Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  When he had arrived at the building he had nothing, now it was almost too much. Somehow these two cases were related. Of that he was certain, but how he did not know. He needed to speak to everyone who had been at that room six weeks ago. The receptionist was unfortunately unable to help him. He remembered the Governor being there. I saw him arrive, he said. “I think Mr. Duncan was there. I’m certain that I saw him leave”, he said. “But I never saw anyone else. Sorry. Was it important?”

  Of course it was important, Kendall thought angrily. “I guess not,” he said. “Just curious, you know.”

  “Oh I’ve just remembered something,” said the receptionist excitedly. He started to laugh. “I don’t know how I managed to forget some things. Age I expect. The memory is not so good these days. It’s a curse getting old.”

  Kendall knew the feeling. About the memory that is, not about getting old. He waited patiently for a few moments, waiting for the receptionist to continue. In your own time, today would be good. “Yes, yes,” he prompted. “What did you remember?”

  “Senator Mackenzie,” he said. “He was here that day, with the others.”

  Kendall let out a low whistle. Senator Mackenzie, the front runner for the Presidency, that Senator Mackenzie. This was becoming more and more involved. He stood silently thinking for a moment. “One final question,” Kendall said. “What about the nineteenth the month before last? Can you tell me who was here then?”

  The receptionist didn’t need all of this. He turned to face his monitor. “The nineteenth,” he said, as he pressed a few keys on the keyboard. “Here we are,” he announced. “Two fifty, there was an Anthony Shaw, turned up.” He paused for a few moments. “He went up to Apartment 407.”

  “Was there anyone else in that room that day?”

  The receptionist pressed a few more keys. “Mr. Duncan. He was up there. He had arrived at about two thirty I think,” he said. “Yes, that’s right. Here it is. Two thirty.”

  “Mr. Duncan, but no Mr. Latimer,” said Kendall. “You’re sure of that? I mean you are sure that there is no Mr. Latimer?”

  “I told you, there is no Mr. Latimer.” He looked directly at Kendall. “It was definitely Mr. Duncan.”

  Kendall was still not entirely convinced. “Are you sure?” he asked once again. “Absolutely sure?”

  “Yes sir, I’m absolutely sure,” the receptionist replied, becoming slightly agitated. “I remember it very well. He gave me a red hot tip for the stock exchange. He said I should invest in Mid-Western Steel. They were at eighty-five cents. Then wait till after the weekend and then sell the lot.” He paused, staring straight ahead wistfully. “I couldn’t afford to take it up. Wouldn’t you know it, value shot up by almost three hundred per cent overnight, I could have made a small fortune.”

  Kendall knew the feeling. It was the story of his life. He’d seen it, done it, been there, got the tee shirt, and the DVD. “What can you tell me about this Mr. Duncan?” Kendall asked.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” said the receptionist, incredulously. “You’re putting me on. I mean we are talking about the Ian Duncan, the tycoon, the big industrialist? You do know who I mean don’t you?”

  Kendall had to admit that he wasn’t at all sure. “Yes sure, Duncan, Ian Duncan.” He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “And you say Duncan was here on the other occasion, six weeks ago?”

  “I just said so didn’t I?”

  Now there was another connection between the two murders, Ian Duncan. What connection was there between Anthony Shaw, the Governor, and the business mogul, Ian Duncan? And what about Senator Mackenzie? And where did Latimer Holdings fit in?

  Only a short while ago Kendall was a small time private detective investigating an insignificant murder with no clues, no witnesses, and no motive. In fact there was no nothing. Now he had so many pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know how they fitted together. He didn’t even know if they came from the same puzzle. There were so many questions. Was he getting out of his depth? “I’m not getting paid enough for this,” he said.

  “Sorry”, the receptionist said. “What was that?”

  “Nothing, skip it,” Kendall replied. “Thanks for your help. I may be back.” He turned and walked away. As he moved towards the exit he could hear that the sound had been turned back up on the television. He stopped and turned. Sure enough the receptionist was once again watching the screen.

