by John Holt
“Pity,” said Kendall. “But I’m not surprised. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. Give me a call if you hear anything.”
“Will do,” replied Donovan.
* * *
Kendall was sitting in the dining room, trying to write up a report for Chief Inspector Whittaker. He was feeling pleased with himself. Charters’ had been shown to be completely innocent, and Derren Lynch had been identified as the murderer. He sat back and read through what he had written. It was looking good. It was just a pity that Lynch was still roaming free.
The door suddenly opened, and Moira came in. “There’s a phone call for you,” she said. “It’s Constable Donovan.”
Kendall got up and hurried into the corridor. He reached for the handset. “Kendall, speaking,” he said.
“They’ve found Lynch, about twenty minutes ago,” Donovan said. “In a copse, off of the Kinsale Road, about five miles from here. He’s dead. Shot twice.”
Kendall shook his head. Why wasn’t he not surprised by the news? “Constable was there a badge pinned to his lapel?” he asked.
“A badge,” repeated the officer. “I’ll check.” There was the sound of muffled voices, and then Donovan was back on the line. “No, no badge,” he replied.
“As I thought,” Kendall murmured. He heaved a sigh. “How long has he been dead?” he asked.
“The doctor thinks about twelve hours,” replied Donovan. “But he’ll know more after the post mortem.”
“Peterson,” said Kendall, almost in a whisper.
“Sorry, what was that you said?” asked Donovan.
“Peterson,” repeated Kendall. “I’m willing to bet that he killed Lynch.”
“But why would he kill Lynch?” asked Donovan.
Kendall thought for a few moments. “When I went to see Peterson, I mentioned Lynch, to him, I told him that it was Lynch’s idea that I went to see him,” Kendall explained, “I lied, but I think that Peterson believed me, and assumed that it was Lynch who had put us on to him in the first place, and just paid him back.”
“Makes sense,” agreed Donovan.
“There’s another reason,” Kendall continued. “It was Lynch who was branching out, and going into business for himself, not Nadir, he never had the brains for such an operation.”
Donovan was perplexed. “I thought you were convinced that it was Nadir, and that’s why he was murdered.”
“You’re right,” said Kendall. “I did think that at one time.”
“What changed your mind?” asked Donovan.
“It was when the boys found those packages, the ones in the cave,” Kendall explained. “They were identical to those found in Charters’ house, correct.”
“Yes,” agreed Donovan.
“Obviously Nadir didn’t plant the packets in Charters house did he?” Kendall continued. “I mean he would hardly think to incriminate someone in his own murder would he?”
Once again the Officer nodded in agreement.
“So clearly whoever planted those packages was the same person who had placed the other packets in the cave,” said Kendall. “It was that person who was trying to take over.”
“And that person was Lynch,” added Donovan
“That’s right, it was Lynch,” said Kendall. Peterson knew that someone was stealing his merchandise. He instructed Lynch to find out who, and to eliminate him. Lynch killed Nadir to take attention away from himself. It was Lynch who placed the drugs in Charters’ house, and it was Lynch who placed the packages in the cave.”
“So why did he leave them there?” Donovan asked.
“He had no choice,” said Kendall. “He couldn’t touch them, until the heat had died down, but then came Mulligan, and things just got a whole lot hotter.”
“Sounds about right,” said Donovan. “Well that’s one down, and one to go.”
“The big one,” said Kendall.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Case Closed
It was unusually quiet in O’Rourke’s that evening. It should have been Ceilidh night, but it had been cancelled. The usual crowd was there, but there was none of the usual chatter. No one felt like the usual gossiping, or joking with each other. No one felt much like anything. Everyone was silent, lost in their own thoughts. The death of Mulligan had been a shock, and now this.
