by John Holt
It was almost ten minutes to three when there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Kendall called out loudly.
Nothing happened. There was another knock, louder this time. “Come in I said,” yelled Kendall.
Still nothing happened. There was a third knock. “Come in,” he yelled once again. “The door’s not locked.”
Still there was no response. He got up, rushed to the door, and opened it wide. “Come in I said, didn’t you hear me?”
There was young lady standing in the corridor. “At last,” she said. “You certainly took your time. I thought you were going to leave me standing here for the rest of the day.”
She brushed past him and into the room. “I’m not used to being kept waiting, you know.” She cast a glance around the room. “Not very fancy is it,” she said. “In fact it’s very dull. I’d expected something a bit more up market you know. It could certainly do with a coat of paint to brighten it up. And as for that carpet, well what can I say.”
Kendall looked at the carpet. What was wrong with it he wondered? It was a little bright he had to admit, but he liked it, besides he had been told that it was a classic design, and would look good anywhere.
“It will have to go,” Miss Adams continued. “I mean how can you stand to be in the same room as it?”
“Looks fine to me,” protested Kendall. “What’s wrong with it?”
She sat down. “I’ll have a coffee,” she said, completely ignoring Kendall’s question. “No cream and no sugar.” She looked at Kendall, and sighed audibly. “And do you have any of those nice cream cakes or a jam donut? I do like a jam donut.”
“No cream cakes I’m afraid,” Kendall replied apologetically. “Or donuts.”
“How about some cookies?” she asked. “You must have some of those.”
Kendall was taken completely by surprise. He stood up and started towards the kitchen. “I have some chocolate ones,” he said.
“Are you sure you don’t have any of those nice cream cakes, or a donut with jello?” she asked again hoping that he had made a mistake.
“No cream cakes,” Kendall repeated. “Or donuts, and no jello.”
“The cookies will do,” she replied sounding disappointed. “It’s a pity about the cream cakes though.”
Kendall stood up and moved towards the kitchen. “I’ll get the coffee then.”
“Fine,” said Miss Adams. “Don’t forget the cookies.” She stood up and started to walk around the room. “So what exactly does a private detective do?” she called out. She continued walking around and stopped at the shelving. “What’s this black thing then?” she called out.
Kendall peered around the door. “That’s my father’s night stick,” he replied. “He used to be a policeman.”
“Oh,” Miss Adams replied, replacing the stick on the shelf, and returning to her seat. “Is the coffee ready?”
“Here we are,” Kendall replied as he returned with the coffee and cookies. “Help yourself to the cookies,” he said, as he placed the coffee on to the desk.
“By the way your watch doesn’t work,” Miss Adams said picking up a cookie.
“My watch?” replied Kendall puzzled.
“The one on the shelf,” she explained, pointing behind her. “It’s broken.”
“Oh that one,” said Kendall. “I know.” He paused and took a drink. “Now, Miss Adams, shall we get on.”
“It’s Brenda Adams,” she interjected. “My friends call me Mollie.”
“Mollie?” replied Kendall puzzled.
“It’s short for Margaret, that’s my middle name,” she explained. “It’s the name I use when I do the lottery. It keeps the begging letters at bay.”
“Really,” replied Kendall.
Mollie started to smile. “No, not really, I’m only kidding. I never do the lottery. It’s just the name my friends use that’s all.”
“Oh, right Miss Adams,” Kendall replied. “So whereabouts are you from?”
“You can call me Mollie,” she said smiling. “And I’m from New York.”
“New York,” repeated Kendall. “Small world, I was with the New York police department for a long while.”
“I know,” she replied.
“You know,” repeated Kendall puzzled.
“You don’t think I’d go along to meet with a complete stranger without knowing something about them do you?”
Kendall hadn’t thought that at all. In fact he had given no thought to that particular aspect at all. “Good thinking,” he replied simply. He paused for a moment or two. “So how long have you been here?” he continued.
“Here? At your office you mean?” She replied, puzzled. “I just got here, don’t you remember?”
Kendall heaved a sigh. “No, not here Miss … Mollie. I mean here in the town.”
“Oh why didn’t you say?” Mollie replied. “On Thursday it’ll be eighteen months exactly.”
“Eighteen months,” Kendall repeated. “Are you working at present?”
She nodded. “You could call it that,” she replied. “I stack shelves at Walmart.”
“Oh really,” Kendall replied trying to sound impressed, and failing. “Why did you leave New York?”
She smiled. “Simple,” she said. “I thought that there had to be something better.”
“Something better?” repeated Kendall. “Stacking shelves at Walmart is something better?”
She smiled and shrugged. “You don’t know what I was doing in New York do you?”
Kendall had to admit that, no he didn’t know. “So what were you doing?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Don’t ask, you really don’t want to know,” she replied as she sipped her coffee.
“No, really I’d like to know,” Kendall insisted.
“Okay,” Mollie replied. “I worked as a cleaner.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad to me,” said Kendall.
“You ever tried it?” she asked. “Incidentally is that the best you can do with the coffee?”
Kendall shook his head. “Well I’ve always thought that I made a pretty good cup of coffee.”
