The Falcon's Malteser by Anthony Horowitz Read Free Book Online Page B

faster than you could whistle “Waltzing Malteser.”
    “It’s nice of you to think of me, Tim,” I said. “And I don’t want to get in your way. But I reckon I’d be safer with you.”
    “Safer?” He took a bite out of his burger.
    “Sure. I mean, the Fat Man could come for me in Slough. I might get kidnapped, or brutally beaten with Auntie Maureen’s artificial hip.”
    “That’s true.”
    “But I feel safe with you,” I continued. “Back in the Hotel Splendide, for example. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
    Herbert smiled modestly.
    “The way you fainted. It was . . . heroic.”
    Now he scowled. “You’re not goofing on me, are you?”
    “Me? No way.”
    I felt it was time to bring the conversation to a close, so I took out the box of Maltesers and put them on the table.
    “That’s what we should be worrying about,” I said. “Five million dollars, Herbert. And it’s our only clue.”
    “I don’t get it,” Herbert said. Herbert never did.
    “Look . . .” I spoke slowly, trying to make it easy for him. “Johnny Naples comes to England with the key to a fortune. That’s what the Fat Man asked us for—remember? A key. Now, all Johnny’s got is this box of Maltesers, but maybe he doesn’t know what it means either.”
    “How do you know that?” Herbert asked.
    “Because Snape told us that the dwarf had been in England for a whole month before he was killed. Maybe the Falcon didn’t have time to tell him everything before he died. Naples had a rough idea and came over here to look.”
    “Go on.”
    “All right. So Naples comes to England. He checks into the Hotel Splendide. And he starts looking. But unfortunately for him, there are lots of people interested in him. The same people who are now interested in us. But Johnny Naples still manages to find out what the Maltesers mean. He takes them with him—like you’d take a treasure map. So that nobody will see what he’s carrying, he buys an envelope to put them in. He goes from the hotel to Fulham. But then he sees that he’s being followed. So what does he do?”
    “I don’t know,” Herbert said breathlessly. “What does he do?”
    “He comes to us. He’s in the street and he happens to see your name on the door. You’re a private detective. That’s perfect. And maybe your name rings a bell.”
    “No, Nick,” Herbert interrupted. “It’s the little button by the door that rings the bell . . .”
    “No,” I groaned. “I mean Tim Diamond. Diamonds are what this is all about.”
    “Oh—I see.”
    “Johnny Naples comes in and gives us the envelope. You remember how scared he was? He knew that he was being followed. So he gives us the package—which is what everybody wants—and promises to come back when the heat is off.”
    “But he didn’t come back,” Herbert said.
    “No. Because he got killed.”
    “Not to mention hurt!”
    “And now we’ve got the Maltesers. And if we can work out where he was going and what he was going to do with them when he got there, we’ll be rich.”
    “That’s terrific!” Herbert exclaimed. As I had hoped, all thoughts of Slough and Auntie Maureen had left his head. Quickly, he finished his meal. Then he picked up the box. “Perhaps the diamonds are inside,” he suggested. “Covered in chocolate.”
    “No,” I said. “I doubt if you could fit five million dollars’ worth inside, and anyway, I’ve already eaten six of them and they certainly didn’t taste like diamonds.”
    “What do diamonds taste like?”
    “That’s not the point, Herbert!”
    “So what is the point?”
    It was a good question. You can go and buy a box of Maltesers in any candy store, but to save you the money, let me just describe the box we had. It had the name of the candy written in white letters on a red background, surrounded by pictures of the chocolate balls themselves. This was on the top and on all four sides. On one side it also carried the inspiring message the lighter