Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  He looked at the photograph for a while. It was not a particularly good photograph. It was poorly arranged, with far too much sky showing. It was slightly out of focus, and badly scratched. It showed two people and a child on a beach somewhere. He couldn’t remember where it had been taken, or who had actually taken it. The photograph contained no clues of any kind. He looked at the child in the photograph. He was busily digging in the sand, building a sand castle. How old had he been then, he wondered? Five perhaps, or maybe six, he guessed. Certainly it was no older than six. “All of those years ago. Where has the time gone?”

  He looked up, staring at the far wall, as though looking into the past. He was trying to remember how his parents had looked the last time that he had seen them. His father had just collected a car a few days before. It was all shiny and new. It was a Ford something, he couldn’t remember what. They were going out for a drive in the country. Try as hard as he might, he could not visualize them. All that he could remember was that his mother was very beautiful. She had a bright red dress on, he recalled, and a scarlet scarf around her neck. She had bent down to kiss him, and he had pulled away. He was too grown up for that kind of thing. She had smiled at him, and messed his hair. His father had laughed, and walked to the door. She picked up her bag, gave a wave, and then they had left the house. He never saw them again, alive that is.

  Why he hadn’t gone with them that day, he couldn’t remember. “They don’t want you with them today,” his grandfather had said. It was so long ago. They never came back. Surprisingly enough he still missed them. A tear ran down his cheek. He quickly brushed it aside. How long ago was it, he wondered. Thirty years? No. Nearer forty, he decided. Yes, forty years.

  He turned away abruptly. He slowly removed the handkerchief from his hand. The bleeding had now stopped, although there was a large wound, and the hand was quite sore. The cloth was covered with bloodstains. He dropped it into the wastebasket. He looked back down at the carpet. The blood had already dried. He would get Jackson to clear up the broken glass, and the staining, later.

  He looked over at the documents lying on his desk. He started to pace the floor. Things were not working out the way that he had envisaged. Not going according to his plan. Only three people had agreed to sell their land so far, despite the increased offers, and despite the attempts at persuasion employed by his negotiators. He walked back to the desk and sat down again. He reached across the desk, for the telephone, pulling it towards him. He quickly dialed a number. It was answered on the third ring.

  “Brady, what is going on down there?” he demanded to know. “It’s been over six weeks and so far only three people have accepted. That’s not good enough. Do you hear?”

  “We’re working on it,” the voice on the other end of the line replied. The voice sounded hesitant, un-sure. “We’re having a few problems down here. The local newspaper is causing difficulties, and so is a guy by the name of Clancy.”

  Duncan thought that he knew that name. Sure, it was Clancy who had been snooping around up at the compound a few weeks earlier. “I don’t want your excuses, Brady,” he said, bringing the conservation to an end. “Just deal with them, you know what to do,” he shouted down the line. “I want some action, and I want it now.”

  Brady knew exactly what to do. “I’ll get right on to it,” he said. He promised action within the next two or three days. “Leave it to me.”

  Duncan was not entirely re-assured. “Brady, just be careful,” Duncan said slowly, far from confident. “I don’t want anyone killed, do you understand. Dead people are of no value to me whatsoever. They very rarely agree to do what you want them to do.” He put the phone down. As he did so the intercom suddenly sounded. Duncan pressed the button. “Yes what is it?” he asked. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but Governor Reynolds is here,” replied Jackson, nervously. “He insists on seeing you. I told him that you weren’t available, but he won’t take no for an answer.”

  Duncan didn’t have time for a social visit. He didn’t need it. “All right, Jackson,” Duncan said. He looked at the papers lying on his desk. “Give me five minutes, and then send him in.” He flipped the switch off. He quickly picked up the papers, and placed them it into a drawer. He locked the drawer, and placed the key inside his pocket. He then placed a number of files in front of him, and took up his pen. As he opened one of the files, and started to glance through the papers there was a knock on the door. Then there was a second knock. The door opened, and Jackson entered. “Governor Reynolds, sir,” he said, standing to one side to allow Reynolds to enter the room.

