Kendall (Kendall Book 5)

by John Holt

Ray nodded once again. “Thank you,” he said sheepishly.

  “There that wasn’t difficult was it,” said Kendall.

  Mike smiled and moved along the counter to serve someone.

  “See what happens when you’re with me?” said Kendall. “Now that is nice isn’t it?”

  Ray nodded a third time. “Very nice, Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “Very enjoyable.”

  Kendall smiled, and took a long drink. “Do you know anyone by the name of Fletcher?” he asked. “Tony Fletcher?”

  Ray shook his head. “Should I?” he asked.

  “Oh I don’t know, I just thought you might have known the name that’s all.”

  Ray shook his head once again, and looked at Billy. “You know anyone called Fletcher?” he asked.

  Billy looked nervous. He looked at Kendall and just shook his head.

  “Never mind,” said Kendall taking another drink. “I just thought I saw you boys with him just now, out in the alley.”

  “It wasn’t us, Mr. Kendall,” Ray protested.

  “No I can see that now,” said Kendall. “My mistake, it must have been two other guys. What about Victor Lowry? Ever seen him?”

  “The newspaper man?” said Ray.

  “The very same,” agreed Kendall.

  Ray shook his head. “Now would we know that kind of a person, Mr. Kendall, I ask you? Not likely is it?”

  “Perhaps not,” replied Kendall. “So who was the guy?”

  “Guy, Mr. Kendall?” replied Ray nervously. “What guy would that be?”

  “The guy in the cab just now,” replied Kendall.

  “Don’t know what you mean, Mr. Kendall,” replied Billy.

  “Oh my mistake,” said Kendall. “You’re not drinking Ray. Is anything wrong?”

  “No nothing wrong, Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “Why should anything be wrong?”

  “Oh I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I just thought you looked a bit pale. Not ill or anything are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mr. Kendall,” Ray replied. “Just a bit of a cold that’s all.”

  “A cold,” repeated Kendall. “You should take great care. Don’t want it to develop into something worse do we?”

  Ray simply nodded.

  “So tell me more about this, er, delivery service you operate,” Kendall continued. “It sounds very interesting. Maybe I could throw some business your way. You never know.”

  “Now, Mr. Kendall, it ain’t that much,” Ray explained, as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s just small you know.”

  “Early days,” suggested Kendall, taking a drink.

  “That’s right,” said Ray, trying to smile. “As you say, its early days.”

  “You’ve just started I know,” said Kendall. “It takes time to build up a business.”

  “That’s it exactly,” said Billy. He looked at his brother and smiled.

  “But you are doing all right?” asked Kendall. “I mean you’re making a living.”

  “Oh we get by,” said Ray smiling. He looked at Billy. “Right Billy?”

  Billy nodded. “Right Ray.”

  Kendall smiled. “A bit more than getting by I would say.”

  Ray looked puzzled.

  “I’ve been doing a bit of checking you know, hearing things,” Kendall started to explain. “It seems that you’ve been spending like there was no tomorrow.”

  Ray took a deep breath, and heaved a sigh. “Oh we just had a bit of luck on the geegees that’s all.” He picked up his glass and drained it.

  “Oh I see,” said Kendall. “Now ain’t that nice, you boys deserve a bit of good news.”

  Ray stood up. “We really gotta go now, Mr. Kendall.”

  Kendall nodded. “Sure boys, I understand. This has been real nice. I’ll certainly keep my eye out for you. Perhaps we can do this again sometime.”

  Ray nodded nervously. “Sure thing, Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “Come on Billy lets go.” He grabbed Billy by the arm and pulled hard. Billy let go of his still half full glass, and got to his feet, pulling the bar stool over in his haste.