It was hard to believe that Derren Lynch, who had lived and worked in their community, had been bringing drugs into the area. Worse still he was a cold blooded murderer. He had killed old Mulligan, someone he had known for many years, someone he would make fun of, someone that he would often buy a drink. And he had killed that illegal immigrant, Abel Nadir, also. And now he too was dead, being murdered himself. It didn’t bear thinking about. Things like that just didn’t happen in a small place like Killmacud. In a little over three months, there had been three murders. This was the thing of which thriller stories, and Hollywood movies, were made.
* * *
“I just can’t believe it,” said Quinn, breaking the silence. “Derren, a murderer. It’s unreal.”
“It seems so,” said O’Rourke, rubbing the counter. “Just goes to show, you never really know any one do you? I mean you think you know them, then something like this happens.”
Quinn looked at the empty bar stool. “To think he’d sit there night after night,” he said. “Chatting to us like nothing was wrong.”
“What must he have been thinking about us?” asked O’Rourke. “Right idiots I’m thinking.”
“What must he have been thinking the night Mulligan’s body had been found?” said Quinn, raising a hand to his eye, and brushing a tear away.
“Well I would never have imagined such a thing,” said Vincent Mulvy. “I mean I’ve known him for years.”
“Well I went to school with him,” Quinn said. “We were both in Miss Flynn’s class.”
“So what put you on to him, Mr. Kendall?” asked O’Rourke.
“Well there were a few things really,” Kendall started to explain. “The first thing that I thought was strange. It was about the boat that he ….”
The main door suddenly opened, and in walked Constable Donovan. “A pleasant evening,” he said. He kept hold of the door, leaving it open, and was followed by Brian Charters, and Mallory.
Charters had a huge smile on his face. He walked straight over to Kendall and offered his hand. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said. “The Constable here has told me everything. It’s unbelievable, and it’s certainly good to be free.”
Within seconds he was surrounded by people slapping him on the back, and wanting to shake his hand.
Kendall moved over to Mallory. “I don’t get it,” he said. “A few days ago nobody knew him, or at least that’s what I was led to believe. Kept himself to himself, they said, never stayed long.” Kendall looked back at Charters standing by the bar. “He’s the life and soul of the party, everyone’s favourite nephew.”
Mallory nodded and smiled. “Sorry about that,” he said. “The truth is we were so unsure of you. Anyway let’s join him shall we?”
“So come on, Brian, tell everyone what happened,” Kendall said as he arrived back at the bar.
Charters looked at him, and then turned to look at everyone else. “What a day, I still can’t quite believe it. Where do I start?”
“The beginning is usually a good place,” said Kendall.”
Charters looked at him and nodded. “Right,” he replied. “Well I had just finished lunch in the dining hall, and looking forward to another fun filled afternoon locked in my cell,” he started to explain. “Then I got a call from the prison governor, he wanted to see me at two o’clock today.” He stopped for a moment and looked at his watch. He shook his head. “Five hours ago, I still can’t believe it. He told me that there was some new evidence, and that all charges against me had been dropped. I was to be released, just like that.” He turned back to face Kendall. “Mr. Kendall, I owe you my thanks,” he continued. “More than th
at, I owe you my life. Let me buy you a drink.”
“Let me buy you one,” said Kendall, putting his hand on Charters shoulder. He then turned towards the bar. “And what about you officer?”
Donovan shook his head. “Oh no, I’m afraid I’m still on duty.”
“Pity,” said Kendall.
“One small one won’t hurt,” said Mollie. “We won’t tell anyone will we?”
“Ah well. Maybe just the one,” said Donovan. “Wouldn’t do any harm would it?
“No harm, officer,” agreed Kendall. “No harm at all.”
Kendall turned to face O’Rourke. “Drinks all round,” he said. He then turned back to face Donovan. “Has there been any news on Peterson yet?”
Donovan shook his head. “No not yet I’m afraid, but we’ll get him, you’ve no need to worry about that,” he replied. “By the way, Mr. Kendall did you ever come to any conclusion as to who made that second call to the police.”
Kendall was about to answer when Lynch placed the drinks on the counter. Kendall thanked him, and passed one to the Constable. “Oh that was Lynch himself,” he replied.
