A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6)

by John Holt

  Kendall shook his head. “And how am I expected to investigate something that happened months ago?” he asked.

  The Chief Inspector looked at Mollie, and smiled. “Oh, I imagine you will find a way.”

  Mollie nodded. “He certainly will,” she agreed. “He’ll badger his way through.”

  Kendall glared at Mollie, and made a face. “Suppose I find that he’s guilty as charged, what then?” he asked.

  The Chief Inspector shrugged his shoulder, and sighed. “Then he’s guilty. What can I say?”

  Kendall looked at the Chief Inspector and smiled. He shook his head. “I don’t think so, no I’m sorry, you best get someone else.” There was another sharp pain in his leg.

  “Of course we’ll be happy to help,” said Mollie. “Won’t we Kendall?”

  Kendall nodded. “Sure, we will,” he replied. He started to smile and looked at Mollie. “No problem.”

  “We wanted to go to Ireland anyway,” said Mollie, placing her hand on Whittaker’s arm. “Now here’s our chance.” She looked at Kendall.

  “And at no cost to you,” added Whittaker.

  Kendall nodded. “Right, here’s our chance,” he repeated. He took a drink and looked at Whittaker. “You win. We’ll go, and see what we can find out, but I’m making no promises.”

  “Fair enough, no promises,” repeated the Chief Inspector.

  “By the way, are the Irish police aware of Charters’ activities?” asked Mollie. “I mean his investigating the smuggling.”

  Whittaker shook his head, “I don’t really know,” he replied. “But I’m guessing the answer is no.”

  Kendall heaved a sigh. “It’s probably not relevant anyway.”

  “Maybe not,” replied Whittaker unconvinced. “So when can you leave?” he asked.

  Kendall heaved a sigh, and looked at Mollie. He raised an eyebrow. She smiled at him and nodded. Kendall turned back to face Whittaker. “How soon can you make the necessary arrangements?”

  Whittaker thought for a few moments. “A week,” he suggested.

  Kendall looked at Mollie. She nodded once again. “So that’s it then, we leave in a week’s time,” Kendall agreed. “So whereabouts are we going?”

  “Carrick Cove is where the body was found,” the Chief Inspector explained. “It’s over on the west side, a village going by the name of Killmacud. I’ll make a booking for you at the Kerry Hotel.”

  “Look forward to it,” said Mollie. She looked at Kendall. “We always wanted to go to Ireland didn’t we?”

  Kendall started to laugh. “Oh sure we did,” he replied. “I just didn’t want another murder to go with us.”

  Whittaker started to laugh. He looked at his watch. “It’s later than I thought, I have a meeting with the Commissioner.” He stood up. “I must go.”

  Kendall stood up. “Well it’s been interesting Chief Inspector,” he said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “What about your fees?” Whittaker asked.

  “What about them?” replied Kendall.

  The Chief inspector looked puzzled for a moment. “Well I’d like an idea of how much this is going to cost me,” he replied.

  Kendall smiled and shook his head. “There’ll be no fee.”

  “But I have to pay you something,” Whittaker protested.

  Kendall raised his hand and shook his head once again. “Look, we are going to Ireland for a holiday, right. Well nobody works on holiday do they?”

  “You pay for the hotel, and expenses, that’s all we’ll need,” said Mollie.

  Kendall said nothing, but merely smiled and nodded.

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  The Emerald Isle

  Seven days later, Kendall and Mollie arrived in Killmacud, a small town on the west coast of Ireland, not far from Killarney. The journey from England had been uneventful, and the thought of a few days holiday in Ireland was getting to be quite exciting, and they were both looking forward to it.

  Of course, there was that small matter of a murder to be investigated which might prove to be something of a distraction, especially when you remembered that the murder had taken place three months previously, and that the local police, the Garda, already had a suspect in custody, with more than enough evidence to prove his guilt. It appeared to be an open and shut case, with nothing more to be said. In the circumstances, therefore, Kendall didn’t really expect to gain very much by his investigation. In fact, if the truth be known, he considered it to be a great big waste of time. Nonetheless, he had given his word to the Chief Inspector. And he was a man of his word, so he would give it his best shot, for what it was worth.

