A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6)

by John Holt

  “Maybe he doesn’t,” Kendall replied. “But what about it?”

  “Well, if he doesn’t drink, he would hardly go to the local inn would he?” Mollie continued.

  Kendall shook his head. “You could be right, I suppose,” replied Kendall. “Even so, there’s so little to do in this place, I’m willing to bet he’d be here. Besides, maybe he could have a soft drink, a coke or something. And if he knew that we were coming, and why, he’d certainly be there. He’d be curious, wouldn’t he? I’m guessing that he’ll be here later as well.”

  “We’ll see after dinner,” Mollie suggested.

  “The only thing is we don’t know who he, or she is do we?” said Kendall.

  “So how do we go about finding out?” asked Mollie.

  “First thing to remember is that the person, whoever it is, knows who we are, and why we are here,” Kendall explained. “So it’s possible that they will make the first move.”

  Mollie shook her head. “Suppose they don’t, then what?”

  Kendall shrugged. “We keep our eyes and ears open,” he replied. “Perhaps we’ll hear, or see, something that gives a hint, a clue. And we ask questions, at the right time, and see what answers we get.”

  “What do you mean the right time?” Mollie asked.

  “That’s a difficult question,” Kendall replied. “You have to judge how the conversation is going, where it is headed. There might just be an opening. You know.”

  Mollie was still unsure, but guessed that she would be getting no more guidance on the subject. “Have you any thoughts who it might be?” she asked.

  Kendall smiled and shook his head. “It’s too early to say, but let’s see what happens shall we.”

  “What about that English guy?” asked Mollie.

  “Mallory you mean?” said Kendall. “Could be, but it could be any one of them.”

  “Except Mulligan,” suggested Mollie.

  Kendall smiled, “Oh no, it’s certainly not Mulligan,” he agreed.

  “Well here we are,” said Mollie, as she stopped at her room. “This is me.”

  “Right,” said Kendall looking along the corridor. “That’s me over there.” He looked at his watch. “It’s just twenty minutes to seven. Dinner’s at eight.” He started to walk away. “I’ll see you in the dining room about ten to.”

  Mollie nodded, and went into her room.

  * * *

  Kendall slowly closed the door, and heaved a sigh. More and more he wondered just what he was doing in Killmacud, anyway. Perhaps he was wasting his time, just like O’Rourke had said. Perhaps Charters was guilty as charged. It was certainly possible, the evidence certainly pointed in that direction. It was three months ago, so how was he supposed to find out something that the police had missed. It’s not likely, is it Kendall, he murmured.

  He walked to the window, pulled back the curtain, and looked out. The rain was heavier than ever, and looked set for the remainder of the day. All in all the trip was turning into something of a disaster. Everything seemed to be against them. The weather, the hotel, which was nothing to write home about, and as for the locals…. Well what could you say about them? Clearly he wasn’t welcome was he? Oh they were friendly enough, but they didn’t appreciate some stranger in their midst, asking a lot of fool questions.

  Perhaps they should just pack up their things and leave. There seemed little point in staying. Kendall heaved a sigh and shook his head. He turned from the window. I better give Whittaker a call and tell him, he thought as he walked back to where the telephone was situated. He won’t be happy, but then why should he be, but it can’t be helped.

  He picked up the handset. “Oh, yes, could I have an outside line?” he asked. There were a few noisy clicks on the line, and then he heard the dialling tone. He hesitated for a moment. What exactly was he going to say anyway? Sorry, Chief Inspector it’s hopeless. Just forget all about it. He’s guilty, just get over it. In essence that was exactly what he had to say, although maybe there was a better way of saying it, a more tactful way.

  He started to dial the number, when there was a knock on the door. Mollie, he thought. He replaced the handset on to the cradle, stood up and walked to the door. He opened it. It was the young boy, Kieron.

  “I’ve brought up your bags, sir,” he said, touching the right side of his head, and smiling. “Where shall I leave them?”

  Kendall stood back, allowing the boy to enter the room. “Oh, anywhere will do,” he said pointing over to the corner of the room.

