Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  “Five minutes,” Kendall repeated in a whisper, nodding his head. He slowly walked into the room, and over to the opposite side. In the corner there was a coffee machine, and he casually helped himself. On the wall close by was a large notice board. On the board were a series of photographs. On the left hand side were a number of people who had been reported as missing. On the right hand side were six or seven people who were wanted by the police. Kendall wondered if the two groups had ever got mixed up. He smiled mischievously.

  He started to read the notices. “Michael Donovan, aged eighteen,” he read. “Missing since January 26th. Barbara Adams, aged fourteen.” He paused and shook his head. “Fourteen,” he repeated. “Her parents must be frantic with worry.” Where would a fourteen year old go? Had she just left home? An argument with her parents maybe. Or had someone taken her away against her will? There were some pretty nasty people around that was certain.

  He continued to look along the row of photographs. “Peter Williams,” he read. “Aged forty-seven, missing since 2004.” Kendall shook his head. “Eight years,” he whispered. How can people just disappear? To go missing just like that; vanished without a trace. No contact. Not a word, unless they had actually planned to disappear. To change their name, and their identity. To go away somewhere and start a new life. It was perfectly possible. Even so, someone must know where they were. Someone must have seen them, spoken to them. Shopkeepers, bus drivers, neighbors, people they work with, someone. Kendall looked down at the floor. Maybe one of them had been among the crowd he had seen at the beach the other day. Perhaps he had actually passed one of them. They might have been out there swimming in the ocean, or on one of those yachts.

  “They might have been among the crowd that had gathered around me,” he murmured. “Maybe one of them was the guy who accused me of being drunk.” He would never have known, would he?

  During his time with the NYPD Kendall had had more than his fair share of cases involving missing persons. He knew that most of them ended happily with the person being found alive and well, and being reunited with family and friends. But he also knew that many cases ended tragically. He looked at the photographs once again, and wondered how they would end. He then took out his notepad, and started to make some notes. He made a mental note to ask Devaney for copies of those photographs, and the full details. You never know, he thought.

  Kendall turned away from the board, and looked over to the far corner. Devaney was still deep in conversation. A third person had now joined the group. Kendall shook his head. “Five minutes,” he murmured. “I don’t think so, somehow.” He looked back at the notice board. He slowly drank his coffee. It was typical machine made coffee. It was one thing that both the Miami, and the New York, buildings had in common, the dreadful taste of the coffee. It was lukewarm, and tasted bitter. There was never enough sugar, he thought, and the coffee was always far too strong, almost like syrup. Even worse, if that were possible, there were no chocolate biscuits. How anyone could drink coffee without a chocolate biscuit he could not imagine.

  Kendall returned his attention to the notice board. “John Drake, wanted for armed robbery,” he read. Not the kind of person he would want to meet on a dark night. In fact, in truth, he would not have wanted to meet Mr. John Drake anywhere, at any time of the day.

  Slowly Kendall looked along the line of photographs. He idly wondered if his two bogus police officers would be amongst them. “Matthew Brody,” he whispered, as he studied the next photograph. He certainly had the look of a prize-fighter, or a wrestler, about him. “Aged forty-two, wanted for assault with a deadly weapon.” Kendall shook his head. This wasn’t one of his visitors. This one was too old, and he had dark hair. He quickly scanned the remainder of the photographs. Satisfied that his two men were not there, he turned away from the notice board. He might just mention them to Devaney, he might know something about them.

  Kendall looked over at the corner once again. Two others had now joined in the conversation. This could go on all day, Kendall thought. What were they discussing? What was so important? Probably the office outing, a day trip to Disney World maybe or Universal Studios perhaps.

  Kendall looked at his watch. It was already three-thirty. Time was going by, and quickly. How much longer could he hang around? “I’ll give it another fifteen minutes, and then I’ll have to go. He quickly finished his coffee, and threw the plastic cup into a nearby wastebasket. He looked over at Devaney once again. Devaney saw him this time. He shrugged his shoulders, and waved. Kendall waved back and continued to casually walk around the room.