“Who ever told you that?” she asked dunking a cookie into her coffee.
“My mother did,” Kendall replied.
“I’ll make the coffee from now on,” Mollie announced. “So when do I start?”
“Well I haven’t actually decided to employ you yet,” said Kendall. “There’s still a lot to discuss.”
“Like what,” she asked.
“Well we haven’t discussed what your duties would be,” Kendall continued. “And we haven’t said anything about salary or anything like that.”
“Look, Mr. Kendall, I’m not as dumb as you might think I look,” said Mollie. “It’s obvious to me that at present you have no work whatsoever, zero, nil, zilch. So what’s for me to do? I can type a little. I’m going to night school. And I can answer the telephone. And as I’ve already said, I’ll make the coffee. The rest we can make up as we go along. As for salary, well at present I get two hundred dollars a week for working all the hours there are stacking shelves at Walmart. I reckon if you paid me the same for doing precious little I’d be well pleased.” She looked at him and smiled. “Deal,” she said holding out her hand.
“Well I do have some others still to see,” replied Kendall.
Mollie shook her head. “Not according to that diary,” she said, pointing to the book lying open on the desk. “I’m the last for today. There’s nothing listed for tomorrow or the day after, or Friday.” She paused for a moment. “I can’t imagine that you have anyone lined up for next week.” There was another pause. She smiled at him once again. “So is it a deal then?”
Kendall nodded and smiled back. He knew when he was beaten. “Deal,” he said taking hold of her hand and shaking it. “When can you start?”
“Tomorrow,” she replied quickly.
Kendall was taken by surprise. “Tomorrow,” he repeated. “I had assumed that Walmart w
ould need a month’s notice at the very least.”
Mollie shook her head. “I’ll ring them in the morning, and tell them the bad news. What they going to do, sue me? They’ll survive.”
Kendall nodded. “Fine, so tomorrow it is then.”
She nodded. “Good” she replied. “You won’t regret it.”
Kendall nodded nervously. He wondered.
She slowly looked around the room. “I’ll need a computer,” she announced.
Kendall looked at her, surprised. “A computer,” he replied. Why would she want a computer? What did he know about computers anyway? Up until a few days ago the only hard drive that he knew was the trip downtown during the rush hour.
“Yes a computer,” she repeated. “Every modern office has a computer, or do you want to remain in the dark ages.”
Kendall nodded. He had no intention of being considered medieval, but what use he would make of a computer was a big unknown. It would probably look good though, and impress the customers. “Oh certainly you shall have a computer,” he said without much conviction.
“Good, I think that’s about it then,” she said. “For now.”
She stood up and moved towards the door. She suddenly stopped. “Incidentally you could lose some weight,” she said. “You should cut down on the fries, and the burgers I would suggest.”
Kendall started to choke. “Is that any way for a prospective employee to talk to their boss?”
Mollie shook her head. “It’s your problem, not mine,” she replied. “I’m merely expressing an opinion, take it or leave it. It makes no difference to me. It’s your body, not mine, thank goodness.”
She opened the door, and looked back at Kendall. “By the way this name here on this door.”
Kendall looked puzzled. “What about it?”
“I don’t like the red color,” she explained. “It should have been Royal Blue. It’s more sophisticated. More refined you know. Shows power and authority, and gives confidence.”
Kendall nodded his head, and sighed. The color had been his idea, his choice. He shrugged. Strangely enough the decorator had also said that it should be in blue. “Thanks for that. Much appreciated,” he replied. “I’ll try to remember that just in case it ever needs re-painting.”
* * *
Kendall continued to stare at the door after she had left. Well that went well, he thought. “I certainly managed that well, I don’t think, lose some weight indeed. Who did she think she was?”
He considered himself to be in great shape. He was slim, athletic. At least that was his opinion. But he had to admit that just lately he had added a pound or two. Okay, so he was a little out of condition. Okay, so he was a little overweight. Nonetheless, he considered that he was probably at the optimum weight taking into account his height, and age. Well, if he wasn’t, then he wasn’t that far off. Well, all right, he was a long way off. But he was working at it.
Even so he still took good care of himself. He didn’t smoke. He didn’t drink, well, not what you would call excessively. A glass or two of red wine, perhaps, maybe the odd whiskey, or three. He did enjoy a whiskey, occasionally. Anyway, the odd libation was supposed to be good for you wasn’t it? Good for the heart. He was careful about what he ate, and watched his diet. He had salads, fresh fruit, and vegetables, that sort of thing, occasionally. The recommended amount was five portions of vegetables per day. He usually managed one portion every five days, or thereabouts.
Maybe there would be the odd burger, or two, just for the variety you understand. Not too many fries though. He had certainly cut those down. No more than once a week, or maybe twice, certainly not more than three times. Unless, of course, he was in a hurry, or was short of time, then he had no choice did he?
Nonetheless, he did not overeat. That was one thing you could not accuse him of. He was very careful in that regard. Moderation was his key word. Maybe there would be a light breakfast to start the day. At lunch time perhaps a tuna sandwich, with a small side salad. The side order of potato chips was only meant to provide a bit of a crunch, nothing more. Then in the evening there would be a good dinner, a small piece of grilled chicken maybe, and another salad. A few fries just for the taste, not too many.
