by John Holt
Webb looked at the list, and then looked at Kendall. Certainly it would be a major coup there was no doubting that. “So how long have I got?” he asked.
“Well Gardiner goes to trial in a little over three months,” Kendall started to explain. “So time is short, and I’m in your hands, all I can say is the sooner the better. Would tomorrow be okay?”
Webb shook his head. What was he letting himself in for he wondered. “Leave it with me will you,” he said. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
* * *
Chapter Thirty-One
Derek Webb’s Email
It was late in the afternoon by the time Kendall arrived back at his office. His trip to Batsford Court had been completely unproductive, as he had half expected. The apartment on the second floor front was shrouded in mystery. Nobody knew who occupied the apartment, or indeed whether it was occupied at all.
“As far as I know, most of the time it’s empty,” said the tenant living next door. “Whether anyone is paying rent on it, who knows.”
“But what about the other night, last Tuesday?” asked Kendall hopeful of getting some worthwhile information. “There was a White Cab, at about midnight, or a little after. You must have seen that.”
“We never saw anyone,” said the tenant of the apartment opposite. “Never saw no-one, and never heard no-one.”
Kendall heaved a sigh. “Someone got out of the cab and went up to the second floor.”
“Never saw no-one,” the tenant repeated.
It was the same story from the other two tenants on the second floor. “Whoever lives there you wouldn’t hear a pin drop.”
“I’ve never seen anyone going in, or coming out,” said the tenant from number eight, diagonally opposite. “That’s the kind of neighbor I like. No trouble and no noisy music. You know I can’t stand that modern music.”
That was also the sentiment echoed by the people living on the ground floor. “I know everyone who lives in the block,” said the lady at number one. “I’ve lived here for thirty-two years, so I should know. I mean there are only twelve apartments and I know eleven of the occupants, by sight at least.”
I don’t think anyone lives there,” said the elderly gentleman from number two. “And I certainly never hear any noise coming from above. That apartment is right above me you understand. You’d think I’d hear something.”
“They’re not a bit of bother,” said the janitor. “There’s never any noise, and there’s never any of those wild parties like the ones you get from that flat on the third floor. They are always causing a disturbance, every weekend. Why we had to call the police out several times.”
* * *
“Well that was a complete waste of time,” declared Kendall wearily as he sat down at his desk. “I shall probably never move again. I am utterly and completely worn out.”
Mollie was already aware of that, in fact she had known it for a long time. “I told you that you need to lose some weight, didn’t I?”
Kendall glared at her. “It’s nothing to do with weight,” he replied indignantly. “It’s to do with excessive physical and mental activity, and natural exhaustion. Besides I am not over-weight, I’m properly in proportion, taking into account my age, and height.”
Mollie made a face. “I suppose you’re not too tired to drink a cup of coffee though.”
Kendall sighed. “I’ll try. I need to build up my strength,” he replied weakly. “And a few of those …”
“I know, I know,” said Mollie as she hurried into the kitchen area. “Should I break them up into small squares for you, or will you be able to chew them yourself?”
“I think I’ll be able to manage thank you,” Kendall called back. He put his feet up on the desk, laid his head back and closed his eyes. As he began to drift into sleep the telephone rang. Mollie hurried from the kitchen, and grabbed the hand set, just as Kendall sat up.
“Kendall Detective Agency,” she said. “Can I help ….”
“Is Kendall there?” a voice interrupted.
“I’ll get him for you,” replied Mollie. “Can I tell him who is calling?”
“It’s Webb, Derek Webb, from the radio station,” a voice replied. “Is he there?”
“It’s Derek Webb,” Mollie explained as she handed the receiver to Kendall, and then returned to the kitchen.
“Hi Derek, this is Kendall. So have you got anything for me?”
“Well not a lot really,” replied Webb. “I don’t think this will be much help to you.”
Kendall sighed. “Go on,” he said. “Try me.”
