Crowns and Codebreakers (3 page)

They all trooped into the church and found a row of seats together. The hall was warm, cosy and very modern, with a PA system to make the sermon easier to hear. After they sang a few hymns and listened to the pastor, Gran’s wide-as-anything grin was back.

Andrew sang the loudest of anyone there. Piotr mumbled the words so softly that barely a murmur came out. Minnie just tried to stay in tune. Once the service was done, Dad treated everyone to a roast dinner in a family pub. Minnie got mint sauce on her dress accidentally-on-purpose.

Gran led the way back to the flat in a much brighter mood. Minnie swung her arms as much as she could against the tight lace, and raised her face up to the sun. The world might have been made from the dirt in a snail’s shell, but some days, she felt, it was very nice dirt.

The feeling didn’t last.

Something was wrong inside the salon. She could sense it as soon as they stepped inside.

It was too cold. A breeze was blowing through.

Mum and Dad paused. Gran looked confused. Where was the breeze coming from?

‘Stay here,’ Dad said.

Minnie, Piotr and Andrew waited.

He went to the back of the salon, then reappeared. ‘The back door is wide open,’ he said to Mum. ‘The lock’s been forced.’

Mum looked around. Burglars? What had they taken?

The salon looked pristine. Nothing had been touched.

She ran upstairs. Her heels clattered on the tiles. Minnie and the others followed slowly. The door to the flat had been forced open too, the wood around the lock splintered like firewood.

Mum dashed from the living room, to her bedroom, to the kitchen. ‘Nothing’s missing,’ she said. ‘Why would someone break in and take nothing?’

Minnie’s skin prickled. She remembered the strange postcard in the wrong case, the missing eyes, the juju. She went into her bedroom.

When they’d left for church that morning, the small black case had been propped against the wardrobe. It was gone.

‘They were in my room,’ she said softly.

Mum was at her side, then Gran, then Dad. It felt squished, hard to breathe.

Gran sat down heavily on her bed. ‘While we were at
church,’ she whispered. ‘While we were at
church
.’ She held her hand to her chest.

Dad sidestepped the bed and sat down beside Gran. ‘It’s OK, Mama,’ he said. ‘It’s OK.’

‘How is this OK? Strangers in our house! Bad people. In our room.’ She rolled her eyes to heaven. ‘Who would do such a thing? And why would they not just ask for their case? I would have returned it. I am not a criminal!’

All very good questions.

Minnie caught Piotr’s eye and flicked her head towards the hallway. He and Andrew followed her out.

They could still hear Dad’s soft whispering, Mum’s soothing and Gran’s rock-solid unshakable belief that they would be murdered in their beds next.

‘Is nothing else gone?’ Piotr asked. ‘No jewellery, or money, or computers?’

Minnie whisked through the rooms, but Mum was right – there wasn’t a drawer open, a cupboard ransacked, a single knick-knack out of place. The black case was the only thing missing.

‘What’s the big deal about the black case?’ Andrew said.

Minnie explained quickly about the mix-up on the carousel.

‘So it wasn’t even your gran’s case?’ Andrew sounded confused.

Dad came out of the bedroom. He looked at the three of them standing in the hallway. ‘You look like hatstands,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you go and watch some TV or something? I’m going to call the police to report the break-in.’

Minnie led the way into the living room. She felt dazed. The terracotta walls, the green sofa, the ordinary everyday things looked like a film set, fake and flimsy.

‘Are you OK?’ Piotr asked.

She shrugged.
Someone
had broken in, walked around, searched their flat. Not a random burglary either, but someone looking for a particular item. Even the air in the flat felt changed. Dirty.

What was so important that someone felt it was all right to break in?

The juju postcard? The boy’s things?

She had to know.

The flat wouldn’t feel like home again until she knew. ‘Piotr, Andrew, I’m changing out of this stupid dress, then I’m calling Flora and we’re getting out of here.’

The cafe where they usually met was closed on Sundays, so Minnie sat in the window seat of the salon, back in her jeans and T-shirt, watching out for Flora. Andrew sat on one of the salon chairs while Piotr pumped it up as high as it would go. Andrew’s legs dangled like fishing lines.

‘Here she is,’ Minnie said finally. ‘Oh. Sylvie’s with her.’ She said it as though Flora had brought a dripping rubbish bag with her.

‘Sylvie’s not so bad,’ Andrew said. ‘You just need to ignore most of what she says.’ He picked up three huge hair clips with crocodile teeth and arranged them in a Mohawk on his head. He added two more to the wings of his glasses.

