Kendall (Kendall Book 5)

by John Holt

  “Oh just a few minor points,” Kendall replied. “Nothing too onerous.”

  “Who wants this information?” came the curt retort.

  “Jennings Son and Ash,” Kendall replied.

  “Gardiner’s attorneys?”

  “That’s right, the very same,” replied Kendall. “They just need to clear up a few things to prepare for the trial, and they’ve asked me to get it.”

  “They’ve already been given the full details.”

  Kendall took a deep breath. “So they have, you are absolutely right, but there’s just one or two little points that they are not clear on,” Kendall replied. “Jennings Son and Ash believe that Mr. Gardiner is innocent, so if you could just spare me some time it would be much appreciated.”

  “So who are you exactly?” the voice continued.

  “I am a private detective and they have asked me to investigate the whole thing.”

  “Private detective, you say,” replied the officer sounding anything but impressed. “Going to solve the whole thing single handed is that the idea, just like in the Hollywood movies?”

  “Oh no nothing like that. I’m sure that you guys are well able,” protested Kendall. “I just have a few simple questions to ask that’s all, shouldn’t be a bother to you, besides I used to be a cop so I understand how it works.”

  “You used to be a cop,” the voice repeated. Did Kendall detect a slight change of attitude? Did that sound a little more friendly, or was it just his imagination, wishful thinking maybe.

  “Sure, I was with the New York Police Department,” Kendall replied trying not to sound too smug. Surely that would be sufficient to get an appointment he thought. “I was with them for almost ten years.” That would be the clincher.

  There was silence for what seemed an eternity. Kendall actually wondered if he had been cut off. Maybe they hadn’t been impressed. Maybe that had put them off completely. Had they deliberately hung up on him? He thought of hanging up and ringing again. But then he would more than likely have to go through the whole thing once again explaining who he was, and what he wanted. He decided that he would hang on a little longer. The silence continued for a few more minutes, and then suddenly there was a loud clicking sound. Then a voice could be heard.

  “Mr. Kendall, are you still there?”

  Kendall was still there.

  “Okay as a favor to a fellow police officer, an ex-police officer, you can have thirty minutes, no more. Three o’clock today, Detective Evans will see you then.”

  The line went dead.

  * * *

  It was five minutes to three when Kendall arrived at the reception desk at police headquarters. As he approached the duty officer looked up. “Something I can do for you sir?” he asked, trying not to sound bored.

  “I’d like to speak to Detective Sergeant Evans,” Kendall replied. “I have an appointment.”

  “Third floor, room 302,” the officer replied. “The elevator is over to your right.” The officer looked at Kendall for a few moments, and heaved a deep sigh. “Or you might care to try the stairs.”

  Kendall looked at the officer, and then looked at the stairs. Just what was he implying? Certainly a bit of exercise never did anyone any harm, and certainly he could use some exercise, at least that was Mollie’s opinion. She was constantly trying to get him to get down to the gym, to lose a few pounds. To leave the car occasionally, and take more walks. She was right of course, and one of these days he vowed that was exactly what he would do. One day.

  Third floor he thought, that would be no trouble at all. What would it be? Sixty steps, certainly no more. He could do sixty steps easily if he wanted to. There again taking the elevator never did anyone any harm either. He looked at the stairs, and shook his head. Time was short besides it just so happened that he didn’t want to take the stairs. Not today, perhaps another time. He took the elevator.

  Two minutes later he arrived on the third floor. Room 302 was directly opposite the elevator. He walked over and opened the door.

  “Can I help you?” asked an officer sitting close to the door.

  “I’ve come to see Detective Evans,” Kendall replied.

  “Can you tell me what it’s about?” the officer asked.

  “The Lowry case,” replied Kendall.

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “Oh yes he’s expecting me,” replied Kendall.

  The officer glanced across the room. “There’s Detective Evans, over in the corner propping up the coffee machine.”

  Kendall thanked the officer and made his way across the room. “Detective Evans?” he asked as he approached the coffee machine.

