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Alexander waved my query and my outstretched hand away.” Oh, I don't deal with such things, but you'll need to submit an invoice.”
Holms took control of the situation. “Now, Alexander, what can you tell us about this Jimmy Henderson?”
A look of genuine affection flew over the older man’s face. “Ah, Jimmy. Jimmy was the product of a whole new training regime in English football.”
It was something I was unaware of. “A new regime?”
Alexander seemed eager to elaborate. “Thought up by scientists to explain why England has stopped producing quality football players.”
“Did we ever have those?” Holms asked woundingly.
“Oh aye, Mr Holms, giants, giants we produced at one time. Men who could stand shoulder to shoulder with any in the world.”
“And we haven't got them any more?”
Alexander shook his head sadly. “Gone, gone. Football has been driven out of young men's minds by mobile phones and computer games. We have bred a race of spoiled, pampered brats without the skill to kick a ball against a football stadium, never mind a goalmouth.”
I was still a little confused. “So, what does this new regime entail?” I asked.
“Poverty, Dr Wilson,” the Scotsman beamed proudly, “Poverty and deprivation. We take the lads away frae their families at an early age and thoroughly deprive them of aw the benefits of living in the 21st century.
Bread and dripping for dinner, a copy of the Dandy to read every three months and a tennis baw to kick aboot in the streets night and day. All to turn them into football players. And it worked … wi' Jimmy Henderson.”
It all seemed a bit extreme to me and I ventured to say so.
“Extreme?” the manager replied, “Of course it is, and expensive tae. Dae ye know it costs us twelve pound fifty fur a decent tennis baw these days.”
A stray ball broke from a group of players and rolled towards Holms who trapped it deftly and lobbed it back toward them without a glance.
“Not bad,” Alexander said, “Played a bit have you? Amateurs was it?”
“Let me assure you, Mr Alexander,” Holms replied, “That the only balls I have ever previously kicked were those of the Shropshire Amateur Flasher. But, to business, who was here when your Mr Henderson decided to disappear?”
“Oh, there was just a few of them,” Alexander replied, “I'll send them over if you want to talk to them.”
He walked off towards his squad of athletes and I turned to Holms. “This deprivation regime, you think it has some bearing?”
“Far too early to say, Wilson. We must consider everything, it could be a simple matter of a sudden illness.”
“In which case he would have reported to the medical staff here. No, no, I have a fancy for kidnapping.”
Holms snorted. “And what type of kidnapper orders his victim to report via a text message? No, the illness need not have been his, a family member or a friend perhaps.”