Danny walked up Foxglove Avenue. His road. His home.
But he wasn’t smiling any more.
He couldn’t believe how sloppy he’d been back in the woods. Almost getting caught like that. Not good.
In the end, the Spanish champions had scored their penalty and won the match: 2–1. It was not a disaster. But it would be much harder to win the tie now.
But anyway, Danny knew he had to focus, he couldn’t let it happen again.
That wasn’t the only reason he wasn’t smiling. There was another reason he was walking back home as slowly as he could.
From today, his parents were away. Getting to know each other again, they’d said. Danny knew what they really meant. He wasn’t stupid. They’d been arguing a lot. This was them trying to make a go of things again.
His parents were leaving him behind for the first time. And that meant he was sharing the house with his sister. And – because he was fourteen and she was seventeen – she was in charge.
It was cold outside now. The temperature had dropped since Danny had been in the wood. Or maybe it had just been warmer there. There were fewer trees here. Less cover.
Danny opened the door, looking into the front room through the window as he did so. He saw his sister lounging back on the sofa, the phone to her ear, a glass of wine in the other hand.
She’s making herself comfortable, he thought.
He resented that Emily could swan about the house drinking wine. She was only doing it to get at him anyway. Pretending to be an adult. Trying to remind him that he was a child.
This week was going to be a nightmare.
He shut the door quietly, pulled off his jacket and put it on a hook. If he just slung it somewhere, he knew Emily would tell him to hang it up. Being the adult – again. He didn’t want to give her any opportunities to do that.
Emily stood in the front room doorway. Recently something had changed about her. She’d started wearing fancy scarves around her neck. Even indoors. More evidence that she was trying to act like she was older.
‘Hi,’ Danny said neutrally. He was immediately suspicious. Why was she being friendly? And why, he wondered, was she grinning?
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Emily asked.
Danny frowned. ‘I’m not allowed,’ he said.
‘Just a bit of wine,’ she said. ‘They let you when they’re here.’
‘No thanks,’ Danny said. That was it then, Emily was obviously trying to get him into trouble.
‘Tea, then?’ Emily offered.
And she was still grinning. Why was that? Danny could hardly bear it. She was supposed to be mean to him. Not nice. But seeing as she was being nice, he’d try to be too.
‘Coke?’ he suggested.
‘Coming up,’ she said.
Danny went into the front room. Emily had two side lamps on. Not the main light. Danny flicked the main light on and leafed through the evening paper. Previews of the Real v. City game.
When Emily came back in she went to turn the main light off, then stopped herself.
Danny smiled. What was she up to? She always switched the main light off if he’d switched it on. It was one of the things they did to annoy each other.
But this time, nothing.
‘Who were you on the phone to?’ Danny asked, flicking on the teletext service. He wanted to see the other Champions League scores.
‘Nobody.’
Danny looked at his sister. She was grinning again. Like she had the best secret ever and she wasn’t going to tell it.
Danny decided to be direct. ‘You’re lying,’ he said.
Emily grinned again.
Could he do nothing to annoy her?
‘Come on,’ he persisted, ‘who was it?’
Emily sighed. ‘Just a friend.’
Danny kept his eyes on her for a few seconds. But she said nothing. Then he looked away. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of him begging to know. So he looked back at the TV screen at the week’s Champions League results:
| Bayern Munich | 0 | AC Milan | 0 |
| Forza FC | 3 | Barcelona | 1 |
| Leeds United | 4 | Manchester United | 0 |
| Real Madrid | 2 | City FC | 1 |
‘Sorry, Danny,’ Emily said, breaking into Danny’s thoughts.
‘Why?’ Danny said. ‘What for?’
‘I’m sorry you lost.’
Danny swallowed. This was getting all too weird.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘But Forza won,’ Emily said cheerfully.
Forza FC was a new Italian team taking Europe by storm. They had come out of the shadow of Juventus and Inter Milan by stealing the place of another team in the Italian second division and being bankrolled by a billionaire. Like the way Milton Keynes Dons were created in the UK. At the expense of Wimbledon FC.
Danny nodded suspiciously. ‘Roberts scored all three,’ he said.
‘I know. I watched the game.’
