Five

Science was first, taught by Mr.Howie, who was proving to be a very nervous substitute for their regular teacher.

"Now," he gasped, rushing over to stop Parker, who was prepared to drop a heaping cupful of something gray into a bowl of something blue, "now, we are going to attempt to begin the - er - experiment to prove our hypothesis about chemical changes of state. If you would take your sample of cobalt chloride, we will attempt to - oh, no, Miss Gianelli, not like that!"

POUFF!

A blue cloud of smoke billowed out to engulf Alicia, and all of those within a five-foot radius of her lab bench.

Mr.Howie stumbled over, choking and coughing, waving his arms about in a frantic attempt to clear the smoky blue air.

"Well, well, uh-" Mr.Howie hacked, fanning the scorched beaker that held the woebegone remnants of Alicia's science experiment, "well, it's not a total loss, now, is it, class?"

He smiled weakly, holding up the beaker.

"Class, will somebody please tell me what kind of change this would be- chemical, or physical?"

A small boy raised his hand, and replied promptly, "Chemical, Sir."

Mr.Howie nodded, pleased.

"Very god. Now, let's see if the rest of you can try it."

Well, they tried it. Some succeed, but most failed. Matt sat with Shirley and Bo, with Mr.Howie's permission, and between the three of them they managed to complete it successfully.

Mr.Howie was suitably impressed, commenting that Miss Holmes had been turning up one genius after another (this being a reference to Maya's visit).

Matt smiled, and cracked a joke that made Mr.Howie laugh uproariously. Shirley and Bo recognized it as one Mr.Howie himself often told, and which the students either didn't understand, or didn't find funny.

The next class was English. Ms.Goldstein was going on and on about Shakespeare, and yet somehow managed to make him seem to be the most fascinating man on - or under - earth.

Matt was again an eager student. Ms.Goldstein fell in love with him, and, towards the end of class, stopped at their table to have a long chat with him, Bo and Shirley.

"So, Matt," she smiled at him, "where are you from?"

"The US, actually." Matt smiled. "Most recently, anyhow. I was born a Canadian, and Mum and Dad offered to send me to the ranch of my choice before- before I, changed schools. I picked one I'd heard of out in Alberta, which was supposed to be really good, and that's where I met Shirley and Bo. I've been down in New York for a while now, and when I- had some time off, I thought I might visit them for a while."

"Well I'm very glad that you did," Ms.Goldstein, a smiling, peasant-faced woman in her mid-thirties, said. "Those were some very insightful comments you made, and I'm glad you'll be joining us."

"Thanks," Matt grinned up at her, and with a few more words, she walked away, just as the bell rang.

"You will never cease to amaze me," Shirley promised, as she, Bo, and Matt were picking up their lunches.

"Maybe not," Matt smiled at her, "but then, you'll never cease to amaze me, either."

"Another thing we have in common," Shirley teased. "Besides being pigheaded, I mean."

"Don't knock it," Matt warned. "Being pigheaded, I mean," he added. "It'll get you places you might never've got to, otherwise."

"Some of them, places you don't want to be," Bo frowned, recalling the many scrapes Shirley's pigheadedness had gotten her - and him - into.

"True," Matt acknowledged with a slight smile, which faded as he remembered the trouble Bo had gotten when he (Matt) had come to Redington twice before. Had he ever apologized?

He was about to ask Bo, when that girl who had come to the ranch with them before, Alicia, came running over to babble at them, thrilled, about a new teacher who was a - how did she put it? - "total hunk".

Shirley arched an eyebrow.

"A teacher?"

"Uh-huh! A Mr.Marany- I tell you, I've never seen somebody with eyes that black! And they're- they're so . . intense. They have a way of just looking right into your soul."

As if that wasn't enough, Alicia insisted on dragging Shirley along to see this "total hunk".

Matt and Bo followed- at a safe distance.

When they reached at Chemistry room, Shirley peeked around the doorframe, at Alicia's insistence.

