A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6)

by John Holt

  Kendall looked down at the ducks, and started to break up one of his slices of bread. “It’s alright for you guys,” he murmured. “You’ve no worries, you even get fed.” He threw the scraps into the group. There was a frantic scurry as the birds went after the bread.

  “There’s no rush, guys, there’s plenty for everyone,” said Mollie, throwing down a handful of pellets. She turned towards Kendall. “So Mr. Lynch was no help to you then?”

  Kendall shrugged. “No help, whatsoever,” he replied. “I needed have bothered, but I was so certain.”

  “So, we’re back to square one then,” said Mollie, despondent.

  Kendall heaved a sigh. “It certainly seems like it,” he agreed. “I was so sure that it would be one or other of them. It seemed so obvious to me.”

  “A bit too obvious maybe,” suggested Mollie.

  Kendall heaved a sigh, and broke up some more bread, and threw it to the ducks. “Maybe.”

  “Well I have to say I never really thought it would be Mr. Lynch,” said Mollie. “He doesn’t seem the type. As for those other two, well maybe, but not him.”

  Kendall smiled and shook his head. He wondered just exactly what type they were looking for. What exactly did a murderer look like anyway? He did it, he looks like a murderer. Kendall heaved a sigh. He had to admit that that would make things a whole lot easier, but life wasn’t like that was it.

  “Well it looks like it was neither of them,” he said.

  “I suppose they could have been lying,” suggested Mollie.

  “Yes they could have,” Kendall agreed. “Although the guys down in Kinsale had it all documented in their log book.”

  “They could have used a different boat,” Mollie replied.

  Kendall nodded his head. “Yes, I guess they could have,” he agreed. “And it could have been three other guys.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Well maybe it was a stranger, someone we don’t know anything about,” suggested Mollie. “I mean, really it could have been anyone couldn’t it?”

  Kendall shrugged and shook his head. “You know if it had just been about the body on the beach, our Mr. Nadir, I’d have agreed with, and said could be,” he replied. “But with poor old Mulligan’s death, well that puts a different light on to things, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Why?” asked Mollie.

  “Because whoever killed Mulligan must have been somebody local,” Kendall replied. “Somebody who had heard him talking in the bar, about the German, and had put two and two together.”

  “And decided that Mulligan had to be silenced,” suggested Mollie, throwing some more scraps to the ducks.

  “Correct, and I was so convinced that that somebody was our friend, Derren Lynch,” said Kendall. “It seems like we are no further forward now than we were when we first arrived over here.”

  Suddenly there was loud squawking and screeching, and the ducks rushed en masse back into the water. In their place was a large ginger cat.

  “Scat,” yelled Mollie,” waving her hands threateningly. The cat didn’t wait to be told twice.

  “So where do we go from here?” asked Mollie, “We seem to have reached a dead end.”

  Kendall shrugged and smiled. “That’s a very unfortunate term, Mollie,” he replied. “But I think you’re not far off the mark.”

  Mollie smiled as she realised what she had said. “So where do we go from here?” she repeated.

  “Well to be fair, we’re not exactly back to square one, we have made some progress,” said Kendall.

  “Like what?” asked Mollie.

  “Well at least I’m now convinced that Charters wasn’t involved in the fight on the beach,” Kendall replied. “The one that Mrs. Duffy had seen. He wasn’t at the beach at six fifty, he didn’t arrive until much later.”

  Mollie shook her head. “So how come Constable Donovan didn’t get that?” she asked. “Why was he so convinced that it was Charters?”

  Kendall shook his head. “Circumstances, I guess,” he replied, as he threw some more bread. “Charters was there, on the beach, when he arrived, and he just didn’t ask the right questions, In fact he didn’t think he had any questions to ask.”

  Kendall paused for a moment staring at the lake. He sighed, and took a deep breath. “He’s young, and fairly new to the job. He hadn’t seen anything like it before. A murder in Killmacud was exactly commonplace. It all seemed so obvious to him.”