“Well it seems that the majority of the people on the list have been hacked at one time or another. It seems that they all had a dark secret they would have preferred to remain hidden. Anyone of them might have been tempted to kill Lowry.”
Kendall heaved a sigh. If he were being honest it was no more than he had expected. “Were any of them actually being blackmailed?” he asked.
There was a long silence. “That’s a difficult one,” Webb replied eventually. “Certainly any of them, or all of them, could have been being blackmailed. I’ve no way of telling. People don’t tend to spread things like that around, except maybe to the police, or someone like yourself.”
“I suppose it might actually depend on the nature of the dark secret” suggested Kendall.
“Well yes could be,” replied Webb.
“So do you have any names to give me?” asked Kendall.
There was a long pause. “Well there are five names that I know of,” said Webb.
“Only five,” said Kendall.
“That’s right, only five actually come to mind,” replied Webb. “But that doesn’t mean that they aren’t others. It just means that at present we have no other information.”
“I understand that,” said Kendall. “But there are five names, and they were all at the Man of the Year dinner given for Lowry?”
“That’s right, as far as I’m aware they were all there,” said Webb. “I’ll put the details on to an email and send it to you.”
“Thank you,” said Kendall. “Much appreciated.” He hung up. He looked at Mollie and smiled. “We’ll soon know who our murderer is now just wait and see,” he said.
“Oh really,” said Mollie, trying to sound excited.
“I’m expecting an email from Webb,” Kendall explained. “There will be five names on it, and one of them is the murderer. Let me know the minute it comes.”
* * *
“This looks like the email you were expecting,” Mollie suddenly announced. I’ll print it off for you. She pressed the keys on her keypad, and a few moments later handed a printed sheet to Kendall.
“Well there are the five names that Webb mentioned,” Kendall murmured. “I thought that there would have been more.”
Mollie looked across at him and smiled “How many did you want?” She asked.
Kendall nodded and smiled. She was right of course. The smaller the number so much the better, the easier the elimination, and the sooner they would arrive at the solution. He glanced down the list.
“Daniel Slater, City Councilor, expenses scandal,” Kendall started to read. “Paul Roberts, Company secretary, insider trading.” Kendall shook his head. It was not looking promising.
“Go on” coaxed Mollie.
“Alright, just a second,” Kendall replied. “The third one is William Dyer, Contractor, driving while under the influence, killed two people in an accident.” Kendall heaved a sigh. “Graham Wright, author, accused of stealing someone else’s idea.” Kendall shook his head. “Useless, he muttered loudly. “There’s nothing here, nothing that would be a motive for murder.”
“I don’t know. William Dyer sounds promising,” suggested Mollie.
Kendall shook his head. “He went to prison for ten years,” he explained. “He served his time, so there was nothing to hide.”
“There’s one more name,” Mollie reminded him.
Kendall nodded his hea
d slowly. There was, indeed, one more to come. What would it be? Local churchman steals money from the collecting plate, maybe. Local shopkeeper selling food two days after the Sell by date, or possibly local pensioner caught picking flowers in the park.
“Well are you going to read it or not,” said Mollie getting impatient.
“Don’t rush me, said Kendall. Have you never heard the old saying act in haste repent at ….
“Come on get on with it.”
“Leisure,” Kendall said loudly, making a face. “Charles Walker, business man, shop lifting.”
“How about him then, sounds promising?” Mollie suggested.
Kendall shook his head, and sighed. “He served two years in prison.” Kendall pushed the list to one side. “Well that’s that,” he said. “There’s nothing here. It’s all old news, and certainly no reason to commit murder.” He hit the desk hard. “And yet I’m sure that somebody on that original list is the murderer.”
“Nothing about Tony Fletcher?” asked Mollie.
Kendall looked at the list once again and shook his head. “Not a word. He shook his head. “Back to square one I suppose.” He hit the desk once again, gentler this time.
“So it’s nothing to do with phone hacking then,” said Mollie.