A dark-haired, dark-skinned man was sitting at the desk, bent over a piece of paper he was carefully writing on. He appeared to be deep in concentration, but at the sound of her footstep, he looked up sharply.

Alicia had been right, Shirley was forced to admit, he was very attractive. When he saw her he smiled, exposing a row of even, pearly-white teeth.

"Hello there, young lady," he said in a high, keening accent that suited his rather Indian or Pakistani features and deep, dark eyes, "may I help you?"

"Uh, yes," Shirley said, since she didn't know what else to say, and stepped into the classroom. "It's this chemistry problem I've been having some trouble with."

"Well, that's what I'm here for, now, isn't it?" Mr.Marany asked cheerfully, standing up. "And what is your name, Miss?"

"Shirley," Shirley replied, extending her hand, "Shirley Holmes."

Mr.Marany shook her hand, introduced himself, and asked what problem she was having trouble with.

"Actually," she admitted, "it isn't a school question- it's one of my own. It starts off like this . . ."

It took five minutes for Shirley to explain her problem to Mr.Marany, and another five for him to help her find a solution.

At the conclusion, the teacher once more shook her hand, but this time in admiration, rather than greeting.

"Well, Miss Holmes, I must congratulate you on your perception, as well as your ambition. That was quite a problem, but you pretty well had it beat."

"It was just the bromthymol blue part that was confusing me," Shirley grinned in real gratitude- she'd been wrestling with that question for months. Mr.Marany wasn't just cute, he was smart, too. He actually reminded her of Matt.

No sooner had she thought of this than Mr.Marany glanced up, over the top of her head, and a quizzical-but-friendly look appeared on his face.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

It was Matt. Curious, Shirley watched him to see how he would deal with this teacher. To her surprise, his manner never changed.

"Sorry," he said easily, "but I'm just visiting here for a few days, and I don't know where my next class is- I'll need Shirley to show me."

"By all means," Mr.Marany gestured that Shirley could leave, and smiling at Matt, "It was a pleasure speaking with you, Miss.Holmes."

"Likewise," Shirley smiled, and left.

"He seems nice," Matt commented, as they walked down the hallway.

"Yup," Shirley agreed. She paused, then burst out: "What was that all about? You didn't change, or anything. I mean- your attitude."

"I didn't have to." Matt shrugged, following Shirley into her math class, "I mean, he wasn't like that."

"Like what?" Shirley wrinkled her nose in puzzlement. She looked, Matt found himself thinking, very cute.

"Like, with preferences," he said, sitting in the desk on Shirley's right. "He liked you when you first came to him, even before he knew what you were like as a person, and he still liked you when you were about to leave, when he did. In other words, he wasn't going to force you to conform to some idealism he had about the way the world should behave."

"Which is just as well," Shirley teased. "He would have been very disappointed!" Then she became serious, but still with a twinkle in her eyes, as she asked him playfully, "D'you know anybody else like that?"

Matt's little smile broadened. "Maybe," he said noncommittally, "just maybe."

The rest of the day followed the pattern of the first, with Matt endearing himself to every teacher, and Shirley asking him curiously if he had ever considered a career in psychology.

He simply smiled and shrugged.

It was the end of the day when Molly Hardy again accosted Shirley's houseguest, her look coolly appraising and somewhat contemptuous.

"So, Harris," she said, "what brings you back to Redington? Should have thought the Pentagon would have offered you A job by now. Or weren't you tall enough for them?

"Height is relative," Matt smiled blandly, as he looked Shirley's chief nemesis straight in the eye; their heads were perfectly level.

"I suppose so," Molly allowed graciously. "But that doesn't answer my first question- what brings back?"

"A close friend, who is going to help me solve a problem." Matt replied, still perfectly calm.

"So, you're a master detective, too?" Molly asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Not exactly," Matt smiled politely, "not exactly. However, I do know how to snoop around. It's actually amazing the files you can hack into - untraceably - when you own a specially modified computer. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He leaned in closer, smile increasing. Molly became, for what could possibly be the first time ever in Shirley's presence, slightly uncertain.