  What do you mean? Asked Mollie

  Kendall sighed. “He gets a call, well apparently he received two calls to be exact,” he started to explain. “He’s told to Get down to the Cove because there’s a fight going on. He hurries to the cove, and he finds a body. Standing next to it is a man holding a blood-stained knife. What more does he need.”

  “Surely the police needs more than that,” said Mollie sounding perplexed.

  “Well they have a number of eye witnesses, who say that they saw Charters going towards the Cove, at the time of the murder,” Kendall continued. “The police seem to think that they had an air tight case, especially when they found the two packages hidden in Charters’ house.”

  “The drugs you mean,” said Mollie.

  Kendall nodded. “Pretty conclusive evidence, at least that’s what Constable Donovan thought.”

  “What about the officers that came down from Cork? Mollie asked.

  “I don’t know what they thought,” replied Kendall. “But I’m guessing that it seemed obvious to them as well, so they just went along with Donovan.” He paused for a few moments. “It hardly matters anyway. They arrested Charters, end of story, and his trial isn’t too far off.”

  “It doesn’t look too good for him, does it?” said Mollie

  Kendall made no reply for a moment, staring into space. “No it doesn’t,” he murmured. Then he looked back at Mollie. “Let’s look at this again, but from a different angle this time.”

  “Go on,” said Mollie. “I’m listening.

  “Well instead of trying to find out who did it, how about looking at why,” Kendall replied. “Just why was Mr. Nadir murdered?”

  Mollie shook her head. “Could be for any number of reasons,” she replied. “A fight, that’s what the police think.”

  Kendall shook his head. “That makes no sense to me. Don’t forget he was deliberately brought to shore, and then killed. And whoever brought him in didn’t hang around.”

  “How do you know that?” Mollie asked.

  “Because there was no sign of a boat was there,” Kendall replied. “Whoever brought him ashore almost certainly killed him.”

  “Almost?” repeated Mollie.

  Kendall nodded slowly. “It’s possible that someone was already on the beach, waiting,” he started to explain. “Nadir is brought to shore, the boat goes away, the man waiting steps out of the shadows, and ….”

  “Possible I guess,” agreed Mollie.

  “But we still don’t know why he was killed,” Kendall continued. “And we certainly don’t know why he was brought ashore and then killed. Why not kill him out at sea, and just dump the body over board.”

  “Well you tell me,” Mollie replied. “Why was he killed?”

  Kendall shook his head, and threw the rest of the bread into the lake. There was a flurry of activity as the ducks flew away. “I don’t know for sure but let’s consider what we know about him.”

  Mollie thought for a moment. “His name was Abel Nadir, and he was an illegal immigrant. Is that why he was murdered?”

  Kendall held up his hand. “I’m coming to it,” he replied. “What else do we know?”

  “He came from Turkey,” answered Mollie.

  “Right, he came from Turkey,” replied Kendall. “And what else comes from Turkey, and I’m not talking about belly dancers.”

  Mollie smiled. “Turkish delight,” she suggested hopefully.

  “Drugs,” Kendall replied ignoring her comment. “Heroin to be precise. Don’t forget Poppies are a tradi
tional crop in Turkey, with poppy seed used for food and animal fodder as well as for making opium. But apart from that Turkey is a major route for heroin coming from Afghanistan.”

  “You’re saying he was a drugs smuggler?”

  “Well yes and no,” replied Kendall. “What I think is that he worked for someone who was a drug smuggler.”

  “And you think it was that person that killed him?”

  Kendall nodded. “It’s certainly a strong possibility,” he replied. “At least I think it was that guy who issued the orders.”

  “But you’re still not saying why,” said Mollie.

  Kendall shook his head, and signed. “No I’m not,” he agreed. “I have to admit that I’m still not sure on that one.”

  “Let’s say that you’re right,” said Mollie. “This Mr. Big, whoever he is, issues the order, and someone carries out the murder, is that correct?”

  “That’s the way I see it,” Kendall replied.

  Mollie smiled and shrugged. “Well it could have been anybody couldn’t it?”

  Kendall shook his head. “No I don’t think so,” he said. I’m convince that it was someone here, someone connected with Killmacud.”

