn’t catch that, Miss Lester.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Amanda said more loudly.

  “Thank you, children. Professor Darktower is looking forward to a productive year with you.”

  At this point Amanda was beginning to think that Sidebotham was an even stronger personality than the new teacher because he had yet to say a word. If he was going to let the woman put words in his mouth he might be nothing but a paper tiger. But her hopes were dashed when the big man said, “Rubbish. Logic is not about productivity. It is about perfection.”

  Apparently this rudeness came as a surprise to Professor Sidebotham as well as the three friends because she turned around, stared at him for a moment, then faced the kids again and said, “Yes, uh, well, of course. Perfection is always what we’re after here at Legatum, and . . .” She seemed to gather herself together again. “We will brook no less. Welcome, Professor Darktower. You will be a great asset to the school.”

  The new logic teacher harrumphed and disappeared.

  “Now you three, off you go,” said Professor Sidebotham, whose face was just a little pinker than normal. “Shoo!”

  Simon and Amanda sheepishly put the resumes back onto the headmaster’s desk and the three friends ran out of her office as fast as they could go.

  When they were a safe distance away, Amanda turned to the others and said, “An asset to the school? An ass to the school is more like it.”

  Ivy giggled and Simon guffawed. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder if we should have gone to Scotland with the Punitori,” said Simon.

  “Simon!” said both girls.

  “We can’t abandon Thrillkill in his time of need,” said Ivy.

  “Thrillkill isn’t here,” said Simon predictably.

  “Even without Thrillkill, we can’t,” said Ivy.

  “I can’t believe you’d say such a thing, Simon,” said Amanda.

  “We can’t be sentimental,” said Simon. “We’re detectives. So what I think is this. If they can’t hire good enough teachers, I’ll leave. There’s no point in sacrificing ourselves.”

  “What’s good enough?” said Ivy. “And when will you decide?”

  “I’ll just know,” he said.

  “I’ll just know,” said Amanda, mimicking him.

  “Fifty p!” said Simon. “You insulted me.”

  “I’m not paying it,” said Amanda. “You’re baiting me. You knew I’d get mad.”

  “I’m afraid he’s right,” said Ivy. “You did insult him. Pay up, Amanda.”

  Amanda glared at Simon and said, “I don’t have any money on me.”

  “I.O.U. then,” he said. “I’ll remember.”

  “Don’t be petty,” she said.

  “Don’t be petty,” he mimicked.

  “Fifty p!” said Ivy. “You too, Simon.”

  “Aw, nuts, Ivy,” he said.

  “When are you ever going to learn?” said Ivy. “We’re all thirteen now. It’s time to get a little maturity.”

  “I’m the most mature student in our year,” said Simon.

  “Ha!” said Amanda. “First of all, you’re not, and second, Dreidel Pomfritter is the most mature student. He’s like a little adult.”

  “Fifty p, Amanda, and yes, you’re right,” said Ivy. “He’s a nice guy.”

  Dreidel Pomfritter was Amanda’s lab partner and
a very polite kid. Sometimes he was so mature he was a bit scary though. Conversing with him was like talking to her Uncle Bartholomew or something.

  “Anyhoo,” said Simon, “Dreidel Pomfritter notwithstanding, here’s what I think. Legatum is having trouble recruiting decent teachers because we’re competing with the Punitori for both students and teachers. Fewer students, less money. Maybe Sidebotham can’t pay enough for the good people.”

  “Then why would my mother want to teach here?” said Amanda.

  “Maybe it isn’t the money with her,” said Simon.

  “You got that right,” said Amanda. “It’s the power.”

  “And the teachers that left are huge stars in the detective community,” he said. “I can see how they’d attract a lot of attention.”

  “Yeah, and what have we got?” said Amanda. “Professor Darktower. A dreg if I ever saw one.”

  “To be fair, we don’t know if he’ll be a good teacher,” said Ivy. “But we’ve still got Professor Kindseth, and Professor Scribbish, and Professor Pole, and Professor Tumble.” These were the photography, evidence, fires and explosions, and disguise teachers, respectively, and the kids loved them. All had felt that the Punitori were making a huge mistake splitting off from the school, which after all had been there since 1887.

  “All the same, I think you’re being heartless, Simon,” said Amanda.

  “I certainly hope so,” he said. “There’s no place for hearts in detection.”

  Amanda felt like popping him one. He was being awkward on purpose. He seemed to be in a particularly contrary mood. Suddenly she remembered the feel of his lips on hers in her dream and just about choked. The thought was so icky she had to turn her back on him for a moment and wipe her brain.

  “Shut up,” she said. She was surprised when no one tried to fine her. Both Ivy and Simon must have had other things on their mind.

  “You know that Dreidel Pomfritter’s mother called Dean Canoodle and told her that the Punitori have been trying to recruit him,” said Ivy.