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But I was not to be brushed aside. “But does he even know his family? You heard what Alexander said.
They are taken away from their family at a young age.”
My theories were interrupted as one of the football players ran up, breathless from his exertions. “Gaffer says you wanted to talk to me about Jimmy.”
“And you are?” Holms asked.
“McCusker, Derek McCusker, left midfield.”
“And you were present when Mr Henderson disappeared?
The young man shuffled his feet. “Well, it wasn't exactly disappeared. He wasn't a magician or anything.”
“What did you think of Henderson?” Holms probed.
“Jimmy? Great talent. Smashing lad.”
This seemed to be getting us nowhere. “Very well then, describe the events of yesterday.”
The lad took a moment to consider. “We were paired up, dribbling round the cones when Jimmy's phone went. He looked at it, read the message and buggered off.”
“And that is all?” Holms continued.
“Far as I can remember,” the footballer replied.
“And you never saw the message on his phone?”
“No, he never showed it to anybody.”
I could sense Holms’ keen eye searching for any hint of deceit on the part of the young man but evidently there was none. “Very well, don't let me keep you from your training. Please ask the next player to come over.”
McCusker ran off but returned a few moments later and asked, “You wanted to see me?”
“No, no, send on the next chap,” Holms responded.
A baffled look crossed the young man’s face. “What?”
“Send on the next chap.”
“But you haven't asked me anything yet.”
“Don't be silly,” Holms said, “I know you are a football player but I did expect some semblance of common sense.”
“Are you a loony?” the lad asked impertinently.
“No, I am Sherman Holms, the greatest consulting detective in the world.”
“Oh yeah, well do some detective stuff then and ask me some questions.”
“I've already asked you all the questions I want, now send over the next player.”
For once I had the upper hand on Holms when it came to matters of deduction. “Wait a minute, Holms, this one's got a different number on his tracksuit.”
The great detective had the decency to look abashed. “Ah, what's your name, young man?”
“Balfour, Tom Balfour, fullback.”
“So, you're not Derek McCusker?”