Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  “That way he could just stop, anytime he chose,” said Mrs. Shaw. “Is that right, Mr. Kendall?”

  “That’s absolutely right,” Kendall replied. “And, more importantly, he could start up again when it suited his purpose. The main point is that he had a strong hold over Reynolds. It comes back to his obsession with power, and control.”

  “I get your point, Mr. Kendall,” Shaw said. He pushed the document back towards Kendall. Then he looked up and continued. “So much for the blackmail,” he said. “But why did Duncan want to buy all of that land in Rosemont anyway?” he asked. “I mean what was his purpose?”

  Kendall remained silent for a moment or two, thinking hard. “That’s a difficult one, Mr. Shaw. To be honest I don’t really know the answer. Who knows the mind of people like Duncan? Certainly it was to do with money, a huge amount of money. But it wasn’t as simple as that.” He paused, and took another drink. “The money was only secondary, really. Duncan was already a wealthy man. A very wealthy man, so he didn’t need the money. No it wasn’t just about money. It was also to do with greed, and it was to do with power. But it was more than that, much more. It was to do with control, absolute control. It was about exerting his will over others. To get them to do whatever he wanted them to do, and to do it, without question, whenever he wanted.” He paused for a moment. “To follow his instructions, even if they really didn’t want to do it.” He paused once again. “But exactly what he had in mind, I’m not completely sure.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, Mr. Kendall” Mrs. Shaw said. “He was already richer than you or I will ever be. And yet he still wasn’t satisfied, so much so that he would resort to illegal means.” She looked down at the desk, and then quietly added, “Even murder.”

  “You are perfectly right, Mrs. Shaw,” Kendall replied. “Strangely enough Duncan had made huge amounts of money conducting legitimate businesses, all perfectly legal, and all above board. But it just wasn’t enough. For people like Duncan it’s difficult to know what figure would have been enough. Probably there was no appropriate figure. Maybe there could never be enough.”

  He picked up another chocolate cookie and started to eat it. “Duncan always bought things cheaply, later to sell them at a much higher price. Even from his days at school. He must have had some kind of a plan. He was going to buy the land cheaply, although at a fair price. True to form, he would use bullying techniques. Then, with the help of his friend the Governor, he expected that the plans would be passed without question, allowing major development of the land, thereby increasing the value ten-fold, maybe higher.”

  “So he would be immensely rich,” said Shaw. “Richer I mean.”

  “That’s right,” said Kendall. “But the main point was not the money. It was the control. Control over people like Reynolds, and Mackenzie, two extremely powerful men, in their own right, both of whom were completely and utterly under his control that was the main point.”

  “Why Rosemont?” asked Mrs. Shaw.

  “That stumped me for a while,” replied Kendall. Then I received some documents from Senator Mackenzie. Included was an old newspaper cutting. It concerned a tragic road accident in which two people had died more than forty years ago. The two people were Duncan’s parents. The accident happened in Rosemont. Duncan lived there as a child. A young man had pulled out from a side street, right in front of them. Their car swerved, and crashed into a wall. The car burst into flames. The people inside died instantly. The young man didn’t know a thing about it. He was apparently worse the wear for drink. He just carried on driving, completely oblivious. The authorities decided that no one was actually to blame, and that it had just been a dreadful accident. Duncan could never accept that, and he held a grudge on the community from that moment on.”

  “His plan could never have worked though, surely?” said Shaw.

  Kendall hesitated for a moment. “Could it have worked? No, of course it couldn’t have worked. It could never have worked.” He paused once again. “You have to remember one other thing about Duncan. During his lifetime he had got away with many of his schemes, his bullying tactics at school; the share fraud; and many, many others. Duncan considered himself to be invincible. Whatever he had wanted he had always got. Whatever he planned he knew that it would succeed. In his mind there was never any doubt about that. Whether or not he would have been successful, we’ll never know. He certainly thought it would work. And that was all that mattered.