"What do you-"

Matt began to whisper in her ear, slowly, steadily. Molly's eyes widened, grew angry, then calmly enraged when Matt finally drew back.

"Well?" he asked, arms folded across his chest. Molly's eyes narrowed, but at last she nodded.

"Yes. And I have your word, Harris?"

"Of course," Matt said, "Until later, then?"

"I hope not," Molly muttered, stalking away. Matt, still smiling, watched her go.

"What did you say to her?" Shirley demanded, as she, Matt, and Bo walked home (Emily, whom Matt had brought, had eaten his lunch, enjoyed herself immensely, and was now riding home on Shirley's shoulder).

"I told her that if she tried to make trouble for you during this case, I'd expose a little secret I discovered about her.

"A few years ago she hacked into government documents- ones the government would just as soon as forget ever existed, much less have exposed to the public. She was looking for a certain particular- which she found, and used. Now, I have proof of her hacking, and, of course, she doesn't want this proof forwarded. It'll be weeks before she can tap into my files and destroy it."

Shirley stared at Matt, blue eyes swollen to an almost abnormal size. At last she spoke, with no little amount of difficulty.

"You- how do you do it? Tell me, won't you? How do you do it?!"

"No," Matt smiled, stopping and turning to face her. "The question is, how do you do it, City Girl?"

Shirley blushed to the roots of her hair, and stared very, very hard at her black shoe tops. Bo hooted with laughter.

"She's bright red!" he chortled. "She's about as red as a brick building! Just look at her!"

"I am," Matt smiled. "Believe me, I am."

Shirley went form brick building red to fire hydrant red, and with a muttered, "Come on," she set off down the road, leading them towards her house.

When she reached it, she stopped, surprised. There were about six or seven shining black cars with diplomatic license plates parked in the Holmes driveway, and at the curb. The extra security required for an urgent conference was on hand, only half of whom she vaguely recognized.

Peggy was watching them menacingly, having threatened them with death and dismemberment should they come within an inch of her plants.

Joanna Holmes was reclining unconcernedly in a lawn hammock that was hung between two birch trees. She wore a sundress (of all things Shirley would least expect her mother to wear, that was probably it), a large straw picture hat, and bare feet. She was drinking from a tall, crystal glass of lemonade, generously poured and iced, and looked calm and contented. So did Watson, who was stretched to full length under the hammock luxuriating in the shade.

"Mum?" Shirley was confused, "What's going on?"

She, Bo and Matt ran over to the side of the hammock. Joanna looked up, smiled, and greeted them all.

"How was your day, kids?" she asked. "Did Shirley show you around, Matt?"

"Yes, Mrs.Holmes," Matt nodded.

"Ew!" Joanna exclaimed. For a second, the kids thought she was referring to the lemonade, but then realized she meant the title. "Don't do that! You make me sound so old! It's Joanna- please."

"Alright. Yeah, Joanna, she did. I like Sussex- it's a pretty cool place."

"Even Ms.Stratman loves him," Shirley moaned tragically. Joanna burst into peals of delighted laughter, and reached out to ruffle her daughter's hair.

"Poor Shirley! Always late, n'est-ce pas?"

"The tragedy of my life," Shirley agreed good-naturedly, before looking up to see several Security men attempt to take a seat on a decorative park bench, and get run off by an enraged-beyond-words Gran.

"But, Mum," she continued, remembering her previous question, "what is going on here, anyway?"

"What, you mean the stuff-shirts?" Joanna frowned. "Oh, nothing much really, I think. Your father planted me out here like a lawn ornament the moment he learned they were coming- and believe me, they didn't give him much notice! Something big, or so they think, to do with some little diplomats or something-or-other from that little Asian country he was telling us about last night. It's to do with their king and queen, and wondering about the heir, and if the diplomats are legit, or not."