Minnie unlocked the front door and let the twins in.

‘Are you all right? Are your family OK?’ Flora asked.

‘Have you got any biscuits?’ Sylvie asked. ‘My blood sugar’s a bit low.’

Minnie nodded yes to both questions. ‘Biscuits. Upstairs,’ she said. Minnie gestured for Sylvie to follow. She wasn’t about to bring the biscuits down; she was not Sylvie’s servant. Sylvie paused to look at the broken back door, but didn’t say anything.

The flat was quieter now. There was no sign of Mum. Dad was on the phone. He nodded at Sylvie as they walked past.

Gran was sitting at the kitchen table, a china cup and saucer holding tea the colour of caramel in front of her.

Dad’s voice drifted from the hallway. ‘I know it wasn’t ours. I didn’t say it was.’

‘Gran, this is Sylvie. Sylvie, Gran.’

Sylvie held out her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Adesina,’ she said sweetly. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your trouble.’

‘You can call me Auntie,’ Gran said.

‘Thank you, Auntie.’

Minnie’s eyes rolled so high she could see her own eyebrows.

‘A break-in while we were at church,’ Gran said.

‘Disgraceful,’ Sylvie nodded.

‘Disgraceful, yes.’

‘Are you all right though, Auntie?’ Sylvie asked.

Gran rested her fingertips on either side of her cup, as though to warm them. ‘This place is more dangerous than Lagos. This is not what I had expected. But the tea knew.’

‘The tea?’ Sylvie sounded confused.

‘Here –’ Minnie said quickly, before Gran could explain. ‘Hobnob.’

‘Thank you, Minnie,’ Sylvie said graciously. ‘Auntie, you shouldn’t let the break-in worry you. It’s very, very unusual. Mostly just nice things happen here. Like the market. That’s right on your doorstep. You’ll like that.’

‘Is it the sort of market,’ Gran said, ‘where you can spend a whole morning choosing the best vegetables for a pepper soup? Could you argue over the price of cardamom with a man whose family have been spice traders for generations? Can you buy yards of fabric decorated in all the colours of the rainbow and use it to make the finest outfit for everyone to see on Sunday? Is it that kind of market?’

Sylvie smiled. ‘That kind of market sounds wonderful,’ she said. ‘It isn’t quite like that.’

‘You can argue with the fruit and veg trader if you like,’ Minnie said. ‘He won’t mind.’

Gran shook her head sadly. The kitchen chair creaked as her weight shifted. ‘The crime rate in Lagos is bad. “Come live with us,” your daddy said. “You’ll be safe with us.” But look! Rain falls on everyone. As bad here as at home.’

Gran reached for the biscuits and dunked one in her tea. ‘And now I am eating between meals too. I am being driven to it.’ She sucked the Hobnob. ‘But you girls shouldn’t. You still have good teeth.’

‘It’s for me,’ Sylvie said sadly. ‘I have diabetes, so need to be careful.’

Gran made a sympathetic noise. ‘You poor thing. How do you manage?’

Sylvie opened her mouth to speak, but Minnie interrupted. ‘She manages just fine,’ she said firmly. ‘Come on, let’s get back.’

‘You come and visit anytime,’ Gran said to Sylvie. ‘You seem like a lovely girl. A good friend for my lovely granddaughter.’

It was all Minnie could do not to shove Sylvie out using the Hobnobs as a cattle prod.

Downstairs, the others were discussing the break-in.
Andrew had taken the clips off his head, presumably to try to look like a serious investigator. That or they were hurting.

Flora watched Minnie and Sylvie walk into the room, her eyes wide with curiosity. ‘Do you know what was in the suitcase? Do you think the person who owned it broke in to get it back?’

Minnie pointed the open end of the biscuit packet at Flora. ‘I was thinking something like that,’ she agreed. The biscuits were passed around and Minnie settled on to the window seat, next to the collection of inspiration magazines that Mum loved.

Flora always carried a backpack covered in badges and key rings. She opened it now and pulled out a new notebook. ‘I came prepared,’ she said.

Piotr nodded in approval. ‘Minnie, why don’t you tell us what was in the case? As much as you can remember.’

‘Why?’ Sylvie said suddenly. ‘I mean, your dad is talking to the police right now. This isn’t like last time. We’re not talking about a Hollywood actress’s stolen diamonds here. This is just –’

‘What?’ Minnie snapped. ‘It’s just my gran feeling frightened of the place she’s come to live? My gran scared of going to sleep in case the burglar comes back? That
isn’t important enough for you? And I haven’t even told you about the little boy!’

