by John Holt
Mackenzie really didn’t know anything, he was sure of that. “Mr. Kendall, I really am sorry, but I can’t help you. I know no more about the death of Frank than you or anyone else can read in the newspaper,” he replied. “In fact possibly even less.” He leaned across the table and picked up the coffee pot. “More coffee?” he asked.
Then without waiting for an answer he poured out two cups, and pushed one towards Kendall. He took a drink, and thought for a few moments, carefully considering what he was going to say next. “There is one thing, however. I do not for one moment accept this ridiculous idea of an intruder loose in the garage.”
“That’s odd, Senator,” said Kendall pleasantly surprised. “I don’t buy that one either. What’s your reason?”
The Senator laughed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kendall, I didn’t mean to laugh. It is hardly a laughing matter, is it? It’s anything but.” He stopped and looked across at the opposite wall. Kendall followed his gaze. He was staring at a photograph of himself, and the Governor. They were standing next to a large fish being weighed. Suddenly Mackenzie was aware that Kendall had stood up and walked across the room to the photograph.
“We were on a fishing trip when that was taken,” Mackenzie said casually. “Down in Florida. It was about eighteen months ago, I think.” He paused, thinking. “Yes, it was eighteen months. It was down on the Keys, Key West to be precise. Do you know it Mr. Kendall? It’s beautiful down there.”
No, Kendall had never been down that far. Disney World, and the Kennedy Space Center, that was about it. Oh, and Sea World, of course. He looked back at the photograph. It certainly looked inviting. He turned to face Mackenzie, and walked back to his seat.
Mackenzie looked away from the photograph. “You know Mr. Kendall, Frank was not, what you might call, the bravest of men. In fact he was quite the opposite.” He looked back at the photograph once more. “He was nervous the whole of that trip. In fact he was nervous from the very beginning. He was frightened of falling overboard, frightened of alligators, frightened of sharks. You name it. He didn’t like the water. Not one bit. He didn’t like being in the boat. He hated it. He felt seasick the whole time. And as for the fishing, he couldn’t stand it. He never relaxed the entire four days that we were away. Funny how such a powerful man could be so nervous.”
Kendall was beginning to wonder if there was any actual point to this story. He was also conscious of his time slipping by.
Mackenzie could sense Kendall’s impatience growing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kendall. I didn’t mean to ramble on like that,” he said. “Do you know I think he only went on that trip because Ian told him to go.”
Kendall’s interest was suddenly re-kindled. “Ian, did you say?” he asked. “Would that be Ian Duncan? Was he on the trip as well?”
“Certainly he was on the trip. He organized it, Mr. Kendall,” Mackenzie replied. “He took that photograph,” pointing back to the wall. “The whole thing was entirely his idea. Start to finish. Frank could never refuse Ian.” A brief pause then he added hesitantly, “but then neither could I.” He looked up at Kendall. “So you see Mr. Kendall, despite the trappings of power, and the air of authority, I can be weak also.”
“You were saying about Governor Reynolds,” Kendall prompted.
“Poor Frank, such a weak man,” Mackenzie continued. “He wouldn’t do anything without Ian’s agreement. You know I think Frank would have stopped breathing, if Ian had told him to.”
Kendall stared at Mackenzie. He was beginning to put two and two together, and he thought that he was coming up with an answer. What he didn’t know was whether it was the correct answer, or not. “Senator,” he said gently. “You were saying about the intruder.”
“That’s right, Mr. Kendall, so I was,” he replied. “Mr. Kendall, quite simply there was no intruder that night. If there had been there is absolutely no way that Frank would have gone out to investigate alone. Why should he?” Mackenzie picked up his coffee, and drank it. He then returned the cup on to the table. “No Mr. Kendall, if there had been any kind of disturbance that night, Frank would almost certainly have contacted Security. It would have been the easiest thing in the World to do. All he had to do was pick up the telephone. There was even a direct line straight to the Gatehouse.”
Mackenzie looked back across at the photograph. He then turned back to face Kendall. “Ed would have been there in no time. Or, of course, he could have sent Jarvis to investigate.” He stared back at the photograph. He then turned to face Kendall once more. “I hope that is of some help to you, Mr. Kendall, although I’m not sure how.”