Joanna heaved a sigh, and examined her half-empty glass before concluding, "So, here I am like a little garden gnome or something. Although I've got to admit, it's certainly nice to be able to stretch out in a silk dress with an ice-cold glass of something civilized to drink."

Her expression dimmed, as she added:

"I didn't have much time for lemonade-drinking I the jungle, I'm afraid. A noticeable lack of crystal - or glass - glasses, for one thing. Among others."

"Would you like a refill, Joanna?" Matt twinkled at her. She grinned.

"I'd love that, Matt. Thanks so much!" Then, as he was heading for the house, glass in hand, she hollered after him:

"And if one of those pompous idiots asks if you're the waiter, you tell him where to go, y'hear?"

Then she turned back to Shirley, Bo, and Emily, and greeted the latter warmly.

"Hello, there, little thing! You're quite the cutie, aren't you? I presume," she added, glancing at Shirley, "that she belongs to Matt?"

"He- well- yeah. Sort of." Shirley stumbled.

"Your grandmother used to have a pet hedgehog," Joanna mused. "She was absolutely devoted to him, or so she told me. Does Matt have a cage for her? If not, your Gran might."

"We could ask," Bo suggested.

Joanna glanced across the yard at Peggy. She was dragging a man over the coals for not using the gravel path, instead electing to walk on the grass. She overruled his arguments that, as a Security guard, he would need to make a complete circulation of the house with an unparalleled viciousness.

Joanna winced.

"Perhaps, Bo, you had better wait for a more convenient time. Why don't you two run through the house (figuratively speaking, of course) and find something to out back. You might be able to do your homework on the table back there, under the pavilion, if you like."

"Sounds go," Shirley decoded. Then, to Bo, "Come on- would you like some pop or juice? We'll be heading through the kitchen."

"Sure," Bo decided.

So, saying good-bye to Joanna, the two friends and the little hedgehog headed into the house.

Stopping in the kitchen, Shirley poured them both a tall glass of pop, with ice cubes, and they dumped their backpacks on the floor to be tripped over later.

Matt, just adding ice to Joanna's replenished glass of lemonade, promised to meet them out in the backyard as soon as he delivered the drink to her.

They made their way towards the back doors, but Shirley stopped when they were nearly there, and motioned for Bo to be quiet.

He nodded his comprehension, then watched nervously as she pressed her ear to the study door, and wrinkled up her face in an attempt to hear better.

" . . . regrettable, indeed, but certainly no cause to go chasing- chasing a hope that the heir might remain!"

"Really, Jovek, you might show a bit more excitement for this news," said a fluting, heavily accented female voice. "After all, it should not be your wish, should it, that the Marhini family is gone forever?"

"You are out of line, Miang!" said another, harsh, male voice.

"A thousand humble apologies, Ambassador Rajhim." the woman, Miang, murmured.

"Look here," said a voice that Shirley recognized as belonging to Dr.Shepherd, a surly, elderly Englishman, who was the Embassy's Security Chief, "this isn't doing us any good. What we must ascertain is if there is any real chance that this- this heir, especially, is still alive."

"It is definitely possible, sighed a new voice, sounding almost restrained, as if it were trying to keep something like laughter back.

"But how do you know this, Alisson?" Robert asked. "You said something about a hedgehog, but-"

"Not just any hedgehog," said Miang quietly, with great authority. "The hedgehog. The favored pet of His Highness, Prince Ariani Marhini of Sojrenjaro. Her name was Tashari, and the prince was completely enamoured of her- he would bring her to every court function, and whisper in her ear his opinion of all that transpired there. There was many a man - and woman - prepared to kill to get their hands on the kind of information Prince Ariani gave to Tashari.

"But what does it mean, that she's missing?" a strange female voice wanted to know.

"Well," said the first voice, the one of the man called Jovek, "Tashari was kept in a special cage in the Royal bedroom of the Prince. The morning the assassination was discovered, bodies were hastily assembled, counted, and buried. It is likely that servants' bodies were counted as Royals', and vice versa, so the mistake could very easily have occurred.

