The Professor and the Puzzle Read online

  Swallowing back the wave of dread that rose from the pit of my stomach, I knelt at Bash’s side and touched the side of his neck. To my relief, I felt a pulse fluttering against my fingertips. “He’s alive,” I said, my voice shaky. “But he needs help—now. Has anyone called 911?”

  “Yes—yes, they’re on their way now,” a man replied.

  As if on cue, the cry of an ambulance cut through the hum of noise in the ballroom, getting louder by the second. At the same moment, catering staff carrying electric lanterns streamed into the room, filling the space with an eerie sort of light and throwing long shadows against the walls. Within minutes, the crowd was parting to accommodate the paramedics, their uniforms glossy with rain as they ran toward Bash.

  The room was hushed as the paramedics removed the wings from Bash’s back and gently loaded him onto a gurney. Almost as quickly as they came, the men were gone. I listened as the siren began blaring once more, the sound soon swallowed by the storm as the ambulance rushed to the hospital. What would happen to Bash? I wondered. Would he be all right?

  Moments later, the lights in the ballroom flickered to life—I shielded my eyes from the sudden glare. Someone must have finally gotten to the circuit breakers and gotten the power back on. Guests began wandering more freely about the room, getting their bearings.

  “There you are.”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, and it snapped me out of my reverie. “Bess,” I said, turning to see her worried face. “Oh, it was so awful.”

  Bess nodded. “I’m amazed that no one else got hurt!” she said. “Luckily, there was no one standing directly underneath the balcony, so the railing just fell on the floor. Poor Bash. What a terrible accident.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, touching my head. Suddenly something felt very, very wrong. I realized that I had a pounding headache. It almost felt like something was inside my brain, trying to punch its way out. This must be how Zeus felt when Athena was about to burst out of his head, I thought,. “I think I need to sit down,” I said to Bess, and lurched toward the nearest table.

  Bess took my arm and led me to a chair. She caught sight of George coming our way and told her to bring me some water. When George came back with a pitcher and some empty glasses, we all sat together, drinking and talking about what had happened. All around us, groups of people stood together, murmuring quietly to one another, while caterers swept through the room trying to clean up the mess. Clearly, the party wasn’t going to recover from this. I noticed a girl sitting across the table from us, staring at the place where Bash had fallen, tears streaming down her face. She had glossy, dark brown hair, and amber skin perfectly complemented by her forest-green Persephone costume. Bess and George followed my gaze and fell quiet when they saw her too.

  “Are you all right?” I asked the girl.

  “Oh!” she said, startled to find us looking at her. She quickly snatched up a clean napkin from the table and dabbed at her eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “Was Bash a friend of yours?” I asked.

  The girl nodded. “Actually, he and I are dating. It’s only been a month, but it was going so well. I wanted to go in the ambulance with him, but they told me I should stay here. I’m just so . . .” Her face crumpled, and her shoulders shook with sobs.

  George quickly poured the girl a glass of water and pushed it into her hands. She took a shaky sip and mouthed Thank you at us, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak again without crying.

  “I bet he’s going to be just fine,” Bess said, smiling reassuringly. “He’ll be up on his feet again in no time, you’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right,” the girl murmured.

  Just then a young man emerged from the crowd, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on us. He was tall with broad shoulders and wore a gray chest plate and cuffs clearly meant to be an Ares costume. He made his way over to our table and touched the girl on the shoulder. “Daniela,” he said. “Let me take you home.”

  When Daniela saw who it was, her expression hardened. “I’m waiting to get a ride to the hospital, Mason,” she said without meeting his eyes.

  “Let me take you,” he insisted.

  Daniela shook her head.

  “Don’t be that way,” he pleaded. “I’m just trying to help.”

  Daniela snatched up her handbag from the table and stood. “I don’t need your help, okay?” And with that, she strode off, disappearing into the crowd.

