Amanda Lester and the Purple Rainbow Puzzle Page 4

  Amphora was a good friend, but where Ivy was easygoing and fun to be around, Amphora was prickly and a lot of work. Not that she couldn’t be good company, and she was smart, creative, and talented, but unfortunately she was rather used to getting her own way and had definite ideas about what that way should be. She was also a complainer, which didn’t endear her to the other students, especially Simon, who often found it difficult to be in the same room with her. And she was afraid of everything: germs, murderers, even the beautiful living crystals she’d discovered the previous term, which she’d erroneously thought were poisonous.

  Amanda called Amphora. After two rings, her friend picked up.

  “Amanda!” said Amphora breathlessly. Either she was unbelievably happy to hear from Amanda or she’d been in the middle of who knew what. “Miss me already?”

  “I do!” exclaimed Amanda. “But someone else misses you more.”

  “You mean Scapulus?” said Amphora. “I knew it. It was just a matter of time.” Obviously she didn’t realize that Holmes and Amanda were an item. If she did, she never would have said something so hurtful.

  “No, not Scapulus,” said Amanda.

  “Harry Sheriff then?” said Amphora.

  “Harry Sheriff? Since when do you know him?”

  “I know all the cute guys,” said Amphora. Right. Of course. Amphora was boy crazy. She would know them all.

  “Actually, it’s someone even cuter,” said Amanda. She knew Amphora wouldn’t like the joke but it was too tempting an opportunity to pass up.

  “Go on then,” said Amphora. “Which of my admirers is it?”

  “Thrillkill,” said Amanda.

  “What? No, who is it really?”

  “I’m serious,” said Amanda. “It really is Thrillkill. He wants you to come back to campus. You and Ivy and Simon and Clive.”

  “Why? Did we do something wrong? Oh no! He isn’t going to expel us, is he? Do you really think he minds that we went after the Moriartys? We didn’t know Editta was going to run off with them like that. She would have found another way to do it anyway, you know.” Typical Amphora. Always leaping to the worst possible conclusion.

  “No,” said Amanda. “It isn’t that. And yes, I do think Editta would have run off with them sooner or later.” If she’d been able to find them, of course—never an easy prospect.

  “Well, what does he want then?” said Amphora impatiently. She was getting so worked up that Amanda wasn’t sure how she’d take the real reason for her call.

  “He wants us to work on some critical tasks. Really important stuff, like the Bible and Wink Wiffle’s murder.”

  “He does? That’s brilliant!” Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. Amphora wasn’t going to make a scene. “Oh, wait a minute. I don’t think my parents are going to like this. They think I need a rest.”

  Amanda laughed. “Tell them you’ll spend lots of time lying by the pool.”

  “Pool? What pool? Oh, I get it. You’re pulling my leg. Very funny.”

  “Just tell them how important this stuff is. Don’t scare them, though, or they might come up here and yell at Thrillkill like David and Editta’s mothers did this morning.”

  Amphora gasped. “You’re kidding me. They actually came to the school and yelled at Thrillkill?”

  “Yes, and it was terrible. I was in his office talking to him and I heard everything. Celerie Wiffle has even filed a wrongful death lawsuit against the school because Wink’s body was found here. So he needs us—quite badly. Please come, Amphora.” By now she wasn’t sure she wanted her to, but it was too late to backpedal.

  “Goodness, I have to, don’t I? I’ll tell my parents something or other. I’ll be on the train as soon as I can make it. Oh, is Simon coming?”

  Amanda wasn’t looking forward to Simon and Amphora’s bickering. She hoped the fact that they’d won Professor Tumble’s bruises and scars design challenge together might have improved their relationship.

  “Thrillkill wants him,” she said. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to make it, though. I haven’t talked to him yet.”

  “I hope he can’t. He’s probably too busy creating Frankenstein’s monster.” So much for an improved relationship. Amanda wondered if those two would ever get along. Maybe when they were fifty. “Is Ivy coming too?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.”

  “I can’t wait. I’ll text you.”

  “Fab! Bye.”

