Danny knew where the Flying Pizza restaurant was. Across the park from where he lived. Two miles. Not far.
Not if you were running.
For the first couple of minutes he struggled with his breathing. It was uneven, gasping. He could feel his calves aching. But once he was off the streets and into the park, he felt better. He’d be able to run it in fifteen minutes. No problem.
But what should he do when he got there?
Interfere?
Just watch?
Do nothing?
Danny decided he could do any of those three things. It was a plan, of sorts. At least he had given himself a few choices.
He speeded up for the second mile. Out of the green of the park, off the soft grass he’d been running across and on to the tarmac. Harder on the legs. But faster.
Cars raced past him, splashing through the rain that had fallen over the last hour, their headlights picking out puddles as if they were illuminated from below. This was a wealthy part of the city. Not far from the home of the former City FC chairman, Sir Richard Gawthorpe. The cars round here were as posh as the houses.
Two hundred metres from the Flying Pizza, Danny slowed. He’d need to get his breath back, he might want it when he got to the restaurant. He made sure he was on the other side of the road, so he could look in without being so easily seen. There was a gap between a black Range Rover and a white van. Decent cover. He looked into the restaurant through its window, painted to look like vines and grapes growing up the glass.
There were several couples in the restaurant. And some larger groups. Danny studied them closely.
Part of him was pleased not to see Charlotte there. But he knew he was being naive. If Mills and Charlotte were there at least he would know where they were.
He felt anxiety gnawing at his nerves.
Without hesitating he crossed the road and opened the door of the restaurant. He made up a story as he walked. He would pretend to be the son of someone who had not arrived yet.
‘Hi,’ he said, confident.
‘Hello, sir. Are you joining a party here?’ A young woman carrying a clipboard smiled at him.
Danny shook his head, then nodded, taking in the smells of food, the heat, the noise. He changed his plan. ‘Yes. Mills is the name.’ He knew he had to give the surname of the person who had booked the table.
A waiter passed as he mentioned Mills’s name. ‘They have a-gone,’ he said in an Italian accent. Danny wondered if it was real or put on.
‘Gone?’ he asked.
‘Ten minute ago.’
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ the young woman said.
This was not good. If Mills was dangerous, Danny thought, then what next?
What should he do?
Go to Charlotte’s house? Ring her?
He stood looking into the restaurant, seeing food on forks, lips opening, glasses of drink tipped into mouths. But it did nothing for his appetite. He felt sick.
And that was when he realized the young woman and the waiter were still there, looking at him.
Danny blushed. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Not a problem,’ the young woman said.
Outside Danny fished out his phone. He dialled Charlotte.
It rang. And rang. And he knew, as he listened, that it was not going to be answered. But he listened to the eight rings Charlotte’s phone gave before it went on to the answering service.
‘Hi, this is Charlotte. Leave a message or text me.’ Beeeeeeeeep.
‘Text me you’re OK,’ Danny said. He knew his voice sounded stressed. But he didn’t care. ‘Please. Just say “Hi” or something.’
Next he texted Kofi. He had to do something. Act. Doing nothing would make him go mad.
Do you know where Mills is?
I’m worried about Charlotte.
Danny
Danny held the phone, staring at it, listening to the sound of traffic rumbling past on the tarmac. He glanced to the left when he saw something move. A bright colour. It was the young woman in the restaurant. She smiled warmly. Danny smiled back, then felt his phone vibrate in his hand.
Hey Danny. Ian’s with Charlotte. Leave ’em to it. She needs a man, not a boy.
Danny felt a wave of nausea pass over him.
What was Kofi saying? That Charlotte and Ian should go out? He was sure that Kofi thought Ian was an idiot, like he did.
What was going on?
Danny walked back through the park. He didn’t have the energy to run. Didn’t have the energy to do much.
His thoughts were all over the place. He felt like he’d lost his best friend. Charlotte going out with Mills. Kofi had gone weird too. It was awful. All too much at once.
And the worst thing was that he could not think. He was normally so clear-headed and thoughtful. He could work things out. But this had thrown him. He felt angry. He felt vulnerable. He felt weak. He felt a lot of things. But he did not feel like himself. Not the Danny Harte who would be able to solve this problem.
Because Charlotte was out with Ian Mills, Danny knew he was too emotionally involved. It was beyond him.
As he walked he tried to find a way of working things out for himself.
He went back to his trusted method: how would one of his dad’s detective heroes solve it.
Break it down.
Don’t try to think about everything at once.
Take each problem on its own.
So what were his problems?
One, Charlotte was with Mills.
Two, he suspected Mills of something.
Three, he was emotionally involved, so was not sure if his suspicion of Mills was biased.
Four, Charlotte was not returning his calls.
Five, Kofi was being weird with him.
And that was where he stopped. He felt a glimmer of something.
Kofi.
Kofi would not be weird with him. Kofi had always been polite and good.
Then it came to him.
And why? Because Mills had his phone. Mills had stolen Kofi’s bag earlier at City FC. He had even made a joke about it at the time. Now it made sense. Mills had Kofi’s phone: Mills had texted him.
It had to be him.
And because he had done that he could not be trusted. And that meant that, although Danny’s feelings were messed up, he could be sure Mills was bad.
What else did he have on Mills?
That he was an idiot.
That he was arrogant.
That he thought all girls loved him.
That he wanted to be famous, even though his football career had failed.
That he was capable of anything, of everything.
That he had Kofi’s bag.
The thoughts were coming fast now. Danny felt like he had his mind back. And it was the next thought that made him stop as he walked through the darkening park.
If Mills had Kofi’s phone, he would also have his notebook. The one that held Kofi’s address.
And what would he do with that?
If, as Danny increasingly suspected, he was the real burglar, then he would be planning to visit Kofi’s flat. To take all his things. Because he knew that Kofi had new things.
Kofi was the next to be burgled. Mills had said he had a job tonight. He’d been boasting. Taunting Danny. Maybe even letting him know what he was going to do.
That was it.
And if Mills was going to be at Kofi’s tonight, perhaps he might be able to shed light on where Charlotte was.
So Danny started walking again, changing direction. Heading for Kofi’s flat.