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the latest puzzle you sent, it’s 42. Have you found anything proper to detect? If not, here’s a puzzle. Sophie’s mother has four children. The first is called April, the second is called May and the third is June. What is the fourth child’s name? George says hello too, he’s the one who came up with that. How is Daisy?
    Alexander
    I read, my heart jumping and my fingers fizzy with excitement – until I reached that last line, and felt a twinge of unhappiness.
How is Daisy?
I reminded myself that Alexander was a very polite and nice person. It was only natural for him to ask after Daisy as well as me. Alexander and Daisy had met at the same time he and I had, on the Orient Express this past summer. The three of us had worked together to solve a most unpleasant murder – and that is the sort of experience that you do not forget.
    I liked to think of Alexander and his best friend George, the other member of his detective society, the Junior Pinkertons (I had never met George, but I imagined him as looking very much like Alexander, although more bossy), at their school. I saw it like Deepdean, only full of boys instead of girls, eating the same heavy food and running about on the same sort of sports fields as we did. Before I met Alexander, I used to think that boys must be entirely different to girls inside, like another species, but now I see that this is not true.
    I so wanted to tell Alexander about what had just happened, but I remembered Daisy making me swear not to talk about the case. She would be fearfully angry if I disobeyed her, I knew, but I wanted to. Alexander had helped before, and he might be able to help again. I turned the question over and over in my mind, the pen frozen in my hand – and finally, with a guilty leap in my stomach, I made a decision. It had nothing to do with
her
, who else I was friends with. I could make decisions for myself, I thought, and if I wanted to bring in another detective society, there was nothing she could do to stop me.
    I turned to a new page of this casebook, and took out my secret pen, the one filled with lemon juice. I would write the letter now, and post it very first thing tomorrow.
    Deepdean School, Tuesday 5th November
    Dear Alexander,
    You’ll never guess what happened – or perhaps you will, because I think it really is true what you said once, that mystery follows us around. There’s been another murder at our school. Or at least, someone has died.
    The facts in the case are these. The new Head Girl – the horrid one I’ve told you about – was found after our Bonfire Night fireworks display near the bonfire, her head bashed in and a rake lying next to her. It looked like an accident – but all the same, we think that it wasn’t an accident at all. The grown-ups are sure that Jones the handyman simply left the rake lying about, and Elizabeth stepped on it by mistake, but we don’t believe that. We think someone hit her on purpose. You see, everyone hated Elizabeth – so anyone at Deepdean would have a motive to kill her.
    But here is the interesting thing: almost none of us, or any of the mistresses, could possibly have done it. All the girls were lined up on the sports field in year order, facing the fireworks, and the mistresses and Jones were standing in front of us, where we could all see them. No one could have moved from their rows without being noticed. The only people – the only girls – who weren’t standing where they could be seen were the five prefects. They were all behind us, near Elizabeth. They were supposed to be stoking the bonfire, and watching us, but any of them could have slipped over to where Elizabeth was (it was quite dark, apart from the light from the bonfire), and killed her. It’s dreadful, because the Five were supposed to be her best friends – but now that Elizabeth is dead, none of them are acting as though they are sad about it at all. In fact, they are all behaving terribly suspiciously.
    Do you see why I