  Kendall shrugged. “You take good care of yourselves now,” he said. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  He sat watching them as they hurried out of the building. “Well that was nice,” he murmured. He glanced around and beckoned to Mike who was at the other end of the counter. “Another scotch if you don’t mind.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  White Cabs

  Ashby Drive may at one time have been the tree lined avenue that its name might suggest. Or it may just have been the result of a private joke played by somebody working in the street naming section of City Hall. Somebody named Ashby perhaps. Certainly, now there wasn’t a tree to be seen anywhere along its length. In fact there was no evidence that there had ever been any trees in the street. Instead was line upon line of shabby workshops repairing anything from washing machines, and television sets, to cars and motorcycles, intermingled with fast food takeaways, and a couple of drugstores. Half-way down on the north side were the offices of the White Cabs company.

  White Cabs

  A buzzer sounded as Kendall opened the door and went in. A young lady at the reception counter looked up.

  “I wonder if you can help me?” Kendall asked.

  “Where are you going to?” she asked.

  Kendall smiled at her and shook his head. “Oh no you misunderstand,” he started to explain. “I’m not looking for a cab, I’m ….”

  “So what can I do for you?” she interrupted in a tone that suggested that she was extremely busy, and would much rather he just turned around and walked away.

  “Well I’m looking ….” Kendall started to say, as the telephone rang.

  “White Cabs,” the young lady said picking up the handset. There was a muffled sound from the other end of the line. “Pick up at Riverside,” she continued. “And going to the Station, correct?” There was a slight pause. “Five minutes.” She put the phone down. She slid back the hatch door and leaned through. “Harry, 444 Riverside,” she yelled. “Going to the Station.” She closed the hatch and looked back at Kendall hoping that he had gone away. He hadn’t. “Now you were saying.”

  Kendall smiled. “I was looking for the driver of cab four two seven.”

  She thought for a moment. “Four two seven,” she repeated. “That’s Eric, so what do you want him for?”

  Kendall showed her his shiny new Private Detective badge. She gave a casual glance, and was clearly unimpressed. “So what do you want him for?” she asked once again. “What did he do? Run a red light, or something?”

  “Oh no nothing like that,” Kendall replied. “I’m just hoping that he can help me, I just have a few questions for him that’s all.”

  She heaved a sigh. She opened the hatch once again and leaned through. “Eric,” she yelled. “There’s a guy here wants to see you. Hope you haven’t been doing anything you shouldn’t.” She closed the hatch. “He’s coming.” She went back to the computer screen.

  A few minutes later the door opened and a heavy set man walked in. He looked at Kendall. “You looking for me?” he asked.

  Kendall nodded. “That’s right. I’m hoping you can help me.”

  “So I’m listening,” replied Eric, trying not to sound bored, but failing.

  “You had a fare last night,” Kendall started to explain. “About eight o’clock.”

  The man shook his head. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” he replied. “Who are you anyway and what’s this all about?”

  Kendall took out his old NYPD badge and quickly showed it.

  The driver nodded. “Okay, so you’re a cop,” he replied. “You were saying.”

  Kendall hurriedly put the badge away. “I said that you had a fare last night at about eight o’clock.”

  Eric shook his head, and smiled. “You know something I must have had a hundred fares yesterday. Am I supposed to remember each one, and at what time I picked them up?” He s
hook his head once again. “One pick up is just like any other to me, sorry.”

  Kendall nodded. “This one went to Mike’s Bar, on Collingwood.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “So I was at Mike’s Bar at about eight. What about it? Not exactly against the law is it?”

  Kendall shook his head. He wasn’t getting very far. He wasn’t sure whether the man was deliberately being unhelpful, or maybe he really didn’t remember. “This one made you wait around, for some time I understand,” Kendall said. “Does that help?”

  “You know there’s one thing I hate about this job. Well to be absolutely honest there are a lot of things I hate about the job, but this is by far the worst,” Eric replied. “Do you know what it is?”

  Kendall had to admit that he didn’t know what it was, but more to the point he really couldn’t care less. “I’ve no idea,” he replied. “But I’m guessing that you are going to tell me, right.”

