‘It was a waiter at the hotel, and you are not going to believe this – he was paid by Harrington Hathaway. He was doing it to make someone look bad, but we don’t know who.’
There was another pause. Summer’s excitement slowly faded. ‘Oh.’
The others stared as she kept listening. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘We’ll meet you there.’
‘What did he say?’ India was confused. Mr O’Malley should have been ecstatic, but that’s not what seemed to have happened at all.
‘He wants to meet us at Café Mistero across from the hotel. He says he knows why Harrington did it.’
‘Why?’ Holly asked.
‘Because of something that happened a very long time ago.’
In a cozy booth in the far corner of Café Mistero, Mr O’Malley and the five spellers gathered beneath a dim overhead light. Their mugs of hot chocolate wafted steam into the air, as if their collective gloom had risen up between them.
‘A long time ago,’ Mr O’Malley began, stirring the melting marshmallow in his cup, ‘when I was a young boy, I lived in a small house at the end of a coal-mining town called Bogstow. And I could spell. Brilliantly. Much like you all.’
He smiled briefly.
‘I lived with my mum, dad and twin baby brothers. We didn’t have much money, and there were times when my parents went without food to make sure we never went hungry. I loved visiting the library, which I did most afternoons, but one particular day I saw a poster calling for entrants for a national spelling bee.
‘I read the poster again and again, memorising all the details, especially the part about the five hundred pounds in prize money. I wondered what so much money would look like. I imagined a pile of notes reaching higher than our house, higher than Cragg’s Hill, the highest part of all Bogstow.
‘I raced home through the coal-dusted alleys, through sheets of grey, flapping laundry. I knew this was the moment our lives would change forever. I could feel it.
‘The day of the first round I was so nervous I could barely stand – the pronouncer called me to the microphone three times before I finally convinced my brain to move my legs. After four hours, countless words and a lot of hand wringing, it was over.’
‘You won?’ Holly was literally on the edge of her seat.
Mr O’Malley nodded. ‘I did. I won the next few rounds until I found myself in the Grand Final. Mum and Dad used all their savings to send me to London, and I knew I had to win for them. And I did.’
Mr O’Malley smiled, remembering the details of a moment long ago.
‘When I handed my parents the money, my dad cried. He said he didn’t think there were two parents who’d ever felt prouder. Then came the invitation for the international competition. My family helped me practise every day. My mum sewed me a new pair of pants, and my grandma bought me a new jacket – the first I’d ever owned.’
‘And you won,’ Peter guessed.
‘No.’ Mr O’Malley looked down, gripping his mug of chocolate. ‘I made it through to the Grand Final, but on the night before, the director’s room was broken into.’ He winced, as if the next part was too painful to say out loud. ‘And the spelling cards were found in my room.’
‘But you didn’t take them.’ India knew it without even asking.
‘No. I would never cheat. It was Harrington. He admitted it.’
Rajish rankled at the injustice. ‘Why didn’t you tell the director?’
‘Harrington told me if I did he’d deny everything,’ Mr O’Malley said. ‘I was a poor boy from a coal-mining town. Harrington was rich, and his father was one of the Spelling Bee sponsors. No-one would believe me.’ India could see the pain of the memory still hurt all these years later.
‘I was kicked out of the competition and banned from ever entering again. Worse than that, it broke my mother’s heart – she never looked at me the same way again.’
‘We’re going to see him,’ India decided.
‘I agree,’ Rajish said without hesitation.
‘Really?’ Peter shifted in his seat. ‘Because he sounds pretty nasty.’
‘He can’t get away with it,’ Summer argued. ‘Not again.’
‘He’ll never admit it,’ Mr O’Malley said with a resigned shrug.
‘He has to.’ India had never felt more resolved about anything in her life. ‘We’re going to his house, and I’m going to make him.’
There was an awkward pause before Summer said carefully, ‘I don’t want to be mean, but you?’
‘Yes.’ India frowned. ‘Why not me?’