"It was days until anybody thought to assemble the old family's belongings for being divided up amongst the new rulers and heirs. Naturally, the tallying took over a month, and it was only then that it was discovered Tashari was missing."

"So- you are assuming that the heir somehow smuggled the hedgehog out of the bedroom, through the castle, and escaped with her?" Robert inquired.

"Yes, that's basically it," said the Ambassador. "We believe that the heir escaped by water or air, although how - or even if - Prince Ariani escaped, we are not at all certain."

"So, where do we go from here?" Robert wanted to know. "Is it still legal for you to act as diplomats? Ambassador?"

There was a moment's silence, and then the ambassador spoke, his voice heavy.

"It is the only option. It is, after all, hardly legal to reinstate the former diplomats and ambassador when we are not even certain the heir still lives. So, although all signatures are null and void pending further notification, we must consider . . ."

Shirley, having heard enough, hastily stepped back, and beckoned for Bo to follow her into the backyard.

He did, carrying the drinks. Shirley carried Emily.

Matt was waiting for them, holding a can of root beer in his hand. He had removed his jacket and tie, loosened his shirt collar, and was sitting back in a padded lounge.

He held in his hand a piece of paper, which he was carefully studying with a frown on his face. As they came up the steps of the pavilion, he looked up.

"Hey," he greeted them, "come take a look at this."

They went over, Bo removing his jacket and loosening his own tie.

"What is it?" Shirley asked, studying the sketch he held.

"A reproduction of Emily's tattoo." he said calmly. "Sort of. I did it a couple days ago, but I didn't really have time to figure out what was wrong with it until now."

"It's not the Sojrenjaro crest!" Shirley exclaimed. "It looks kind of like it, sure, but not really!"

"It's Emily's tattoo," he repeated, "It's the Sojrenjaro crest twice- one the right way up, an the then the mirror image of it placed over top. You don't really notice it on Emily because there it's so small, and the lines of the crest are almost perfectly symmetrical- there's hardly any difference. So- does it look familiar?"

Shirley studied it carefully for several seconds, and at last she nodded.

"It's a street map. Of a city."

"But which city?" Matt persisted. This time it was Bo, reading over Shirley's shoulder, who answered.

"No way." he said, disbelieving.

"Yes, way." Matt countered, perfectly calm.

"What is it?" Shirley asked again.

"Shirley," Bo said, "It's a map of Redington."

It was. Almost as soon as the words were out of Bo's mouth, she saw it- everything from the Redington River to Main Street.

"It is Redington!" Shirley exclaimed. "But why?"

"Probably an escape route," Matt frowned. "Canada was always on very good terms with the Marhini family. It makes sense that the heir's escape route would be situated here- in the King's favorite foreign city."

"His favorite?" Bo asked, disbelieving.

"Yeah," Shirley smiled, remembering. "I met him once. I was- oh, about seven or eight, and the Ambassador wanted me to present Britain's bouquet to him at the welcoming ceremony."

It had been a beautiful, spring day, and Mum, Gran and Dad had fussed over her dress and hair for hours.

The dress had been mostly green, with some white, and nits of yellow, making a lush looking print. The puffed sleeves had been huge, bordered in green satin that matched her sash and hem, and the collar had been a white linen bib edged in handmade lace.

Mum had bought her tiny white gloves, white ankle socks, and new black Mary Janes. Gran had grown a special kind of large white forget-me-not, and had spent hours weaving fresh buds in and out of little Shirley's carefully curled hair in a dainty crown.

The flowers themselves Robert had grown, a blending mixture of white lilies, green ferns, and one beautiful Tudor rose, all bound together with silk ribbon.

Shirley had been deathly scared, but she had somehow managed to make it down the red carpet to where King Mussanti Marhini had stood, 'informally' dressed in a black tuxedo and green silk cummerbund.

She had held out the bouquet in a trembling hand, and the king had smiled at her as he accepted it, thanking her courteously.

