A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6)

by John Holt

  “Though they could have hired another boat,” suggested Mollie.

  “They could have,” agreed Kendall. “Although it’s hardly likely.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Mollie.

  “To answer that, let’s leave the man on the beach for a moment,” replied Kendall. “Let’s just consider Mulligan’s death.”

  “All right,” said Mollie. “Let’s do that.”

  “Well it’s simple enough,” Kendall continued. “When I told them about Mulligan’s death, they were genuinely surprised weren’t they?” Mollie nodded her agreement. “Furthermore, they weren’t there, that night, at O’Rourke’s were they? The night that Mulligan was doing all the talking.”

  Mollie nodded. “No they weren’t, so that rules them out,” she said.

  “I certainly think it rules them out of murdering Mulligan,” Kendall continued. “So I doubt that they were involved with the killing of Nadir.”

  “So that just leaves Derren Lynch, he’s the only other one we know with a boat.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Kendall. “That just leaves Derren.” He paused for a moment and then smiled. “Assuming that I’m right that is.”

  Mollie smiled, and nodded in agreement.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Derren Lynch

  The Lynch Boatyard is located along the estuary of the Carrick River, not far from where it enters the Atlantic Ocean. The battered sign, at the entrance, proudly announces that the yard was established in 1998, and that the proprietor was Derren Lynch. A second sign gave details of sea trips offering sea fishing, or whale watching, that were available from March through till September. It also announced that the yard offered Repairs and Servicing, including Insurance work, all fully guaranteed.

  The yard, surrounded by wire mesh fencing, was entered through a wide timber gate that had seen better days. Around the yard were scattered pieces of discarded machinery, and rusting parts of engines. Pieces of metal sheeting were piled in a heap in one corner. In another were dozens of empty paint tins, and oil cans. There were three small boats lined up supported by timber trestles. All three were undergoing repairs of one kind or another.

  As Kendall entered the yard he was struck by an overwhelming smell of oil, and the sound of hammering. He looked over in the direction of where the hammering was coming from. There, on the deck of a small fishing boat, was Derren Lynch.

  “Mr. Lynch,” Kendall called out. “Mr. Lynch.”

  There was no response. Kendall called out once again, louder this time, banging the side of the boat.

  Lynch suddenly looked up from the deck. “Be right with you,” he called back, and then disappeared. A few moments later he came down the ladder.

  “It’s Mr. Kendall isn’t it?” he said. “What can I do for you?” he asked rubbing his hands with a cloth. “Are you planning a boat trip? A bit of fishing maybe, or ....”

  Kendall smiled and shook his head. “Oh no, not me, I hate the water. I prefer to keep my feet on dry land. The only water I like is with my whiskey, and even then it will just be a small drop.”

  Lynch smiled. “Well you don’t know what you’re missing,” he replied. “There’s nothing like a sea trip to get the blood flowing. The sea air, and the breeze. You just can’t beat it.”

  Kendall was far from convinced. It sounded about as enjoyable as sky diving, or bungee jumping. He could think of dozens of far more enjoyable activities. “Sorry, it’s just not for me, I’m afraid. I prefer something a little less strenuous.”

  “Well, then what can I do for you?” Lynch asked.

  “As I said the other night, in O’Rourke’s, I’ve been asked to make enquiries about the murder,” Kendall started to explain. “You know the man on the beach.”

  Lynch nodded. “So you said, but the police have already got Brian Charters for that one.”

  Kendall nodded. “That’s right. He’s been arrested, and he’s been charged. True,” Kendall agreed. “But you see there are some people who have doubts as to whether or not he did it.”

  “Doubts?” repeated Lynch. “Who has doubts? You mean the police?”

  “Oh no, Mr. Lynch, not the police, unfortunately,” Kendall replied. “Mores the pity. That would have made my job a whole lot easier.”

  “Then who?”

  “His cousin for example,” said Kendall.

  “You said that the other night in the bar” said Lynch shaking his head. “What would his cousin know about it?”