Kendall wasn’t sure how helpful it had been either. There was one thing he was sure of, however. What Mackenzie had said certainly raised more questions than it answered. It did, of course, agree with his own thoughts regarding the alleged intruder. He looked at the photograph once again. He then turned his face away, back to business. “Senator, did you know that Ian Duncan was at the Governor’s house that night, the night that Governor Reynolds died.”
Mackenzie was stunned, his face suddenly ashen. “Ian Duncan was there?” he stammered. “No I didn’t know that. I wonder what that was all about?”
“You seem surprised,” said Kendall.
Mackenzie looked up. “I am a little,” he replied. “Duncan had told me that he was staying home that night, in case I needed to get in touch with him. I had an important press conference to prepare for, Ian was helping me. He had told me just to call him anytime.” Mackenzie looked puzzled. “I wonder why he had gone to see Frank?”
“It was something to do with a car, I understand,” Kendall responded. “Apparently Duncan was interested in buying it.”
“Not that old Bentley,” Mackenzie said. “The famous 1926 Bentley Roadster Coupe.” He laughed. “Did you know that there are only ten, or twenty, or some such number, left in the entire world?”
“So I believe,” Kendall replied. “I understand that Mr. Duncan had agreed to buy it, that very evening.”
Mackenzie looked puzzled for a moment. “Mr. Kendall, I am sorry to be the one to tell you, but you have been badly misinformed I’m afraid,” he said, trying not to laugh once again. “There is no way that Duncan would buy that car. No way at all. Frank wanted far too much money for it for a start. Not only that, but Ian really wasn’t interested in vintage cars. Now if you were talking about a Ferrari, or a Maserati then that would be entirely different, but the Bentley, not a chance.”
“That’s not my understanding, Senator,” Kendall replied.
“Mr. Kendall. I do not know why Ian was at Frank’s house that night,” Mackenzie said. “However, it was not to buy that car, of that you may be absolutely certain.”
Kendall looked puzzled. “Senator, you must be mistaken. I’ve been told that a deal was actually struck that night, a price agreed, and that the papers were to be drawn up the following day.”
“Mr. Kendall, take my word for it,” Mackenzie said. “Your information is incorrect. Possibly, it is a lie. Whether this is deliberate, or merely a mistake, I am unsure. I have my suspicions though. Who actually told you this information?”
Kendall was beginning to feel that his adding up had suddenly become a little more complex. Either he was missing a few figures, or there were one or two too many, he couldn’t be sure. Somebody was attempting to throw him off the track, to mislead him. He couldn’t decide who. Was it Duncan, or was it Mackenzie? One of them wasn’t being entirely honest. One of them was trying very hard to confuse him. It was working.
“Mr. Duncan, himself,” he replied. “He told me.”
Once again Mackenzie tried not to laugh. “Mr. Kendall,” he said. “Why am I not surprised by your answer? I somehow knew you were going to say that.”
Kendall was now more confused than ever. His arithmetic was now totally and completely in tatters. Mackenzie’s comments were accusatory almost, but was he accusing Duncan, or was he trying to divert the blame away from himself? What did he know that he wasn�
�t saying? Did he actually know anything? Was this all a deliberate attempt to cover up something? Was it worthwhile comment, or merely a smoke screen? Kendall didn’t know. “Why would you say that, Senator?” He asked.
“Oh I don’t really know, Mr. Kendall,” Mackenzie replied. “Just a feeling I suppose.”
Kendall wasn’t convinced. It was more than that, much more. Senators didn’t have feelings, at least not those kind. “Senator, how long had you known the Governor?” he asked.
Mackenzie was surprised. He hadn’t expected the type of questioning to change in such a way. “Oh, I’ve known Frank for, now let me see,” he replied hesitantly. “It’s quite a few years now. Since he first entered politics I would say. Almost twenty years now, I think. No, it’s nearer twenty-two. Let me see.” He thought for a moment or two. “Yes, that’s about right, twenty-two years. Another four months and it would have been twenty-three. I still can’t believe that he is dead.”
