by John Holt
“And what?” asked Joe.
“Did it win?”
Joe shook his head. “Came in eighth out of ten.”
“You can’t win ‘em all,” said Kendall.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Kendall shrugged. You certainly can’t win ‘em all. He certainly hadn’t gained anything that was for sure. He heaved a sigh. “Well that’s about it, I’m done,” he said. Done being a very appropriate word, he was definitely done. Gardiner was guilty, no doubt.
“Thank you,” he continued. “You have been most helpful.” Kendall turned and started towards the door.
“No problem,” said Joe. He stood up and followed a few steps behind. As he reached the doorway he shook his head and smiled. “There they are again,” he said.
Kendall looked puzzled. “Who?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Joe replied. “Just some local children, they are here almost every day now. The school holidays I suppose.”
“I expect so,” said Kendall. He looked out of the door at the children. There were six of them. They were the same children that had been there when he had arrived.
“They are collecting car registration numbers can you believe,” he said. “What a waste of time. Still it takes all sorts.”
“It does indeed,” said Kendall. “Car numbers.” He shook his head, and looked out into the street. He had done the very same thing when he had been eight or nine years old. He smiled to think that even with computers and play stations, and whatever the gadget was that kids had these days, they still did things like that. Collect car numbers.
He shook his head again, and looked at Joe. “Incidentally do you remember whether they were here the day that Lowry was murdered?”
Joe looked at the kids, and then looked at Kendall. He smiled and nodded. “They were here,” he replied. “In fact they have been here every day of the holiday so far. Not that I mind of course, but you’d think that just once they’d go to the park, or the sports centre, or maybe the swimming pool.”
* * *
“Collecting car numbers is that right?” said Kendall to the young boy standing by the entrance door.
The boy looked at him for a moment. “Nothing wrong with that is there?”
“Oh no, not at all,” said Kendall quickly. “You know I used to collect car numbers. I had quite a collection at one time.”
“We’ve got hundreds,” said the boy proudly.
“You enjoy doing it do you?” asked Kendall.
The boy nodded once again.
“What is it that you enjoy about it so much?” asked Kendall.
The boy started to smile. “It’s not just numbers. We list the type of car, and where it came from, you know the State.”
“That must be interesting,” said Kendall, trying to sound enthusiastic, but not quite making it.
“They come from all over,” explained the boy.
“I’ve already got a California plate today, and one from Texas,” said his companion.
Kendall nodded and smiled. Where this was getting him though wasn’t entirely clear.
“And we also mark down where it was parked, and the time.”
“Really,” said Kendall. “So if I said to you a time and a place, you could give me the make and registration?”
The boy started to get quite excited. “Sure can, no problem.”
Kendall nodded his head. He looked at the boy for a few moments, and then he looked across at Onslow Mansions.
“You were here a few days ago I understand,” Kendall said looking at his notepad. “The day the police came.”
The boy said nothing for a few moments. “Was that the day that man was killed?”
“That’s right,” said Kendall. “Mr. Lowry, did you know him?”
“No never knew him, but knew his car,” said an older boy who had joined his friend.
“Oh I see,” said Kendall, not exactly sure what he saw. “So were you here that day?”
“Sure we were,” said the young boy.
“We were here,” the older boy confirmed. “We’re here most days.”
“So what time did you leave?”
“About six thirty, a bit after maybe,” said the older boy. “We were late that day because of Lennie.”
“Lennie,” repeated Kendall. “What about Lennie?”
“Well this guy comes running out of the Mansions, and runs straight into Lennie,” the boy explained. “Knocks him flying. There’s blood everywhere.”
“When was this?” aske Kendall.
“Don’t know exactly,” said the boy.
“Did you see the man?” Kendall asked.
“Oh we seen him alright,” replied a third boy who had joined the other two.
“Did you know who he was?” asked Kendall.
The boy shook his head. Par for the course Kendall thought.
“Could you describe him?”
“Not really,” said the elder boy. “About your height I suppose. Not good at that sort of thing I’m sorry.”
Kendall heaved a sigh, disappointed.
“Did you see which way he went?” asked Kendall, already suspecting what the answer would be.
The boy shook his head. “He just ran across the street, that’s all I know.”
“Thanks boys you’ve been a great help,” said Kendall, as he started to walk away. He suddenly stopped and turned. “How’s Lennie?”
“Oh he’s okay,” the boy called back.
Kendall waved and continued on his way.
* * *
Kendall buckled his seat belt, checked his mirror, and pulled out into the traffic. He had hoped to avoid the rush hour. He checked the time, the race results would be on. He switched on the radio.
“…. then came Chancellor at ten to one, Breeze the two to one favorite at seventh, and bringing up the rear Blue Boy in eighth position.” There was a pause. “The four fifteen at Belmont ….”
Kendall switched the radio off.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Goodbye Victor”
“So how was it?” asked Mollie.
Kendall heaved a sigh, and looked up at the ceiling. He started to smile. “Oh great, wonderful, couldn’t be better,” he replied. “I love my job.”
Mollie picked up her notepad, and pen. “I’m ready,” she said. “Carry on.”