  The police officer looked up. “I’m Evans and you must be Cantwell.” He looked at his watch. “At least you’re punctual, that’s something. Now exactly what can I do for you?”

  Kendall smiled. “The name’s Kendall, not Cantwell,” he replied. “And I’m just doing some checking for Jennings. ….”

  “Jennings Son and Ash,” said Evans. “The Attorneys, I know all about them, so what?”

  “Just a few points they’ve asked me to clarify,” Kendall explained.

  “Mr. Kendall let me tell you. We’ve heard all about you, a big city cop, ex-cop, coming down here from the Metropolis, to tell us poor small town hicks how to do things,” Evans said. “Well you’re wasting your time. More to the point, you are wasting my time. We have the crime all sewn up. We know who did it, and we know why he did it, and all without your help.”

  “Martin Gardiner you mean?” said Kendall

  “The very same,” Evans replied.

  “He confessed did he?” asked Kendall. “Admitted everything I guess.”

  Evans looked puzzled. “Confessed,” he repeated. “Of course he didn’t confess, but he’s guilty nonetheless.”

  “You’re absolutely sure of that are you?” said Kendall. “You have no doubts, no doubts at all.”

  Evans started to laugh. “Kendall I’ve been a detective for almost twenty years. The number of confessions I’ve heard in all that time you can count on one hand. He’s as guilty as the nose on your face, believe me.”

  Kendall nodded. “You know I’m sure that you’re right. No question about it. In all my days at the department I never had one confession. In fact I never ever arrested a guilty person. You know what I mean?”

  Evans nodded. He knew what Kendall meant. “They all protested their innocence. It wasn’t me I was nowhere near the place. It was two other guys. You know how it goes.”

  Evans nodded once again. “Absolutely,” he replied. “So you know exactly what I’m saying.”

  Kendall heaved a deep sigh. “Sure I do,” he replied. “But you know just for the record, after all this guy Jennings is insisting, I mean what should I do? What would you do, say get lost and turn down two hundred and fifty a day, plus expenses? I’d just kinda like to show him that I’m earning it. You know.”

  Evans let out a loud whistle. “Two hundred and fifty a day,” he repeated. “That’s quite a pay-off. I hope that you’re that good.”

  Kendall nodded. “Believe me,” he said. “I’m worth it.”

  Evans shrugged his shoulders. “Okay have it your way,” he said. “It’s no skin off my nose.” He paused for a few moments and poured another coffee. “I suppose you’d like one yeah?”

  Kendall nodded in agreement. For a while he wondered if there was a chance of some chocolate cookies as well. He shook his head. Unlikely, he thought.

  “All right,” said Evans as he passed the coffee to Kendall. “Let’s sit down. My desk is over there.”

  They walked over to where Evans had indicated. “Have a seat. Just throw those files on to the floor.”

  Kendall looked at the pile of papers and smiled as he remembered his old desk back at the department. “It doesn’t get any easier does it?” he said. “I thought computers were supposed to cut down on the paperwork.”

  Evans looked at the files and smiled. “That’s wh
at I heard,” he replied. “Anyway shall we get on? I can spare you ten minutes, no more.”

  Kendall took a drink, and nodded. “Ten minutes, he repeated simply. “Your colleague said thirty.”

  “Its ten minutes, take it or leave it,” Evans repeated. “So what is it you want to know?”

  “Oh just brief details, you know. Nothing too taxing,” replied Kendall. “How was he killed? Where? What time? Things like that.”

  “Okay Kendall let me spell it out for you shall I,” said Evans, trying to sound superior but not quite making it.

  “I wish you would,” replied Kendall, taking a drink of the coffee. It was wet and warm but with no taste, just like back at the department. Kendall really wished he had a cookie or three to help the taste.

  “Gardiner’s our man no doubt of that. He had a motive …”

  “You mean the sacking?” interrupted Kendall.

  “Yes sure, the sacking,” replied Evans. “People have killed for less you know.”

  “I never doubted it for a moment,” said Kendall. “Carry on I’m fascinated.”