Kendall nodded and sighed deeply. “It would appear so.”
“So what about a business rival,” Mollie suggested.
Kendall looked at the list of names again. He shook his head. He had no idea what businesses the names were involved with, and no idea whether they were business rivals.
The telephone suddenly rang. “Kendall,” a voice said. “Derek Webb.”
“Hi Derek,” said Kendall. “What can I do for you?”
“The list I sent over, was it any help?”
“Regrettably no,” said Kendall. “I was hoping for a motive for Lowry’s murder, but there’s nothing there.”
“Too bad,” said Webb.
“You’re sure that there’s no one else being blackmailed?” asked Kendall clutching at straws.
“Well as I said there are probably others, many others maybe, I just don’t know about them.”
“I was just hoping that’s all,” said Kendall. “To be honest I probably never really thought it would be that easy anyway.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” replied Webb. “Incidentally, I was surprised to see Tony Fletcher’s name on that original list. I really didn’t think he would be at the dinner.”
“Oh why not?” asked Kendall.
“He and Lowry weren’t exactly friends, you know,” said Webb. “In fact they were quite the opposite.”
“No, I realize that,” said Kendall. “They were business rivals I understand.”
“A bit more than that I would say,” said Webb.
“Go on,” said Kendall intrigued.
“Well you know that Fletcher runs a rival telecommunications company?”
“Yes, I know about that,” said Kendall. “Westcom.”
“That’s right,” said Webb. “Westcom Digital to be precise. Well Victor Lowry had been trying to take the company over for a long time without success.”
“Yes I knew that,” said Kendall, wondering where this was leading.
“Well it seems that our Mr. Fletcher has been dabbling on the Stock Market,” Webb explained. “Watching his stock going down in price, and then buying it back cheaply, if true that is highly illegal.”
“Yes we had already heard that story,” said Kendall. “Apparently he’s being blackmailed by someone.”
“He is. How do you know that?”
“He told me,” replied Kendall.
“So do you know who it is?” asked Webb
“That’s a good question,” replied Kendall. “I’m still working on it.”
“Well if there’s anything else you need, you know where I am,” said Webb. “If you have any more questions, just give a shout.” He hung up.
“I’ll remember that,” said Kendall as he replaced the handset. “If I need anything indeed,” he murmured. “A few answers might be good.”
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Two
Another Word with The Sullivans
“Martin Gardiner, the Sentinel journalist at the centre of the newspaper phone-hacking row states that he acted on the instructions of others, according to his lawyers. Any suggestion that he acted in such matters unilaterally is untrue.”
* * *
Kendall put down the newspaper. “Acted on instructions of others,” he repeated. “And who precisely were these others, as if we didn’t know?”
“Victor Lowry,” replied Mollie.
“Exactly, but notice he isn’t mentioned anywhere in the report,” said Kendall. “He must have known everything about ….”
Kendall was interrupted by the telephone. Mollie reached it first. “Hello,” she said. “Can I help you?”
Kendall heaved a sigh. She was never going to get it right was she, he thought. Perhaps he should just give up worrying about it. “Who is it?” he asked.
Mollie placed her hand over the handset. “It’s Alan Mills,” she replied. “He has some information for you.”
She handed Kendall the hand set. “Yes Alan,” he said.
“Hi Kendall,” Mills replied. “I’ve got something for you, but it’s a bit odd.”
“Odd,” repeated Kendall. “In what way odd?”
“Well the envelope you sent me is covered with prints.” Mills started to explain. “But there’s not a single print on any of the letters themselves.”
“That is odd,” agreed Kendall. “Could you get a make on the prints?”
“Yes I could,” replied Mills.
“So are you going to tell me or not?” Kendall asked. “Or do I read about it in the late editions?”
“Funny man,” replied Mills. “Well to start with your prints are everywhere, so much for not contaminating evidence. What precisely did you learn on that forensics course?”