  Although a number of people looked up as he passed by, no one bothered him. No one challenged him. No one queried who he was or why he was there. Strange, he thought. I could be planning all kinds of things, and no one appears the least bit concerned. He carried on slowing making his way around the room. A few minutes later he was standing next to the Department’s trophy cupboard. Inside were sporting trophies and medals that had been awarded to members of the Department over the years.

  Kendall looked along the top row. “Ten Pin Bowling Champion 2002, Detective Second Class Terry Devaney.” Kendall smiled, and nodded. Next to the trophy was another, although much smaller. He strained to read what was engraved. “Runner-up 2002, Detective John Rogers.” He looked along the next row. There was a small group of medals and then a large shield. Apparently they had all been presented to Sergeant O’Hagan for boxing. Kendall was struggling to read the various dates when he suddenly heard his name being called. He turned around and saw Devaney beckoning him over. Somehow he could not imagine Devaney as a Ten Pin bowling champion, or indeed any other kind of Champion. He started to laugh. Of course that trophy was a few years old, and he had probably been a lot slimmer and a lot fitter then. Suddenly thoughts of his own sporting prowess, or lack of it, came into his mind. The laughing ceased abruptly, and the smile quickly disappeared from his face. What was that saying about the pot calling the kettle black, he murmured, as he slowly made his way over to Devaney’s desk.

  “Hi Kendall, sorry about the delay,” Devaney said as Kendall drew near. “Have a seat.” Kendall sat down. “Would you like a coffee?” Kendall shook his head. He did not need another one from that machine. One was more than enough, he thought. In fact, one was too much. “Okay. You don’t mind if I do,” he said, as he poured himself one from a shiny stainless steel flask that was sitting on his desk. “Ah that’s better,” he said as he took a drink. “That’s what I call real coffee, not like that machine rubbish you get over there.” He pointed in the direction of the machine. He took another drink. “Now what can I do for you?”

  Kendall smiled and reached into his inside pocket. “It’s more what I can do for you,” he said as he withdrew an envelope and handed it to Devaney. “A little present for you,” he said. “I hope that you like it. I went to a lot of trouble to get it for you.”

  Devaney took hold of the envelope and carefully opened it. He reached inside and took out two documents and laid them on the desk in front of him. He stared at them for a few moments. Then he started to read them, slowly.

  “I’ve got him, Kendall. I’ve really got him this time,” he said, as he clenched his fist, and punched it into the air. “Yes sir,” he cried out loudly. “I’ve got him. Yes. Yes. Yes. Thanks to you.” He carefully placed the documents back inside the envelope, and then placed the envelope inside the top drawer of his desk. He locked the drawer and placed the key inside his jacket. “I owe you Kendall,” he said. “Big time.”

  “It’s been a real pleasure, Devaney,” Kendall replied. “It’s always a great privilege to work with the elite, the experts. Florida’s finest.” Devaney started to laugh, and waved a fist at him. Kendall smiled. “No, no, I mean it. I really mean it.”

  “All right, Kendall,” Devaney said. “What is it? What do you want?”

  Kendall looked down at the desk. “There you are Terry, that proves it. You know you are far too smart for me. I couldn’t pull t
he wool over your eyes could I?” he said. “You can see right through me, just like an open book.”

  “Kendall!” Devaney said. “Get on with it.”

  Kendall nodded. “Right, I’ll tell you,” he replied quickly. “What do you know about Eve Simmonds?”

  “You know, Kendall, I thought there was an ulterior motive for this visit,” said Devaney. “Something that you wanted, I just knew it.” He paused for a moment. He put his hand up to his mouth and started to shake his head. “Now how do you suppose I knew that?”

  Kendall smiled back, and shook his head. “Oh I don’t really know,” he replied. “I imagine that it’s because you are such a great detective possibly.”

  “Yes, right,” Devaney replied. “If I was such a great detective I would have seen this coming, and given orders to keep you out.”

  Kendall started to laugh. “Oh you’re good all right,” he said. “But you’re not that good. Besides as you said just now, you owe me.” He pointed to the top drawer of Devaney’s desk. “Big Time, I seem to remember.”

  Devaney shrugged his shoulders, and started to laugh. “Right, Kendall, right you are,” he replied. “I owe you. I hadn’t forgotten.” He gently patted his pocket, where he had placed the key. “Now what was that question again?”