“Anyway I’ve cut out the salad cream.”
A well balanced diet was the key. Perhaps a curry or a Chinese take away, maybe a pizza. Well, he had to eat something didn’t he? The odd snacks in between didn’t really count, did they? They were just to keep his strength up between meals. He kept himself in trim, muscles nicely toned. Well there was a slight sagging, but not too noticeable.
He vowed that as soon as it was possible, and time allowed, he would take up jogging, and some kind of sport. Squash maybe or perhaps tennis. “If only I had the time.” He worked out at the gymnasium two or three times every week. Well, that is to say, he used to work out at the gymnasium two or three times every week. Well, once a week anyway. Until recently that is. However, he had to give it a miss these days. Certainly in the last three or four months, that is. “Sadly I just don’t have the time,” he would say. “I’m far too busy.”
Far too broke, was nearer the truth. His membership of the club had sadly lapsed.
* * *
Chapter
Eight
Down To Business
All right so he now had his office, and his secretary. All he needed now was a client or two. Not too much to ask was it?
Kendall scanned the newspapers daily in the hope of finding something that he could, perhaps, get involved with, anything. As usual there was nothing. In fact there had been nothing for the past three months. There had been nothing in the papers. There had been no calls. There had been no visitors. There had been no enquiries of any kind. There had been no cases. Not even a dull boring one. Nothing. Not even a hint of anything.
Kendall heaved a sigh and pushed the newspaper that he had been reading to one side. “Nothing” he said loudly. “There’s nothing here except for this hacking nonsense. Hacking and more hacking, is nothing else happening in the world?”
Allegations of phone hackings continued undiminished, and more and more cases were being reported daily, cases involving celebrities, politicians and business people. The newspapers would do anything for a story.
The Police indicated that possibly as many as fifteen hundred people may have had their phones hacked within the last three years. That figure was thought to be the tip of the iceberg and it would almost certainly be revised in the near future following further analysis.
It was alleged that the majority of these hackings had been carried out by The Virginia Sentinel, or its sister newspapers The Daily Echo, The Globe and the Sunday Gazette. The editors of all four newspapers vehemently denied any such involvement.
* * *
There had been plenty of the mundane, run of the mill, cases. Gathering information, perhaps it was information involving the wayward wife, or maybe the unfaithful husband. Usually it was dull, and boring, and always routine. There was nothing that you would consider exciting. Nothing you could really get your teeth into.
* * *
“You’d be better off back at Walmart. In fact I might join you,” Kendall said to Mollie. “There’s nothing here.”
Mollie looked at him, and held her head to one side. “Oh really,” she replied. “You know about such things I suppose. You’re an expert maybe. You ever stacked shelves.”
Kendall had to admit that he had never had that pleasure.
“Thought not,” she continued. “Here is better believe me.”
“But there’s nothing for you to do,” Kendall protested. “You might as well go home.”
She would merely smile, and get up. She would then go into the small kitchen area, returning a few minutes later with some coffee. “I can make the coffee can’t I?” she would say.
He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled. What could he do? He couldn’t throw her out could he? He couldn’t force her to leave. Show her the door and phys
ically eject her. He shook his head. He knew when he was beaten.
He hadn’t paid the rent for almost two months now. Sure the landlord was okay about it. There were no problems, no threats of eviction, nothing like that. But for how much longer, Kendall wondered. The landlord wasn’t running a charity was he? This was a business, and he needed to make some kind of a living.
The phone company was threatening to cut him off for non-payment. The electricity company was threatening court action. On top of all of that there were the outstanding garage bills for major repairs on his car.
It was a 1994 Ford Escort. It had served him well, but it was now becoming a little unreliable, a little bit of a burden, a liability. It was constantly breaking down. These days it seemed that it was in the garage more than it was on the road. ‘Saves on the parking fines, I suppose,’ he commented ruefully. ‘And the fuel expenses.’
Kendall’s Ford
He really needed a new vehicle, but that was definitely out of the question. Not a chance. Kendall’s reserves were fast disappearing. Soon he would not be able to afford to eat. Things were beginning to look bleak, to say the least. He needed something, anything. And he needed it in a hurry.
“What we need, is to advertise,” Mollie announced.
* * *
Kendall didn’t know the first thing about advertising. What should it say? Should it be lengthy, full of detailed descriptions, or short, and snappy, and straight to the point? Because he couldn’t think of anything to say, he decided that short and snappy would be best.
He took a sheet of paper from the top drawer of his desk and placed it in front of him. For a few moments he simply stared at the blank sheet. He took up a pen and stared some more. What could he write? He looked across at Mollie, a questioning look on his face.
“Kendall Detective Agency,” she said quite simply. “Large letters across the top.” She nodded.
Kendall wrote the words. He smiled, pleased with himself. It looked impressive. Now what, he murmured. Ten minutes passed by and still there were only the three words on the paper. He looked back at Mollie.