‘Because we want a cheat and a liar to invite us into his home so he can confess to a crime, and you’re too … nice.’ She stood taller, shoulders back, ready for battle. ‘This is going to take special skills – skills built up over years by someone always determined to get her way.’
‘Meaning you?’
‘Yes, me.’
‘She was very good back there with Reko.’ Rajish wanted to tread carefully too, but Summer was the perfect candidate.
‘And that wasn’t even my best work,’ Summer bragged. ‘Who votes that I be the one to make Harrington confess?’
Summer flung her hand in the air, followed slowly by Rajish and Peter.
Holly hesitated before raising hers too. ‘Sorry, India.’
‘Good choice, everyone.’ Summer turned to Mr O’Malley. ‘Do you have his number?’
‘Of course.’ He retrieved Harrington’s details from his phone. Summer entered the numbers and put the call on speaker.
‘Harrington Hathaway the Third speaking, how may I improve your life?’
‘Mr Hathaway, my name is Summer Millicent Ernestine Beauregard-Champion, and I am calling from the Harrington Hathaway Fan Club.’
‘I have a fan club?’ Harrington was clearly impressed.
‘Oh yes! We have quite a few members who are all tremendous fans.’
‘Well, that is very flattering.’
‘It’s nothing more than you deserve, Mr Hathaway.’ She paused, making sure she sounded sufficiently awe-struck. ‘You are our hero.’
‘I do what I can.’ Harrington’s attempt at humility failed miserably.
‘My friends and I are from the Most Marvellous International Spelling Bee, which, as you know, was cancelled due to a series of unfortunate accidents.’
Harrington responded without a hint of guilt. ‘Terrible business, indeed.’
India rolled her eyes but Summer carried on with her mission, seemingly unfazed.
‘We are, understandably, heartbroken,’ she continued, ‘but what would help mend our young and delicate hearts is the chance to meet you and have your autograph.’
‘Well now, little lady, I am a very busy man –’
‘Please, Mr Hathaway, it would go such a long way to alleviating our devastation.’
‘I understand it is upsetting, but I –’
‘When I saw you at the Spelling Bee dinner,’ Summer actually sounded as if she were crying, ‘you changed my life.’
‘I did?’
‘Absolutely. I knew I had finally found someone I could look up to for the rest of my life. And I wasn’t alone. It would mean the world to us to hear from the greatest spelling champion of all time.’
There was a pause. Holly and India crossed their fingers.
‘Well, I suppose I could spare a few minutes, for the edification and consolation of the young. When shall I expect you?’
‘This is your car?’
Peter nestled into the leather seats of the limousine, positive he was the only one in his family ever to have done so.
‘Yes, when we’re in London.’ Summer was sitting opposite Peter and wasn’t sure why he was so shocked. ‘Mummy and Daddy let me use it whenever I need it, and Hansen has been driving me places since I was a baby. Haven’t you, Hansen?’
‘Yes, Miss Summer,’ the stony-faced driver replied without missing a beat.
Peter stared as they drove through street after street of over
sized mansions sprawling behind ornate iron gates. The afternoon was fading and, one by one, lights switched on, sending out a fairytale glow over lush gardens, stately balconies and bubbling fountains. ‘Harrington must have some serious money to live in this neighbourhood.’
‘He is very wealthy,’ Mr O’Malley said. ‘After winning the International Spelling Bee three times in a row, he was hailed a child genius – a feat no-one else has ever repeated.’
‘It helps when you don’t play by the rules.’ Holly scowled.
‘After that, Harrington set up his first tutoring company when he was still a teenager, promising to produce child geniuses just like himself. The classes were a worldwide success and he became even wealthier.’
India felt her whole body burn with anger. ‘While you were accused of something you didn’t do.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Summer took a brush from a secret compartment in the door and ran it through her locks. ‘After we play the adoring fans, he’ll admit what he’s done.’
‘Please be careful,’ Mr O’Malley warned. ‘He has a terrible temper.’
‘He does?’ Peter was worried. ‘Maybe we could get him to confess by phone instead.’