  Kendall gave a cursory wave, and hurriedly left the building. The sunlight hit him, momentarily blinding him. He never saw the two men at the corner asking directions from a passer-by. But they saw him, and started to follow as he made his way up the hill towards his car.

  Kendall had to find out who had been at that room six weeks ago. He also wanted to check the Governor’s last movements. He didn’t know how he was going to do that. The police would be all over the place, but there just might just be a way, as he started to formulate a plan. There was to be a press conference the next day. Maybe he could be a reporter, and go along. Maybe he could keep an eye on the movements of the Governor’s staff. He didn’t know for sure, but he’d work on it.

  * * *

  Thirty-five minutes later he arrived back at his office. Mollie was already there waiting. As Kendall came into the room, she started to speak. “I found nothing, as expected” she announced triumphantly. “He doesn’t have a record of any kind. Not even a parking ticket, as I told you.”

  Kendall suddenly thought of the four tickets that he had received, which were, even now, sitting in his top drawer, waiting to be paid. “I knew it,” he said enthusiastically. “I knew that you wouldn’t find anything, knew it all the time.” He placed a box of chocolates on the desk in front of her. He quickly walked past her, towards the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee,” he called out. “Incidentally, I like the hazelnut clusters, or those strawberry ripple things.”

  Mollie watched as he walked away, and made a face at him, wrinkling her nose, and wriggling her fingers at him. She then looked down at the box lying on the desk, and recalled what he had just said. “How sweet and thoughtful he is, to buy himself a big box of chocolates, and then offer me some.”

  She hurriedly opened the box. Her fingers hovered for a few seconds, over a hazelnut cluster. She was sorely tempted, but she just couldn’t do it. Eventually she decided upon a Turkish delight, quickly followed by a truffle.

  Five minutes later he returned with the coffee. He took the cups over to his desk, and sat down. There, waiting for him, sitting on a paper napkin were two nut clusters, and two strawberry ripples. He picked one up and popped it into his mouth. “Incidentally would you like to go to the game on Saturday?”

  Mollie was busily chewing on a coffee cream. She wasn’t really interested in the game, but she knew that she would go anywhere with Kendall. She quickly finished the chocolate. “Yes, yes, yes,” she called back delighted. That’s settled then. Kendall picked up the second of the nut clusters. “These are really very good, you know,” he said. “I should buy you chocolates more often.”

  Kendall then told Mollie everything that he had discovered, so that she could make the notes for the file. It didn’t take long.

  The telephone suddenly rang. He lunged for the receiver, and picked it up. “Kendall’s Detective Agency,” he said, as he looked over at Mollie. “How can I help you?”

  “Kendall,” the voice on the other end said. “You’ve been a busy man today haven’t you, asking a lot of questions, here, there and everywhere, quite the little busy bee in fact.” There was a pause. “You should take it easy, you know. Learn to relax more. You are overdoing things,” the voice continued. “Too much stress. It could be harmful to your health, if you know what I mean.” Kendall knew precisely what was meant. “You should take more care of yourself.” There was another pause. Kendall said nothing, debating whether or not he should just hang up. Suddenly the voice came back on the line. “Keep away from the Shaw case, Kendall, for your own good.” There was another pause
, longer this time. “For your secretary’s own good too. Understand.” The phone went dead.

  * * *

  Chapter 19

  Mayor Martin Berry

  Senator John Mackenzie sat back in his chair, and gently rubbed his eyes. He tried to stifle a yawn. He failed. He wasn’t really tired though, just a little weary. There was a slight pain at the base of his neck, and a headache was beginning to form. He had been overdoing it that was all. He leaned forward and opened the side drawer of his desk. He reached in and withdrew a packet of Tylenol, and opened it. There was one tablet left. He made a mental note, to tell Martha to buy some more. Get her to check the first aid supplies in general. He placed the tablet into his mouth, and washed it down with some water. He leaned his head back once again, and closed his eyes.