  “What makes you think that?” Mollie asked.

  “Why else bring him into the Cove here,” Kendall said. “Why not somewhere else down the coast, somewhere isolated?”

  “But everyone said they didn’t know the guy.”

  “Of course they did,” agreed Kendall. “It’s not likely that anyone would admit to knowing him, because if they did they would become a prime suspect.” He paused for a few moments. “One other thing,” he continued. “Whoever committed the murder, knew that Charters would be on that beach at precisely seven o’clock. The murder was all planned for about that time of day, to try to incriminate Charters.”

  “Worked didn’t it,” said Mollie, throwing the rest of the crackers to the ducks.

  “Crackers to the quackers,” said Kendall looking at the ducks as they scurried to get the treats.

  “Highly amusing,” said Mollie. “Have you any other gems like that one?”

  Kendall shook his head. “Not really, but I do have some work to do, so enough of this chit-chat. It’s about time I questioned a few more people.”

  Mollie smiled. “Well it’s about time. Do you feel up to it?” she said. “Not too tired?” Kendall said nothing. “So who will you start with?”

  Kendal thought for a few moments. “It doesn’t really matter I guess, but how about Quinn?” he replied. “He was pretty quick leaving the other night, straight after Mulligan.”

  “You think he killed Mulligan?” asked Mollie.

  “It’s possible,” agreed Kendall. “But I was actually thinking that he might have seen something.” He stood up. “Well I don’t know about you but the ducks have had the last of the bread, and all of the pellets. So I’m thinking that it’s about time we thought of some lunch for ourselves. What do you say?”

  Mollie stood up. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a double hamburger, and fries, with all the trimmings,” Kendall said as he started back towards the hotel.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Quinn’s Store

  It had been a busy day, as usual, for Michael Quinn. There had been a major delivery that morning, and he was now checking the delivery notes, and stacking shelves. Young Shamus’ mother had rang earlier. He wouldn’t be in, she was sorry but he wasn’t feeling very well. It was the third time this month, and Quinn was not feeling at his most compassionate, or sympathetic. Sick indeed, he wasn’t sick, he was just too lazy to get out of bed more like. To add further to Quinn’s woes there were several shoppers waiting to be served.

  And if that wasn’t enough, standing at the end of the counter was the stranger in town, Kendall, patiently waiting for a lull in the proceedings. Quinn could see him out of the corner of his eye. What did he want? He certainly wasn’t doing the weekly shop that was certain. So what? Paying a social call, perhaps? Unlikely.

  The last thing Quinn needed right then, was an American private detective asking a lot of fool questions about something that happened months ago. What did he know anyway? Nothing. Besides hadn’t he gone through it all with that detective from Cork, whose name he couldn’t remember? What could he add now? Nothing. Anyway didn’t the police already have somebody in custody? They had the murderer and that was that. What more did you need?

  He turned away, pretending not to have noticed, and continued to serve his customers. Maybe he would just give up and go. Kendall moved away from the counter and began walking along the aisles, stopping occasionally, picking something up, and then placing it back on to the shelf. Quinn looked up trying to see what he was doing.

  “Oh, Mr. Quinn, do you have any of that fruit cake I got the other day?” a voice called out.

  Quinn looked towards the sound. It was Mrs. Carton. “It’s there, on the shelf,” he called back impatiently. “Right behind you.”

  A second voice called out. “Mr. Quinn can you please serve me, I haven’t all day.”

  Quinn didn’t need to look, he knew that voice. “Be with you right away Mrs. Murphy.”

  He walked over to the checkout, looking along the aisles as he did so. There was no sign of Kendall. Quinn heaved a sigh of relief. He has given up waiting, and gone, thank goodness.

  “Now Mrs. Murphy, let’s see what you have here.” He started to pass the goods past the scanner. As he did so he looked towards the end of the counter. His heart sank, Kendall had returned.

  He returned to the scanner. Item after item was passed through. After each one Quinn looked up, Kendall gave a cursory wave. Quinn shook his head, Kendall was not going away any time soon that was certain.

