Amanda Lester and the Pink Sugar Conspiracy

But Amanda wasn’t able to get to her script or her paper on butlers because she found another clue. As she was heading back to her room, she thought she’d try to sneak back into the pantry to see if the pink substance was still there. When she got to the kitchen no one was around, so she carefully opened the door and stepped in as quietly as she could. When she was halfway to the pantry she heard the door open and ducked behind the center island. The cook had entered the room and was punching her phone. Amanda crouched down as low as she could and held her breath.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” the cook whispered hoarsely. “I’ve got it under control. Yes, I know what will happen if—” She listened for a moment and then said, “I don’t know anything about that. That’s up to you.” Another pause. “I don’t bloody know, do I? You figure it out.”

  Suddenly the woman threw her phone down and made a beeline for the pantry. Amanda couldn’t see inside, but she could hear a lot of banging and rustling. After about five minutes, during which her entire lower body went all tingly, she heard the cook emerge. She looked up and saw that the woman was pushing a cart piled high with bags of sugar and heading for the utility exit. It seemed odd. Why would she be taking full bags out the door? On the other hand, what was the big deal? She was probably catering a special event or something. Amanda wondered if she was getting carried away with the whole cloak and dagger thing. This detective business was making her paranoid.

  But her curiosity was piqued, so she snuck back out of the kitchen and went out a side door to see if she could tell where the cook was going. Sure enough the woman was headed toward the extreme north side of the campus. There wasn’t anything much there though: the backs of the kitchen, dining room, Father Brown House common room, and the chapel/auditorium where the orientation had been held. What could she possibly want there?

  Amanda realized she should be documenting this activity for her film, so she grabbed her camera and made to record the cook’s actions. She didn’t get much footage, though, because by the time she’d thought to turn on her camera the cook had disappeared.

  With the cook on the move, the next logical step in Amanda’s investigation, because that was what it was now, was to follow her. She had to find out what was going on. Now she was caught though. She couldn’t afford to cut another class, but this might be the only opportunity she’d have to follow the sugar.

  Simon! He wasn’t going to class now because of his suspension, and he was still on campus. Maybe he could follow the woman.

  Amanda punched her phone and wrote out a text: “Urgent. Meet me outside kitchen utility door. NOW.”

  The answer came at once: “OMW.”

  Good old Simon. He could be annoying sometimes, but she’d underestimated him. He was smart, motivated, creative, and dependable. If he was thrown out of school, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  Was there any possibility that the explosion and the cook’s furtive actions were related? It was likely. The teachers had devised the class project and the cook more or less worked for them. But what was the connection? An exploded garage and some stolen sugar? And what was that pink substance, and the blood Simon had seen? It was all quite puzzling.

  When Simon arrived she didn’t have time to explain. “Just follow the cook and see where she takes the sugar,” she said.

  “I take it this is part of the class project?” he said, trying to see where the cook had gone.

  “Yes. Please. I can’t afford to cut another class.”

  “Of course,” he said, and was off like a shot.

  If only he would lose that stupid fedora.