  When they had landed at Cork Airport that afternoon, the sky was clear, and the forecast had promised a warm and sunny day ahead, with good weather for the days following. So, at the very least, a few days with pleasant weather sounded good to Kendall. He vowed to make the most of it, and to relax and enjoy himself. He had his Guide book, and his camera, and he was looking forward to some sightseeing. However, like many a promise made, this was another that was destined to be broken.

  As the taxi pulled up outside what appeared to be the local hotel, the sun disappeared, the sky clouded over, there was a loud crash of thunder, and the rain started to fall.

  “Here we are,” said the taxi driver. “O’Rourkes.”

  Kendall looked mystified. “O’Rourkes!” he repeated, his mood now as black as the sky. “I wanted The Kerry Hotel, not O’whatever you said.”

  “O’Rourke’s,” the driver helpfully repeated.

  “Yes, that, O’Rourke’s,” agreed Kendall. “But I wanted the Kerry hotel.”

  “Sure you did,” replied the driver. “That’s what you were telling me at the airport. I remember exactly what you said. You said that you wanted to be taken to the Kerry Hotel, in Killmacud, now isn’t that right.”

  Kendall sighed. That was right, there was no dispute. “So why have you brought us here?” he asked, trying not to sound too angry.

  “Ah, well now, what do you see when you take a look out there?” the driver pointed at the building. “O’Rourke’s, or the Kerry Hotel? No matter, because you see ‘tis one and the same place, and more to the point, it’s the only hotel there is for miles,” the driver replied, a huge grin spreading across his face. “So, if it’s Killmacud you’ll be wanting, this is where you’ll need to be staying, for there’s nowhere else you see.”

  Kendall knew when he was beaten. He stepped out of the cab. He looked at the hotel, and shook his head. He looked as dismal as the weather. He just hoped that it wasn’t as damp inside. What had he let himself in for? Chief Inspector or not, Whittaker had a lot to answer for. He began to wonder just what kind of a trip this was going to be.

  “That’ll be thirteen euros, if you please,” said the driver holding out his hand.

  Kendall opened his wallet and took out a ten euro note, and a twenty. He reluctantly handed them to the driver.

  “Thirteen I said, not thirty,” said the driver, as he handed the twenty euro note back. “Would you be having a five there somewhere?” he asked pointing to the wallet.

  Kendall shook his head. He didn’t know if he had a five, or not. All of the notes looked the same to him. He fanned the notes out in his hand. “Do you see one there?” he asked. “If you do it’s yours.”

  The driver’s hand hovered over the notes for a few seconds, and then suddenly withdrew one of the notes. “There we are,” he announced. “There’s a five euro note.” He started to take out some change.

  “Keep the change,” said Mollie as she got out of the cab. “Come on, Kendall let’s get inside before we get soaked.”

  “Oh yes,” said Kendall, still in shock. “Keep the change, by all means.”

  The driver thanked him, put the taxi into gear and drove away.

  “Well, here we are,” said Kendall, looking at the hotel. There was another loud crash of thunder, and the rainfall grew heavier. “For our sins. Although what we�
��ve done to deserve this I just don’t know.”

  * * *

  “Does it always rain like this?” Kendall asked as he entered the bar, shaking the rain from his coat.

  A dozen pairs of eyes turned in Kendall’s direction. “Ah now, well, sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn’t,” came a comment from someone sitting over in the corner. “You never can tell.”

  “Ah now, you won’t want to be taking notice of him,” said a man behind the bar. “It’s usually much worse than this. But there, if only you had come last week. We had nothing but glorious sunshine, morn ‘til night, day after day.” He paused for a moment, waiting for Kendall to remove his coat. “O’Rourke’s the name, Sean O’Rourke proprietor of this here establishment.” He paused once again. “Now then what can I get you?”

  Mollie stepped forward. “We have some rooms booked,” she explained. “In the name of Kendall.”

  “Mr. Kendall, and Miss Adams is it, ‘tis good to be seeing you,” said O’Rourke, extending his hand. “You’ve come for the fishing no doubt. No finer fishing here than anywhere.”

