The Montgomery Murder Page 3

  ‘What’s your name?’ Alfie was pleased with the sound of his voice. Only Sammy would guess that he was frightened.

  The Indian paused. ‘Mallesh.’ He slid the knife up into his sleeve. Mutsy stretched out on the floor beside Alfie’s cushion.

  ‘Sit here next to my brother.’ Alfie pulled out an old tattered cushion and placed it between Sammy and the fire. Now he could see Mallesh’s face and Sammy could listen to his voice.

  ‘You . . . you are blind.’ Mallesh was looking at Sammy. His voice was hesitant, but Alfie could see a look of pity on his face.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Sammy. He always preferred people to mention this straight away and not to be embarrassed. ‘What do you want with Alfie?’

  Only Sammy would have asked that question straight out, thought Alfie, and he could see how startled Mallesh was. For a moment the knife slid down, but then Mallesh looked into the milky-blue eyes, the white skin and the blond hair of the blind boy beside him, and pushed it back up his sleeve again. There was a long pause before he spoke.

  ‘The police are looking for me,’ he said in a hesitant voice. ‘They have asked your brother, Alfie, to find me.’

  So this was the Indian boy the inspector had spoken of.

  ‘How do you know?’ Alfie could hear the note of panic in his own voice. Instinctively he put one hand on Mutsy’s neck, kneading the powerful muscles under the loose, hairy skin.

  ‘I listened outside the window. Outside the window of the police station. I heard everything.’

  ‘Cor,’ said Alfie with a nervous laugh, ‘you must have a great pair of ears. You’re as good as old Sammy here.’

  ‘What were you doing listening at the police station?’ Sammy stretched out until his hand met Mutsy’s back and he, too, stroked the big dog. He turned his alert ear towards their visitor.

  Mallesh hesitated. ‘I wanted . . . to ask that man . . . that policeman . . . the one in charge. I wanted to ask him something . . .’

  ‘Ask the inspector something? What?’ queried Alfie.

  There was a long silence. Mallesh seemed as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. ‘Are you going to do what the inspector demanded?’ he asked eventually. ‘Help him find me?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Alfie leaned forward and tried staring at the visitor. This sort of stare usually worked well with local tough boys and it hid his nervousness.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ asked Jack, always the peacemaker. He took down the pewter mugs from the shelf and put the frying pan on the floor by the fire. He skewered one of the sausages on the tip of a knife and handed it to Sammy, then took another one himself.

  ‘Have one.’ He pushed the pan a little towards Mallesh. ‘And some bread.’

  Mallesh shook his head again at the sausages, but readily cut a chunk from the loaf of bread, muttering ‘Shukriya’.

  That must mean thanks, thought Alfie, listening with interest to the strange sound of this new language.

  Mallesh thrust his knife into the crust and held it to the fire, moving it around so that it browned evenly. Jack’s friendliness seemed to make him more relaxed.

  ‘The inspector at Bow Street wants me to help him solve the killing of that Mr Montgomery from Bedford Square,’ said Alfie casually, biting into his own sausage. He ignored Mallesh and addressed his remark to Jack.

  ‘You!’ Tom took a sausage.

  Alfie carefully shared the beer out between the four mugs, leaving some in the jug, which he offered to the visitor.

  ‘He knows that your father was hanged by Mr Montgomery, ’ he said eventually, looking directly at Mallesh, who now seemed nervous and unsure. Quietly Alfie took the knife from Mallesh and placed another chunk of bread on it, and then put another sausage on Sammy’s knife. He didn’t go back to his own cushion, but sat on the floor, just beside his brother, with his knee touching Sammy’s.

  ‘He thinks that I murdered that man.’ Mallesh’s voice was calm and flat – just stating a fact.

  Alfie took a deep breath. ‘Did you murder Mr Montgomery?’ he asked in an offhand tone.

  Mallesh shook his head. ‘Nahin,’ he said emphatically. ‘I did not know that he was dead – not until I listened at the window. I just wanted the . . .’ He paused for a moment, hunting for the word, and then said, ‘diamond’.

  ‘From his ring? He had a diamond ring.’

  ‘That’s right – it was not his diamond.’ Mallesh suddenly stopped. ‘What’s that?’