Donovan was puzzled. “But why did he telephone?” he asked.
“Because he had to make sure that the police would arrive at the right time,” Kendall replied.
“After I had arrived you mean,” suggested Charters.
Kendall nodded. “Precisely,” he replied. “Everyone knew that you always got to the Cove the same time every night. Lynch knew that. Everything was planned with that time in mind. The police had to arrive when you will still on the beach.”
“Makes sense,” said Donovan. “But what about Megan Duffy, she rang as well didn’t she?”
“Yes she did,” agreed Kendall. “Lynch hadn’t planned for that. If she had telephoned any earlier, then Lynch’s plan would have failed. You would have arrived before Charters, and well you can guess the rest.”
“What led you to conclude that Lynch was the guy who made that second telephone call, anyway?” asked Donovan.
“Just deduction,” replied Kendall. “A simple process of elimination. I was looking for someone local, Irish aged about forty. That ruled out several people straight away.”
“So what about Mulligan?” asked Charters. “Why kill a perfectly harmless old man like that? I just don’t get it.”
“It’s strange about Mulligan,” said Kendall. “Why was he killed? He was killed for one reason, and one reason only. The murderer thought Mulligan knew something, and would talk. Simple as that.”
“But Mulligan didn’t know anything, did he?” added Mollie.
Kendall heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Well yes and no. The thing is Mulligan wasn’t sure of what he knew, but the murderer couldn’t take any chances,” Kendall continued. “Somehow Mulligan had just put two things together, the German sailor and the body on the beach, and in his mind he had linked in some way. One and the same maybe. No one would listen to him in any case. He was just a storyteller. I mean I never took him seriously, not really. That is not until he was murdered. Then I knew that he did know something, and that he should have been listened to and taken seriously. Mulligan saw everything. He saw the blows being struck, and the man fall to the ground. It was Mulligan who had called for the ambulance. He remembered that an ambulance had been called for the German sailor you see.”
“He called the ambulance,” repeated Quinn. “That’s just like him, trying to be important.” He paused for a moment and brushed another tear from his eye. “We should have listened to him more than we did.”
Kendall nodded in agreement. “The thing is, if it hadn’t been for that call for an ambulance, I might never have queried the timing,” he said.
“And if he hadn’t been for the poor old guy getting killed you wouldn’t have given any thought to his story telling would you?” suggested Mollie.
Kendall heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Guess we’ll never know whether that’s true or not will we?”
Suddenly there was the sound of the James Bond theme being played. Donovan heaved a sigh. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s my phone.”
“James Bond,” said Kendall smiling. “Mine plays Indiana Jones.”
Donovan nodded. “And why not.” He took out the phone and looked at the incoming call details. “It’s from Rebecca,” he said, holding up his hand. “Just a minute while I take this.”
He pressed a few buttons. “Hi Rebecca,” he said. “What have you got for me?”
For the next few minutes Donovan said nothing, and merely listened. The bar fell silent, and all eyes were on him. “That’s good news indeed,” he suddenly announced. “I’ll be right there. Let Cork know will you, you know Detective Jameson.”
He looked at his phone for a few moments, a broad grin spreading across his face. He then turned around. “You’ll be pleased to know that they’ve picked up Peterson,” he started to explain. “At Shannon Airport, he was just about to board a plane to New York. He’s been charged with murder, and dealing in drugs, and taken back to Cork.”
“That’s great news,” said Kendall.
“So that’s that,” Donovan said to Kendall, holding out his hand. “I have you to thank, for everything.”
Kendall shook the hand. “You’re a good man Constable, and I shall certainly tell the Chief Inspector about you.”
Donovan smiled, nodded. He turned and walked towards the door. He stopped and looked back. He raised his hand, and waved. “Goodnight all” he called out, and then was gone.
“So now that it’s all over, what’s your plans,” asked Charters.