  “He was shot at close range,” Evans continued. “Two shots. Once in the shoulder, and once in the chest.”

  “Twice,” said Kendall. “I wonder why it took two shots.”

  Evans looked at Kendall and shook his head. “Who knows,” he replied. “Does it matter?”

  Kendall shook his head. “Probably not,” he replied. He paused for a moment. “Do you know the angle the bullets entered the body?”

  Evans looked puzzled for a few moments. He then reached for a folder, and opened it. He flicked through the papers until he reached the one he was looking for. He quickly scanned the paper.

  “Here it is,” he announced. “Both bullets entered from the right hand side.”

  “Interesting,” said Kendall. “Did you know that Gardiner is left handed?”

  Evans looked puzzled once again. “So, what’s your point?”

  “Point, oh no point, I’m just saying,” replied Kendall. “You have the gun then?”

  Evans shook his head. “Gardiner obviously disposed of it, he would hardly keep it would he?”

  Kendall shook his head. “Probably not,” he agreed. “Did he admit to owning a gun?”

  Once again Evans shook his head. “Kendall, it’s an open and shut case, left handed or not, Gardiner shot and killed Victor Lowry, there’s no doubt in my mind, and there’ll be no doubt when he appears in court.”

  “What time was Lowry killed?” asked Kendall

  “Victor Lowry was murdered between five and six o’clock. Gardiner was placed at the scene of the crime during those times, and he had the opportunity.”

  Kendall nodded. “I’m impressed,” he said as he finished his coffee. “A pretty clear case I would say. And yet Gardiner says that he left the apartment just about four thirty and went to a bar a few blocks away.”

  “I guess he has witnesses to collaborate his story,” said Evans.

  “No, not that I know of,” Kendall admitted.

  “Mr. Kendall he gave us that story as well,” said Evans. “We gave him the benefit of the doubt and checked it out. But you know what, his story didn’t hold up.”

  “So much for his alibi then,” said Kendall.

  “Well your ten minutes are up Kendall,” said Evans looking at his watch. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful to you.”

  “Oh, you’ve been okay,” replied Kendall. “I learnt one thing though.”

  “Oh what was that?” asked Evans.

  “You make lousy coffee.” Kendall headed towards the door. “Be seeing you.”

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty

  West-Com Enterprises

  Tony Fletcher had started West-Com Enterprises just fifteen years previously, and it had grown steadily until now it was the second largest communications company in the world. Within its sphere of operations were telecommunications, television, radio, computer equipment and the internet. Amongst its clients were banks, railroads, shipping lines, and the military.

  It had recently bid for a huge controversial government contract involving the collection and storage of vast quantities of data. There had been considerable opposition to the proposal in light of the current large scale phone hacking scandal. A decision was expected within the next three or four weeks.

  The Sentinel had written a series of articles attacking the idea in general and West-Com in particular.

  * * *

  “Ah Mr. Kendall,” a voice called out. “I’m Buchan, Frank Buchan. I’m Tony’s second in command.”

  Kendall stood up and faced the voice. “Mr. Buchan, good of you to see me.” He folded the newspaper he had been reading, and placed it back on to the side table.

  “I see you’ve been reading the Sentinel,” said Buchan pointing to the paper. “More nasty things about us today I see, as usual.”

  Kendall glanced at the discarded newspaper. “Oh I never believe anything I read in the paper,” he said looking back at Buchan.

  “Very wise,” Buchan replied. “Do sit down.” He indicated an armchair. “Help yourself to coffee.”

  Kendall made himself comfortable, and poured himself a coffee from the percolator. He glanced around. No, there were no chocolate cookies. In fact there were no cookies of any descriptions. Times were obviously hard at West-Com. He took a drink. At least the coffee was passable.

  “Now what can I do for you?” asked Buchan, as he took a seat opposite.

  Kendall took another drink. “Before I answer that, did you say you were Mr. Fletcher’s second in command?”