  Now it was Kendall’s turn to laugh. “I was asking about Eve Simmonds. I was wondering what you knew about her, if anything.”

  Devaney put his hands together, and thought for a moment, “Eve Simmonds,” he repeated slowly. “Eve Bradley that used to be before she married. Wealthy father, very wealthy in fact. He is into transportation; railroads, shipping, road haulage, that kind of thing. He has a huge place just outside of town, a big old rambling mansion, Rutland Hall.” He paused and shook his head. “She married a no good about four years ago. Carl Simmonds, a drifter, a small time hoodlum,” he continued. “He has a criminal record as long as your arm. Petty stuff mainly, but a lot of it. His first entry was when he was just fourteen years old. He, and two others, broke into a drugstore. They got away with fifty dollars. He received a twelve months suspended sentence. There then followed a whole string of offences. Car thefts, break-ins, minor assaults and so on. You name it, he did it. A villain if ever there was one.” Devaney started to rub the side of his face. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “How she ever got involved with him I’ll never know. Everyone warned her about him. Her friends, they all knew what he was like. They tried to persuade her, but to no avail. She wouldn’t hear of it. They were jealous. That’s what she said.” Devaney started to laugh. “Jealous? Of what?” He paused once again for a moment.

  “Her father tried to stop her, to talk her out of it. He even threatened to cut her out of his will. But she just went ahead and married him anyway. She knew best, or at least she thought she did. Besides she was old enough. She didn’t need anyone’s permission. That was that. There was no more to be said. Why do you ask?”

  Kendall started to gently rub his chin. He was hesitant, unsure. The instructions had been quite clear. No police involvement. He wasn’t sure how much to tell Devaney. How much was safe?

  “Eve Simmonds came to see me recently,” Kendall replied. “I’ve been asked to find her husband, the so called drifter, Carl Simmonds. He was due to go to Chicago a few days ago, allegedly on business. He never arrived. No one seems to know where he is.”

  The detective started to laugh. “So he’s gone missing. Again, who cares? It happens quite frequently. This makes the third, or fourth time.” He paused for a few moments and started to count on his fingers. “Yes, four times that I know about. That guy is always disappearing. If you ask me he’s got something going somewhere.” Devaney started to shake his head. “She should look on the bright side, and be glad that he’s gone. That’s what I say.”

  Kendall smiled but shook his head. “You’re wrong Devaney,” he said. “It’s different this time.” Devaney looked up and laughed again. “No I mean it,” Kendall insisted. “It is different.”

  “How different?” Devaney asked simply.

  Kendall started to rub his chin once again. How much more could he say? Could he in fact tell Devaney anything more? As long as I don’t actually ask for police help, I should be all right, he reasoned. “It looks like he may have been kidnapped,” Kendall explained. “Mrs. Simmonds believes that he is being held for ransom, somewhere against his will”.

  The detective stopped laughing. “What makes her think that?” he asked.

  Kendall slowly looked around, and then moved closer towards Devaney. “She has received a number of letters. Ransom demands. You know the sort of thing. If you want to see your husband alive again, bring the money to such and such a place, on such and such a date. The money is to be in used notes in low denominations. It all looks pretty genuine to me.”

  The detective shook his head in disbelief. “Well how come she never told us anything about that? How come she hasn’t reported it, and asked for our assistance? She never said a word, why not?”

  “Think about it Devaney,” Kendall said. “You already know the answer to that one. She wouldn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything. You know that. The kidnapper had given her specific instructions not to involve the police; any indication of police involvement, then all bets are off, and he dies. It’s as simple as that.”

  Devaney didn’t like it one bit, but it didn’t surprise him. He had to admit that Kendall was absolutely right. He had known all along. It was the standard language used by kidnappers. It was quite usual to put the frighteners on by making threats should the police be involved. It made their life a little bit easier. “Okay Kendall,” he said wearily. “So what’s our plan? What do you want us to do?”