  The boy moved to the corner and placed the bags on the floor. He then turned and walked back towards the door. He suddenly stopped. “You’re here about that Mr. Charters aren’t you?” he said. “I liked him.”

  Kendall looked at the boy for a few moments. “Did you know him then” he asked.

  The boy nodded, shuffling his feet nervously. “I used to see him down at the Cove walking his dog.”

  “Katy?”

  The boy nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “How did you know?”

  Kendall smiled. “Do you know if he had any friends, I mean anyone special,” he asked.

  The boy smiled. “He was my friend,” he replied proudly.

  Kendall nodded. “I’m sure he was, but was there anyone else? I mean did he seem to spend more time with anyone in particular?”

  The boy thought for a few moments. “Mr. Lynch I guess,” he eventually replied. “Mr. Charters was always down at his boatyard.”

  Why would he spend so much time with Lynch? Kendall wondered. He made a mental note to ask Lynch about it. “Do you know why?” he asked Keiron.

  The boy shook his head. “Dunno,” he replied quite simply.

  Kendall sighed. To be honest he hadn’t really expected anything different, but it still came as a disappointment. “Was there anyone else?”

  “Maybe, Mr. Mallory, you know the English gentleman,” the boy answered. “I suppose both being English you know, they would stick together.”

  Kendall nodded, he wasn’t at all surprised. It made perfect sense he thought, Brits were shy, and reserved. They tended to stick together, so he could understand Charters and Mallory being friends. But Kendall had to admit that Derren Lynch was the last person he would choose to spend time with. So he just couldn’t imagine Charters being friends with Lynch. So why would Charters spend so much time at Lynch’s boatyard.

  Lynch? Kendall murmured. Is it possible that Derren Lynch was working with Charters? The associate that Whittaker had mentioned. Kendall shook his head. He could hardly believe it. But it did make sense. According to Keiron, Charters spent a lot of time at Lynch’s boatyard. They were probably discussing things, and comparing notes.

  “He never done it you know,” the boy suddenly announced.

  “Done it,” repeated Kendall surprised. “Done what?”

  “Oh you know. The man on the beach,” Keiron explained. “Mr. Charters never did it, he wouldn’t harm a fly. He was gentle and kind.”

  Kendall nodded. “I’ll remember what you said, Keiron,” he replied. “You know I don’t think he did it either.”

  Kendall shook his head, and started to smile as he remembered what he had been thinking just a few short minutes ago. Perhaps Charters was guilty as charged. Might as well pack up and go home. He shook his head once again and looked at the boy.

  “So Keiron, what do you do around here?” Kendall asked. “I mean what do you do for fun?”

  The boy smiled. “Well there’s not a lot to be honest. There’s the football club, but it’s not much. We don’t have a full team you see. And even if we did there’s no one to play against.”

  He paused for a moment, and reached inside his coat pocket. “Would you like to see my badge?” He held out his hand, and proudly displayed a silver and bronze, Killmacud F.C. badge. “Mr Charters had one just like it, and so does Mr Lynch. They are both members.”

  Somehow Kendall could not imagine Keiron and Lynch playing a game of football. “So did they
play?” Kendall asked.

  The boy laughed. “No, they never played,” he answered. “They were just supporters, and ran the club. Mr. Charters was the Secretary, and Mr. Lynch was in charge of the money.”

  Kendall smiled, certainly the club would need to be organised, and properly run, and keeping the accounts would be necessary. “So is there anything else?” Kendall asked.

  “Well, I have to go to school of course,” Keiron continued. “It’s in the next village. And I help Mr. O’Rourke at the hotel, when I can. But most of all I like helping Mr. Lynch at the yard. He’s teaching me fishing.”

  Fishing! Kendall thought. Fishing, and a football club that didn’t have a full team, or anyone to play, and that was it. The excitement must be overwhelming. “That sounds pretty good,” Kendall said, trying to sound that he meant it. “How’s it coming?”

  The boy shook his head. “Not good,” he replied. He paused for a moment, and then heaved a sigh. “I best get back, Mr. O’Rourke wants me to help re-stock the bar.”