  “Things started to go wrong with the death of your brother Anthony. Then the threats began; the barn fire, the car crash, and the almost fatal heart attack. Frank Reynolds, the Governor, did not want to be involved in anything like that. Reynolds was weak, but he certainly was not stupid. He knew that Duncan’s plan would not work, could not work. In fact the plan could never work. There was no way to get a change to the zoning put through in the way that Duncan envisaged. But he also knew that Duncan was stubborn. He was a man who would not take no for an answer. A man who once had an idea would not give up, would not let go. As soon as the threats started in Rosemont, Reynolds knew where it would eventually lead. He wanted nothing more to do with the scheme. He wanted out. He threatened to tell the whole story. But of course Duncan could not allow that, so the Governor had to be killed.”

  “But without Reynolds, Duncan’s plan could not proceed, could it. Had no hope of proceeding,” said Shaw. “Duncan needed Reynolds to push the Bill through didn’t he?

  Kendall looked at Shaw. “You are absolutely correct,” he said. “There was no guarantee that the plan would work at all. But without Reynolds it had no chance of success.”

  “So why kill him?” Shaw asked.

  “The answer to that question is a little complex,” Kendall replied. “Firstly you have to remember that Duncan hated the thought of actually needing anybody. It wasn’t in his nature, his make-up. He needed no one. He hadn’t needed anyone since he was fourteen, when his parents had been killed. At least he would never admit to needing anybody. That would have been a sign of weakness. The second thing is that he demanded absolute loyalty, absolute obedience. When he said do something, you did it. He couldn’t handle anything less. When Reynolds refused to do something, he had to be eliminated. After all he wasn’t needed was he? Not in Duncan’s eyes that is. And besides he could always be replaced.”

  “But he couldn’t be replaced could he,” said Shaw. “Not just like that. The plan was just unworkable.”

  “That’s right,” said Kendall. “But Duncan would never admit that. He would never accept such a thing. He had always gotten what he wanted in the past, without question. This was not going to be any different, or so he believed.”

  “One thing puzzles me,” Shaw said. “We know how the murderer got on to the grounds of the Governor’s house, in Duncan’s car. How did he get away? I mean how did he get out of the grounds without being noticed?”

  “I wondered about that for a long time,” Kendall replied. “He could perhaps have climbed over the boundary wall. That would have been difficult, and risky. The wall is very high, with barbed wire at the top. On top of that the place was littered with security cameras. He would have been seen without a doubt.”

  “So he didn’t climb the wall,” Shaw commented. “So how did he get out?”

  “Simple,” Kendall replied. “He just walked out the following day.”

  Shaw looked puzzled. “I don’t understand, Mr. Kendall,” he said. “How could he just walk out? He would have been stopped at the gate.”

  “That had me mystified for a long while,” Kendall said. “It was Duncan himself who gave me the clue, although it never registered with me at the time. The details were later filled in by Ed, the security guard.”

  He paused, and started to look through his notes. “Here we are. It seems that on the day after the murder, a large delivery was expected. It had apparently been arranged some weeks before. There was to a major function a day or two later. A business conference or something, I’m not exactl
y sure. It had actually been Duncan’s idea. Several local businessmen had been invited, along with the local Chamber of Commerce. A large marquee was to be erected, a stage set up, lighting, sound system, you name it. Dozens of work people turned up, some of them in company vans that drove in. Others simply arrived on foot. There was a lot of comings and goings. Security was, shall we say, a little lax.”

  Kendall stopped for a moment. Lax, he thought. It was non-existent. He looked up. “Following the discovery of Governor Reynolds body, things changed dramatically of course. The planned event was scrapped, and everything was cancelled. The delivery people were all sent away. Brady, suitably dressed in overalls, merely walked out through the barrier, as though he were one of them.”

  “That’s unbelievable, Mr. Kendall,” said Shaw. He then fell silent for a few moments. He looked over at his mother. “But why was my brother killed?” he asked. “That still mystifies me. He didn’t know anything. He was no kind of a risk. So why did he have to die?”