Kendall looked at Mollie and heaved a sigh. “I really don’t think you are going to need that,” he said pointing to the pad. “It really isn’t that interesting.”
“Tell me anyway,” Mollie coaxed.
“Alright,” said Kendall. “Here goes. First, someone thinks they heard someone banging on a door. We’re not sure whose door, but apparently it was like an earthquake said one of the neighbors, thunder said another. How the earthquake managed to get up to the third floor I’ll never know.”
“Go on,” prompted Mollie.
“Someone heard arguing, but didn’t know what was being said, or who said it. I doubt if they even knew where the sound was coming from,” Kendall continued. “Someone else thought they heard something but wasn’t sure what it was.”
“Heard what?” asked Mollie.
Kendall shook his head once again. “They didn’t know. It could have been anything,” he replied. “One neighbor suggested that the other person was simply hearing things, and didn’t really know what they heard.”
“Anything else?” asked Mollie.
“Oh yes, certainly,” replied Kendall. “Someone said that they saw someone leave the building.”
“That’s a help surely,” said Mollie enthusiastically.
“Normally I would say you’re right, but not in this case.”
“Why ever not?” asked Mollie.
Kendall heaved a deep sigh. He looked over at the wall clock wondering if it was too early for a trip to Mike’s place. He decided that it was never too early, and a drink or three sounded very tempting. He looked back at Mollie. “They weren’
t exactly sure whether the person had actually come out of the building or not.”
“Oh I see,” said Mollie. “Well did they say what the person looked like at least?”
Kendall heaved another sigh. “The description given could have fitted dozens of guys,” Kendall explained. “Hundreds maybe, including me.”
Mollie looked at Kendall. “Oh an ugly old fat guy was he?”
“Funny,” said Kendall. “Highly amusing, your talents are totally wasted here you know that.”
“Really,” said Mollie.
“Yes really,” replied Kendall. “They would be put to far better use in the kitchen making some coffee.”
She glared at him, and poked her tongue out. She stood up and walked towards the kitchen.
* * *
“Did anyone else see him?” asked Mollie, returning from the kitchen with the coffee.
“See who?” asked Kendall.
“The man running across the street,” replied Mollie. “You know the ugly fat guy.”
Now it was Kendall’s turn to glare. “Well there were some young boys out in the street,” replied Kendall. “They were taking car registration numbers.”
“They were doing what?”
“Taking down car registration details,” Kendall explained. “You know the number of the car and the .…”
“I know,” interrupted Mollie.
“Well one of them was knocked down by the man as he hurried past.”
“Well they must be able to describe him,” said Mollie. “And they would know whether or not he had come out of the building.
Kendall had to admit that Mollie made a good point. He made a mental note to ask the question the next time he saw those boys. “Oh yes of course they could describe him,” Kendall replied. “About your height I suppose, said one of the boys. Not good at that sort of thing I’m sorry, said another. A perfect description I would say, how can I possibly miss?”
“Well did they see which way he went?” Mollie persisted.
Kendall smiled “Certainly they did,” he replied. “He just went across the street, they said, pointing across the road.” Kendall paused for a moment. “Very helpful, I don’t think.”
“Anything else?”
“Anything else, let me think, there was so much,” replied Kendall. “Oh yes, very important this. According to one of the neighbors somebody called out Goodbye Victor.”
“Meaning Victor Lowry, I suppose,” suggested Mollie.
“The very same,” agreed Kendall.
“So who called out?” asked Mollie.
“How should I know,” replied Kendall. “I wasn’t there was I?”
“Well who did the neighbor say it was?”
“They didn’t say,” Kendall replied wearily. “They didn’t know.”
“When did this happen?” asked Mollie.
“The neighbor really couldn’t remember,” replied Kendall. “Four, four thirty, half past midnight, who knows?” He paused for a moment. “Not very helpful I’m afraid. Could have been the day before for all we know.”
“Be serious, it must have been that day, and it sounds like it must have been Gardiner after all,” said Mollie.
Kendall shook his head. “Perhaps. But would you call out like that if you had just murdered someone?”
Mollie thought for a few moments. “Well I might if I wanted people to think that the person was still alive.”
Kendall nodded. It was a good point he had to admit. Then he shook his head. “Possibly, but Gardiner wouldn’t have said that.”
Millie looked puzzled.
“Don’t forget Gardiner worked for Lowry,” Kendall started to explain. “He was a paid employee, not an intimate friend. No if he called out anything at all he would have said Goodbye Mr. Lowry, or goodbye sir. He would never have said Victor.”
Mollie wasn’t convinced. “He might have,” she said. “I mean if Lowry was already dead it wouldn’t have mattered what he called out, who was going to notice?”
Kendall shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t go along with that. Gardiner was so used to calling him Mr. Lowry, he would never say Victor. It just wouldn’t be natural for him. No whoever it was who called out it wasn’t Martin Gardiner. I’m certain of that. So much so I’m going to give Jennings a call.”
Kendall reached across the desk for the telephone. He dialed the number. “Mr. Jennings, please,” he said when the call was answered.