  “Being told to wait,” Eric replied, ignoring Kendall’s last comment. “You know the kind of thing. It’s cold and raining and you are expected just to sit there waiting on them. Stay there I won’t be long. I’ll be right back.” He paused for a moment. “I’ll only be a few minutes. I really hate that one. You just never know whether they really are coming back, or whether they are going to just skip without paying.” He shrugged. Then he nodded his head. “I’ve been caught like that a few times I can tell you. You’d never believe what some people will do just to save a few lousy bucks. But what can you do, tell me?”

  Kendall had no idea what you could do, and just at that moment he had other things on his mind. “I know what you mean,” he replied, waiting around in the rain was one of his pet hates as well. “So what can you tell me about this guy?”

  “Oh, I remember him all right. You couldn’t forget that guy,” Eric continued. “I insisted that if he wanted me to wait he would have to leave me something, some kind of security so that he was bound to come back for it, you know what I mean.”

  Kendall nodded.

  “So he leaves me a wristwatch. Not just any old wristwatch you understand. Oh no, this one must have been worth a couple of hundred I guess, maybe more, who knows. I’m sitting there hoping he don’t come back, know what I mean.”

  Kendall nodded once again, wishing that he had never started the conversation.

  “Anyhow this guy keeps me waiting. Twenty minutes go by, then thirty. I’m thinking of leaving you know. I mean enough is enough, get me. So I’m thinking I’m outa here, taking a nice little timepiece with me.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me,” suggested Kendall, hoping to bring the conversation to an end.

  Eric nodded. “Yeah, but wouldn’t you know it, just as I switch on the ignition he shows, can you beat that?”

  Kendall didn’t really know whether it could be beaten or not, but he made an educated guess that you couldn’t beat it. He smiled and took out his notepad. “Can you tell me where you picked him up?”

  The driver thought for a moment or two, and then started to laugh. “Constance,” he said. “It was Constance at the corner of Augusta.”

  “How come you remember that?” Kendall asked.

  Eric shook his head. “I was stuck at the lights. It stayed at red for ages, you know. The lights aren’t working says I. I look to my right, then to my left. Its all clear says I. So let’s go says I. I put it in drive and put my foot down, and start to go across. A motorcycle cop sees the whole thing and stops me. Wouldn’t you know it?” He shook his head once again. “A minute later the lights go green. Okay so I only get a warning this time, but I can’t afford to lose my license, right.”

  Kendall nodded.

  “So I’m still sitting there in the car thinking what a lucky break,” Eric continues. “This guy comes along, and gets in. Mike’s Bar he says. Do you know it?”

  Kendall smiled. “Yes I know it,” he replied.

  Eric looked at Kendall, puzzled. “What?”

  “I said that I knew it,” Kendall explained.

  Eric continued to look puzzled.

  “You asked if I knew Mikes Bar,” Kendall continued. “Well I do.”

  Eric started to smile. “I get it, but that’s what he said to me. He asked me if I knew it.”

  Kendall was fast losing the will to live, but tried once again. “Where did you take him afterwards?”

  “Afterwards?” replied Eric still puzzled.

  “Yes, after he returned to the cab,” Kendall explained. “Where did you take him?”

  “Batsford Court, you know over on Newland,” replied Eric. “All security gates, and cameras, you know the kind of thing. You have to have money, real money, to live there.”

  Kendall didn’t know Batsford over on Newland, or anywhere else for that matter. “You don’t happen to know which apartment he went into I suppose?”

  The driver thought for a few moments. “What’s this guy done?” he asked. “It must be pretty important. Is there a reward or something?”

  Kendall shook his head, and smiled. “Oh no, there’s nothing like that. It’s just routine, nothing to worry about. So what can you tell me about the apartment?”

  The driver shook his head. “I don’t know the actual number, you understand, but I think it was the second floor, at the front, on the right.”

  Kendall looked puzzled. “How do you know that?”