“Come on Alan, I haven’t got all day.”
“Okay, I’m getting there,” Mills continued. “Some of the prints belong to Fletcher himself.” He paused for a moment. “The majority though belong to a friend of yours.”
“A friend,” said Kendall. “Who?”
“Ray Sullivan.”
“You’re kidding,” said Kendall.
“I kid you not,” said Mills. “His prints are all over the envelopes. So what’s he up to?”
“I’ll see if I can find out, and let you know,” replied Kendall.
“If you need anything else, just call,” said Mills.
“Thank you Alan,” said Kendall. “Much obliged. I’ll be in touch.” He replaced the handset. Just what were the Sullivans up to?
* * *
“So Ray Sullivan’s prints are all over the envelope,” said Mollie.
“Right,” said Kendall.
“And just lately he’s been receiving a lot of cash.”
“Right,” said Kendall once again.
“So he certainly knows Tony Fletcher,” said Mollie.
“It would certainly seem like it,” replied Kendall.
“Well it seems to me that he is the blackmailer,” said Mollie.
Kendall shook his head. “I very much doubt it,” he said. “Ray Sullivan is certainly a crook, no question about that. He has been into lots of things, but all petty crimes.” He paused for a moment rubbing his chin. “Blackmail isn’t his style.”
Mollie was puzzled. “But it all fits,” she insisted.
Kendall shook his head once again. “He doesn’t have the brains for it,” he said. “I doubt if either he, or his brother, could spell the word.”
“But his prints were all over the envelope.”
“Correct, but the only prints on the actual letter belonged to Fletcher himself,” said Kendall. “Sullivan is no college professor that’s for sure, and brains was not something he was given a lot of, but he’s savvy enough not to leave incrimin
ating evidence behind.”
“You mean his prints?” said Mollie.
“That’s right. I mean his prints,” replied Kendall. “Sullivan has a record, nothing major, but a record nonetheless, robbery usually. His prints are on record. Why would he take the risk, he would know that he would be picked up in no time. There’s something wrong somewhere.”
“Perhaps you need another word with the Sullivans,” Mollie suggested.
* * *
Mike’s Bar was busy as usual when Kendall walked in a few days later.
“Afternoon Kendall,” said Mike looking up and waving. “Your usual I guess.” He reached for the whiskey bottle, and started to pour.”
“A double,” said Kendall. “And forget the water.”
Mike placed the glass on the counter. “So what’s with the briefcase?” he said as he noticed Kendall carrying a soft leather case. “You look like one of the IRS guys who were round the other day.” He started to smile. “You know they spent an hour telling me that I was behind on my tax, and that they would be imposing a fine, then they suddenly realized they were in the wrong bar.”
Kendall shrugged. “Yeah sure,” he said. “Did you tell them about the gambling going on in back?”
Mike raised a finger to his lips. “Now Kendall don’t start, not even joking, maybe some of the people here will think you’re serious.”
“Okay,” Kendall replied, taking a drink. He glanced around. “Are the Sullivans around?” he asked.
Mike nodded and pointed over to his left. “Over there, in the end alcove.”
Kendall looked in the direction indicated and nodded. “I see them. Excuse me for a moment will you.” He picked up his glass and started towards the alcove.
* * *
“Hello boys. Mind if I sit down.” Kendall didn’t wait for a formal invitation.
“Oh Mr. Kendall this is a surprise,” said Ray, as he looked at his brother.
Kendall called Mike over. “Another scotch for me, make it a double, and sarsaparilla for these two.”
“Now Mr. Kendall is that nice?” said Ray.
“Okay, okay. Mike the same again,” said Kendall as he indicated the drinks. “But singles only for these two, mustn’t corrupt such innocents must I.” He sat down. “Now boys it’s good to see you again, so soon after our last meeting.” He took a drink. “This is nice isn’t it? A nice drink with some old friends.” He took another drink. “So how are you boys?”