  He started to walk towards the door. Kendall put his hand out. “Just a sec,” he called out. He reached into his pocket and took out a five euro note. He handed it to Keiron. The boy thanked him, opened the door and went out.

  Kendall watched as the door closed. He shook his head. He still could not believe it. Charters and Lynch, friends. It just didn’t seem possible, but there it was. Keiron had said so, so it must be right. He looked across at the telephone. He decided to give Whittaker a call, but with a different message.

  He dialled the number. It was answered on the fourth ring.

  “Chief Inspector, it’s me, Kendall.”

  “Hello Tom,” replied Whittaker. “So how’s it going?”

  Kendall thought for a few moments, and smiled. “Well its early days,” he said. “But we’re making progress.”

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Local Excitement

  During dinner later that evening, Kendall had told Mollie about his conversation with Keiron. “So it seems that our friend, Derren Lynch was working with Charters,” Kendall explained. He was the associate that Whittaker mentioned.”

  Mollie shook her head. “I don’t believe it,” she replied. “I just don’t like the guy.”

  Kendall shook his head, and smiled. “You sound like old Mulligan,” he said. “I don’t like him, says you. Why not, says I? What’s wrong with him?”

  Now it was Mollie’s turn to smile. “You’re a fine one to talk,” she replied. “Only a little while ago you thought that he was too pushy, remember.”

  Kendall nodded. “Sure I remember, but that was before.”

  “Before what?” asked Mollie.

  “Before I spoke to Keiron, that before.”

  Mollie shook her head. “Well I still say you’re wrong.”

  “Well I have to say I was surprised, but according to Keiron, Brian Charters spent a lot of time at Lynch’s boatyard,” Kendall continued. “And it makes perfect sense to me. That’s why Lynch kept asking if I would like to go out on the boat. He wants to talk, in private.”

  “Well I don’t buy it,” Mollie pronounced. “I think it’s more likely that the friend was Mallory. That makes more sense to me.”

  Kendall shook his head, and heaved a sigh. “Why? Because they are both English,” he said dismissively. “Too obvious. No, if I was a gambling man I’d put my money on Lynch.”

  “Did you say something, Mr. Kendall?” a voice asked. It was O’Rourke, who had just entered the dining room.

  Kendall looked up. He hesitated for a moment. “Oh, I was just talking about Mr. Lynch,” he explained. “I was just saying that I might take up his offer, and go out on his boat.” He turned to look at Mollie. “Isn’t that right.”

  Mollie took a deep breath. “Oh yes, that’s exactly right,” she replied. “A boat trip sounds like fun.”

  “Ah now, isn’t that grand,” said O’Rourke. “Just as we said you should do. Forget about that nasty old murder, just enjoy yourself. Let us hope that the weather improves.”

  * * *

  It was just after nine, with dinner over, when Kendall and Mollie returned to the bar. As they walked in, Kendall leaned into Mollie and whispered. “Another thing Kieron told me, there’s nothing to do here, nothing at all.”

  Mollie began to smile, and looked around the bar. Mulligan and Mallory were still there. The young man, Lynch, had gone. Over in the corner a young couple were arguing about something. At the bar O’Rourke was deep in conversation with two young men. “Well he wasn’t wrong about that was he?”

  Kendall nodded. “Quite a bright kid I’d say.”

  Mollie said nothing, but continued to look around the bar. “I wonder where our Mr. Lynch is,” she whispered.

  Kendall looked over at the bar. “I expect he’ll be here, after all there’s nothing else ….”

  “Nothing else to do, I know,” Mollie interrupted.

  * * *

  O’Rourke looked up as Kendall and Mollie arrived at the bar. “Good evening, Mr. Kendall, and Miss Mollie, I was just giving these two young fellas here directions. They are on their way to Galway.” He paused and look at the men. The two men thanked him, turned and left.

  O’Rourke watch them go, then he turned to face Kendall. “Now then, what can I get you?”

  “A whiskey for me,” said Kendall. “And what will you have Mollie?”

  “I’ll have a Martini,” Mollie replied.

  “A martini it is,” repeated O’Rourke. “Would that be a double for you sir?”