  Next Amanda tried Simon. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Hullo, Amanda,” he said. “What’s shakin’?”

  Amanda went through her spiel again and Simon said that he too would be on the next train, although he’d be coming from Cambridge rather than London like Amphora. His parents would support him completely. He’d see her in a few hours.

  When Clive answered, he was out looking for rocks near his home in Cornwall. He said it would take him a while to get back, but he’d be there as soon as possible. Excellent. Now she just had to wait for Ivy to phone. Then she remembered Gordon. She still had his contact details from the time when she and Nick played a trick on his buddy David. She pressed his icon.

  “Hullo,” he said after the third ring.

  “Gordon, it’s Amanda Lester,” she said. “From school.”

  “What do you want?”

  Of course he was hostile. He and David had practically made a career out of hating Amanda and her friends. Once they’d met, it hadn’t taken long for all-out war to break out between the two groups, but lately things had changed. Gordon had started to rebel against David’s bossiness and had been lurking around Amanda’s little circle. How he felt now was uncertain, although from his tone it seemed that he still didn’t like her.

  “Thrillkill asked me to call you.”

  “Thrillkill? Why? He’s not blaming me for what David did, is he?”

  “No, Gordon, he isn’t. He needs your help.”

  Gordon’s voice changed. He seemed to have exhaled. “Thrillkill needs my help? Really?”

  “Yes. He wants you to come back to Legatum for the summer and help a group of us attack some critical problems.”

  “Which problems? I don’t know how to fix walls.” He sounded defensive.

  “Not the earthquake stuff. Things having to do with Mr. Wiffle’s murder and Editta and the Moriartys.”

  “Really, wow.” She could hear his excitement leap out of the phone. “This is bitchen! Hey, you’re not making this up, are you?”

  “If you don’t believe me, call Thrillkill. He’ll tell you.”

  “I will, right now.” He hung up. What manners.

  While she was waiting to hear back from Ivy, Amanda decided to go over the other items on the list. The highest priorities were Editta, Philip, and Gavin, all of whom were probably with the Moriartys. Therefore, the best way to proceed was to locate Blixus and his family.

  She’d faced this problem before. The last time, Holmes had been able to hack Philip’s phone and deduce that the Moriartys had returned to Lake Windermere. However, the phones had no doubt been ditched and were now untraceable.

  Was it possible, though, that Editta still had her phone? Her friends had been trying to contact her ever since she’d run away, but she hadn’t answered. That was probably by choice. When Editta had failed to turn up for school last term, they’d tried everything they could think of—to no avail—even patterns of three messages in quick succession, which Editta would consider lucky. When she’d finally showed up on the third day of classes, she’d apologized but had never mentioned whether she’d received their messages. Everyone had assumed she’d ignored them.

  If the same was true now, Editta would be reading her messages but not responding to them. Maybe there was a way to incentivize her, unless, of course, Blixus had taken her phone away. He might have trashed it for security purposes, but it was worth a try. The only question was, what should they say?

  They certainly didn’t want to say something like “Your parents a
re dead,” which of course wasn’t true. That would get her attention, but it might scare her so much that who knew what she might do. Anyway, if her parents were sending her messages she’d know they were alive. Amanda figured they might try that strategy as a last resort, but there was no point blowing everything now. She had to come up with something safer and more reliable.

  What if they were to tell Editta she’d won a lot of money? No, that was ridiculous. How about that she was getting a free pass to attend Legatum for the next five years? No, what did she care about that anymore? Wait—what about an omen or curse? Editta was as superstitious as her mother. That could work. Still, it would be better to try to hack her location first and not involve her directly. That way there would be nothing for her to tell Nick or Blixus—assuming she was still with them.

  The problem with that idea was that Amanda would have to get Holmes to do it, and she didn’t want to talk to him any more than necessary. Maybe Simon could do it. That would be better. She’d wait for him. She made a note: the Editta task was now in progress.