  Kendall looked over at Mrs. Shaw. “Maybe your son did know something, but we’ll never know now,” he replied. “One thing though, he certainly did present a risk to somebody like Duncan. A minor risk perhaps, but a risk nonetheless. After all he could connect Duncan to Rosemont. In Duncan’s view that was a danger he could not allow. Unlike the Governor, or Brady, Duncan had no hold over your brother. In other words he had no control over him. Duncan did not like that. It made him vulnerable.” He stopped and looked directly at Shaw. “No, sadly your brother had to be eliminated.”

  Shaw looked up and turned to face his mother. “Yes, I can see that now, Mr. Kendall, thank you,” he responded. He fell silent for a few moments before asking his next question. “You mentioned some papers that you had received from Senator Mackenzie.” Kendall nodded. “How did he fit in to all of this?”

  “The plain truth is that he didn’t fit in, not at all,” Kendall replied. “He was just taken along with the tide. Duncan was financing Mackenzie’s Presidential campaign, and Mackenzie was more than happy to just go along with that.” He paused, looking down at the papers on the desk. “Then Frank Reynolds was murdered. Almost straight away Mackenzie thought that Duncan was somehow involved, although he didn’t know how. He became frightened for his own safety, and started a dossier in which he entered details of everything he knew about Duncan. It was to be his insurance policy.”

  “Why did he give it to you, Mr. Kendall, and not the Police?” Shaw asked.

  “I met up with the Senator, during the investigation,” Kendall responded. “During our meeting my suspicions regarding Duncan were made perfectly clear. Up until then Mackenzie only had a feeling about Duncan, nothing more. My suspicions confirmed those feelings. It was then that he gave me the document. I can tell you that it makes very interesting reading.”

  “I wonder if Mackenzie would have made President,” Shaw said. “I guess we’ll never know will we?”

  Kendall shook his head. “No we never will.”

  “One last question Mr. Kendall,” Shaw continued. “Who was Latimer?”

  “For a while I thought it was just the name of a company, with no real significance,” Kendall replied. “It turns out that Latimer was the maiden name of Duncan’s mother, Emma Latimer.”

  Shaw looked at his mother, and then looked back at Kendall. “We would like to thank you for everything,” he said. “Oh, I mustn’t forget this.” He reached inside his pocket and took out an envelope. “Mr. Kendall, here is your check. Twenty five thousand dollars as agreed.”

  Kendall gently pushed Shaw’s hand, which was holding the envelope, away. “Mr. Shaw, you keep it. I’ve already been well compensated by Duncan himself.”

  Shaw looked surprised, puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he said. He held out his hand once more offering the envelope. “Please take it, you’ve earned it.”

  “Please Mr. Shaw, put it back inside your jacket,” Kendall insisted. “I really don’t need it. You keep the money. After all, it’s little enough to pay for the life of your brother.”

  Kendall stood up, and taking Mrs. Shaw by the arm he gently led her to the door. She looked up at him, and smiled. He could see the tears forming. He kissed her gently on the cheek. Shaw stopped, and turned to face Kendall. “Thank you, Mr. Kendall, thank you for everything,” he said. “What are your plans now?”

  Kendall glanced around his office. Then he looked back at Shaw. “Mollie and I are going to make a fresh start in Florida. Maybe I’ll set up that swanky office that I have always wanted.” He paused for a few moments, day dreaming, staring into the distance. “Who knows what the future holds.”

  “We both wish you well in whatever you do, Mr. Kendall,” Shaw said, as he then turned and followed his mother out of the office.

  Chapter 32

  Florida Here I Come

  Kendall closed the door after them and walked back to his desk. He sat down, and pulled the brown folder towards him. He opened it, and flicked through the pages. When he had found the page he wanted he slowly read it for a few moments. Then he started to write something down. When he had finished he looked down at the page. He was satisfied. He leaned forward and wrote two more words – Case Closed. He underlined the words, and closed the folder.

