‘Hello?’
‘Anton. It’s Danny.’
Danny had decided to call his journalist friend first.
‘All right, Danny. How’s it going?’
‘Fine.’
Danny waited for Holt to speak. To see why he’d called last night. But there was a silence. The kind of silence that you can’t quite say why it’s happening and you feel uncomfortable and you know the person on the other end of the line is feeling uncomfortable too.
Eventually Holt filled it.
‘So, er … did you see the game last night?’
‘No, I was out,’ Danny said, wondering if he should tell Holt about his surveillance the night before. But what he really wanted to talk about was the photo fit. It was worrying him. A lot. And he’d not been able to talk to anyone about it.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ Danny said, lost for words. He’d expected Holt to lead the conversation.
More silence. Danny wondered what was going on. He and Holt had always been so easy with each other, ever since they’d started solving crimes between them.
Danny decided to fill the silence this time. ‘You called last night?’ he said. ‘I was just calling you back.’
‘Did I? Oh … oh … yes.’
Danny said nothing. This was getting weirder.
‘Yeah,’ Holt went on. ‘I wanted to fill you in on the game. It was pretty good. Madrid look vulnerable in some ways. I think City could get behind them.’
Why was Holt talking like this? Danny wondered. Like he was reading out one of his match reports?
And he realized that he must be bothering Holt. He was a busy man, after all.
‘Listen,’ Danny cut in. ‘I’ll talk to you later. I’ve some stuff to do.’
‘This and that.’ Danny smiled.
‘Catching burglars?’
Danny’s smile broadened. This was more like it.
‘Maybe,’ he said. And he wondered if he should mention the photo fit: to see what Holt knew.
‘Then I’ve got something for you,’ Holt said. ‘To do with the burglaries.’
Danny waited. Now they were talking. He wondered why their conversation had started so weirdly. Maybe it was him. Maybe he’d spent too long with his sister.
‘You wanna know?’ Holt asked.
‘Yes,’ Danny said.
‘The burglaries. I’ve got a suspect.’
‘Who?’
‘Do you remember Paul Wire?’
‘The City player? Yeah, of course.’
‘Do you know about his dodgy recent past?’
Danny did. Wire had been a great player. But he’d fallen apart once he’d stopped playing. He’d gambled a lot of money away. Left his wife and kids. And had been convicted of drugs offences, even going to prison, refusing to name the people the police thought had really done the crimes.
‘Well, he’s out of prison,’ Holt said.
‘So?’
‘And he’s back with his old mates.’
‘Right,’ Danny said. ‘Do you think he’s involved?’
‘Another ex-player told me something,’ Holt said. ‘I can’t say who. Or what he said. But he’s someone I really trust.’
‘Do you want me to check it out?’
‘Would you be careful?’
‘Of course.’
‘I mean really careful. Only watching. You mustn’t do anything.’
‘I’ll be fine. I’ve done it before. I won’t take risks.’
Danny heard Holt laugh. ‘So you won’t end up being kidnapped or anything?’
‘Not me,’ Danny said.
‘OK.’ Holt paused. ‘But you’re just to watch – from a distance.’
‘Sure.’
Danny suddenly felt aware of a silence behind him. He looked round. Emily was standing in the doorway. Smiling.
Danny smiled back and walked past her into the front room, shutting the door.
He lowered his voice. ‘What do I do then?’
Holt paused. ‘Why have you started whispering?’
‘My sister’s listening.’
‘Right,’ Holt said.
‘So?’
‘What?’
‘What do I do?’
‘About your sister?’
Danny put his hand to his head. Holt was going funny on him again. What had he said now?
Then Holt started talking. ‘Oh right, yeah – Wire drinks at the Precinct. The pub in town.’
‘I know it,’ Danny said, relieved they seemed to be back on track. ‘It’s opposite a Starbucks.’
‘Don’t go in it,’ Holt said.
‘I’m fourteen.’
‘Yeah,’ Holt conceded. ‘I forget that sometimes. Anyway, the Starbucks opposite. If you want to sit in there and watch who goes in and out, who Wire is talking to –’
‘How will I see into the pub?’ Danny interrupted.
‘Wire smokes,’ Holt answered. ‘He spends half his time on the doorstep, talking to his mates.’
Danny nodded.
‘Just watch,’ Holt went on. ‘He’s in there eleven a.m. to six p.m. most days. Don’t take photos. Have as many drinks as you like. And eat. Keep your receipts. It’s on me. Have you got some money?’
‘In my savings account, yeah.’
‘Take out fifty quid. I’ll pay you it back next time I see you.’
‘Great,’ Danny said. ‘So what am I looking for?’
‘I’ll email you some photos of men. Some of the city’s best-known fences. They get rid of stolen gear. Sell it on. If he’s seen with them, then it suggests he has stolen gear to get rid of.’
‘Can I ask you about something else?’ Danny said. It was the right time to mention the photo fit. He needed to talk to Holt. Not to see what he could do to help, but just to get Holt’s take on it. He was finding it hard to think about anything with it hanging over him.
‘Sure. What?’
Danny was about to speak, but then he heard his sister behind the door. Shifting her feet.
‘Forget it,’ Danny said. ‘It can wait.’
‘OK,’ Holt replied. ‘See you.’
As soon as Danny put the phone down, Emily came in.
‘Who was that?’ she asked.
‘No one,’ Danny said.
‘Who?’ she persisted, her face changing slightly, showing the real Emily, not this smiling and nice sister she had become recently.
‘Charlotte,’ Danny said.
Emily shook her head. ‘No, it wasn’t.’
‘Well, who do you think it was?’
Emily said nothing. Then she coughed and smiled her new smile. ‘Drink?’ she said. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘No thanks,’ Danny said. ‘I’m going out.’
Once he was ready to go – and he had printed off the pictures of suspects Holt had sent him – he called Kofi. They agreed to meet at the Starbucks.
Exactly where Danny wanted to be. Right now.