  Buchan started to smile. “In name only I’m afraid,” he replied. “Tony very rarely delegates. He just won’t let anything go.” He took a drink. “He must be involved with every single thing that goes on, you know.” He shook his head. “I really don’t know how he does it. A lesser person would have cracked long ago.”

  “A little like myself,” replied Kendall. “You know once I get an idea into my head I never let ….”

  “I’m sure you are right, Mr. Kendall,” Buchan interrupted, as he looked at his watch. “If we could just ….”

  Kendall shook his head, and waved his arm. “No problem,” he replied. “With Mr. Fletcher away you must be a very busy man, and I certainly appreciate you taking time like this.”

  “So what exactly can I do for you?” Buchan asked.

  Kendall finished his coffee, and proceeded to pour himself a second cup. “I’m a private detective,” he said fumbling for his badge.

  “Yes I know that, your secretary told me.”

  Kendall looked up and shook his head. “She’s not my secretary,” he said. “Don’t ever let her hear you say that.”

  “But I thought ….”

  “Understandable,” Kendall agreed. “But she is actually my business partner. Anyway I have been asked, by Mrs. Fletcher, to make enquiries about Mr. Fletcher’s whereabouts. She is quite worried about him.”

  Buchan shook his head. “But I don’t understand, surely she knows where he is. He must have told her.”

  “So where is he?” asked Kendall, taking a drink.

  “He is in Dallas,” Buchan replied. “An important business trip, simple as that. No mystery.”

  “Rather a long trip by the sound of it,” said Kendall. “He’s been away a few weeks.”

  “Well yes it is a long while I grant,” agreed Buchan. “But he had appointments in Fort Worth, Austin, Houston, Galveston and Dallas.” He heaved a sigh. “But surely he must have told Miranda where he was going.”

  “So you would think,” said Kendall. “But apparently he said nothing to her, just packed a few belongings, and bye bye.”

  “Not another argument I hope,” said Buchan.

  “What do you mean?” asked Kendall.

  “Well they split up once before, a year ago I think, or maybe eighteen months,” Buchan explained. “What it was all about I’ll never know, but he left home and was gone abo
ut a week.”

  Kendall shook his head. “According to Mrs. Fletcher it’s nothing like that, not this time.”

  “Well he’s in Texas right now, and that’s that, glad I could help.”

  Kendall heaved a sigh. “And yet why am I not convinced?” he asked.

  “Go on Mr. Kendall,” said Buchan, puzzled. “I’m listening.”

  “Have you any proof that he is in Texas?” Kendall asked.

  Buchan thought for a few moments. “Well I have confirmation of the hotel bookings,” he replied. “I needed those for tax purposes.”

  Kendall nodded. That was perfectly understandable and yet it was still not proof that the rooms had been used. “Anything else?”

  “He rang me to say that he had arrived in Fort Worth, and that it was raining heavily.”

  Kendall shook his head. “Still no proof,” he said. “You could have received that call from anywhere.”

  “Well I guess that’s true,” Buchan agreed. “But why all the secrecy?”

  “That’s a good question Mr. Buchan. Sadly I don’t have the answer.”

  “But you do have something,” said Buchan. “Something that makes you doubt that he did go away.”

  “Yes I do,” said Kendall. “A couple of things actually, first I have evidence that a large sum of money was withdrawn from his bank in town, just a day ago.” Kendall took a drink of coffee.

  “How has he been?” Kendall continued.

  “Tony you mean,” replied Buchan. “What do you mean?

  “Well has he been nervous, acting strange, anything like that?”

  Buchan thought for a few moments. “Not sure nervous would be right, apprehensive maybe.”

  “Apprehensive,” repeated Kendall. “About what?”

  “Oh, this government contract,” Buchan replied. “Do you know about it?”

  Kendall knew about it. He had read about it a few days previously. “Oh yes I know about it. Which brings me on to my second point.”

  “Go on.”

  “You said, and correct me if I’m wrong, he never delegates. He never lets go of anything.”

  “That’s correct,” said Buchan. “He could be a real pain at times, always there, never letting you get on.”