  He stood up and looked around the office, once again. He looked over to what had been Mollie’s desk. It was empty, apart from the abandoned typewriter. We won’t need that again, he thought. He had decided that the new office would be modern, twenty-first century; there would be a computer, perhaps two. Probably have a CD writer as well. “Whatever that was,” he murmured. “And an inkjet printer, and a DVD burner.”

  He had already decided that along with a new image, he would also be encompassing the Internet, to get on-line. There would be a web site, and an email address. He would get one of those cell-phones as well. “One for Mollie too,” he murmured. He looked across at the empty bookshelves. The old musty books had finally been disposed of, to the place where all old musty books should go. He would not need them, he had decided.

  He remembered the display cabinet in Duncan’s office. What was it? Walnut, or was it oak? He couldn’t remember, but he could still see the fancy ornaments and vases. That’s what he was going to have. Perhaps he would have both, walnut and oak. And some of those oil paintings as well, but not old ones like Duncan had. He would get some new ones.

  He turned his gaze to the filing cabinets, now also completely empty. The files had all been sent on to his new address. Those files were all going to be digitally scanned, enhanced, and restored. They would then be electronically stored on disc. Kendall didn’t have a clue what that all meant, but he was determined to find out. He and Mollie would be going to night school. “Computers for the Petrified”, was a twelve week introductory course. Shouldn’t be too difficult, he murmured. Once he had mastered that, he would then tackle the more advanced courses. Word processing, spreadsheets, databases, and, what was the other one? He couldn’t remember. No matter, the other three were enough to start with.

  He looked back down on to his own desk. He picked up the envelope. “That takes care of the outstanding rent plus a small bonus.” In the past few days Kendall had mailed checks to pay the electric bill, the telephone, repairs on the old car, and a dozen or so others. He had even paid off the outstanding parking fines. He was pleased with himself. He was in the clear. No more debts. He looked at the envelope once again. He carefully placed it back on to the desk, propped up against the telephone, for Larry to find.

  He had telephoned earlier in the day, but Larry wasn’t available. He had left a message with the secretary. “Tell Larry that I’ll be moving out today,” he had told her. “I’ll leave the money on the desk.” She noted the message, and said that she would inform Mr. Burns as soon as she saw him, but she did not expect him to return that day. She assured Kendall that she would tell him first thing in the morning. She wished him well for the future, and hung up.

  Kendall continued to sit fo
r a few moments longer, his hands stretched out across the desk. He was going to miss all of this. Was he doing the right thing? “Too late now,” he said. “I’ve made my bed. Now I have to lie on it.”

  He picked up the folder, and stood up. “PowerPoint,” he suddenly announced. “That was it, the other item he couldn’t remember, PowerPoint.”

  He walked back to the window and looked out. He noticed that the traffic had eased. The accident, or whatever it was, must have been cleared. He looked down at the corner, to where his car was parked. There it was gleaming in all of its glory, a brand new Mercedes, a SL Class Roadster, scarlet red in color. He had taken delivery of it three days ago.

  Three of the local teenagers were leaning up against it. They were constantly doing that. He knew that they weren’t doing any real harm, but it was still annoying. “They better not scratch the paintwork.” He opened the window ready to call down to them. At that moment they looked up and saw him. They waved, and then ran off. Kendall turned away. “I certainly won’t miss them,” he said. “Not one little bit.”

  Deep down he knew that was not true. In a funny sort of way he knew that he certainly would miss them.

  He looked around the office. He knew that he would miss this as well. Yes he would miss it all, but with a promise of a new life, maybe he wouldn’t miss it too badly. He started to laugh. He walked over to the doorway, and then stopped. He turned around, and took one last look behind him. He turned off the lights, and then he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him for the last time.

  As he closed the door he saw the sign emblazoned on the glass pane. “Tom Kendall, Private Detective.” Slowly he rubbed his hand gently over the words. He had actually wanted the word Investigator, not Detective. “Tom Kendall, Private Investigator, that’s what it should read,” he had said.