  Kendall shook his head. “Our plan, did you say?” he replied. “Oh no, no way, you keep well away from it Devaney. I don’t want you to do anything. I don’t want you anywhere near. I don’t want you involved in the slightest. Just leave it to me.” Kendall looked at Devaney and waited for a response. Devaney shrugged his shoulders, and nodded his agreement. “That’s the way she wants it, and that’s the way she’s going to have it.” Kendall paused and looked at Devaney once more. “Understood?”

  Devaney was far from happy. He did not like this situation at all, but he knew that he had very little choice. Correction, he knew that he had no choice. “Understood,” he repeated reluctantly. He looked at Kendall, and smiled. “All right. So what’s your plan?”

  Kendall smiled. “Plan?” he repeated. “That’s simple. She pays the ransom, and he’s released. That’s the plan.” He stopped for a moment, staring into the far corner. He suddenly nodded and turned back to face Devaney. “But I’ll be there, at the pay off. I’ll be watching and I’ll be waiting.”

  If Devaney had been impressed at the so-called plan, he never actually showed it. “All right Kendall, we’ll keep away. For the time being that is. You just be careful Kendall. And you keep me advised. Agreed?”

  Kendall nodded. “Agreed,” he replied. He knew that sooner or later the police would have to be involved, but for the time being they would keep out. However, Kendall also knew that when the time came, and he needed their help, the police would be there. “Thanks Devaney, I’ll be careful, don’t you worry. And I keep you advised.” He took a deep breath. “Now there’s one last thing you might be able to help me with,” he said.

  Devaney looked at the envelope that Kendall had given him. He was anxious to speak with Mr. Alan Clark, very anxious indeed. He looked at Kendall, and sighed once again. He really would have preferred to get on with his work, but he was mindful of the fact that Kendall had been a great help, and he really did owe him. “What is it this time?” he asked.

  “Do you know anything about a certain Frank Russell?” Kendall asked. “Anything at all.”

  Devaney started to smile. “Frank Russell,” he repeated. “Your secretary asked the same thing this morning. I’ll tell you what I said to her then.” Devaney reached across the desk and picked up a note
pad. He flipped through the pages. “Here we are,” he announced. “Frank Lionel Russell.” He read through the notes quietly, and smiled. “Just like Carl Simmonds, Russell is a small time crook. He has done time in prison, quite a lot of time in fact. Robbery, you know small scale stuff, car theft, nothing major. Been going straight for about four years now, we think.” Devaney closed his notepad. “That’s about it.”

  Kendall nodded, as he made some notes in his notepad. It was almost exactly as he had imagined. “Thanks Devaney,” he said. “That confirms my thoughts exactly.”

  “All right, Kendall now it’s your turn to answer some of my questions,” Devaney said. He looked at Kendall and smiled. “What is this all about? Firstly you ask about Eve Bradley. Then Carl Simmonds, and now Frank Russell. Is he connected with the kidnapping? Is that it? Come on Kendall. Spell it out.”

  Kendall shook his head. “Truthfully Devaney, I don’t know what it’s all about, not yet. Eve Simmonds wants me to find her husband. Then I get a call from Frank Russell, he apparently works for Simmonds. He wants to see me.” He paused and shook his head once again. “And that’s about it. I’m as wise as you are. But as soon as I know something, I’ll let you know.”

  Devaney just knew that there was more to it than that. A lot more, but he decided that he would leave it there, for the time being. “Be sure that you do, Kendall,” he said. “Don’t you forget.”

  Kendall nodded and stood up. “I won’t,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you.” He turned around and walked towards the doorway.

  Devaney smiled, and reached across his desk for the telephone. He dialed an internal number. It was answered on the second ring. “Harry,” he said. “Pick up Clark. Bring him in, now.” He replaced the receiver, and looked towards the exit doors. Kendall was standing at the doorway looking at him. He waved. Kendall waved back, and quickly left the office.

  * * *

  As soon as Kendall left the building he realized that he hadn’t asked Devaney about his two visitors, the two bogus policemen. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting. It was all to do with age he imagined. Not that he was old, far from it. Getting senile, though, he murmured. Early perhaps, but the signs were all there. Certainly his memory was quite poor. It had never really been good, but just lately it was dreadful. Maybe the exercise regime would help his concentration. Mollie had said that it would, he certainly hoped so. He needed all the help that he could get in that respect.