  “Mr. Lynch, Charters’ cousin is a Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard, and he has doubts,” Kendall replied. “Either way there are a few questions that need to be clarified. In the circumstances I was wondering if you could help me?”

  “Well I don’t see how, but go on,” Lynch replied reluctantly, as he looked around the boatyard, and shrugged.

  Kendall could sense Lynch’s reluctance. Sure he was a busy man that was obvious, but was there another reason? Or was Kendall seeing something that really wasn’t there.

  “Thank you,” Kendall replied, looking around. “I’ll try not to delay you too long. You seem pretty busy.”

  “Busy, is an understatement,” replied Lynch. “I’m swamped out. I guess I shouldn’t complain though.” He paused for a moment and looked at his watch. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”

  “Just a few questions about that night, the night of the murder,” Kendall explained.

  “Go on,” said Lynch. “Let’s get it over and done with.”

  “I understand that you actually saw Charters on the beach is that right?” asked Kendall.

  Lynch nodded. “Yes I saw him, but he wasn’t actually on the beach, he was just walking towards the beach, with his dog, Katy.” he replied. “I’d just got back from a fishing trip, a couple of Americans. I was really tired, it had been a long day.”

  “Where were you when you saw him?” asked Kendall.

  “On my way to O’Rourke’s,” Lynch explained. “I thought I’d have a quick pint before heading home, and an early night.”

  “What time was that?” Kendall asked.

  “Time?” Lynch shook his head. “I can’t really be sure my watch had stopped. But let me tell you, I would guess about ten to seven, something like that.”

  “Did he see you?” asked Kendall.

  “Oh yes he saw me, he waved, and I waved back.”

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  Lynch shook his head. “No, not that I remember.”

  Kendall smiled. “Did you see anything else that evening?”

  “No I don’t think so,” Lynch replied shaking his head. “No wait a minute, I did see a small fishing boat go past the headland. Over there.” He pointed to a spot where the river entered the Ocean. “But I never gave it any thought. I mean boats go passed here all the time.”

  Kendall looked over in the direction indicated. “It’s a great view from here. Quite a rugged coastline. Good for smugglers,” he said. “Not that I’m an expert on smuggling you understand.”

  Lynch looked towards the sea. “Oh it’s pretty alright,” he said. “Back in the old days, there were smugglers all along this coast, and the wreckers.”

  “Wreckers?” repeated Kendall. “What are they?”

  Lynch smiled. “Some of the locals who would deliberately cause ships to hit the rocks, like those out there.” He pointed to a rocky outcrop. “The ship would run aground, and the wreckers would claim the salvage,” he continued. He turned back to face Kendall. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a trip around the islands. There’d be no charge, I’d be pleased take you.”

  Kendall smiled, and shook his head. “Not for me, I get sea sick just thinking about it.”

  Lynch heaved a sigh. “Well don’t say I didn’t offer.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” replied Kendall. “Getting back to that boat. What time did you see it?”

  Lynch thought for a few moments. “I’m not sure, but I’m guessing that it was j
ust a few minutes before I saw Charters I think, so a quarter to seven, something like that,” he replied. “I don’t really remember. As I said I never really gave it any thought.”

  “Did you recognise the boat?” Kendall asked.

  Lynch shook his head. “Never saw it before, and I thought I knew all of the local boats.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  Lynch shook his head once again. “No, why should I? I told you I never gave it ....”

  Local boatman sees boat he has not seen before, but shows no interest, Kendall thought. Not very likely, so why lie? Was there a boat which he did maybe there was no boat. Either way, why not tell the truth. “I know,” said Kendall, heaving a sigh. “You never gave it a thought.”

  “Correct,” said Lynch. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”

  Kendall didn’t really know what he expected from such a meeting, but he had hoped for something, but all that he got was further confirmation that Charters was at the murder scene, at the right time. Not what he wanted, or needed.

  “Was there anything else?” Lynch asked. “As you can see I do have a lot to do.”

  Kendall looked around the yard. “I can see that,” he agreed. “There is one more thing though.”

