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, 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.
‘It’s not cool to grass,’ he said. ‘But then, it’s not cool to steal from my hood either.’
‘It’s not grassing to tell us,’ Minnie said.
‘Yeah, you’re not the Feds,’ Lowdog agreed.
Minnie heard Sylvie smother a laugh. She glared at her. Michael-Lowdog might be a bit ridiculous, but he had crucial information; they couldn’t afford to annoy him.
He cleared his throat. ‘I saw a window cleaner. He had one of those big water-jet backpacks. I thought I’d like a go on that. He did the front of the cafe, then went down the alley to do the back.’
‘There was a dry cleaning delivery guy too,’ one of the other boys said. ‘Remember we said it looked like he was carrying a ghost, cos of that big plastic bag he was waving around?’
Piotr looked interested. ‘Was he delivering clean clothes?’
The boy shrugged. ‘He went down the alley. But he came back out still carrying the white sack. Maybe he was lost.’
‘Did the sack look empty or full when he came out?’
‘It looked the same as when he went in, I reckon.’
‘Did it have the company name written on it?’
The boy shook his head. ‘Nah. It was plain white. But there was something on his cap. It was sick. Better than Lowdog’s.’
‘Hey!’
‘Chill, bro, you know it was. It had an ace of spades on it – well sick.’
Minnie had to shove her hands into her pockets to stop herself from jumping. Two suspects already!
‘Was that everyone? No market traders, or shop deliveries, or anything?’ Piotr asked.
‘That’s it, man,’ Lowdog said.
‘No, wait, there was some weird guy,’ the third boy said. ‘He took a whole load of photos of the graffiti in the alley, remember? He had that big, old skool camera.’
‘What did he look like?’ Piotr asked.
‘Old white guy, grey hair. Suit. Bow tie. I can show you.’ Lowdog pulled out his phone. ‘My boy Gnasher here was doing some body popping. He does great robot arms.’
Gnasher looked proud of the praise.
‘So I filmed it, yeah?’ Lowdog tapped his camera screen. ‘The old guy was in the background. It was a bit annoying really. He brings down the cool factor by about eighty per cent.’
Lowdog showed Piotr the screen and the others crowded around. In the background of Gnasher’s electrified octopus impression was a tall, thin man with a chunky camera slung around his neck. He was examining the brickwork closely.
‘So was that everyone?’ Minnie asked.
Lowdog nodded and put his phone away. ‘I reckon.’
‘Thanks,’ Piotr said.
‘Thanks, Michael,’ Sylvie said.
The two boys either side of Lowdog sniggered again.