Summer replaced the brush and sat up with renewed determination. ‘Follow my lead and everything will be fine.’
Peter wondered how people like Summer did it – how they had so much confidence when he had almost none. He turned away from the others, the lights from the mansions playing across his face.
‘Mr Harrington’s home is coming up on the left, Miss Summer,’ Hansen said over his shoulder.
Rajish gave Mr O’Malley an apologetic look. ‘It’s time to hide.’
‘Good luck,’ Mr O’Malley said as he crouched on the limousine floor. ‘And thank you.’
Summer took a shawl from the armrest beside her and placed it over him. ‘Just to be safe.’
‘We won’t be long,’ India said. ‘I promise.’
Summer took out her phone. ‘I’m going to ring you now. Keep the call open so you can hear everything we’re saying.’
Mr O’Malley answered immediately and Summer dropped her phone in her pocket. ‘And we’re ready.’
Hansen pulled up before two gates, each adorned with a giant golden H. Fairy lights flickered around the edges like the entrance to a theme park.
Hansen pressed the intercom button and announced their arrival. The gates swung slowly open, which gave Peter the eerie feeling of entering through giant mechanical jaws. They drove down the tree-lined driveway and passed a row of trees clipped to form giant green letters. When they reached the end of the drive, the sprawling mansion towered above them.
Hansen drew to a stop in front of cascading marble stairs, and the children climbed out of the limousine. There was something about the size and easy magnificence of the building that made Peter feel very, very small. ‘It’s like a palace.’
A man in white gloves and a long, dark coat with gold trim was waiting for them. ‘Mr Hathaway is ready to see you.’
They followed him inside between two life-sized statues of Harrington.
‘It’s good to have a healthy ego, I guess,’ Rajish muttered.
Holly trod lightly down the long corridor that was lined with paintings, some of them very famous. ‘A Van Gogh,’ she said in awe. ‘He owns a Van Gogh.’
They were shown into a light-filled drawing room with marble plinths bearing trophies and medals, and walls plastered with photographs of Harrington at various ages receiving awards from pronouncers and world leaders. There was even one with the Queen.
At the head of the room was Harrington Hathaway the Third, seated on a gold, throne-like chair. ‘How lovely for you to audience with me.’
He wore golden slippers and a red velvet robe tied with a golden cord. India thought the only thing that was missing was a crown. She clenched her jaw at the sight of his smug, smiling face. She wished she had brought Nanna Flo with her – Nanna was never one to tolerate airs and graces, and would have given him something to be sorry about. But if Summer was miffed, she didn’t let it show one bit.
‘It is such an honour to be in your presence, Mr Hathaway.’ She reached out and shook his hand. ‘This is simply one of the greatest moments of my life.’
Harrington blushed. ‘It is always a thrill to encountenance one’s idols.’
‘It’s more than a thrill.’ Summer was in her element. ‘It’s a privilege I will remember for the rest of my life.’
‘Please.’ Harrington was clearly enjoying the admiration. ‘Sit.’
The children took a seat on an antique chaise longue opposite his throne. Behind Harrington were glass doors that overlooked a sprawling garden with more manicured hedges, but these ones spelled out his name. Peter stared at the statue in the centre of the lake and wondered why the figure in the toga looked so familiar, until he realised it was another statue of Harrington. Lit from below, he was holding a book in one hand and a trophy in the other, with water spouting from both.
‘Would you mind if we recorded you?’ Rajish took out his phone and carried out his role of adoring fan with great skill. ‘It’ll be a souvenir we can keep forever.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t –’
‘I will play it every morning,’ Rajish said solemnly, ‘so I can try to be more like you.’
‘Even though we’ll never have your natural intelligence,’ Holly added with equal, gushing enthusiasm.
As much as it irritated India even pretending to like this man, she knew they needed to act as a team if their plan was going to work. ‘No,’ she shook her head sadly, ‘but it will give us something to strive for.’