  As for finding Blixus, there were other options. They might be able to locate him through his associates. Weren’t some of Blixus’s henchmen from the sugar factory still in prison? She was sure they were. She could talk to them and see if they’d give up the Moriartys’ whereabouts. It wouldn’t be easy, but it could probably be done. Her dad had wormed information out of prisoners hundreds of times. All she’d need to do is come up with a good reason for them to talk. Hm. What would that be?

  Amanda certainly couldn’t make any promises regarding parole or conditions of their incarceration. For that she’d need the help of someone like her dad. It was too bad he’d quit being an attorney. He could undoubtedly come up with some carrot that might get the thugs to talk—better accommodations, more conjugal visits, nicer food. He might know someone who could do that for her, though. It would certainly be a feather in any prosecutor’s cap if they were to locate the Moriartys, who after all were fugitives from the law. Yes, that was it. She’d phone her dad and see what he could do, except she’d left a message for him not forty minutes before and he hadn’t answered. Well, she’d try again. It couldn’t hurt.

  After leaving yet another voice mail, she thought maybe her mother might be able to help. Lila Lester was a successful mystery novelist who knew everyone in the law enforcement business. She and Herb had been throwing dinner parties for his associates at the Crown Prosecution Service. Lila probably knew all of them intimately by now, not to mention their families, friends, schoolmates, and nannies. But her mother was even more difficult a personality than Amphora, and Amanda didn’t relish the idea of opening that can of worms.

  There might be another way though. Amanda had recently become friends with her dad’s Liverpool relatives, Despina and Hillary Lester. They were a little overbearing, but they were first-rate detectives and hardier than they appeared. Despina was a poster child for obesity, and Herb was a bit of a nebbish, but they’d both fought the Moriartys alongside Amanda and her friends, and they’d more than held their own. Sure, Despina could be a bit much, but her heart was in the right place, and Hill had major connections at a Liverpool magistrates’ court. They would definitely know someone who could help, and she’d rather talk to them than her mother.

  Amanda pressed Despina’s icon. As usual, her cousin picked up halfway through the first ring.

  “Amanda, darling!” cried Despina. “I was just thinking about you. I want to tell you about your cousin Jeffrey.”

  As much as Amanda appreciated Despina’s enthusiasm, she had no desire to meet her son, Jeffrey, a newly minted Scotland Yard detective inspector. From everything she’d heard he was a typical Lestrade. Actually, he really was a Lestrade, being the only one in the Lester family to use the original surname. That made him the second Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, a designation he thought gave him cachet. Amanda wasn’t sure the world was ready for another one. G. Lestrade had been quite enough. Still, she thought she’d better listen.

  “How is he, Despina?” she said, attempting patience.

  “Fabulous!” said Despina. “He’s been spending all his time trying to find that awful Blixus Moriarty. He’s been looking all over London.”

  “You mean Blixus and Mavis are there?” said Amanda. This could be a valuable lead.

  “Actually, he doesn’t know that for sure,” said Despina. “But it’s the logical place, isn’t it? It’s much easier to remain anonymous when you’re in a big city.”

  “I suppose so,” said Amanda. “They were wearing disguises when we saw them, though. That could help them anywhere.”

  “Those old things?” said Despina. “Junk and more junk. Not like the kinds of things you and that lovely Indian girl come up with, are they?”

  Despina was referring to Amphora, who was actually English, but of Indian descent, and very tall and elegant. And yes, she and Amanda were much more talented at creating effective disguises than the Moriartys, despite Nick’s alleged theater background. Amanda had been making costumes and applying theatrical makeup all her life, and Amphora was a natural designer.

  “That’s nice of you to say,” said Amanda. “So Jeffrey has located the Moriartys?” She thought if she pushed the matter, Despina would get to the point faster.

  “Not exactly. But he has plenty of leads. He’s been out knocking on doors non-stop. It’s been so exciting. One tip took him to an old folks home where a gangster who was once associated with Blixus was living. Unfortunately the man had moved to Malibu and wasn’t available for questioning. He followed another lead to an off-track betting parlor, but the bookie told him he had no idea where the Moriartys were, and anyhow he was quitting to pursue his lifelong dream of doing movie stunts and wouldn’t be following them anymore. That was most unfortunate as he seemed so very promising. Then Jeffrey was told that someone saw Blixus at the British Museum, but the place is so humongous that he got lost in the Roman antiquities section and had to call for help finding his way back. But you see what I mean. Very, very hopeful. He’ll locate those crooks any day now.”