‘You WHAT?’ Danny could not believe what he was hearing.
‘I watched it,’ Emily confirmed, ‘on the Internet.’
Danny glanced over at the computer in the corner. It was showing one of the illegal Internet sites where you could watch football for free. He was freaked out now. His sister had the evening in the house to herself and she had not spent it in the bathroom, or spent it online chatting to her friends, but had spent it watching Champions League football.
‘How come?’ he asked.
‘I like Forza.’
‘Why?’
‘They’re good.’
‘But you hate football.’
‘Hmmm,’ Emily said, smiling again. ‘Maybe not.’ Then she stood and left the room, heading for the kitchen. She was still grinning, Danny noticed.
Danny sipped his Coke. He had to think about this clearly. In the book he’d been reading about burglars, there’d been a lot about human behaviour. Psychology. About why people start to burgle houses. And in the book there was a section about why individuals suddenly change. Be it from being good to becoming bad or, like his sister, from being mean to being nice.
With burglars it was often drugs. They got into drugs, became addicted and started to need more money. So they robbed houses.
This meant nothing when it came to his sister. Danny was pretty sure she wouldn’t be so stupid as to do drugs, even if she was an idiot. But he knew her change in behaviour meant something. If a person suddenly acted differently then something had changed in their life.
But what?
Then Danny had a crazy idea. Maybe her weirdness was more to do with Forza FC. Maybe she was seeing someone new. Maybe it was Sam Roberts, the footballer. She’d met him here, after all, thanks to Danny. It had been months ago. Danny had been investigating a string of robberies near the City FC stadium when he’d stumbled across Roberts’ kidnapping. It was Danny’s first case. And he’d solved it. As a result Roberts had come round to Danny’s house to say thank you. That was how Emily had met him.
And surely the only reason she would get into football was to do with a boy. Or a man.
Then Danny shook his head. He’d been reading too many crazy crime books. That was pushing it way too far. As if his sister would be going out with an England international footballer!
Danny shrugged and moved over to the computer. He wanted to check his emails.
The one that he checked first was from his friend Kofi. Kofi Danquah was the one person Danny knew who actually worked for City FC. And he was a player. Not a first-team player, but he was still a player. Kofi was sixteen and had recently come over to the UK from Ghana. He had had a lot of trouble with his agent. Not that Danny was a friend to the stars. This had been another of his detective investigations, into the corrupt agent who had brought Kofi to the UK. With Danny’s help, Kofi had managed to get the agent arrested and secure a place at City.
Dear Danny,
Would you like to come and see me playing for the under-eighteens? It will be my first game for them. The game is on Saturday. Also, if you want to meet this week in the city centre please say so. I think you said you are on holiday from your school this week.
With best wishes,
Kofi Danquah
Danny loved the way Kofi sent emails and texts that were so polite. He spoke like that too, always making sure he was using the right word. Danny quickly typed a message back to Kofi saying he would definitely meet him there. This was a chance to see City FC at close quarters. And to spend time with his new friend.
As he finished typing, Danny heard his sister go up the stairs.
The moment he knew she was in her room he reached for the phone. Now he could do the next thing he really wanted to do.
He dialled 1471.
‘You were called at 21.37 by 07700 971 241. To return this call please dial 3.’
Danny didn’t need to do ring-back: he knew the number. It was Anton Holt’s. Anton was a football writer on the local paper, and Danny’s friend. And he was the man who had helped Danny to solve the three major football crimes he’d been involved with in the last few months. The Sam Roberts kidnap. A Russian billionaire who was trying to kill England players. And Kofi’s dodgy agent.
For a second he wondered why Holt would have been talking to Emily. Then he realized that he must have called while Emily was talking to whoever it was that was making her grin so broadly.
Now he wouldn’t be able to find out who Emily had been talking to.
But he was pleased Anton had called. At 21.37 too. That would have been right after the game ended. Holt was in Madrid. At the match.
Danny would call him back tomorrow. He wanted Holt’s angle on the game. And on the burglaries. Because Danny was really starting to feel like he was about to get his teeth into another football crime. One that struck right to the heart of his heroes. One that he was desperate to solve.