  Kendall shook his head, and wondered how anyone could possibly do any fishing with such rain. “No, not fishing,” he replied. “A few days holiday.”

  “Ah, so it’s a holiday so it is,” O’Rourke replied. “So, how long are you planning on staying with us?”

  A good question, Kendall thought. How long indeed. So far he wasn’t impressed. He heaved a sigh. Hopefully, not that long, just the one night maybe. He looked at Mollie, then looked at O’Rourke. “Difficult to say,” he replied. “A week or two I guess.”

  “Well I hope you enjoy your stay,” O’Rourke replied. “Your rooms are ready. Just leave your bags down there.” He indicated a space over in the corner of the room. “I’ll get young Keiron to take them up later.”

  “Thank you, Mr. O’Rourke,” said Mollie.

  “’Tis my pleasure, Miss,” said O’Rourke. “Now how about a little drink? Something to drive away the cold.”

  Kendall looked at Mollie and nodded. It was the first good suggestion that he had heard that day. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” he said. “I’ll have a whiskey, and a little water, very little. And you Mollie?”

  “I’ll have a martini, please,” she replied.

  “Coming right up,” said O’Rourke, as he started to pour the drinks. “So, Mr. Kendall, how was your journey? No problems I hope.”

  “Oh, it was okay, I guess,” Kendall replied. “At least it was very quick. I mean forty minutes from Stansted to Cork isn’t too bad. I mean it took longer to get from the airport to here. In fact it took longer to re-claim our baggage.”

  O’Rourke placed the drinks on to the counter. “Here we are, now, and good health to you.” He paused for a few moments. “Kendall,” he said suddenly. “’Tis a fine old Irish name it is to be sure, if ever I heard one.”

  “Maybe it is, but I’m not Irish,” Kendall replied.

  “Not Irish, you’re joking,” O’Rourke replied. “I can hardly believe that.”

  “Did yer say yer name was Kendall?” asked somebody seated a few yards away. “You’ll not be related to the Kendalls of County Clare I’m thinking.”

  Kendall smiled and shook his head. “No I’m not, I’m sorry. I’m not Irish.”

  “Right you are, but how about the Kendalls from County Donegal?” suggested O’Rourke.

  Kendall shook his head once again. “I’m not Irish, I tell you,” he repeated. “I’m ….”

  “Sure you’re not Irish, it’s just as I thought. I have it now,” said O’Rourke. “It’s the accent, there’s no mistaking that. It’s a dead giveaway. You’re Australian, without a doubt.”

  “I don’t like Australians,” a voice close by declared.

  Kendall glanced around to see who it was, and turned back to the bar. “I’m not Australian, and I’m not Irish,” he said as forceful as he could without being rude. “No, we’re from America. Florida, you know Disney World.”

  “You’re an American, is that a fact now?” said an old man sitting at the bar.

  “That’s right,” said Kendall smiling, feeling pleased that at last he was getting somewhere. “We’re Americans.”

  “I don’t like Americans,” the old man said, and quickly turned away.

  Kendall looked around once more, shaking his head, and looking skyward.

  “You mustn’t take any notice of old Mulligan there,” said a young man seated at the end of the bar. “He doesn’t like anyone, especially the English, and that’s a fact.”

  “And I can vouch for that,” said a well-dressed English man sitting in the corner. “The name’s Mallory by the way, Anthony Mallory, I’m from Berkshire in England.”

  Kendall nodded and tried to smile. He wasn’t entirely convinced.

  “He’s an edgit,” the young man continued, pointing to Mulligan. “The town drunk. Why we put up with his old nonsense, I just don’t know. He should be in a Home, or locked up.”

  “Oh, he’s harmless enough,” said Mallory. “A bit eccentric, but that’s all.”

  “He’s crazy,” said the young man. He turned to face Mulligan. He put his hand up to the side of his head, and commenced making a circling motion. “I said you’re a crazy old coot. His mother probably dropped him on his head when he was a baby I’m thinking.”

  “Ah, that’s all nonsense,” said O’Rourke. “He was never a baby, and he never had a mother.”

  Mulligan said nothing and merely smiled.

