Read The Montgomery Murder for Free Online Page B

clicking and Sammy’s bare feet feeling the cool, well-polished surface.
    ‘Tidy that scarf of his, Sarah, and flatten down these curls.’
    Sammy stood very still while Sarah busied herself. He could hear Mrs Montgomery’s voice from inside the breakfast parlour. Even to him it was faint – no one but Sammy could have
heard anything – but after a while he made out the words.
    ‘ . . . been four years as a butler to me,’ she was saying. ‘I would never have suspected him, but Mr Montgomery was suspicious. There seemed to be a lot of silver missing. He
gave the butler one week to find it, and said that if it had not turned up in that time, the police would be called.’
    Unfortunately at that moment Nora knocked sharply on the door and there was a silence, followed by a high, sweet voice calling them to come in.
    ‘So here is little Sammy!’ Mrs Montgomery said Sammy as if he were her favourite lap dog. Sammy hoped she wouldn’t try to kiss him. Letting go of Nora’s hand, he
moved into the room. Mrs Montgomery sounded just as she had done the last time he came. Her high voice was as clear as ever. She hadn’t been doing much crying, he thought. Sammy knew well how
crying could affect the voice. The room smelled of furniture polish, there was a soft carpet and curtains at the windows, he guessed – the clip-clop of horses’ hooves outside was muted.
Lots of cushions and soft chairs, too, probably; the air felt like that – dead, somehow. Nice and warm, though. The chimney had been swept and the coal smelled clean.
    ‘Oh, Inspector, this poor little boy is blind and starving, so I have decided to offer him a job as a knife boy. He will get a good meal every day and three shillings at the end of the
week. And, do you know, Inspector, he sings like an angel!’
    ‘Shall I sing a song for you, ma’am?’
    Mrs Montgomery was getting nearer to him; if he didn’t stop her, she would undoubtedly kiss him – especially as Alfie had cleaned him up and dressed him in fairly decent clothes from
the second-hand shop. Without waiting for an answer, Sammy broke into the first verse of a hymn that he had learned at St Martin’s church: ‘ Now the day is over . . . ’
    ‘Beautiful,’ said Mrs Montgomery when he had finished.
    ‘Beautiful.’ That must be the inspector, a tough man, by the sound of his voice. He was probably afraid that Sammy would sing again, and delay him longer from his enquiries; his
voice sounded hurried when he said quickly, ‘And now, perhaps I could have a word with your son, Mr Denis Montgomery? I also understand there is another gentleman staying here, a Mr Scott,
your late husband’s partner in his Indian tea plantation.’
    ‘That’s right, Inspector. My husband decided to retire – he was enjoying life in London – so Mr Scott came over to wind up their business affairs. He planned to stay here
for a few weeks and then return to India.’
    ‘And could I see him, and your son?’
    Mrs Montgomery gave a little laugh. She sounded nervous. Sammy listened carefully as she continued, ‘I’m afraid that neither gentleman has come down for breakfast yet, Inspector. You’ll have to come back in an hour or so if you want to meet them.’
    ‘Or better still, tell them to report to Bow Street Police Station at eleven o’clock this morning, ma’am. And now I’ll bid you good day.’ He hesitated for a moment
and then slipped a coin into Sammy’s hand – a four-penny groat by the feel of it, thought Sammy as he pocketed it, wondering whether the Inspector knew that he was Alfie’s
brother. He could still taste the sausages of the previous night and decided that it would be good to work for this inspector.
    ‘Well, goodbye, Inspector.’ Mrs Montgomery sounded glad to be rid of him. Perhaps she didn’t really want her husband’s murderer caught. Sammy could hear a note of relief
in her voice once the door had closed behind the inspector and she sounded more cheerful as