  “That comes to thirty five Euros and fourteen cents,” Quinn suddenly announced.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later the last of his customers had departed. Quinn intended to get back to the checking, and stacking. “Mr. Quinn,” a voice called out. “Can you spare me a little of your time?”

  Quinn looked round. “Oh, Mr. Kendall, it’s good to see you, you should have told me you were here.” He didn’t sound convincing. “How are you?”

  Kendall smiled. Clearly Quinn wasn’t too pleased to see him. You didn’t need to be a brain surgeon to work that out. “Oh I’m just fine. Wish the weather would brighten up though.”

  Quinn looked puzzled. “It’s raining again,” Kendall explained, pointing back towards the entrance door.

  “Ah, you should have been here last week,” said Quinn.

  “I know,” replied Kendall. “Wall to wall sunshine from morning till night, I’ve heard.”

  “Ah well now I wouldn’t be saying that,” said Quinn. “But it was grand all right. So what can I do for you?”

  Kendall walked over to the checkout point. “I can see that you’re a busy man, with lots to do, so I won’t keep you long. I just have a few questions that’s all.”

  “Questions,” Quinn repeated. “Questions about what?” As if he didn’t know.

  “The body on the beach,” replied Kendall. “Remember him?”

  Quinn shook his head, and heaved a sigh. “I thought that was all done and dusted,” he replied. “Hasn’t the Garda charged that English man with the murder?” He paused for a moment thinking hard. “What was his name?”

  “Charters, Brian Charters,” replied Kendall. How come nobody remembered the name, he wondered? Perhaps the whole village suffered from amnesia, something in the water maybe.

  “That’s the fellow,” said Quinn. “Brian Charters, now I remember.”

  “Did you know him?” asked Kendall, already knowing what was to come.

  “Who, Charters?” asked Quinn. He shook his head. “Not really. He came in here a few times, for a few groceries, you know, but I never really spoke to him, apart from wishing him a good day, and what can I get you. Kept himself to himself. I think that Ant
hony Mallory knew him quite well though.”

  “What about the other guy,” Kendall continued. “The body on the beach?”

  Quinn shook his head once again. “No, I never knew him.”

  Kendall sighed. “Nobody seemed to know him, oddly enough,” he said. “Somebody must have known him though, I wonder why they are keeping so quiet.”

  “I don’t understand,” Quinn replied. “What makes you say that?”

  Kendall took a deep breath. “A couple of reasons I guess,” he replied. “Firstly it’s more than obvious that the murderer knew him. It happens, but it’s quite rare, for someone to murder a complete stranger.”

  “Maybe,” replied Quinn trying to sound interested. “But it sounds like a very good reason for people to actually deny knowing the man I would say.”

  Kendall started to smile. “An excellent point Mr. Quinn. I never thought of that.”

  And the second reason?”

  “Ah, yes the second reason,” replied Kendall. “That’s all to do with this place, Killmacud.”

  Quinn looked puzzled.

  “Killmacud is normally a quiet village, wouldn’t you agree?” Kendall continued. Quinn nodded his agreement.

  “Very few people come here do they?” Once again Quinn nodded.

  “I mean you don’t get many strangers, like me, do you?”

  Quinn nodded a third time. He silently agreed that no they didn’t get many strangers, like Kendall.

  “I just don’t think our Abel Nadir would have come here, to Carrick Cove, unless he knew someone here,” Kendall continued. “A friend maybe, or someone he worked for.”

  “Hardly a friend,” said Quinn. “I mean if you were visiting a friend wouldn’t you go up to their house. You would hardly meet up with them on the beach, not late in the evening.”

  Kendall nodded. “That’s another very good point, Mr. Quinn,” he said. “I’m guessing it was someone he knew through his work then.”

  “What kind of work though,” said Quinn. “I mean, I wonder why he was at the cove anyway.”

  “A good question,” said Kendall. “At present I don’t know the answer, but I do have some thoughts.” He paused for a moment, wondering whether or not to mention his suspicions. He decided to say nothing. “Anyway, as I said you must be a busy man, so I best get on.”