  Mason watched her go. He must have felt our eyes on him, because a moment later he turned to us and gave an awkward smile. “She’s just upset,” he said with a shrug. “Crazy thing, what happened to Bash. Him dressed as Icarus and all—it’s kind of funny.” When Mason saw the looks on our faces, he stammered to elaborate. “Uh, not funny ha-ha, of course—I mean funny like, weird.”

  “Was Bash a friend of yours?” I asked.

  “Oh, everyone loves Bash. For being such a shy little dude, he somehow manages to be the most popular guy in the department.” Mason stared at the place where Bash had lain just moments ago and bit his lip. “Anyway, I’d better go see if Daniela’s okay. Nice talking to you.”

  After he’d gone, George let out a long breath, her eyebrows raised. “Boy,” she said. “Some guys just can’t take a hint, can they?”

  “No,” I said, thoughtful. “And did you notice? He never answered my question.”

  The crackle of a microphone coming on interrupted my thoughts. I stood to see Dr. Pappas standing on the stage where the band had been playing, his face shiny with sweat. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the last thirty minutes. “Excuse me,” he said into the microphone, his voice husky with emotion. “Please, may I have your attention? In light of this terrible accident, I’m afraid we must cut the gala short. Thank you for coming, and I assure you that I’ll let the Oracle community know of any news about Sebastian as soon as I have it.”

  The assembled guests immediately began gathering their things and making for the exit. My headache had subsided—though I still felt wrong somehow—so I told Bess and George that I was going to try and find Iris. Weaving through the crowd, I bumped shoulders with Dr. Brown, who apologized as I stumbled.

  “So sorry—oh, hello. Nancy, was it?” he said. He tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Yes,” I said. “Are you all right? You’re awfully pale.”

  Dr. Brown nodded. “I’ll be fine, thank you. It’s just that . . . that boy was so bright, he had so much potential—”

  I laid a gentle hand on Dr. Brown’s arm. “He still does,” I said. “We don’t know the extent of his injuries yet. He may come out of this as good as new.”

  Dr. Brown sniffed and brought his hand to his mouth. “I do hope you’re right. Good night, Nancy.”

  By now, most of the guests had gone, so it wasn’t difficult to see Iris towering over the remaining catering staff as she helped them remove the uneaten food from the buffet table. “Iris,” I said as I approached her. “I’m so sorry about the gala. I know you put a lot of work into it.”

  Iris shook her head vigorously, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Oh, pooh on the party. All that matters is that Sebastian comes out of this okay. I just can’t imagine how this could have happened. That balcony railing had just been replaced a couple of years ago—it was virtually brand-new! How it simply fell away with the smallest amount of pressure, I’ll never know.” Just then George and Bess came up, also giving Iris their condolences about the accident. She thanked them, sniffed, and pulled her shoulders back. “Well, that’s enough blubbering for one day! Time to pull myself together—there’s still work to be done. You girls go ahead and turn in for the night. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  I gave Iris a hug, and we all bade her a good night. After the girls and I went our separate ways upstairs, I let myself into my bedroom, pulled the heavy helmet from my head, and tossed my spear and shield on the dresser. It was a relief to unburden myself from all those heavy things, but I stil
l felt weighed down somehow. Maybe a nice, hot shower before bed will do the trick, I thought. Pulling off my sandals, I tossed them next to the still-sodden sneakers that I had worn that afternoon when we’d arrived. The sole of one overturned shoe was still encrusted with those small, clay-colored fragments I’d stepped on while Iris was giving me the tour of the house. I brushed them off into the wastebasket and was once again struck with the oddness of that pile of flakes sitting right in the middle of the floor in the ballroom. Suddenly a thought struck me, and that sick sensation I’d been feeling ever since the accident intensified.

  Without another thought, I bolted out of the room, barefoot, and ran back downstairs, passing Iris as I went. “Nancy!” she said, startled. “What—?”

  But I couldn’t stop now, not until I found out if my suspicions were true.