  “Why Frank,” Duncan said jovially, standing up. “What a pleasant surprise, it’s always good to see you. Have you been waiting long? I hope not.” He looked at Jackson and waved a dismissal. He then turned back to face Reynolds. “Come right in and have a seat. What can I do for you? Or is this a social call?”

  Reynolds walked over to the chair, which Duncan had indicated, and sat down. He said nothing. He started to tap his fingers on the desk. He was obviously distressed.

  “Frank, Frank, take it easy,” Duncan said. “Let me get you a drink.” He stood up, and went over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room. “What will it be?” he asked. There was no reply. Duncan looked round. “Frank, what will you have?” he repeated.

  Reynolds stood up and walked over to where Duncan was standing. He placed his hand firmly onto Duncan’s arm. “No drink,” he said nervously.

  Duncan withdrew his hand. He looked at the man standing in front of him. It was clear that he had already been drinking, and quite heavily at that.

  “What’s the trouble Frank?” Duncan asked, as he led Reynolds back to his seat. “What can I do for you?”

  Reynolds looked around at the door. He then turned back to face Duncan. He spoke rapidly, as though he only had a short time. The words became slurred, and difficult to understand. Sometimes his voice faltered completely.

  “Frank, Frank, calm down,” Duncan pleaded. “I can’t understand a word you are saying.”

  Reynolds stopped speaking, and looked down at the desk. He began flexing and un-flexing his hands. Duncan watched silently. What was troubling him? He stood up, and started to walk back to the drinks cabinet. “Let me get you that drink,” he said. “I could certainly use one anyway.”

  A few moments later he returned with the drinks. He placed them on the desk, and sat down. “Now what is it Frank? What’s the problem?”

  Reynolds picked up his glass, and quickly drank the liquid. He then placed the empty glass back on to the desk. “This thing going on up at Rosemont,” he said quietly. “It’s worrying me, Ian. I can’t sleep. I can’t think straight.”

  “Frank, there’s really nothing for you to worry about,” Duncan replied. “I told you that I would handle everything, didn’t I?”

  “Yes you did, I know, but….” He hesitated. “…. Ian I hear that there has been some trouble, and that there was a fire the other night. Someone was seriously hurt.”

  “Yes that’s right, there was a small fire,” said Duncan. “Someone’s barn I believe. Faulty wiring I understand or something similar. A most unfortunate accident, but nobody was injured. It could have been far, far worse.”

  Reynolds looked at Duncan. “Ian, did that fire have anything to do with us? Anything at all?” he asked.

  Duncan looked shocked. “Of course not, Frank. How could you even think such a thing, you know me better than that, I hope.”

  Reynolds certainly knew Duncan. He knew that he was lying. He knew with absolute certainty that the barn fire was, in some way, connected with Duncan. It wasn’t just coincidence. Reynolds sat silently for a few moments. He suddenly looked up. “Ian I also hear that certain threats are being made to the people up at Rosemont.”

  “Where do you get your information from Frank?” Duncan asked. “No one is being threatened I can assure you. A little friendly persuasion that’s all, no
thing more. You really must think me a dreadful person, Frank. I’m stunned.” He looked up and laughed. “Surely you don’t really think me capable of such things?”

  “Ian,” Reynolds said firmly. “Somebody is going to get hurt I just know it. Sooner or later someone could get killed.”

  Duncan started to laugh again. “Frank, you’re getting paranoid. I’ve just told you that nobody is being threatened. What more can I say,” Duncan responded. “No one is going to get hurt. No one is going to get killed.”

  “Ian, I just want out,” Reynolds said quite simply.

