The Montgomery Murder (17 page)

Alfie was definitely not the constable’s favourite visitor to the Bow Street Police Station.

‘Me again,’ agreed Alfie. ‘Might I have a word with the inspector?’

‘He’s out,’ replied the constable triumphantly. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me what your business here is.’

Alfie thought for a moment. He doubted he would be successful, but there was no harm in asking.

‘I’d like to visit the Indian prisoner – as an act of Christian charity,’ he added, remembering the preacher who once tried preaching the word of God to the busy crowd
around Covent Garden. Sammy’s hymn had proved more popular than the preacher’s words, and they all had a good supper that night.

‘Well, you can’t visit the Indian prisoner.’ The constable had a sneering note in his voice, but Alfie ignored that.

‘Why not?’ he asked briskly.

‘Because he ain’t here. Was released two hours ago. No manners, these young ruffians,’ the constable added, talking to himself as if Alfie had already left the police
station.

Why had Mallesh not come back to them, then? wondered Alfie as he crossed the road and made his way back to the cellar. Ahead of him he could see Jack and Sarah with Mutsy proudly carrying a
huge bone with several pieces of meat still attached to it. That would keep him satisfied for another day – soon he would be back to hunting for himself again.

Alfie caught up with them but did not speak. His mind was too busy.

Mallesh was the problem, he thought as he went ahead of the others, slowly down the dark stairs. How on earth could he ever find Mallesh in the teeming streets of London?

And if he didn’t find him, and get him to identify that smell, how would Alfie ever be able to solve the murder?

CHAPTER 27

The cellar was very dark when they opened the door – the fire was low, just casting a subdued glow and for a moment Alfie could see no one. Mutsy, however, had no doubt.
Dropping his bone with a loud thud, he gave a quick, sharp bark, dashed forward, tail waving like a flag, and rushed up to the figure beside Sammy. Another bark and a wet lick and then he was back
to pick up his precious bone and retire to a dark corner with it.

By now Alfie could see the figure. It was Mallesh, grinning widely.

‘Mallesh and me have solved the problem for you,’ said Sammy placidly. ‘You’d better talk to him quick before he has to go. He’s signed on for a passenger ship
going to India tonight.’

Sarah gasped. ‘How did you get out of the police station?’

‘I told the inspector that it was not possible for me to murder Mr Montgomery,’ said Mallesh. ‘I told him my friend knows that I was there at the lodging house all that evening
and night. The inspector sent his man over to the East India Docks to bring back my friend to question him.’

‘Why didn’t you say that before?’ asked Jack.

‘I had thought Mr Montgomery was murdered in the morning,’ explained Mallesh. ‘That’s what I heard at the window when the inspector was talking to you.’

Alfie understood. The inspector had said that the body was found in the morning, and Mallesh must have assumed that the murder had just happened. However, there was something more important to
be dealt with. ‘What’s that smell?’ he asked, sniffing.

Mallesh opened his mouth and blew strongly in Alfie’s direction. It did make the sharp smell much stronger – but that was not what filled Alfie’s mind with a sudden surge of
excitement.

The fire had flared up and Mallesh’s widely opened mouth was clearly visible.

He had a mouth like the devil’s, all bright red, tongue and all
– that’s how the gatekeeper had described the visitor to the Montgomery household.

‘Mr Scott!’ exclaimed Alfie.

‘Oh,
shabash
!’ exclaimed Mallesh. His very white teeth flashed in a grin of congratulations.

Sammy laughed. It was good to hear the sound. He was more himself today. An empty mug with some green leaves around the edges stood beside him. No doubt, Mallesh had given him a herbal
drink.

‘See, Mallesh? I told you that Alfie here was a fly bloke.’

‘
Dekho
,’ said Mallesh taking something out of his mouth and pointing to it. ‘This is an Indian nut, wrapped in betel leaves. That’s what the smell is. That makes
the red colour.’