‘Well,’ Harrington chuckled, ‘it’s humbling to know I have made your lives so meaningful.’
‘How did you feel when you won your first International Spelling Bee?’ Summer asked.
‘Well, that was a great day.’ He crossed his legs an d prepared to tell a story India guessed he’d told many times before. ‘I was nervous, of course, but in the end the best speller won.’
‘What tips do you have for those who aspire to be as brilliant as you?’ Holly asked with bright-eyed curiosity.
Harrington settled happily into his throne. India got the feeling he sat there a lot. ‘It’s the big three: hard work, practice and natural talent, of course.’
‘You must have competed against some tough rivals.’ Summer leaned forward.
‘There were other admirable spellers, but no-one I couldn’t out-spell when the time came.’
‘We heard Mr O’Malley was a brilliant speller too,’ Holly said as innocently as she could.
Harrington flinched momentarily before he regained his composure. ‘Was he?’
‘He competed against you when you won your third international competition.’
‘Did he?’ Harrington brushed invisible fluff from his shoulder.
‘Yes.’ India was beginning to enjoy herself. ‘Even though he beat you in the national bee beforehand. You must remember him.’
‘There were so many children, I –’
‘Yes, but only three spellers from the same country make it to the international competition – you and he were two of them.’
He pulled at a loose thread on his robe. ‘I was very focussed, which is the motto of my company – Stay Focussed, Be Successful.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Which reminds me, I should get back to it.’
Summer waited a few moments before she delivered her next line: ‘But we haven’t had time to chat about Reko.’
Harrington’s head snapped towards her. ‘Reko?’ His voice sounded strangled.
‘He’s a waiter at the hotel. We found out lots of interesting things about him. And you.’ She looked up and tapped her chin. ‘What were they again?’
Harrington was desperate to change the subject. ‘Shall I sign your autograph books before you leave?’
‘I remember.’ India never considered herself an actress but she impressed herself by her fake rememberi
ng. ‘He was the one who dunked the cat in gravy. You know, the one that ran through the Imperial Dining Hall and caused such chaos.’
‘Yes!’ Holly cried. ‘And he also tampered with the ropes on the banner, and used wire-cutters to cause the blackout.’
‘He sounds thoroughly unpleasant.’ Harrington shifted uncomfortably in his throne, as if it were suddenly lined with tacks. ‘You’d be wise to have nothing to do with him.’
‘And tripped the fire alarm and sprinklers.’ Rajish looked at his watch. ‘All of which Esmerelda Stomp should know about by now.’
‘There was something else he told us.’ Summer was getting ready for her big finale. ‘Something about being paid.’
‘Yes!’ India let her cry hover in the air for a few moments before adding. ‘Something about being paid by you.’
‘What … I never … that’s outrageous,’ Harrington spluttered. ‘Some people will say anything to besmirch the rich and famous.’
Rajish fixed him with an accusatory eye. ‘He said you did it to ruin the Bee for someone.’
Harrington had had enough. He stood up and tightened the cord on his robe. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave – I’m very busy.’
‘It was Mr O’Malley, wasn’t it?’ Summer’s words were like a blow to his stomach.
‘Mr O’Malley?’ Harrington huffed. ‘Why would I want to harm Mr O’Malley?’
‘Because,’ India began with some delight, ‘he is a brilliant speller who you thought would ruin your chances at becoming the first three-time world champion.’
‘And you deliberately planted Spelling Bee cards in his room so he’d be expelled for cheating.’ Holly stared directly at Harrington, not nearly as scared as she thought she’d be.
‘You children have the most active imaginations.’ His voice was riddled with menace. ‘You ought to be careful they don’t get you into trouble. Now, I really must ask you –’
‘And you sabotaged him again this year.’ Summer wasn’t about to be dissuaded, menacing voice or not. ‘Because you requested to be the Queen’s representative and she turned you down.’
‘She preferred Mr O’Malley over you,’ Holly finished with a broad smile.
The Most Marvellous Spelling Bee Mystery Page 13