Crowns and Codebreakers (10 page)

She’d felt left out.

But now a part of Nigeria – the bronzes, the boy, even Gran – had come to her and needed her help.

‘Are you OK?’ Flora asked quietly. She’d fallen in step with Minnie, a little way ahead of the boys.

‘I’m just a bit upset, I suppose,’ Minnie said. She had no idea how to begin to tell Flora what she was feeling.

‘Sometimes,’ said Flora, ‘when I feel upset, I like to imagine that I’m just a dream that someone is having. That I’m not real.’

‘You can be a bit odd sometimes,’ Minnie replied.

‘Sylvie says that too,’ Flora agreed, ‘but I don’t mind. What’s making you upset?’

Would Flora understand? She didn’t know what it was like to have two different ways to be – to be British and Nigerian at once – and how the two didn’t always work so well together.

She was a twin though. So maybe she did know something about being two different people at the same time. But Minnie didn’t want to talk about Sylvie, or the fact that she wasn’t there with them. She didn’t want to have to explain herself to anyone. She shrugged.

Flora dropped back to talk to Piotr. The moment for sharing was gone.

‘I think we should call the police,’ Piotr said.

‘Can we call Jimmy?’ Flora said eagerly.

Jimmy. Minnie felt a surge of anger at the mention of his name. Gran had sat with her pot of tea turning stone cold waiting for his call.

He hadn’t rung. He didn’t care.

‘There’s no point calling the police,’ Minnie said. ‘They won’t do anything.’

‘But we have to,’ Flora said. ‘We can’t stop a smuggling gang on our own. And it isn’t just the illegal art, is it? Or have you forgotten about the boy?’

It was worse remembering the boy. What if he was in danger? In trouble? And Jimmy hadn’t done a single thing to stop it. It was all Jimmy’s fault if the boy ended up hurt.

‘Fine,’ she snapped at Flora. ‘Call your precious Jimmy. But don’t be surprised if nothing happens.’

Minnie stalked ahead of the others. She let her long legs carry her forward, like a missile set on a target. She just wanted to get home.

She could hear Flora’s voice speaking into her phone. ‘Yes, yes, that would be good. Yes, we’ll meet you there.’ Then running. She glanced back. Flora was running to catch her up.

Flora smiled, her milk white cheeks peached from the
effort. ‘I just spoke to Jimmy,’ she said. ‘He says he’ll meet us in the cafe in ten minutes.’

Minnie was stunned. Jimmy was going to drop everything for Flora, when he hadn’t done a single thing for her family even though it had been days since the break-in. She glared at her friend as though she wanted to hit her. Which she did.

Minnie walked in stony silence to the cafe. Inside, she didn’t reply to Eileen’s cheery ‘Good afternoon!’ She sat in a booth and stared out of the window.

The others piled in too, chatting about the bronze head, the millions, having minions and what Jimmy would say about it all.

Minnie didn’t join in. Didn’t say a word.

She was too angry.

Jimmy, as he’d promised Flora, was at the cafe inside ten minutes. He was in uniform, neat and polished as always. He smoothed down his mousy hair, which had a tiny trace of hat-head. Then he squeezed into the bench beside Andrew.

‘So,’ he asked, ‘what’s the big emergency?’

He was joking about it!

Minnie refused to look him in the eye. She tugged a napkin from its holder and began to tear it up, making a mouse-nest pile on the tabletop.

Eileen put a frothy coffee down in front of Jimmy.

‘We saw a smuggled bronze,’ Flora said. ‘We’ve been on their trail for a few days, but today we saw them at the drop.’

‘The drop?’ Jimmy asked.

‘It’s a pre-arranged place where criminals pass goods to one another,’ Flora explained.

Jimmy chuckled. ‘Yes, I know what a drop is. What I’m wondering is what you lot have been up to now.’

Minnie watched the bustle of the market, the apples, strawberries, potatoes, being twisted into paper bags by the traders. She couldn’t look at Jimmy.

Flora was waiting for her to speak, to explain about the break-in, the cipher, the missing boy and the head of the king. But she wasn’t going to tell him anything. If he’d wanted to know, he’d had days to get in touch. Minnie rolled her shredded napkin into balls.

Piotr gave her a funny look, then he turned to Jimmy. ‘We found a cipher and a hidden message that led us to the railway station, where we saw Marcus Mainwaring from the gallery and Omar from the dry cleaner’s take a bronze head from a locker. If we’re right, the head is worth millions.’

‘
If
you’re right,’ Jimmy said. ‘You’d better show me this cipher, and the hidden message.’