Then he had asked her what her name was, who her mummy and daddy were, and a few other things that had, she now realized, been designed to reassure a little girl enough to calm her down, and have her picture taken with him.

Then she had played with the prince and princess, both of them several years older than she. The prince, she thought with a jolt, must have been the very same Prince Ariani whom the diplomats and ambassadors were discussing so feverishly in the house. The heir. But what didn't seem right about this picture?

"Shirley? Earth to Shirley!" Bo was calling.

Shirley jumped nervously.

"Sorry- I was just thinking about something else. Let me see that sheet for a second, won't you?"

She reached for the sketch that Matt had taken back during her daydream, and he willingly passed it to her.

Her eyes flew over the paper, and her finger followed the path they made, finally coming to a halt at a certain square.

"That's the British Embassy." she informed her cohorts. Her finger traced a faint diagonal line to another square that, in real life, would be about a kilometer away. "That's the bandstand, where I presented a bouquet to His Majesty, and played with the prince and princess" (what was it about that day that was bothering her, anyway?) "and this," her finger led to a third square, where two lines extending from the Embassy and the Bandstand met, forming a triangle, which was the principal shield in the Sojrenjaro crest, "is where I bet you money we'll find our key to the heir of Sojrenjaro."

"What would that be?" Matt asked, leaning in to examine it.

"Um . . ." Shirley studied it carefully. "I think it's that block of apartments- it's only about a street away from Sussex. I've walked past it before on my way to school."

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" Matt wanted to know. "Let's go there!"

"Like this?" Bo raised his eyebrows, and pointed at the remnants of his school uniform. Matt glanced at Shirley.

"You have clothes here," she said. "Remember that time we got caught out in the rain? You went home in Dad's things. You sent them back, but we never gave you back yours. I think Gran put them in the spare room dresser. You could change into them."

So it was agreed. Bo changed in the spare room, Matt in the lab, and Shirley in her bedroom.

They met downstairs, just as the diplomats were getting out of their conference, so they were obliged to wait, and be introduced to all of them.

"How do you do, Shirley?" smiled a petite Asian woman who introduced herself as Miang Luddesin. "How big you've gotten! And so pretty, too!"

"Fine, thank-you," Shirley said, only half-paying attention. "So, did you get everything worked out in there?"

A quick flash of pain passed over Miang's face, but vanished quickly, and she said pleasantly:

"Yes, I think so. Thank-you for asking."

That sweet, lilting voice- it was the same accent as all of the diplomats, as well as the ambassador, had. The king had had it. The prince and princess had had it- how old had they been, around sixteen and seventeen? As she thought about this, her eyebrows drew together.

That day- what was bothering her about that day? Something about the heir- what had the king said about the heir? Whatever it was, it eluded her for the moment. She smiled once more at Miang, who was absolutely lovely; even in the stiff black business suit she wore, and moved on.

It took them almost half an hour to get through all of the formalities, with Joanna coming in from the front lawn to stand decorously behind her daughter and, as she put it, "shine my Colgate smile for the masses."

Gran, mounted guard over the garden and lawn ornaments, would not be budged, so seven diplomats and two Ambassadors had to shuffle out to kiss (or shake) her hand, and murmur their thanks.

The queen in her house, Peggy Holmes accepted all homage as her due, and with astounding grace. Her eyes, however, not once left the Security man who had been chosen to guard the study window; his toes were only inches away from the few Echinacea stalks that remained after a trampling which had occurred during Maya's stay.

Once their house was empty of invaders, the Holmes family al let out a collective sigh of relief, although each member had different reasons for doing so.

Robert was glad they were gone, because now the problem of the signatures, which had been a pressing one, was now solved, and he could relax.

Joanna was happy that she could stop posing "like a Victoria's Secret model", and could actually kick back in the hammock and take a nap.

Gran was triumphant that every single one of the guards was gone, with not a plant trampled, and only a small patch of flattened grass.

Shirley was glad because now she, Matt and Bo could at last start actively looking for the Sojrenjaro heir.