“Why did you make that comment earlier, about Duncan?” Kendall asked suddenly, changing the subject once again, and throwing Mackenzie off guard.
“Comment?” Mackenzie looked puzzled, and then realization dawned. “About knowing what you were going to say, you mean? “I told you, it’s just a feeling, that’s all, nothing more than that.”
“I don’t accept that answer, Senator,” Kendall retorted quickly. “It’s more than just a feeling isn’t it?” But before Mackenzie could say anything, Kendall spoke again. “You don’t trust Mr. Duncan do you? Not entirely that is.”
Mackenzie said nothing for a moment or two. He merely looked directly at Kendall. He was trying to decide how far he could go. How far could he trust Kendall? How far should he trust Kendall?
“Mr. Kendall I have known Ian Duncan for a considerable length of time,” he eventually said. “I first met him during my college days which were far too long ago to remember. It doesn’t matter anyway. When my college days finished we lost contact. We were never really what you would call friends, you understand. Ian was a couple of years ahead of me. We were both part of the Debating Society that’s all. As I said, we lost contact. There was no reason for us to be in touch, anyway. We had nothing in common. Years went by. But then shortly after I entered the Presidential race I received a letter from him. Just out of the blue, a complete and utter surprise.”
He paused for a moment. “Strangely enough I’ve never thought of that before. I wonder why? But it certainly was very odd, to suddenly hear from him after so many years.” Mackenzie paused once again, and looked at Kendall. “Do I trust Duncan?” he said. “Certainly I trust Duncan,” he announced. Kendall was not expecting that. “I trust him to do practically anything to satisfy his own needs, his requirements, his desires, his greed. I trust Duncan to take full advantage of anyone, whenever, and wherever, if it suited his purposes. I trust Duncan to have no regard for anyone, other than himself.” He hesitated slightly, wondering if he had said too much. He probably had. It didn’t matter, not now.
“Mr. Kendall, I have never really trusted Duncan. Not even during our days at college.” He paused once again, unsure as to whether or not he should proceed further. “I always thought that Duncan needed to be watched. He uses people you see. For his own ends. When he tires of them he drops them, like hot coals. When he no longer requires you, he casts you aside. When you are no longer of any value, he disposes of you, utterly and completely. Utterly ruthless.” He stopped for a moment, and then continued slowly in a hushed voice. “So completely, it’s as though you had never ever existed.”
Kendall was beginning to build up a picture of Duncan, and it was no work of art. “You still haven’t answered my question, Senator. Why did it not surprise you when I said that it was Duncan who had told me about the car?”
Mackenzie looked down at the floor, and took a deep breath. He then looked up. “Mr. Kendall, when Frank died,” he looked down at his hands, and shook his head. “When Frank was murdered, I immediately thought that Duncan was somehow involved. I don’t know how, but that’s what I thought.”
“Go on,” Kendall prompted gently. “I’m listening.”
Mackenzie looked up. “I told myself over and over, that I was wrong, that I must be mistaken. There was no way that Duncan could be involved. Not in something like that, it just wasn’t possible.” He paused, and looked away, back at the photograph of the fishing trip.
“And were you wrong, Senator?” Kendall asked.
Mackenzie remained silent for a few moments, still staring at the photograph. He then turned to face Kendall. There was a wry smile on his face. “You know, Mr. Kendall,” he said slowly. “I was kind of hoping that you would be able to tell me the answer to that question.”
Kendall looked at the Senator for a brief moment. He then looked over at the photograph. “I believe, Senator, that we both know the answer.” He paused for a few moments. “I don’t think you were mistaken. Not for a second. And neither do you.” He paused once again, and turned back to face Mackenzie. “But I can’t prove it.” There was another pause, longer this time. “Not yet anyway.”
Mackenzie said nothing. He stood up and walked over to his bureau. He unlocked the drawer, and took out a buff colored folder. He looked at the file for a few moments, and then turned to look at Kendall. He started to return the file to the drawer. He stopped suddenly, hesitant, unsure. He looked back at Kendall. He turned, the file still in his hand, and started to walk back to where Kendall was waiting.