Kendall looked and Mollie, and shook his head. “I hadn’t really given it much thought,” he replied.
“Well I know precisely what we’ll do,” said Mollie. “We’ll have a holiday.” She looked at Kendall and smiled. “A real holiday this time, with no one getting murdered, and no nasty crimes to be solved.”
Kendall nodded, and looked at Charters. “What she said, a real holiday.”
O’Rourke smiled. “And you’ll be staying right here,” he said. “As my guest.” He started to pour some more drinks. “You really ought to try to see a bit of the country.”
“Starting with the Ring of Kerry,” Mulvy suggested.
“So what’s the Ring of Kerry?” asked Mollie.
O’Rourke smiled. “Ah now, it’s the prettiest site you’ll see anywhere, and that’s a fact.” He reached into a shelf behind him, and withdrew a book. Mollie couldn’t believe it, it was a guide book.
O’Rourke started to flick through the pages, until he found what he was looking for. “Here we are,” he said, and started to read.
“The Ring of Kerry (or Iveragh Peninsula to give it its correct name) is part of the mystical & unspoilt region of Ireland that has attracted visitors for hundreds of years. Its spectacular beauty is beyond question and it is a natural centre for outdoor pursuits including golf, watersports, cycling, walking, riding and the very best fishing.”
Mollie looked at Kendall, and started to laugh. “It said nothing about boat trips, or whale watching.”
“Maybe next time,” said Kendall.
“Next time?” said Mollie.
“Well we’ll have to come back for the court trial won’t we?” explained Kendall.
Mollie hadn’t thought of that, but he was absolutely right. This was getting to be a habit.
* * *
Kendall could just see the television screen. There was a photograph of Governor Frank Reynolds. Across the bottom of the screen the ticker tape announced in large black letters 'Governor Reynolds Murdered'. The voice over was filling in whatever detail was available. Apparently his body had been discovered earlier that morning. He had been found lying in his garage. He had been shot twice. One shot to the upper chest, the other hitting his shoulder. 'Police believe that the weapon used was a 38 mm caliber revolver,' the reporter said. Kendall froze. Anthony Shaw had also been killed by a 38 mm bullet. Kendall was not quite sure of
what it all meant. What connection was there between Anthony Shaw, and the State Governor, and the business mogul, Ian Duncan? And what about Senator Mackenzie? Where did he fit in? And who or what was Latimer? Only a short while ago Kendall was a small time private detective, a Private Eye, investigating an insignificant little murder with no clues, no witnesses, and no motive. In fact, no nothing. Now he had so many pieces of a puzzle he didn't know how they fitted together. He didn't even know if they all came from the same puzzle.
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http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Mackenzie-Dossier-ebook/dp/B008U6STIQ
The Marinski Affair began as a dull mundane case involving a missing husband. Okay, so he was a rich missing husband, but he was nonetheless, still only a missing husband. The case soon developed into one involving robbery, kidnapping, blackmail and murder. But was there really a kidnapping? And exactly who is blackmailing who? Who actually carried out the robbery? Who committed the murders? Who can you trust? Who can you believe? Is anyone actually telling the truth? What have they got to hide? And what connection was there with a jewel theft that occurred four years previously? All is not as it seems. Tom Kendall, private detective, had the task of solving the mystery. He was usually pretty good at solving puzzles, but this one was different, somehow. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any of the pieces. Oh no, he wasn’t short of clues. It was just that none of the pieces seemed to fit together.
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http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Marinski-Affair-ebook/dp/B00AFW98D8
Tom Kendall, a down to earth private detective, is asked to investigate the death of a young newspaper reporter. The evidence shows quite clearly that it was an accident: a simple, dreadful accident. That is the finding of the coroner and the local police. Furthermore, there were two witnesses. They saw the whole thing. But was it an accident, or was it something more sinister? Against a backdrop of a viral epidemic slowly spreading from Central America, a simple case soon places Kendall up against one of the largest drug companies in the country.