  Footsteps were coming rapidly down the stairs, footsteps of someone running. Instantly, Mallesh was on his feet, his knife gleaming in his hand.

  CHAPTER 8

  A FOUL AND WICKED MAN

  There was a moment’s uneasy silence and then Sammy laughed. ‘That’s just Sarah,’ he said. ‘She needs to get her shoe mended. You can hear that one shoe is worn at the heel.’

  Mutsy hadn’t waited for Sammy’s explanation. He was already by the door; there wasn’t much light over there, but Alfie could hear the thumping of the tail on the old floorboards.

  ‘Sarah’s a friend,’ he said reassuringly to Mallesh. He didn’t think that he would mention that she was the scullery maid at Mr Montgomery’s house.

  Tom was already lifting the latch. Sarah came in, and stopped. Alfie could not see her face, but he guessed that she’d had a shock. It was not like Sarah to hang around near the door; normally she would come straight over to them. From where she stood, she would be able to see Mallesh very clearly by the light of the fire.

  ‘Shut the door, Tom,’ he said in what he hoped was a cheerful, reassuring tone. ‘Come on in, Sarah. Have a sausage.’

  Sarah didn’t look very alarming, thought Alfie, though he kept an eye on Mallesh. She was small for twelve, wearing a cloak too big for her and a battered old bonnet that covered her brown hair. Her green eyes were huge in her thin face. The food was reasonable at the Montgomery house so Alfie guessed that she was just worked too hard. She had courage, though. Now, she ignored Mallesh and was shaking Mutsy by the paw and chatting cheerfully to him.

  ‘How many rats today, old boy?’ she asked. Mutsy whined softly, then dashed over to the corner of the room and had a quick sniff before returning to her. He loved Sarah, but the word ‘rats’ was always enough to get him excited.

  ‘Sit there.’ Alfie nodded towards his cushion. ‘Have a swig of my beer. Not too much – the sausages make me thirsty.’

  ‘I brought a few handfuls of chestnuts,’ said Sarah. ‘They were left over and Cook said that I could have them.’ Her eyes were still on Mallesh as she sat by the fire.

  ‘You roast them, Tom,’ said Alfie. ‘You’d have some of these, Mallesh, wouldn’t you?’

  Mallesh nodded and once again muttered, ‘Shukriya.’ His eyes were still on Sarah, but he had slipped his knife on to his belt.

  ‘I saw you before,’ he said hesitantly. ‘At the Montgomery house, was that it? In the yard at the back . . .’

  ‘That’s right.’ Sarah looked back at him directly.

  ‘Mallesh is just going to tell us the story of his father, and how Mr Montgomery had him hanged,’ said Alfie and was pleased when Sarah said nothing.

  ‘Wrongly hanged, bad justice!’ said Mallesh. He banged his fist on the floor, making Tom’s head swivel. A chestnut escaped the spoon and hopped on to the ground. Mutsy sniffed it carefully, but the others did not move.

  ‘Murdered,’ continued Mallesh.

  ‘Tell us about it,’ commanded Alfie.

  ‘My father found a diamond. He found it when he dug a well next to our house. He had to break up the stone to get down to clean water and he saw something bright. He went to Montgomery-Sahib with it and the Sahib pretended that he is going to get the value. Got a man to look and say the value . . .’

  No one said anything. Mallesh’s voice was so full of rage that the words came out in broken sentences, mixed with words from his own language.

  ‘Rubbish and lies . . . Zyaada kuch nahi . . . He told my father the
diamond expert said it’s no good . . . worthless . . . just a piece of glass. And then the officers came . . . the law people . . . my father was dragged off to prison.’

  One by one the chestnuts had hopped. Tom put them carefully into an iron pot, but he didn’t move or offer them around. Mutsy put his head on Mallesh’s foot.

  ‘What was your father accused of?’ asked Alfie. Mallesh’s story fitted so far with what the inspector had told him.

  ‘He was accused of stealing a bag of coins – no words said about the diamond. I begged my mother and my uncle to ask about the diamond, but they would not. They were too scared. And my father was hanged.’

  ‘What happened to you?’ asked Sarah. She sounded sorry for him, and Mallesh gave her a quick, grateful look.