“Mr. Kendall,” he said. “In many ways Frank Reynolds was a very naïve man. Some would say that he was a stupid man.” Mackenzie paused, and looked at the photograph of the fishing trip once again. “Perhaps he was, although I don’t happen to think that. Whether he was, or was not, he certainly did not deserve to die.” He held out his hand containing the file. “I have been keeping a dossier on Duncan’s activities, going back to our time at college. I call it the Mackenzie Dossier. I don’t exactly know why I started it, but there it is.” Once again he glanced at the photograph. He then turned back to face Kendall. “I’m not exactly sure how, Mr. Kendall, but this may be helpful to you. I certainly hope so anyway.” He handed the document to Kendall.
* * *
After Kendall left, Mackenzie continued to sit at his desk. The light began to fade. Still he sat there. He looked across at the photograph once again. How he had hated that trip, hated every minute of it. He looked away. It had been Duncan’s idea, and he had insisted that he, and Frank, had gone along. There was to be no argument. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Duncan made all of the decisions. And you just went along with him, whether you wanted to or not. Why couldn’t he just say no? Just for once. Why could he not stand up to Duncan? Why couldn’t he simply refuse, just for a change?
Because I didn’t have the guts, he murmured.
It was now beginning to get quite dark. He switched on the desk lamp. He opened the top drawer of the desk, and took out a cream notepad. He then tore off the top sheet and started to write. He addressed the note to Terence Connor, Campaign Manager.
“Dear Terry,” he began. “For personal reasons I have decided to withdraw from the Presidential race. With immediate effect I should no longer be considered as a Candidate. My thanks go to you, and your staff, for all of their hard work, on my behalf. I apologize for the inconvenience, and disappointment, that I know this will cause.”
He stopped writing, and slowly read through what he had written. Then he continued. “All of my declared votes are to be given to ….”
He suddenly stopped writing, and laid down his pen. He looked back at the photograph. He then turned back to the desk, and looked down at the notepaper. He hit the desk hard with his clenched fist. He picked up the notepaper. Carefully he tore it in half. He then turned the paper around, and then tore it once again. He then screwed the pieces up in his hand, into a tight ball. He couldn’t do it, Duncan wouldn’t like it would he?
Once again he turned to look at the photograph. Tears star
ted to roll down his cheek. His breathing became shallow, and he started to shake. “I didn’t have the guts then,” he said in a whisper. “I don’t have the guts now.”
He threw the paper into the wastebasket.
* * *
Chapter 28
Going For A Little Ride
Kendall certainly had a lot to think about. That meeting with Mackenzie had certainly raised a few points. Nothing had actually been resolved of course, as usual. Nothing ever got straightened out. No more than he was beginning to expect. There was only more and more confusion, more unanswered questions. And more and more pieces to the puzzle.
One of them was lying, that was certain. One of them was deliberately attempting to mislead him. Was it Duncan, or was it the Senator? It was one or the other, but which one? What had it all to do with Anthony Shaw anyway?
Why didn’t he have the actual puzzle box? You know the one that had the picture of the completed puzzle on the front? With that picture, he would at least know how the pieces fitted together, even though there were still several pieces missing. He would know what the answer looked like, even though he might not fully understand it. Without that picture he was still floundering in the dark. He had no idea how the pieces fitted together. He had no idea of how many pieces he still needed to find. He was only guessing. Why he wasn’t even sure that the pieces that he had did fit together. Indeed, did they all come from the same puzzle anyway?
Then there was that document Mackenzie had given him, now safely locked away in a luggage locker at the station. He didn’t know whether or not it was important. It was probably nothing, just another smokescreen, more confusion.
Another visit to Duncan was called for. Let’s see what he has to say about Mackenzie’s comments. Kendall debated whether or not to ring for an appointment, or should he just call, unannounced as it were, a surprise visit. Catch him off guard, unprepared.
He stood up, and put on his jacket. He would go right now, this very minute. He started towards the door. Then he suddenly stopped. And what happens if he’s not there, and he’s out on business? What happens if his lackeys stop me from going in? Then what?