  The ballroom was virtually empty now; only a lone staff member was left sweeping the floor. The fallen balcony railing was leaning against the wall, and a dusty mess of plaster and other detritus was scattered across the dance floor. “Miss,” the staff member said. “Can I help you?”

  “No, thank you,” I replied. “Hey, listen. You’ve had a long day and you must be exhausted. Why don’t you call it a night and I’ll finish up here for you? I’m feeling a little restless and wouldn’t mind a little work before bed.”

  The man looked at me strangely but nodded and smiled. “As you wish, miss. Thank you.”

  I stood on the exact spot on the floor where I’d remembered stepping into the fragments and looked up. Just as I’d thought, I found myself staring directly up at one edge of the balcony. Since it jutted out farther into the room than any of the other clay-colored metal railings lining the second story, there was no question that the fragments had come from the exact same railing that had fallen.

  “There you are!” Iris exclaimed as she came into the room. “Nancy, what in the world is going on? You come tearing down the stairs like a woman possessed, barefoot and crazy-eyed—”

  “Iris,” I said, my voice serious. “This wasn’t an accident.”

  Iris gaped at me. “What?” she said.

  “Someone did this on purpose,” I said.

  Iris gave me a skeptical look. “Nancy, I know mystery is sort of your thing, but I think in this case you’re going a little overboard. It was an accident!”

  “No, Iris—I’m serious!” I replied, pulling her back as she started to shuffle sleepily away. “Please, just listen. Do you remember that stuff I stepped on earlier today? It’s the same stuff on the floor right now.” I pointed at the clay-colored dust that littered the floor. “It’s paint from the balcony railing. It has to be—there’s nothing else in this room that matches that color exactly. And the pile of fragments was here”—I gestured above us to the now-broken balcony—“right under where Bash was standing for the speech.”

  Iris crossed her arms. “Okay . . . there was some paint on the ground. So what?”

  “So that means that someone was tampering with the balcony right before the party started. You told me that the catering staff had already been in early that morning to clean the room, so it must have happened sometime after that. They must have used a screwdriver to loosen the bolts that secured the railing to the wall, the paint would have peeled away in the process and fell to the floor below. They left it tight enough to stay attached, but loose enough to give way if anyone leaned on it. Which is exactly what Bash did during his speech.”

  Iris still didn’t look convinced.

  I walked over to where the fallen railing was leaning and knelt down to inspect the sides. “You see?” I said, pointing to the holes. “The paint is stripped. But only from the holes that would have been securing the railing to the supporting beams on each side. This was done in a hurry and with a screwdriver—a professional with a drill wouldn’t have done this kind of damage. It’s sabotage, Iris.”

  Iris stared at the holes for a moment before staggering back, her eyes wide. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “I’m positive.”

  “But who would do such a thing? And why?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That sick feeling had fallen away and been replaced by a kind of electric tingling that I had become very familiar with over the years. “I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m going to find out.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A Jealous God

  A NEW DAY DAWNED BRIGHT and clear—but my mind remained clouded with questions.

  After a sleepless night, I rose from bed and parted the curtains to see the buildings of Oracle still sparkling with rain from the storm. I pushed away the wave of fatigue and focused on the day ahead. The girls and I had planned on returning to River Heights this morning, but I had already told Iris that I’d be sticking around to investigate Bash’s so-called “accident.” I threw on some clothes and went out to find Bess and George—they still didn’t know about the little discovery I’d made the night before.

  In the hallway I ran into Bess, who was dressed impeccably as usual. She wore a flowy, sage-colored skirt and a lacy sleeveless blouse, her blond hair pulled into an updo that was probably done carelessly but managed to look flawless. “Oh, Bess,” I said with a sigh. “You look as fresh as a daisy. Could I borrow a little of your energy, please?”

  Bess looked at me with concern. “Wow, you didn’t get much sleep, did you, Nance? You look positively worn out!”