  ‘I ran away that very day. I went to Calcutta and got a job on a ship. I’ve been on ships ever since . . . for the last year.’

  ‘And how did you find where Mr Montgomery lived?’ asked Alfie.

  ‘My father told me that Montgomery-Sahib had a big house in a city called London, in a place called Bedford Square. He explained it all to me in Hindu language. I pictured it a big, square house when he told me what it meant.’ Mallesh smiled a little to himself.

  Perhaps he found London very strange, thought Alfie. He would have liked to ask more questions but said nothing as Mallesh continued.

  ‘Last week when we came to East India Docks, a lascar shouts, “Two crates of tea for Montgomery, number one, Bedford Square.” I followed the cart and I found Montgomery-Sahib.’

  ‘Why did you go there, go to the house?’ Would he get a truthful answer to that question, wondered Alfie.

  The answer came quickly. ‘I just wanted to see him.’

  ‘And did you see him?’ Alfie kept his voice low and soothing. He didn’t want that knife to come out again, though perhaps he and Jack might be able to manage the fellow. Still, Sammy might get hurt if there was a fight.

  Mallesh nodded. ‘Haan, I —

  The word was hardly out of his mouth before Sarah said firmly, ‘You must have seen him. I saw you yesterday hanging around near the mews and around the gatekeeper’s lodge.’

  ‘You got a look at the ring, then – some time when Mr Montgomery was going out?’ Alfie slipped the question in quickly, before the Indian boy could deny it.

  Mallesh said nothing for a moment, but then he nodded. ‘Yes, I did. I saw him hand a piece of money to the man at the gate. He took off his glove to get out a coin and I saw the ring. I’m sure that it is the stone that my father found.’

  ‘You must have felt like murdering him!’

  There was silence, and Alfie glared at Tom. That was the trouble with Tom, he thought. A good lad, fun to be with, great shot, could climb anything, but he always did speak before he thought. Alfie stayed very quiet himself and so did everyone else. Tom glanced from one to the other and then gave the pot of chestnuts a quick toss.

  ‘I am not the murderer,’ said Mallesh firmly. ‘I tell you. I didn’t even know he was dead. I heard it first when the policeman talked to you.’

  ‘But what were you doing hanging around the police station?’ asked Alfie. The more he thought about that, the more it puzzled him.

  ‘It was my friend’s idea,’ explained Mallesh. ‘He keeps a lodging house at the East India Docks, a lodging house for lascars. He told me that in England if you want justice you go to a police station. He told me that you know a police station by the blue light outside the door.’

  ‘So why didn’t you go in?’ asked Alfie.

  ‘I wanted to see what kind of man he is. So I listened at the window. ’

  ‘So that was the way of it,’ said Jack. His broad, friendly face shone with a liking of Mallesh. Alfie wondered if he could trust Jack’s judgement. His quiet cousin, though friendly, wasn’t easily taken in.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mallesh. ‘I listened to him. I heard him say Mr Montgomery was found dead this morning. I heard him ask you to find me, and I think, you are a poor boy, like me; I can talk to you.’

  ‘But you weren’t the one that croaked Mr Montgomery, were you?’ Alfie made a quick gesture with his hand to mime a strangling.

  Mallesh shook his head.

  ‘Swear,’ ordered Alfie. ‘Say I swear by all that is holy. Say you swear by —

  ‘By Almighty God,’ said Sammy. He was an authority on church matters. He went to church every Sunday to learn the hymns and the Christmas carols.

  ‘Sogand xwardan.’ Mallesh said the words solemnly, placing his two hands together and bowing.

  Alfie’s knee touched his brother’s and Sammy nodded his fair head. His hand found Alfie’s, and gave it a quick squeeze. Alfie knew what he meant. Sammy had heard truth in Mallesh’s voice.

  But if Mallesh was innocent, who was the murderer?

  Alfie looked at Sarah and found she was looking at him, her green eyes sharp and intelligent. She didn’t look as if she disbelieved Mallesh, more as if she was considering other matters.

  ‘Anyone in the house that could have murdered him?’ Alfie asked her casually.

  Sarah grinned, her small teeth flashing in the firelight. She held up one hand.

  ‘Three,’ she said, counting on her fingers. ‘I make it three.’