Sylvie’s lips pressed tight until they were just a sliver of pale skin.

‘I don’t think that’s what Sylvie meant,’ Flora said carefully. ‘I think she was just saying the police might be better at solving this one than us.’

‘Well, they might,’ Minnie said after a second’s pause to glare at Sylvie. ‘But that doesn’t mean I can sit by and do nothing while Gran waits for them.’

Andrew grinned. He seemed not to notice tension. ‘It will be fun to be investigating again. I think we should.’

Minnie looked at Piotr. He was the unofficial leader of the gang. He sat quietly for a moment, thinking. Then he said, ‘I think we should investigate. If the police find the burglar first, then at least the burglar has been found. And if the police don’t find him, or her, then we might.’

Minnie felt a weight lift that she hadn’t known was there. Her friends would help her make things right for Gran.

‘So,’ Flora said, lifting her notebook and pen. ‘What was in the suitcase?’

Minnie remembered the dusty lid, the battered edges, a case that had travelled all the way from Lagos, specked
with grains of the Sahara carried on harmattan winds. She lifted the lid again in her mind. ‘An orange T-shirt, a pair of shorts. Trainers. All little boy sized. A teddy bear, all battered and worn like someone had loved it but not washed it very often. And something else, something weird.’

‘Weapons? Drugs?’ Andrew asked eagerly.

Minnie pulled out her phone and tapped the screen until she found the photo she was looking for. ‘No,’ she said, turning it around to show them. ‘This.’

The others looked.

‘Yuck,’ Sylvie said. ‘Who’d cut the eyes out of boys?’

‘It’s not their real eyes,’ Andrew said. ‘It’s just their cardboard ones. Probably.’

‘You really think your flat was burgled for this?’ Sylvie asked. ‘Why?’

Minnie felt her face redden. ‘I wondered … I wondered whether it might be a, well, a spell or something.’

Even as she said it, she wished she hadn’t.

‘A spell?’ Piotr asked.

‘Well, yeah. I met some kids in Lagos last time I was there. They said that children get taken in the night. They lose eyes, fingers, toes to use in juju magic. They’re found in the morning, walking blind, beside dusty roads. Gran
said she saw a boy alone on the flight. He ate a ton of peanuts. If these clothes are his, and he’s being used for juju magic, then he’s in real trouble.’

There was silence.

‘Whoever broke in,’ Flora said finally, ‘they had to smash the locks to do it. I don’t think much of their magic.’

Minnie flashed Flora a grateful look. At least she hadn’t laughed.

‘Send me the photo,’ Flora said. ‘And measure your hand. I can work out how big the postcard was and print off a copy, with a bit of help from Photoshop.’

‘What else? Can we find out who the case belongs to?’ Piotr asked.

‘The airline wouldn’t tell Dad yesterday. Data protection. And their phone number didn’t work anyway.’

Flora looked thoughtful. ‘We need to know who’s been near your flat while you were all at church. Any callers? Or deliveries? Or anyone just hanging around?’

Oh.

Minnie knew where to begin. ‘We need to get our investigating hats on,’ she said.

‘Deerstalkers?’ Andrew said. ‘Cool.’

* * *

The boys who had laughed at Minnie’s dress earlier were still there, slouching on the bench. Minnie led the way out of the salon and over to them.

‘S’up,’ one of the boys said.

He was wearing baggy basketball clothes, as if he’d bought them to grow into. Though he obviously thought he looked cool. He lolled back, loose limbed, against the wooden slats.

‘Michael,’ Minnie said.

The other boys sniggered.

‘It’s Lowdog,’ Michael said. ‘I’m called Lowdog now, yeah?’

Minnie sighed. Michael had been one of the best-behaved boys in Year Six when she’d been in Year Three. All the teachers had loved him. Times had changed.

‘Fine. Lowdog. Whatever. Listen, you’ve been here all day, haven’t you?’

Lowdog nodded.

‘Well, I wondered, did you see anyone go down the side alley?’ She pointed to the narrow gap that ran down beside the cafe. It led to the backyards of the cafe, the salon and the junk shop. It was the only way to get to Minnie’s back door.

Lowdog pushed his cap up on his forehead. He tried
to look bored, but couldn’t quite manage it. ‘Why? Is something going down?’

‘Yes.’ Andrew stepped forward. ‘A burglary went down. Did you see anyone?’

Lowdog thought for a moment. His two friends watched him carefully.