  Kendall shook his head. “No, a single will do, thank you.”

  Mollie looked up at Kendall. “Not feeling well then?” she asked. Kendall merely shrugged.

  O’Rourke started to pour the drinks. “I hope that the dinner was to your liking,” he said.

  “The dinner was fine,” Kendall replied. Mollie said nothing but nodded and smiled.

  The door opened and the young man from the boat yard came in. “Ah, Mr. Kendall,” he said smiling. “’t’is himself.”

  Kendall nodded. He looked at Mollie. “Told you so didn’t I?” he turned to face Lynch. “Back again I see.”

  “Oh yes, back again,” the man replied. “There’s not much else around here. The nearest cinema is thirty miles away, and that’s about it. So it’s either O’Rourke’s or the old box I’m afraid.”

  “The box,” said Kendall puzzled.

  “The television,” the man explained.

  “Oh, I see,” said Kendall. “So I suppose the body on the beach was a bit of local excitement.”

  “Ah, I suppose it was, for a little while at least,” replied Lynch. “’tis a sorry state of affairs though when the only entertainment we get is someone being murdered.”

  Kendall had to admit that it was hardly the entertainment he would prefer. “Did anyone know the man?” he asked. “The one who was murdered.”

  No one answered.

  Kendall looked around. “I just wondered if anyone knew anything about the man.”

  O’Rourke looked up and shook his head. “I’d never seen him before,” he said. “What about you Mallory?”

  Mallory looked up, and quickly shook his head. “No I never knew him,” he replied. “Never saw him before, not until his picture appeared in the newspaper.”

  “If the truth be known it wasn’t that interesting,” said O’Rourke. “Never knew the victim.”

  “What about Brian Charters?” Kendall asked. “Did anyone know him?”

  Once again there was silence. Then O’Rourke spoke. “He was a bit of a loner by all accounts,” he explained. “Never came in here that much.”

  “You hardly ever saw him,” added Lynch. “Not very sociable. He’d say hello, and that but would never stop for a conversation.”

  “What about the football club?” Kendall asked. “I understand that there is one here in Killmacud. You’re a member aren’t you Mr. Lynch?”

  Lynch nodded. “I am, th
is is the badge,” he replied pointing to an enamel badge in his lapel. “I have to admit that it isn’t much of a club, not like it used to be. But I can tell you Charters wasn’t in the least interested in it, or anything else locally, come to that. He kept himself to himself.”

  “But I understood that Charters spent a lot of time at your yard,” said Kendall.

  Lynch looked surprised, and shook his head.

  “Was he interested in boats?” Kendall continued. “Or was he into the fishing?”

  Lynch shook his head, and smiled. “I don’t know where you heard that Mr. Kendall, but as far as I can recall he was never at my yard.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Kendall. “I was told that he was there quite often.”

  Lynch shook his head once again. “I’m sorry but you are mistaken, I tell you he was never there.”

  Kendall heaved a sigh. “I don’t understand it, they were so definite,” he replied. “I must admit though that I did find it strange.”

  “Who told you?” asked O’Rourke.

  Kendall smiled and shook his head. “I’d rather not say, and if it’s not true, as it sounds, there’s no pint. They were just mistaken I guess.”

  “Or deliberately misleading you,” suggested Mallory.

  Kendall considered the point for a few moments. “That’s possible,” he agreed. So far the locals had been anything but helpful. Perhaps it was a deliberate attempt to confuse him.

  “But why would anyone do that?” Kendall asked. “Unless, of course, they had something to hide.”

  “Ah now, that’s nonsense,” said O’Rourke. “What would anyone have to hide?”

  What indeed, thought Kendall. After all it was only a murder after all. “So it probably didn’t surprise anyone when Charters was charged with the murder,” he said.

  Mallory went to say something, but changed his mind.

  “No surprise at all,” said O’Rourke. “What do they say, you have to watch the quiet ones.”

  Kendall knew the saying.

  “Hardly a reason for accusing someone of murder, though,” said Mollie.

  “You may be right there Missy,” said Lynch. “But when you look at the evidence it all ….”