The Montgomery Murder (5 page)

‘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

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 belonged 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.’

‘Perhaps Mr Montgomery stole something from someone, or . . .’ Mallesh moved his hands in circles as he looked for a word.

‘Or cheated someone,’ suggested Sarah.

‘
Haan,
’ said Mallesh nodding his head. ‘That’s the word.’

‘Someone that we don’t know about yet,’ mused Alfie. ‘I wonder . . .’

‘I’ll go for Sarah, the scullery maid,’ said Tom with a grin. ‘She got fed up with him putting dirty footprints on her clean step so she murdered him.’

‘Stop being stupid,’ said Alfie. ‘You just keep saying stupid things and —

A thunderous knock interrupted him.

They all looked at each other. Mallesh jumped up and then stood hesitating, the knife gleaming in his hand.

‘Hide,’ whispered Sarah. She grasped him by the arm and pushed him into a dark corner away from the fire. ‘Lie down and I’ll put some cushions over you,’ she
hissed.

Alfie nodded, and when there was no sign of Mallesh to be seen, he strolled over to the door. ‘Who’s there?’ he called as a tremendous thump showed that their visitor had
kicked the door.

‘It’s me, your landlord. Open up, or I’ll kick this door down and you’ll pay for the mending of it.’

Alfie hastened to obey the order. Mr Parker would do what he threatened.

‘I’ve already paid your rent-collector on Saturday,’ he said as he unlocked the door. To his annoyance he heard his voice tremble.

‘No, you haven’t. Rents have gone up. You owe me an extra bob. Think yourself lucky that it isn’t a crown. It’s not many people who would let out a lovely comfortable
cellar like this to a pack of kids.’

And charge them double the rent, thought Alfie. He said nothing, though. They all had to keep a roof over their heads, and he would just have to pay the extra. He went over to the shelf, took
down the rent jar and emptied it out into his hand.

‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve pennies,’ he said aloud. Half of next week’s rent. Now that was gone, and next week he would have to
find three shillings or thirty-six pennies for this old scoundrel. And perhaps the week after the rent would double again . . .

‘Here you are, Mr Parker. This leaves us without food tomorrow,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He felt like kicking or punching or even screaming. But he just stood
quietly until the door had been slammed shut, and then went back to sit beside Sammy. He dared not trust his voice for the moment, so he just sat there, staring into the fire and allowing Sammy to
rest his arm on his shoulder. No one else spoke; they were all waiting for him. Eventually he gave Sammy a little push, sat up straight and looked around, doing his best to make his voice cheerful and confident.