  “I’m sorry to hear that Frank,” Duncan responded calmly. “But it’s really a little late to think like that. I’m afraid there is no possibility of you pulling out, not now.” He stood up and went to fetch another drink. As he poured the liquid, he looked at Reynolds. “We are both fully committed in this project, Frank. You are in as deep as I am. There really is no way out.”

  “I didn’t think anyone would get hurt, that’s all,” Reynolds said, as he sat with his head down. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “You’re panicking, Frank,” Duncan replied. “A few people have been roughed up a little, that’s all. No real harm done.”

  “What about Shaw?” Reynolds asked, looking up, and straight at Duncan. “Or doesn’t he count.”

  Duncan spun round sharply. “Shaw knew too much that’s all. He had to die for our protection. Yours as well as mine,” Duncan replied angrily. “Did you really think this project would be that easy? Billions of dollars just dropping into your lap just like that.”

  “I don’t know what I thought,” said Reynolds, panic setting in. “I just didn’t think anyone would get killed, that’s all.” His hands were sweating. “I want out, Ian. I don’t want anything more to do with it. I just want out.”

  Duncan laughed loudly. “There’s no way out Frank,” he said slowly, and deliberately. “Remember Frank, I still have those documents in my possession. You know the ones I’m talking about don’t you?” He moved closer to Reynolds, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll use those documents if I have to, make no mistake about that.” He squeezed Reynolds shoulder hard.

  “Ian, I don’t care. I really don’t care. I’ve had enough,” Reynolds said, as he pushed Duncan’s hand away. “I’m going to the authorities. I’m going to tell them everything.”

  “Stop panicking,” Duncan said. “You are talking nonsense, Frank. You know that you can’t do that.” He paused and took a drink. “Come on, Frank. We’ll get through this.” He finished his drink, and placed the glass on the table. “After all,” he said menacingly. “You don’t have any choice, do you?”

  Reynolds said nothing, but merely looked at the ground. He knew that Duncan was right.

  “Anyway Frank, what are we doing? Arguing like this,” Duncan continued. “I thought that we were friends.” Reynolds looked up quickly. His face was ashen.

  * * *

  Duncan had telephoned Reynolds a few days later. “Oh Frank, just forget all about that little outburst of mine the other day will you.” He could sense that Reynolds was still nervous, still unsure, still frightened. “I never meant anything. You know that.” Reynolds knew nothing of the sort, and said nothing. “Come on Frank,” Duncan continued. “You know that I didn’t mean anything. I was a little tired that’s all, overwrought, working too hard. I just have too much to do and not enough time to do it.”

  Reynolds was still hesitant, but he was beginning to relax a little. “Yes, sure,” he said. “I know the feeling.”

  “I knew that you’d understand, Frank,” said Duncan. Then there was a slight pause. “You want out, that’s absolutely fine. It’s not a problem.” There was another pause. “Besides it was an incredibly stupid idea anyway,” Duncan continued. “You said so yourself. It could never have worked. Not really.” Reynolds said nothing, but Duncan could sense the relief. “I’m instructing everyone to wrap it up, and forget the whole thing. I can’t imagine what I was thinking of. It was just plain dumb, and utterly ridiculous of me.”

  “You can say that again,” murmured Reynolds, barely audible.

  “It was just plain dumb, and utterly ridiculous of me,” Duncan repeated, and laughed.

  Reynolds recognized Duncan’s poor attempt at humor, and started to laugh as well.

  “Okay that’s out of the way. Let’s forget all about it shall we?” Duncan continued. “Now let’s talk about other things, much more important things.” Duncan laughed. “Now Frank what about this car of yours, the Bentley Roadster?”

  Reynolds laughed involuntarily. He had not expected that. He had raised this subject a number of times in the past with Duncan, trying to interest him in buying the car, but nothing had actually transpired before. It had always just fizzled out. “What about it?” he asked.

  “Well, I could be interested,” Duncan responded. “Who knows? If the price was right, that is.” He laughed again. “And not too expensive I hope. I’m a little short right now you know, especially since I’m no longer going to be immensely rich.”