Flora riffled through her trusty backpack and pulled out her copies of the postcard and the letter from the school. She handed them to Jimmy and showed him how the secret message was revealed that led them to the locker. ‘Minnie took the photographs and I turned the photos into replicas,’ she said proudly.

‘So these aren’t the originals? Where did you find the originals?’

He was asking Minnie. She didn’t reply.

‘Well,’ Jimmy said, examining them, ‘they’re peculiar, I’ll give you that. But if you made these they probably don’t count as evidence.’

Flora looked dismayed. ‘But I had to make them. How else would we have read the message?’

‘I understand, but they’ve been manipulated on a computer. And, in general, manipulation isn’t good for evidence.’

‘What would be good evidence?’ Andrew demanded.

Jimmy took a sip of his drink, then wiped the froth from his top lip. ‘Listen, I don’t have much to go on. There might not even be a case here. What I’ll do is I’ll talk to Marcus, just an informal chat. I might be able to uncover something that means I could get a warrant. But there’s not a lot to link him to a crime.’

Minnie felt her teeth grind together. Not a lot to link Marcus to a crime? What about the break-in? Wasn’t that a crime? And the peanut boy? Wasn’t he worth rescuing? Jimmy hadn’t even mentioned that, and the police file had been sent to him personally.

‘Can we come too?’ Flora asked.

‘What, all of you?’ Jimmy chuckled. ‘No. I can’t take junior detectives with me, even on routine enquiries. You can wait here.’

Minnie finally spoke. ‘No way,’ she said.

‘I am not waiting here,’ Minnie said.

Jimmy looked startled.

‘We’ve done all the investigating. It isn’t fair for you to take over now and keep us out.’

‘Minnie,’ Piotr warned in a low voice.

‘No,’ Minnie said. ‘It’s true. It isn’t fair.’

Jimmy held up his hands. ‘Minnie, wait. Listen, if you feel that strongly about it, maybe we can work something out. But I really can’t go and interview a suspect with four children in tow. No matter how talented those children are,’ he said.

‘Not four, just me,’ Minnie said. ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘Yes,’ Andrew said. ‘You could take Minnie with you. She’s so tall, Marcus might think she’s your work experience or something.’

‘Wait,’ Flora said suddenly. ‘You can’t. Marcus has met you before. You’ve been in his gallery already. He won’t talk if he recognises you.’

Minnie paused. She hated to admit that Flora was right, but it was true.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘But he hasn’t met Piotr, has he? Piotr can go instead of me.’

She glared at Piotr. She knew it wasn’t fair to be cross with him, but she couldn’t help herself.

‘I’ll take Piotr,’ Jimmy said. ‘But remember, I’m in charge. We’re just having an informal chat, not leading the charge of the light brigade.’

‘What?’ Andrew asked.

‘We’re not attacking the Death Star,’ Jimmy said with a smile.

‘Right.’

‘Come on, let’s go and see this Marcus chap.’

Minnie didn’t really want to wait with the others while Piotr was away doing the investigating. But she had no choice. The flat was miserable with Gran still hurt and upset. The salon was crotchety; Mum was edgy. She had nowhere else to go.

She sat in silence, staring out of the window.

‘You know,’ Flora said softly, ‘sometimes you and Sylvie can be very similar.’

Minnie didn’t reply. She turned her back and watched the street.

Flora was wrong. She was nothing like Sylvie.

Piotr followed Jimmy out of the cafe. He glanced back. Minnie’s face was obscured by low sunlight reflecting on the window, so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. But he could imagine. Jimmy whistled as he walked through the market, nodding hello at some of the traders, and even some of the shoppers. Just like the Jimmy who had been so kind to Piotr when his dad had been in trouble. It didn’t make sense.

‘Ikonik, right?’ Jimmy asked.

Piotr nodded.

‘I’ve always meant to go in there but never got around to it.’

Piotr shrugged.

‘I’m not much of an art fan, but my girlfriend likes that kind of thing.’

Jimmy glanced down at Piotr. He frowned. Then he stopped walking. ‘Listen. Is there something going on that I’m not getting? Minnie hardly spoke to me, and now you’re giving me the silent treatment. I’m helping to find this strange bit of art, aren’t I? Isn’t that what you want?’

Piotr couldn’t help feeling that, for a police officer, Jimmy could be a bit dense sometimes. ‘I expect it’s because of the break-in and the missing boy and how you haven’t been bothered about any of it,’ Piotr said, his voice exasperated.

