Death of a Chimney Sweep Read Free Page B

name. He was one of the chimney sweeping boys, worked for old Grimston the master chimney sweep.’
    ‘I see. So if you think it’s murder, who did it?’
    ‘Don’t know, sir. Can I go now, sir? I’d best be getting back home.’
    Inspector Denham said nothing – he was a man of few words, thought Alfie fidgeting, rubbing first one foot, then the other, against the opposite leg. His feet were burning with chilblains
– or perhaps it was frostbite: the water in the River Thames that afternoon had been cold enough to freeze the feet off any man.
    ‘You said a minute ago that you were sorry you came here,’ said the inspector, after a pause during which Alfie felt that his innermost thoughts were being read by the man behind the
desk. ‘Why did you come?’
    Alfie looked at him in a puzzled way. He hadn’t come for a reward; that was sure. No one would care about the death of a chimney sweep boy. There would be no reward for solving the murder
of a poor boy like that. So why had he come?
    ‘For Joe . . .’ he said hesitantly.
    ‘The body has come now, sir.’ The sergeant stuck his head around the door after a perfunctory knock.
    ‘Let’s see. Come on, Alfie.’ Inspector Denham got to his feet and Alfie followed him along the narrow corridor and into the cold, damp room where, under the harsh glare of the
gas lamps, several bodies lay waiting to be identified.
    One body looked very small. The inspector paused beside it, drew back the sheet and looked at Alfie, who gulped then nodded silently. That was Joe, in all his dirt, and, yes, he had been
murdered. There could be no other reason for that purple protruding tongue.
    ‘So you did it for Joe,’ mused Inspector Denham, replacing the sheet over the dead boy’s face. ‘I think I know what you mean, Alfie. You want justice for Joe,
that’s right, isn’t it?’
    Alfie nodded again and swallowed hard. If Joe was to have justice then he would have to tell all that he knew. And in that moment he clearly saw the dangers that lay ahead. Out there on the
streets of London was the man who had murdered Joe. A man in a gig, a man who had seen two boys beside the body. A man who must now be wondering whether he had been seen throwing the body out
towards the river. If Alfie told the police about the man in the gig, it was more likely that the man would be able to track him and Sammy down.
    Should he do it?
    ‘Are you scared?’ asked the inspector, looking at him narrowly. Once again he removed the sheet.
    Alfie looked down at the dead boy’s face. He took a long moment before he spoke. ‘No, sir,’ he said loudly. ‘I’m not scared. Takes a lot to scare Alfie Sykes.
I’ll track down that geezer who did this to poor old Joe.’
    He was lying, of course. He knew that he had good reason to be scared.
    A man who had killed once would not hesitate to kill again.

 
    CHAPTER 6
    U NRAVELLING
A M YSTERY

    Alfie found it hard to stop thinking about Joe the next day. He wasn’t sure whether Inspector Denham had believed him or not about the gig and what Joe had said. He had
listened and said very little, telling Alfie to come and see him again if he found out any more about the death of the chimney sweeper.
    That afternoon, Alfie got ready to take Sammy to the entrance of Covent Garden Theatre.
    ‘We’ll leave these very torn trousers on you, Sam,’ he said, ‘and that old coat. Let’s give your face a wash, though, and I’ll comb your hair. Sarah made a
good job of washing it last night. What we want is to get all them toffs thinking you’re a good boy just like their children, but you’re very poor. Then they’ll give you some of
their change and they’ll feel good, like it’s Christmas come early!’
    ‘Let’s take Mutsy too, and then you and he can do a duet,’ suggested Tom. The rich children always laughed when Sammy hit the high note and Mutsy joined in with a high-pitched
wail.
    ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Alfie. And then he