  “Yes sure,” said Reynolds sarcastically. He was beginning to feel more relaxed now. “I’ve heard that one before though,” he said.

  “No, no, Frank,” Duncan protested. “I mean it, really. No fooling around.” He paused momentarily. Was this working, he wondered? He couldn’t be sure, but decided to continue. “Could we meet up this evening to discuss it? Say eight thirty, something like that.”

  Reynolds, now fully composed, and becoming more and more confident, agreed enthusiastically. What did he have to lose? That other matter was now safely out of the way and no longer a problem. He had nothing more to worry about, and he felt a lot better. He had nothing to lose, and maybe, quite a lot to gain. “Sure, Ian, eight thirty will be fine,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you. But it’ll be expensive, very expensive. I guarantee it.” He laughed. Duncan joined in.

  Phase one of Duncan’s plan was now completed.

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  Duncan Pays A Visit

  It had just started to rain as Duncan got into his car. It was just after seven in the evening, and it was beginning to get dark. He had given the chauffeur the evening off. There had been a mild protest. “No sir, let me drive you,” the chauffeur had said. “I’ve nothing to do this evening.”

  The last thing Duncan wanted on this particular evening was additional company. “Not necessary,” he had said. “Take the night off. Go see a show. Take your wife. I hear the one at the Majestic is pretty good.” He handed over a one hundred dollar bill. “On me,” he said. “Take it, it’ll be my treat. You deserve it.” The chauffeur protested once more. Duncan gave a wave of his hand. “Enjoy yourself.”

  Duncan had already made arrangements with the one man he did need that night. He was now on his way to meet him. He drove out from the underground car park of the apartment block, and turned left on to Universal Drive. At the bottom of the hill he turned right and continued to the next junction a short distance away. It was raining quite hard now. He turned to the left and almost immediately pulled into the car park of the shopping mall. Most of the shops were closed, and the area was almost deserted. On the far side there were two or three cars parked, with a few more generally scattered around. He slowed down, and glanced around.

  Then he saw what he was looking for in the far corner. It was a blue sedan. He flashed his headlights twice, and waited. Immediately there came a return flash of lights. Duncan slowly drove forward and parked next to the car. As he stopped the near-side door of the sedan opened. A man got out, closed the door, and walked over to where Duncan was waiting. He was carrying a small attaché case. As the man approached the car Duncan reached behind and opened the rear door. The man got in. Nothing was said. Duncan slowly reached into the glove compartment and took out a small package. He handed it across the seat to the man behind him.

  “Here’s your money Brady,” Duncan said quietly. “You know what
you have to do?”

  Brady knew exactly what he was to do. Both he and Duncan had discussed the project at length earlier that day. They had gone over every aspect in detail. He said nothing.

  “I’ll drive up to the house, and leave you in the car,” Duncan continued. “When it is clear you make your way into the garage.”

  Brady took hold of the package and placed it in his inside pocket. “The door will be open, right?” Brady asked.

  “Don’t worry about that”, Duncan replied. “As I told you, the door will be open, I guarantee it. Once inside, find somewhere to hide. Keep quiet, and stay there.”

  “I shall be leaving the house at about ten fifteen,” Duncan continued. “You be ready anytime after eleven fifteen. Do you understand?”

  Brady understood perfectly well. They had gone over the plan so many times. “No problem,” he said.

  “Good,” Duncan said. “Let’s get on then. Get down, and stretch out. Then place this blanket over you.” Duncan took a blanket from the front passenger seat, and passed it over to Brady. Brady lay down as instructed, and placed the blanket over him. In the semi darkness he could not be seen.

  “Ready?” Duncan asked. Brady made a muffled reply indicating that he was ready. Duncan switched on the engine. There was a loud clap of thunder followed by a flash of lightning. He looked around. There was no one in sight. He put the car into drive, and drove off.