  ‘Three!’ echoed Tom, quickly eating the last sausage and then coming to sit by Jack. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘No one wanted him home,’ said Sarah. ‘Nora, the parlour maid, told me that. It was all right when he came for a short holiday, but then he decided to stay permanently and he cramped the style of the missus, no end. She was used to suiting herself, and now he was giving the orders and telling her what to do. Then there was the son, Mr Denis. Nora says that he is a gambler. He goes to this betting club in Leicester Square, and there’s been big quarrels with the father about that – his mother adores him and he got money easily out of her.’

  ‘And who’s the third?’ asked Jack.

  Sarah took a quick look at the slit of window that showed the feet of the passers-by, and when she spoke her voice was so low that Alfie had to lean forward to hear her.

  ‘It’s the butler,’ she said, her face full of fear. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he committed a murder. He’s a violent man. And he would have a reason. Nora says he’s been selling bits of the family’s silver for years – spoons, the odd dish, that sort of thing. Mr Montgomery had a huge row with him and said he was going to report him to the police.’ Her voice shook and then she added, ‘But for God’s sake, don’t ever tell anyone that I told you. He’s a foul and wicked man and he’d kill me as easy as you break the neck of a chicken.’

  CHAPTER 9

  HOMELESS?

  There was a long silence after Sarah’s words. Finally Jack spoke.

  ‘If you can find out something, the inspector will give you a few bob, is that right, Alfie?’

  Alfie nodded and took charge. ‘That means that we must all put our brains together and see if we can solve this murder,’ he said. ‘Mallesh says that he didn’t do it and we believe him, so who did do it? What about the missus, Sarah?’

  ‘What?! A woman go along Monmouth Street and strangle her husband? Very likely!’ said Tom scornfully.

  Alfie gave him a long, cold stare. ‘Who said she would do it herself, numbskull? She’d hire someone to do it, of course. There are fifty men at St Giles who would murder for the price of a pint of beer.’

  ‘He’s right, though, Alfie.’ Sarah was looking thoughtful. ‘I can’t see the missus going down to St Giles and finding someone to do a murder for her.’

  ‘Would she have a man friend?’ asked Jack.

  Sarah shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ she said. ‘I never go upstairs. I wouldn’t know unless Nora, the parlour maid, told me. Sometimes she tells me things, like about the butler, but she probably wouldn’t tell me things about the lady of the house. It’s possible, though. A couple of times in the stables I saw a beautiful black horse and the coachman told me that it be
longed to a Mr Peters who was paying Mrs Montgomery a visit. I haven’t seen it since Mr Montgomery came home.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean she didn’t meet him somewhere else, though,’ said Alfie thoughtfully.

  ‘What about the son?’ asked Jack. ‘What do you know about him, Sarah?’

  ‘Mr Denis is a big, tall man with a big loud voice. I heard him shouting at his father once when I was scrubbing the front doorstep.’

  ‘What was he saying?’ Alfie was immediately interested in this. Denis Montgomery sounded a more likely suspect than Mrs Montgomery.

  ‘He was saying something about being ruined,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Ruined?’ Mallesh was puzzled.

  ‘I think he meant that he had no money to pay his debts, to pay back money that he borrowed,’ explained Sarah. ‘If what the parlour maid says is true, he goes out gambling – do you understand that, Mallesh? It means that he bets on things like horse races, or on playing cards or throwing dice, and if he doesn’t guess right he loses his money.’

  ‘Funny a rich man being too mean to give money to his son,’ said Tom. ‘I wouldn’t fancy having a father like him.’

  ‘Let’s try to guess who did do it,’ said Alfie. ‘Sammy, you’ve been very quiet. Who do you think?’

  ‘I’m not going to guess,’ said Sammy. ‘I’d like to wait until I hear them speak, and then I’ll know, perhaps.’

  ‘I think it was the butler – he was in big trouble,’ said Sarah.

  ‘I’ll say Mrs Montgomery got a friend to do it,’ said Jack.

  ‘I’ll go for Denis,’ said Alfie. ‘He’s definitely the most likely.’

  ‘But why would he offer a reward then?’ Tom piped up.

  Alfie narrowed his eyes at Tom. ‘That’s just to put people off the scent.’