  “What did I tell you, Mr. Kendall?” said the young man. “He’s as mad as a hatter.” He paused for a moment, and held out his hand. “The name’s Mulvy, by the way, Vincent Mulvy. I’m the local builder hereabouts, for my sins.”

  “Of which he has many,” said O’Rourke.

  “No job too big, nor too small,” Mulvy added, and smiled. “All work guaranteed.” He reached into his inside pocket, and withdrew a business card. He handed it to Kendall. “You never know when you might need it,” he said, and smiled.

  The old man stood up and walked up to Kendall. “Mulligan’s the name, and I don’t like strangers. Any strangers,” he said. “They’re nothing but trouble, and they aren’t to be trusted. Had one in here once, he was locked up.” He placed an empty glass on to the counter in front of Kendall and glared directly at him.

  Kendall looked at the glass, then at the man, and then the glass once again. Then it finally dawned on him. He nodded his head. He looked at the bar man. “A drink for the gentleman,” he said. “And I’ll have a scotch.”

  The bar fell silent. You could have heard a pin drop had anyone had one and wished to let it fall to the ground. No one did. No one said a word. All eyes turned on Kendall.

  Kendall looked at the eyes staring back at him. What, he wondered. What did I do? What did I say? All I did was ask for a drink. So what was the problem?

  A man standing at the end of the counter descended from the bar stool that he was occupying, and walked slowly over to where Kendall was sitting.

  “The name’s Quinn,” he said almost in a whisper, his hand extended. “Patrick Quinn. I run the local store. I sell everything from apples and pears to cigarettes; bread to newspapers; wine, although not a word to Sean here, to milk. You name it, and I sell it.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn,” Kendall replied, wondering just how much more advertising he would be subjected to, and whether he would actually be expected to buy anything. He shrugged and shook hands.

  “Now, Mr. er, Kendall is it?”

  Kendall nodded.

  “Well, Mr. Kendall, sir, if you ask me I’d say that you were a most discerning man, a man who knew his drink,” Quinn continued. “Would that be right?”

  Kendall nodded. “Well I do like the odd drink I must say.”

  Mollie smiled. “I’d second that.”

  Kendall looked at Mollie and started to frown

  “Not that I’m suggesting that you are an alcoholic, or any such thing y
ou understand. I mean I like a drink or three myself.” Quinn quickly cast an eye around the bar, and then back to Kendall. “But I’m thinking that you are a serious drinker, and no mistake.”

  “Oh, he’s an expert at it, take my word for it,” said Mollie. “But he’s had years of dedicated practice. In fact you could say that it has been his life’s work.”

  Kendall frowned once again.

  “What Patrick is trying to say is that you might actually be wanting an Irish whiskey, if I’m not very much mistaken,” said Vincent Mulvy.

  “Yes, a proper whiskey,” said the English man, Mallory. “Not that Scottish stuff, that’s only a poor man’s excuse for a drink.”

  “Absolutely correct,” agreed Quinn. “We don’t even mention it around here you see. It’s unseemly.”

  “It’s just not done,” added Mallory.

  “Oh yes,” said Kendall hesitantly, as at long last he realised his mistake. “Of course Irish whiskey by all means, make it a double.” He looked at Mollie and heaved a sigh.

  “Drinks all round” he continued turning his hand in a large circle.

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  Drinks All Round

  “Drinks all round,” repeated Quinn. “Now that’s mighty civil of you, sir, mighty civil indeed.” He looked at O’Rourke and nodded.

  “’Tis indeed,” said O’Rourke as he busied himself pouring out the drinks. “Now sir, seeing as it’s you that is buying the drinks, I think that it’s only fair that you should know who you are drinking with.”

  Kendall smiled and looked around him.

  “Now, Mr. Quinn, our storekeeper just there, you’ve already met,” O’Rourke continued, as he pointed to the man standing next to Kendall. “And you know our English friend, Mr. Mallory over there at the end of the bar.” Mallory smiled and waved. Kendall waved back. “And then we have our local builder, Vincent Mulvy, who you’ve also met.”

  Kendall turned and faced Mulvy. He smiled and nodded his head. He tapped the business card tucked inside his coat pocket. No job too small, he murmured. You never know when you might need a builder.