  Lynch gave a loud sigh. “Go on, I’m listening.”

  Kendall took a deep breath. “It’s about Mulligan.”

  “Mulligan,” repeated Lynch. “What about him?”

  “I’m not convinced that his death was an accident,” said Kendall.

  Lynch started to laugh. “You really are amazing Mr. Kendall, do you know that?”

  “Many people have said that,” replied Kendall. “Who am I to argue.”

  “The police have charged Charters with murder, but you’re not convinced that he is guilty,” said Lynch. “The police say that Mulligan’s death was an accident, but once again you’re not convinced.” He paused for a moment, shaking his head. “Why I should even listen is a mystery, but I guess you’re going to tell me why?”

  Kendall nodded. “Yes, you’re right, no argument,” he replied. “I’m a regular doubting Thomas. One of my aggravating habits.” He smiled. “One of many according to my ma, I’m afraid. Once I get something in my mind I never let go until I’m satisfied. It doesn’t matter what others think you see. It’s what I think that counts. I’m just stubborn I guess.”

  Lynch heaved a sigh. “Okay so you’ve got some bad habits, but exactly why don’t you believe it was an accident?”

  Kendall rubbed the side of his face, and took a deep breath. “It’s quite simple, really,” he replied. “I think Mulligan knew something, or at least he thought that he knew something.”

  “Something about what?” asked Lynch.

  Kendall took a deep breath. “The body on the beach.”

  “Go on, I’m listening.”

  “That thing about the German sailor,” said Kendall. “What was that all about?”

  Lynch shook his head, and smiled. “Oh, you shouldn’t take any notice of that. That was only old Mulligan story telling. O’Rourke warned you about that, remember.”

  “I remember,” said Kendall. “But I don’t think it was just story-telling.”

  “You really are a doubter, aren’t you,” said Lynch. “I guess if I said black was black, you’d have a problem.”

  Kendall ignored the comment. “There really was a German sailor washed up on to the shore you know. His ship had been sunk by the British Navy, and he was the only survivor. Spent the rest of the war in a prison camp in Belfast.”

  “That’s quite a story,” agreed Lynch. “But old Mulligan couldn’t have seen it, he would have been far too young.”

  “Yes, I agree, he couldn’t have seen it, but he knew about it, and he saw, or thought he saw a connection with the sailor coming ashore, and the body down at the cove,” said Kendall. “Although he didn’t actually see that German sailor, I believe that he did see the body on the beach. I believe that he saw the murder, and that’s why he was killed.”

  Lynch started a slow hand clap. “That’s a great story. One that old Mulligan would be rightly proud of,” he said. “But that’s all it is, a story. Mulligan died as the result of an accident. A tragic accident, but an accident none the less.”

  Kendall shook his head. “Well I’m not so sure,” he replied. “I’m totally convinced that Mulligan’s death was murder, and I intend to prove it.”

  “Well I wish you every success,” said Lynch, “Come back to me when you have the proof, but I’m willing to lay odds that you are wasting your time.”

  Kendall shrugged. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, and I don’t expect it will be the last, but it’s my time so I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Right, well if that’s it, I’ll get back to work,” said Lynch, as he turned to walk back to the boat he had been working on.

  “Just one thing,” Kendall said.

  Lynch stopped and turned back. “What is it?”

  “Mulligan left O’Rourke’s at about ten o’clock that night,” said Kendall. “What time did you leave?”

  “Am I one of your suspects?” said Lynch, trying not to laugh.

  “Oh no, nothing like that,” said Kendall. “Just some loose ends that’s all.”

  Lynch smiled, and nodded his head. “Seems very devious to me Mr. Kendall.”

  “Devious?” repeated Kendall. “In what way?”

  Lynch smield. “You know very well what time I left. You were there, you saw me leave. It was just a few minutes after Mulligan, and Quinn, remember?”

  Kendall nodded. Yes he remembered.

  “And I went straight home,” Lynch added.

  “Okay, I get your point,” Kendall replied holding his hands up, and nodding. “One last thing though, and then I’m done.”