  “It was the lights,” Eric started to explain. “The lights to that apartment came on a few minutes after he entered the building, it seemed like a reasonable guess to me. Of course I could be wrong, maybe it was just coincidence that the lights came on just at that moment, how should I know?”

  Kendall wasn’t a believer in coincidence. “Maybe,” he replied, far from convinced. “So can you tell me anything about him? What he looked like, what he was wearing.”

  Eric shook his head. “I’m not good at things like that.”

  “Oh come on, you must have noticed something. How about his height, was he a big man?” Kendall coaxed. “Was he my height or taller?”

  Eric shook his head. “No, sorry I couldn’t say,” he replied. “I never really took any notice.”

  “What about the color of his hair?” Kendall continued.

  Once again Eric shook his head. “Dark, I think,” he replied uncertain. “Could have been brown, or maybe it was black. Does it matter?”

  Of course it doesn’t matter. I only ask stupid questions because I like hearing the sound of my own voice. “So can you tell me anything, anything at all?” Kendall continued, already guessing that the answer would be no.

  “Well all I can say is at the end of it all, there was no tip.”

  Kendall smiled and nodded. “There’s always one,” he said.

  “You can say that again,” agreed Eric. “Though in my case there’s a lot more than one.”

  Kendall nodded once again. “You’ve been most helpful Mr….”

  “It’s Brody,” was the reply. “Eric Brody.”

  “Thank you Mr. Brody you have been very helpful,” Kendall replied. “I may need to call on you again, is that all right?”

  “No problem.”

  * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  Victor Lowry Dead

  The headline in The Virginia Sentinel was plain enough. “Newspaper Magnate Victor Lowry Found Dead” in large black lettering three inches high. He had been found at eight o’clock the previous evening. According to the police doctor he had been dead no more than three hours, putting the time of death at between five and six. He had been shot at close range, twice, once in the right shoulder, and once in the chest. The motive was unknown. The police already had a suspect in custody.

  * * *

  Victor Lowry had left his office early that day. He had some business to attend to which involved a certain visitor who was due at four o’clock.

  “Cancel the rest of my appointments for today,” he had instructed his secretary, as he prepared to leave.

  “Is ther
e anything I can do, sir?” she replied.

  “No I don’t need any assistance, thank you,” Lowry replied. “I can handle this on my own.” He paused and smiled at her. “Don’t worry about me.”

  He closed his desk, and nodded. He could handle it. He patted his side pocket and felt the envelope that nestled inside. He started to smile. He could handle it. He knew precisely what to do. He put on his coat and walked to the open door.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Jean,” he said, and quickly walked through.

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later he arrived at Onslow Mansions.

  “Good afternoon Mr. Lowry,” a voice said as he entered the foyer. It was Joe, the security guard. “You’re early today, sir.”

  If there was one thing Lowry hated it was someone stating the obvious. What he hated more was the obvious being stated by someone inferior to himself, as though they were making a judgment, questioning his actions almost. You’re early today. So he was early, what business was it of theirs anyway. He would be as early, or late come to that, as he decided.

  “Yes Joe, I’m early,” he agreed. He walked towards the elevator. He stopped suddenly and turned to face the guard. “I’m expecting a visitor,” he said. “About four o’clock. Show him straight up.”

  He turned around and entered the elevator. Five minutes later he was inside apartment 33 on the third floor. He took off his coat, and threw it over a chair. He walked over to the bar in the corner of the room and poured himself a drink. He looked at the clock on the mantle shelf. Ten minutes to four. His visitor was due any time now.

  He reached inside his pocket and took out the envelope. He looked at for a few moments and then placed it on the coffee table. He smiled and took a drink. He could handle it, he repeated to himself, nodding slowly. He finished his drink and started towards to bar for a refill. He suddenly heard loud music coming from the flat below. Why they insisted on having their television so loud he would never understand.

  There was knock on door, a loud knock. Then another, and then another.

  * * *

  The room was small, and dark. The only light came from an angle lamp on the table in the centre of the room, and the glow from the end of a cigarette.