  Ever since the meeting at the Veterans Hall, it had been non-stop activity, and it had been hard going. Meeting after meeting; speech after speech; and function after function. A taste of what was to come. There were constant newspaper interviews, television, radio, and press conferences. All thanks to Duncan. As usual it was he who had planned everything. It was Duncan who decided who he saw, and who he didn’t see. Where he went and where he didn’t go. What he did and what he didn’t do. When to breathe in and when to breathe out, it was all down to Duncan.

  It seemed that everyone wanted to see him. Everyone wanted part of him, to be in on the act so to speak, to be around him. People who had never bothered with him previously now suddenly couldn’t get enough of him. Of course it was all very necessary, there was no doubting that. It was absolutely essential, especially if he really wanted that job. And he really wanted that job, wanted it more than anything else in the world.

  He looked across the room at the clock on the mantle. It had just gone three twenty five. Not bad. He was a little ahead of his schedule. He might just manage to squeeze in a little time off, a little over an hour maybe. He laughed. He had no further appointments until after five. Hardly long enough for a break by the sea, but a breather at the very least. He put his head down, and placed his hands on the back of his neck, and started to gently massage. That felt better, the pain was going away, and the headache had subsided. He put his hands down, and laid his head back. He then started to slowly rotate it from side to side. After a few minutes he stopped, and sat forward. He felt much better.

  He looked down at his desk. Lying in front of him was a number of typewritten pages. It was the speech that he was going to give later that evening, at his old University. He had been invited to come along by the Debating Society. He was looking forward to it. He hadn’t been back to the college for more years than he cared to remember. There had been many reunions over the years, but nobody had ever bothered to tell him about them before.

  Now suddenly it was strangely different. Now, a special debate had been arranged for the evening, and he was to be the lead speaker. The theme of the debate was Education Standards, should they be raised? His speech gave the case for raising the standards. His basic concept was that you could never be over educated. Education was everything. The higher the standard of education, the better everything else became. Of course he knew that there would be a price to pay for raising those standards.

  There was always a price to be paid. Nothing ever came free. Duncan had taught him that. Everything, and everyone, had a price. You just needed to find out what that price was. Similarly everything, and everyone, had a value. The secret was not to pay a price that was higher than that value. Naturally, you had to first decide on what that value was.

  He picked up the bundle of papers and started to read them through once again. He suddenly stopped and looked up. He wondered how you actually determined value. What criteria did you use? What was valuable to one person could be totally worthless to someone else. He wondered what his value was. A few short years ago it was zero. Now, who knows? What am I worth now? What was the going rate for a President in waiting? He wondered if Duncan considered that he was getting good value for his money, or had he paid too high a price. Had he got a bargain, or had he made a loss. He had no idea. Time will tell.

  He returned to reading the document. Every so often he would stop and make handwritten corrections as he went along. As he reached the end of the document, he smiled. It was good. In fact it was very good. He was well pleased. “That should go down very well.”

  He had to admit it he was quite good with words. That was the one thing he was good at back at College. No false modesty. What was that saying? Self-praise is no praise at all. True, but then on the other hand there was that other saying, “credit where it’s due.” He started to laugh. He then picked up the papers and bundled them neatly together. Altogether there were a dozen or so amendments to be made. There was nothing major, just some slight adjustments. A little fine-tuning, that was all. He would give the document to Martha, his secretary, for correcting later on. It wouldn’t take her too long.

  As he laid the papers down, the intercom buzzer sounded. It was Martha. “Mayor Berry is here to see you, sir,” she announced.

  Mackenzie frowned. Berry? What did he want? He wasn’t expected, was he? He didn’t have an appointment, did he? He glanced over at the wall calendar. There was no reference to him. In fact there were no entries at all, except for the one that evening. He flipped the pages of his diary. No, there was no mention of him there either. He started to tap the desk. He didn’t think much of Martin Berry. In fact he didn’t like him at all. He considered him to be devious, and not to be trusted. He was a first class opportunist, always trying to ingratiate himself especially with Duncan, and Reynolds.