‘Only someone who has been to India would have these betel leaves,’ said Sammy excitedly. ‘That’s what Mallesh has been telling me. Chances are that Mr Montgomery’s
son wouldn’t have got hold of them, or have the habit in the first place – but Mr Scott has just come back from India.’

‘Why do people chew them?’ asked Sarah curiously, sitting down on the rag rug in front of the fire.

‘Makes you feel good – makes you . . . calm,’ said Mallesh. ‘I got some when I got the herbs for Sammy. My friend at the lodging house had my things safe.’ Once
again he opened his mouth to let them see the red dye and smell the queer sharp smell.

‘But why should Mr Scott murder Mr Montgomery?’ Sarah sounded puzzled.

‘Perhaps they had a fight,’ suggested Jack.

‘Don’t think that was it,’ replied Alfie. ‘From what Betty said, the murderer was shadowing the two of them, and when she left Mr Montgomery, he moved in with his
garrotting wire. She smelled the . . . what are they? The betel leaves. She smelled them and that’s what she told me – that he smelled funny. And of course, Sammy said the same thing.
The man on the horse smelled funny, that’s right, isn’t it, Sam?’

‘It doesn’t make sense, though,’ said Sarah. ‘It would make much more sense if it was Mr Denis. He could murder his father, inherit all the wealth and pay off his
gambling debts. Like we were talking about the other day.’

‘She’s right,’ said Jack, and Alfie nodded. That did make sense, but he believed Mallesh when he said that only someone from India would have that habit.

‘Perhaps you could talk to the inspector and get him to look for clues,’ said Sarah, but her voice sounded dubious and Alfie knew that this would not be a good idea.

‘Better for us to find out the reason first,’ he said wisely. ‘We’ve more brains than them fellows down at the police station.’

There was a silence. Alfie looked around. Tom was poking a stick into a gap in the fire and Jack was running his fingers through his dark hair. Sarah was turning her pattens over and over in her
hands, Mallesh had his eyes closed and was chewing placidly on his betel leaves’ mixture and Sammy’s sightless eyes seemed to be fixed on the fire. Only Alfie would have known that the
blind boy was thinking hard.

Sammy was the one that broke the silence. ‘What about the diamond belonging to Mallesh’s father?’ he asked.

Alfie gazed at him. There was no doubt that young Sammy had brains. Mallesh opened his eyes and smiled sleepily. ‘I have decided to forget the diamond,’ he said. ‘The inspector
was very kind to me. I think he believed my story, but he said that he cannot give the diamond back to me. But he gave me a letter for the police in my hometown to look into the matter. And,
another thing – this is very good for me – he gave me a police certificate to take to the East India Docks to say I can work on passenger ships as an attendant. So now I have a new job.
I will make much more money on those ships than I did on the trading ships and then I will study to be a
hakim
.’

‘You’ll make a very good one,’ said Alfie warmly. ‘You was the one that cured old Sammy here.’

‘And your mother will be glad to see you come back,’ said Sarah softly.

Mallesh nodded and then he looked curiously at Sammy, whose face was still turned towards the fire. ‘What are you thinking of, Sammy?’ he asked.

‘You see, if there was one diamond in the ground,’ said Sammy turning around, ‘then there might have been more. Alfie, do you remember how Grandad used to tell us stories of
how in Ireland people saw gold in the streams, and then when they dug into the mountain they found so much gold that they had their hearts’ desire.’

Alfie said nothing. He had always thought these tales of his grandfather had been fairy stories, but he was surprised to see Mallesh nodding vigorously.

‘You’re right, Sammy,’ he said. ‘I did not think of that. It is true. Where one diamond lies, fifty more may be hiding deep down in the earth and ready to be
found.’

‘Perhaps there is a diamond mine in the place where your father found the diamond, Mallesh.’ Sammy sounded like someone going step by step through some well thought-out matter.

‘Would that land have been owned by Mr Montgomery?’ queried Sarah.