‘Break-in?’ Jimmy’s voice rose an octave.

‘Yes. The break-in at Minnie’s flat when the boy’s suitcase was stolen. You know.’

‘I certainly do not know.’

Piotr shoved his hands deep in his pockets. He felt as though he were being told off, but that wasn’t fair, because it was Jimmy who hadn’t done what he was supposed to.

‘Sorry, Piotr, sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I was just surprised, that’s all.’

Surprised? Piotr looked up. Jimmy’s face looked confused, his forehead creased, his eyes wrinkled at the corners. But he didn’t look guilty. He tried to remember exactly what Flora had said to Jimmy in the cafe. Had she
mentioned the break-in? No. She’d just told Jimmy about the cipher and the Left Luggage – that’s what they’d all been focused on.

‘Don’t you have a file on your desk,’ Piotr asked, ‘that reports a break-in at Minnie’s flat on Sunday morning? The only thing stolen was a suitcase of boys’ clothes that Minnie’s gran had accidentally taken from the airport. The cipher was inside that suitcase. That’s how we know it’s all linked.’

‘There are a lot of files on my desk,’ Jimmy said softly. ‘A whole heap got dumped on me. I haven’t had time to look through. I didn’t realise, I promise. I didn’t know.’

The sounds of the market seemed to fade as Piotr watched the emotions flash across Jimmy’s face: sadness, embarrassment, then determination. ‘I’ll go and see Minnie’s gran right now. If there’s a missing boy, child services will have to get involved. There’s no time to waste. I’d better apologise to Minnie too.’

Jimmy turned on his heel, ready to weave his way back through the fruit and veg stall, the frying onions, the shouts of the traders, to head back to the cafe.

Piotr grabbed his arm. He could barely get his fingers around the solid muscle, but the touch was enough to halt Jimmy. ‘I think the only apology Minnie would
accept,’ Piotr said, ‘is if you investigate Marcus right now. It’s only been an hour since he was at the station. That’s exactly the right time to ask him questions about it. It’s what Minnie wants you to do.’

Jimmy glanced back at the cafe, then at the road ahead. He gave a firm nod. ‘You’re right. Let’s see what we can find out.’

Ikonik was open. Piotr was pleased to see Marcus standing inside, with two customers. He hadn’t gone to ground after the drop. But was the Ife head here at the gallery?

Jimmy pushed open the door and stepped inside. Piotr followed.

Marcus smiled, perhaps a little nervously, as he saw Jimmy and his uniform. ‘One small moment,’ they heard him say to his customers. ‘Do please yodel should you need any assistance.’

Then he approached Jimmy and Piotr, and his voice dropped discreetly.

‘Hello, officer, how can I be of service?’

‘I’m not here in any official capacity,’ Jimmy said in a friendly voice. ‘More idle curiosity. You’re on my patch so I thought my young friend and I might just say hello. I’m SPC Wright. The art here is African, is it?’

‘African, Oriental and Australian,’ Marcus corrected him. ‘We have a very broad range of interests.’

Jimmy browsed the objects on the wall, the gold cloth, the water bottles, before heading towards the counter. Marcus hovered around him, like a moth by a lamp. The wire tray was still on the counter. Jimmy rested an elbow on the top and glanced at the envelopes. His friendly grin didn’t waiver.

‘Is it difficult to source?’ Jimmy asked.

Marcus laughed. ‘Oh, not at all. Artists are very keen to be able to exhibit. We always have more artists than we could possibly show. We’re very lucky.’

‘We?’ Jimmy asked.

‘I have silent partners,’ Marcus explained. ‘While I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, I’m afraid that the uniform is a little disconcerting. Perhaps I could ask you to come back on your day off and I’ll give you a proper tour?’

Jimmy nodded warmly. ‘Yes, of course, I understand.’ He pushed himself upright.

Was that it? Piotr was about to break his promise about no attacks on the Death Star and ask Marcus about the bronze head and the peanut boy, when Jimmy turned.

‘Just one more thing,’ he said. ‘Is this all of your stock? Everything you have for sale?’

Piotr saw something flash across Marcus’s face. Irritation? Fear? Then the smooth, poised gallery owner was back. ‘Do see for yourself. Come.’ He headed into the back of the shop. Jimmy gave Piotr a curt nod and they followed behind.

There was a tiny, cramped kitchen just off the corridor – a sink, a cupboard, a microwave. Beyond that was a white door. Marcus opened the door to reveal a compact bathroom: a toilet and another mini sink. There was a paperback book balanced on the edge of it.