There was silence for a few moments. “Jennings Son and Ash, Clive Jennings speaking,” a voice suddenly announced.
“Mr. Jennings, its Kendall. I have good news, and I have bad news. Which would you like first?”
There was silence once more. “I don’t know,” replied Jennings hesitantly, clearly not used to this kind of a game. “The bad news I suppose.”
“The bad news is I can’t prove it,” Kendall said quite simply.
“You can’t prove it,” repeated Jennings puzzled.
“That’s right,” said Kendall. “I can’t prove it.” He paused for a moment. “Now would you like the good news?”
“Can’t wait,” said Jennings beginning to get impatient.
“The good news is I don’t believe that Martin Gardiner did kill Victor Lowry.”
“You don’t” said Jennings.
“I very much believe that your client is innocent,” continued Kendall.
“That is good news Mr. Kendall,” replied Jennings. “Good news indeed.”
“That’s as maybe,” said Kendall. “But as I say I can’t prove it. I really need to find out who really did kill Lowry.”
“You have someone in mind,” said Jennings hopefully.
“No,” replied Kendall. “Not a clue, not right now, but I’m sure that it was someone who was at that Man of The Year dinner. Someone who saw and heard Martin Gardiner’s outburst and who thought they could make good use of that fact.”
* * *
“Do you really think it was someone who was at that dinner?” asked Mollie.
Kendall nodded. “I do,” he replied smugly.
“But do you know it for a fact?” Mollie asked.
Kendall had to admit that he did not know it for a fact. “But it’s a strong possibility,” he replied. “Gardiner’s outburst was certainly a golden opportunity for them don’t you think. It must have been someone at that dinner don’t you see.”
Mollie shook her head. No she didn’t see. “I don’t see why it must have.”
Kendall shook his head, and groaned. “The killer would have seen Gardiner, and heard him threatening Lowry. He would then have thought that if Lowry were actually killed, everyone would think that Gardiner had done it.”
“You can’t prove any of that,” Mollie said dismissively. “Besides it could have been anyone, he had lots of enemies remember.”
Kendall nodded. “You’re right it could have been anyone,” he agreed. “But for anyone else to kill Lowry the following day is just too much of a coincidence.”
“So it was a coincidence,” Mollie replied. “It could have happened that way.”
Kendall shook his head once again. “Mollie,” he said slowly. “It could have happened that way I guess, but once you get to know me you will realize that I am not a great believer in coincidence.”
“Well we shall have to see won’t we,” replied Mollie. “Do we know who was actually at the dinner?”
“No we don’t,” replied Kendall. “But I’ve made arrangements to meet with a Mr. Charles Harding. He is the Events Manager at the Tey Hotel.”
“The Tey Hotel,” repeated Mollie puzzled.
“It’s the hotel where the Man of the Year award took place. Mr. Harding will be able to supply a list of the dinner guests. He will also be able to supply information about what happened that night. He was there.”
* * *
“The Virginia Sentinel says it is close to agreeing a $2 million with the family of murdered schoolboy Peter Jobson, whose phone was hacked,” Kendall read al
oud. “It is reported that the newspaper also wishes to make a personal donation of $1million to charity.”
Kendall put the newspaper down. “So they weren’t involved in phone hacking, that’s what they said. So why on earth would they be paying out so much money?”
Mollie looked up. “Don’t forget your appointment with Mr. Harding.”
Kendall looked at the clock on the wall. “I won’t forget,” he replied. “I’ve another hour or so yet. It won’t take long to get there.”
“I can’t understand why you need to go anyway,” said Mollie. “We know exactly what happened. Gardiner threatened Lowry, so what needs to be discussed?”
“There you see that’s why I’m the detective, and you … you make the coffee.” Mollie said nothing but simply glared at him. “No seriously I need to know how Gardiner threatened Lowry.”
Mollie looked puzzled. “He threatened to kill him, end of story.”
“Yes that’s right,” said Kendall. “But was it said in an angry fashion, or was it said calmly, in a cold calculating way.”
“I still don’t understand what difference it makes. He said it and that’s all there is.”
“The point I’m trying to establish is whether the threat was really meant, or was it merely the ravings of a drunk,” replied Kendall.
“Well you’ll know soon enough.”
* * *
Chapter T wenty-Eight
The Tey Hotel
The Tey Hotel, located just a few miles outside of the town, had built up quite a reputation for being the venue of choice in which to hold a function – any function whether it be a wedding party, or a political rally.
Tey Hotel
Charles Harding had been the Events Manager for the past seven years. It was his task to cater for each function in whatever way was required. He knew all of the angles, and all of the tricks. You wanted a themed evening, you got a themed evening. You wanted fancy dress, you got fancy dress. Nothing was too much trouble, and nothing was impossible. “The difficult we do instantly, the impossible might take a second or two longer,” that was his slogan. You wanted something special he knew where to go to get it. You wanted music you had music, whatever kind you liked, from rap to the classics. You wanted a cabaret no sooner said than provided. And when it came to food there was never a problem. Indian, Chinese, traditional, all you had to do was say the word.