Mallesh nodded vigorously. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But not just by Mr Montgomery, remember they are . . . are together – a pair.’

‘Partners,’ said Sarah.

‘Yes, partners.’ Mallesh nodded again. ‘Mr Montgomery and Mr Scott.’

‘And now that Mr Montgomery is dead, then Mr Scott might be the owner,’ suggested Jack.

‘Surely he would have to share it with Mr Denis, though,’ argued Sarah. ‘That’s the law. I heard that from the man that runs the Ragged School. He said that if a rich man
dies, then his eldest son inherits all his land and property. The wife only gets whatever has been settled on her when she was married. Mr Denis will be able to afford his gambling now his father
is dead.’

‘Are we going back to having this Denis as the chief suspect, then?’ asked Jack.

‘It’s a puzzle, isn’t?’ said Alfie. He understood how Jack felt. ‘On the one hand, Mr Scott looks guilty because of Sammy and Betty smelling these betel leaves from
the murderer – and the gatekeeper saw Mr Scott with a red mouth and red teeth, just like Mallesh has now.’

‘But on the other hand,’ said Jack slowly, ‘it seems as if Denis has more to gain. Don’t forget, we are only guessing about this diamond mine. We may be quite
wrong.’

‘You’re right, Jack,’ said Sarah quietly. ‘We need some more evidence.’

Mallesh rose to his feet. ‘You will have to think. I wish I could help, but I must go now. My ship sails tonight. I just came back to say goodbye to you all.’

‘And one day, when you’ve made money and you are working as a
hakim
you might come back and show the English doctors how to cure sick people,’ suggested Sammy, feeling
the cut on his arm gingerly.

‘And perhaps some day I might come out to India,’ said Sarah softly. ‘I’d like to see those snow-covered mountains that you were telling me about, and to sit in a sari in
the hot sun and watch elephants go down the road.’

‘Good luck with everything, Mallesh.’ Jack’s voice was warm as he clapped Mallesh on the shoulder.

‘Good luck,’ echoed Tom.

‘I’ll see you to the door,’ said Alfie gruffly. When he got there he didn’t quite know what to say, but eventually he squeezed Mallesh’s hand. ‘I’ll
never forget what you did for Sammy,’ he said.

‘And I’ll never forget you all. You have been family to me,’ said Mallesh solemnly. ‘You believed me from the beginning and you protected me and fed me.’

He put the two palms of his hands together, said ‘
Namaste
’ and bowed in farewell. Then he was gone, leaving behind the faint tang of the sharp, clean-smelling betel
leaves.

‘I have an idea, Alfie,’ said Sarah. ‘Tomorrow everyone will be out of the Montgomery house between eleven and twelve. They’ll all be at the funeral. Why don’t we
go and have a look through Mr Scott’s bedroom? We might find something.’

‘How would we get in?’ The idea appealed to Alfie, but he was annoyed that he hadn’t thought of it himself.

‘Through the mews and then in through the scullery door. The key is hidden in an old pot outside the scullery. Cook told me to leave one there when I got permission to go to the Ragged
School as soon as my work was done each evening, so I could let myself in if I came back late. I bet no one has thought to take the key away.’

Sarah and Alfie looked at each other. A smile began to form on Alfie’s lips. He liked the idea of this. Usually, if you took a chance, something turned up. This would be much better than
trying to explain to the inspector that because a blind beggar boy and a poor girl from Monmouth Street had smelled betel leaves, the murderer had to be Mr Scott. He would never be believed. But
who knew what they might find in the bedroom – even some betel leaves would help. This was just the sort of adventure that he liked.

‘Tomorrow, then, at eleven,’ said Alfie.

‘Tomorrow at eleven,’ repeated Sarah, as she rose to go to Betty’s place for the night.

‘Be careful,’ said Sammy quietly, as he stroked Mutsy’s head.‘That Mr Scott is a dangerous man.’

CHAPTER 28