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“No, no, we might be endangering Henderson. We shall save calling that number as a last resort. It wouldn't, by any chance, be a landline?”
I checked the number again. “No, it’s a mobile number.”
Montoya looked at us nervously. “You give me Jimmy phone. I give back when Jimmy return.”
“Oh go away,” I ordered.
“You steal, I call police,” he warned.
“Oh, give him it, Wilson,” Holms instructed, “but memorise that number.”
I handed the phone back and Montoya secreted it about his person before skulking off.
“You're not getting Gibraltar back, remember that!” I shouted after him.
“Be at peace, Wilson,” Holms commanded.
“I was sure that text would solve everything but we're no further forward,” I fretted.
“We should have checked to see if there were any other messages from that number,” Holms said as his superb brain brought its full weight to bear.
“I'll get the phone back,” I said, turning in the direction the Spaniard had retreated in.
“He won't give you it,” Holms warned.
I rolled up my sleeves and said, “We'll see about that.”
He returned to London immediately while I pursued Montoya and the following events occurred. They were related to me later by Holms and are necessary to obtain a complete picture of events.
Holms was relaxing in his armchair sipping a brandy when Mrs Houston entered our chambers with our laundry. She lifted a pair of trousers from the basket and held them up accusingly towards my friend. “I do wish you wouldn't crawl about on your knees when your doing your investigating.”
“It is sometimes necessary where footprints are concerned,” Holms explained
“And how are you getting on with the Jimmy Henderson case?” she asked.
Holms was surprised at her curiosity. “It's not like you to be interested in an investigation, Mrs Houston.”
“I'm mad for Man United, Mr Holms. One point behind the Scousers and no Captain, it doesn't bear thinking about.”
“Well, the investigation is proceeding apace. We have recovered Henderson's phone and the last text message he received. And I believe we've ruled out the full-back, Balfour, of any involvement.”
Mrs Houston looked up from her folding of our clothing. “Balfour? What would he have to do with it?”
“We suspected that he might have tried to get Henderson out of the way to make a bid for the Captaincy himself.”
“The Judas!” the old woman spat.
Holms waved a hand of rebuke. “We've ruled him out, Mrs Houston. Balfour is ambitious but I don't think he'd stoop to abduction.”
“Who do you suspect then?”