  “Get on with it, Kendall,” replied Lynch getting impatient.

  “It’s about the boat you saw.”

  “I told you I’d never seen it before,” replied Lynch.

  “Yes, I remember,” replied Kendall. “But do you think you could describe it?”

  “Oh, I see,” replied Lynch. “Well it’s a while ago, and really I didn’t take too much notice I’m afraid. Was it important?”

  “Which direction was it going?” asked Kendall.

  Lynch thought for a while. “South, towards Kinsale.”

  “Did you see anyone on the boat?” Kendall asked

  Lynch shook his head. “I told you I barely glanced at it.”

  Kendall nodded. “Not to worry, probably not that important anyway.”

  “So have we finished?” asked Lynch. “I’m anxious to get on.”

  “Yes we’re done,” replied Kendall. Then he held up his hand. “One last thing. You didn’t by any chance telephone the police that night, did you?”

  Lynch shook his head. “No, not me, why?”

  “Oh it doesn’t matter,” replied Kendall. “I don’t suppose you rang for an ambulance either.”

  Lynch shook his head once again, and smiled. “Why on earth would I have rang for an ambulance?”

  Kendall shrugged. “I just thought that maybe you had seen the fight, you know, on the beach I mean.”

  “Kendall, I really don’t know where you are getting all this,” Lynch replied. “I never saw any fight. In fact apart from Charters, oh, and Mrs. Mulvy, I didn’t see anything.”

  Kendall smiled. “I didn’t really think so,” he replied.

  “Just some more of those loose ends,” Lynch suggested.

  Kendall nodded. “Mr. Lynch you’ve been very helpful, thank you,” he replied. “There is just one more thing, I’m sorry.”

  Lynch heaved a deep sigh. “Go on,” he said almost as a dare.

  Kendall smiled. “Do you know anything about a company called Anglo-Irish Commodities?”

  Lynch thought for a few moments and then slowly shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t think so, why?”

  Kendall shook his head. “Oh, I just wondered,
you know,” he replied. “They import things.”

  “What things?” asked Lynch.

  Kendall shook his head once again. “Oh, I don’t really know, things that’s all I know.” He paused for a moment. “The strange thing is that they found an envelope, on the dead man. There was an address on it.”

  “An address?” repeated Lynch.

  “Yes, for Anglo-Irish Commodities,” explained Kendall. “It’s located in Dublin. A guy by the name of Peterson runs it.”

  “Can’t help you I’m afraid,” replied Lynch.

  Kendall heaved a sigh. “Never mind, it was a long shot,” he said. “I shan’t need to trouble you any further.”

  “Right, I’ll get back to work then,” said Lynch as he turned and walked back to the boat he had been working on.

  Kendall watched for a few moments. He shook his head. That had been a waste of time. But what exactly had he expected anyway? Case solved, just like that? A confession perhaps. He looked at Lynch one more time, then turned and started back towards the hotel.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Back to Square One

  The following day, Kendall and Mollie were back at the town park. “There’s our seat,” announced Mollie, rushing over and sitting down. Immediately she was surrounded by a flock of ducks, anticipating that breakfast was soon to be served.

  Mollie had come well prepared this time. Apart from a whole loaf, and some crackers, she had brought with her a large bag of duck pellets.

  “Our seat did you say?” said Kendall as he finally arrived. “Got our name on it as it?” He looked at the plaque fixed to the back of the seat. “Killmacud Corporation,” he read. “That’s you I guess.”

  Mollie glared at him and made a face. She handed him a few slices of bread.

  “What’s this, my breakfast?”

  “Just do something useful for a change,” Mollie replied. “Feed the ducks.”

  “They’ll miss us when we’ve gone,” Kendall murmured.

  “Just feed them,” said Mollie.

  “They’ll probably find another gullible mug I guess,” Kendall continued.

  Mollie gave him a nudge on the arm. “Enough with the comments, just get on and feed them.” She tore a piece of the bread and tossed it.