  “I’m sure he will, Despina,” said Amanda, almost choking on her lie.

  “Ready to get together again, dear?” said Despina. “I’ve got gajillions of ideas for outings.” Amanda didn’t doubt it. The woman was a whirlwind of social activity—a bit too much of a whirlwind.

  “Almost,” said Amanda, trying to humor her. “I was just wondering if I might ask you for a favor first.”

  This request seemed to flatter Despina so much that for a moment she could barely speak, but the silence didn’t last.

  “Anything, anything,” she said even more breathlessly. “Would you like to see the pictures of Windermere we took? We’ve got oodles of inspiring views. How about if I send you that family history I told you about? No, I know. You’d love to see my seashell collection. I did promise you—”

  This was going to be more difficult than Amanda had thought. “Actually, I was looking for a referral.”

  “Name it,” said Despina cheerfully. “We know plumbers, roofers, babysitters—oh, and there’s a lovely woman who translates from German into Spanish. You don’t need a tutor, do you? No, of course you wouldn’t. I know. You’re looking for a birthday party clown. We know the nicest little man—”

  “No, it’s none of those,” said Amanda. “I’m looking for a prosecutor.”

  “A prosecutor? You mean like your father? Why don’t you ask him whatever it is? Is it juicy, dear?”

  Oh dear. Despina didn’t know about Herb quitting. Amanda didn’t even want to think about what she’d say, but she had to tell her. She prepared herself for a barrage.

  “You know he quit the Crown Prosecution Service, right?”

  “NO!” Despina stopped talking at once. So that was what it took to get her to shut up: a shock. Amanda didn’t want to have to resort to such extreme tactics, but it was good to know that something worked. For two seconds anyway. “You have got to b
e joking. Why would he do a thing like that?”

  Amanda sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Nonsense,” said Despina. “Your father isn’t a complicated person. He’s as simple as I am.”

  Despina obviously didn’t realize how that statement sounded. Amanda didn’t think tipping her off was a good idea. “He didn’t used to be. He is now.”

  “Have you two been arguing?” said Despina. “Having trouble getting along?”

  “For once, no,” Amanda said without thinking. “I mean, no, of course not.” She paused. “The truth is that he’s suffering from PTSD and isn’t himself.”

  “Oh, well, that makes sense,” said Despina. “Being kidnapped is a very traumatic experience. Did you know that Jeffrey was almost kidnapped once?”

  “No, I didn’t. Perhaps you can tell me about that another time. I need to find this lawyer pretty quickly.”

  “All right, dear. We’ll have lunch next Saturday and catch up.” Maybe, maybe not. Despina was always trying to dictate her schedule, but this wasn’t the time to protest. “Now, what kind of solicitor do you need?”

  “I don’t need a solicitor. I need a barrister.” In England, a solicitor was a lawyer who did deskwork. A barrister was what Americans refer to as a litigator, or trial lawyer.

  “Oh my,” said Despina. “That sounds serious. Out with it, young lady.”

  Amanda sighed. This was taking much longer than she’d hoped, but not longer than she’d feared.

  “It’s for Headmaster Thrillkill,” she said.

  “I’m all ears.”

  Suddenly Amanda’s phone beeped. She’d received a text. She pulled the phone away from her ear and saw that it was from Ivy, telling her that her parents were going to drive her and Nigel up from Dorset at once. Thank goodness. The news was so welcome that she might be able to put up with Despina a few minutes longer.

  “This is completely confidential, Despina. You can tell Hill, but no one else. Not even Jeffrey.” She hoped Despina could keep a secret. She was pretty sure she could, despite her ebullience. She took being a detective very seriously, even though she didn’t actually practice as one.