  “Send him straight in Martha. Oh, and send in some coffee,” he instructed. “Oh, and Martha, one more thing, if Mr. Berry is still here call me in about thirty minutes, will you? You know the usual routine. Don’t forget you have an appointment; you really must go soon, that kind of thing. You know what to do.” Martha knew exactly what was required. He flipped the off switch.

  A few moments later there was a tap on the door, and then it opened. Martha put her head around the door. “Mayor Berry, sir,” she said.

  “Don’t forget,” Mackenzie silently mouthed the message to her. She gave a single nod, she would not forget. She then stepped to one side, and Martin Berry swept into the room.

  “John, it’s so good to see you,” he said, as he quickly moved forward, his hand outstretched.

  “Martha,” Mackenzie called out. “Just a moment, please.” She came back into the room. He held a bundle of papers high in the air. “Could you correct these for me?” he asked. “There’s not too much. About a dozen items altogether.” She took hold of the papers, and quickly left the room.

  Mackenzie watched her until the door had closed behind her. He then turned to face his visitor, and grasped the offered hand. “Hi Martin, sorry about that,” he said looking towards the door. Berry said nothing, but merely nodded. “It’s good to see you. What a pleasant surprise. Come and sit down, over here,” he said pointing to a chair. “What can I do for you?”

  Berry walked over to the seat that had been indicated, and sat down. He glanced around. “Nice office, John,” he said. “And one that befits the next President of this great country of ours.”

  “I’m so glad that you like it Martin,” Mackenzie responded. “But I thought you had been here before. Is that not correct?”

  Berry shuffled in his chair, and made himself a little more comfortable. “Oh yes, sure, I’ve been before. Once or twice,” he replied. “That was long ago, John. But it’s different now. I mean, now that you are, well you know.” He slowly looked all around. “You’ve changed everything. Curtains, carpets, decorations, everything is different. It looks great.”

  “So Martin is this a social call or is there something I can do for you?”

  Berry looked up. “Oh it’s a social call,” he replied. “I hope that you don’t mind.”

  Of course I mind, Mackenzie thought, biting his tongue. “Why of course not, why s
hould I mind?” he replied. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Martin. You know that.”

  “Why thanks, John, that’s very much appreciated,” Berry said. “I was just in the neighborhood, that’s all. I had a few people to see, and I thought that I would drop in, and see how things were with you.”

  Just happened to be in the neighborhood, just thought I would drop in. Later on I just happen to be abseiling down the face of the Empire State Building, and then I just happen to be swimming over to Ellis Island.

  Mackenzie knew what Berry just happened to be doing. Just happened to be spying that was nearer the truth. “And you just happened to think of me,” Mackenzie responded. “That’s really extremely nice of you Martin. Really nice, what can I say?”

  Berry never noticed the sarcasm in Mackenzie’s reply, or he chose to ignore it. “So you are on your way John, I mean really on your way. Next stop the White House, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. The campaign trail is now well and truly underway I guess. How is it going?”

  “Oh, you know,” Mackenzie replied simply. “It’s going fine.”

  “I just came to offer my help, in any way at all,” Berry continued. “If there is anything I can do, do not hesitate – you just have to call. Folding leaflets, or sticking stamps on envelopes. I’m your man.” He started to laugh. “Martin Berry is the name. I’m in the book.”

  Mackenzie faked a smile. “Thanks Martin, that is very much appreciated,” he replied. “But I couldn’t possibly impose on you. I mean you are already a very busy man. Maidstone County needs you. I doubt that you could be spared.” He glanced at his watch. Barely five minutes had elapsed.

  “No, No, I insist,” Berry responded. Yes he certainly was a busy man. There was no doubt about that, important too. No question. And Maidstone County certainly did need him. That was certain. Nonetheless he could spare some time for the next President. “Especially for a friend,” he laughed. “A friend who was going to be our next President.”