FBI HEADQUARTERS, Washington DC. Saxby Smart’s Crime HQ, my garden shed. Three major centres of crime-busting operations. But which is the odd one out? The answer is: my garden shed. Reason: because the other two have got heating systems, and my bloomin’ shed hasn’t. During the coldest months of the year, instead of concentrating on being a brilliant schoolboy detective, I have to concentrate on having enough blankets and woolly hats in the shed to stop me from shivering while I’m working on case notes. It’s not fair. I bet Inspector Whatever-Name of the Yard never has this trouble! The only thing I like about the winter is that at least I’m free of hayfever for a few months. I was shivering in my shed the day I was asked for help by a kid in my year group at St Egbert’s School who we always call The Skull. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I was wrapped up in a thick blanket, nestled in my Thinking Chair (the battered old leather armchair where I do all my detective-type thinking).