  “I am,” I agreed. “But that’s not important now. I need to talk to you and George right away. Something’s come up, and I’ve got to stay here at Oracle for at least another day.”

  Bess gave me a sidelong look. “Let me guess—is there a mystery afoot?”

  I nodded. “Of mythic proportions.”

  We found George still in her bedroom—still in her bed. “Mungggh,” she groaned as Bess threw open the curtains and flooded the room with sunlight. “Why . . . ,” George moaned. “What have I done to deserve this?”

  “Rise and shine, Hermes,” Bess sang. “Nancy’s on the case.”

  George sat up and stared at us, bleary-eyed. Her short dark hair was pressed into a cowlick that made her head look like a skateboard ramp. “What time is it?” she asked.

  I glanced at my watch. “Eight thirty.”

  George covered her face with her hands and fell back onto the pillows. “No mysteries before nine a.m.!” she bellowed.

  After listening to some more grumbling, we got a doughnut and a cup of coffee into George, and she managed to throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and join the world of the living. The three of us gathered in the sitting area of the bedroom, and I brought the others up to speed about the events of the night before.

  “Sabotage, eh?” George mused. “Well, that certainly would explain why the balcony came right off like it did. But Bash seemed like such a stand-up guy—who would want to hurt someone like him?”

  “Even saints have enemies,” I said. “We just need to find out who they are.”

  Bess bit her lip. “Yeah . . . about that ‘we’ part,” she began.

  George cleared her throat. “Right,” she added. “You see, Nancy—”

  “I just can’t stay,” Bess blurted. “As much as I’d love to help with the case, I have to get back to River Heights today. I promised my mom I’d help with the yard sale—”

  “And I already told my grandpa I’d come and fix his computer this afternoon,” George broke in. “And delete a bunch of junk e-mails. And update his malware. And install his new printer. And—” She blew out her cheeks. “Anyway, it’s a full day’s work, and I don’t want to let him down.”

  I felt my shoulders slump. How was I going to solve this mystery without my two best friends? Bess and George must have seen the look on my face, because they both rushed to apologize.

  “We’re so sorry, Nancy!” Bess said. “I would stay if I could, but—”

  “No, no,” I interrupted, waving her apology away. “Don’t be silly!”

  “You can call
us anytime,” George said. “You know my phone is practically glued to my hand as it is!”

  “Yeah, of course,” I reassured them. “It will be fine—really.” I tried to sound casual, but neither of the girls looked convinced.

  A knock at the door interrupted the moment. “Come in!” George called out.

  Iris burst through the door in a flurry of yellow ruffles and polka dots, the brightness of her dress equal to the sunny smile on her face. “Hello and good morning, my dear friends!” she sang.

  After my revelation last night, I was surprised to see Iris looking so happy. But then I remembered that time when we were eight years old and her parakeet died. At first she cried, but later that day she’d invited all the neighborhood kids over to participate in a bird-themed celebration to pay tribute to her late pet. She played host the entire time, laughing and smiling as everyone made bird masks out of paper plates and construction paper. I guess putting on a happy face was just the way Iris coped with hardship.

  “What’s going on, Iris?” I asked. “Have you heard anything from the hospital about Bash?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have! Good news—Bash is going to be okay!”

  I got to my feet—this was good news.

  “Oh! How wonderful,” Bess said.

  “Is he awake?” I asked urgently. After all, Bash would know better than anyone else who might want to hurt him.

  Iris’s smile faltered. “Well, no, not yet,” she admitted. “He’s still unconscious. But they say he’s stable. There’s just no telling exactly when he’ll wake up, unfortunately.”

  I sighed. For now, my investigation would have to continue without Bash’s help. And without George and Bess’s help either.

  I felt about as sunny as a storm cloud.

  Iris glanced my way and must have noticed the look on my face. “Buck up, Sherlock!” she said, giving me a friendly punch to the shoulder. “Negative Nancys don’t solve mysteries!”