by John Holt
Devaney sighed. Kendall was obviously determined. There was to be no stopping him. “Well you know what curiosity did to the cat don’t you?” he replied. Kendall smiled and nodded his head. “All right, I’ll get it for you.”
Devaney stood up. “I won’t be long.” He slowly walked over to the far side of the room, to where a long row of metal filing cabinets was situated. Devaney walked along the row until he reached the one that he wanted. He bent down, and opened a drawer. After a few moments he picked out a file, and closed the drawer. He looked over to Kendall, and held the file in the air. He then made his way back to his desk. He sat down, laid the file on the desk and opened it. He flicked through the papers, and finally took out a single sheet of light blue notepaper. He pushed it across the desk towards Kendall. “There you are,” he said. “Much good may it do you.”
Kendall picked up the sheet of paper. He looked at it closely. It seemed strangely familiar, and yet he knew that he had never seen it before. He could not think why it was so familiar. Imagination, he decided. That was all, just his imagination, nothing else. He immediately dismissed the thought from his mind, and started to read through the document. He didn’t exactly know what he was looking for, or what he had expected to see. Nothing stood out. It appeared to be genuine, at least as far as he could tell. There was nothing of any real significance. It had been written by hand, in capital letters. It was no work of art, but it was at least neat, and legible. As far as he could tell there were no spelling errors. All in all, there was nothing unusual, or unexpected. It was just an ordinary every day, run of the mill, signed confession note. Except of course you didn’t get confession notes every day of the week. He laid the document down on to the desk.
“So you had the proof then,” he said, as he looked up. “The proof that showed Charles Wheeler was, indeed, the thief. Did you ever find the rest of the jewels?”
“That is where things start to get really strange,” Devaney replied. “Yes it certainly looked like Wheeler was our man, but we suspected that Wheeler must have had an accomplice. He could not have carried out such an act on his own. In fact we found footprints. It had rained quite heavily that day, and the ground was quite muddy. Prints were found in the hallway, and in the library. But we could never identify anyone, and two days later he committed suicide,” he explained. “He left that note in which he made a full confession.” He pointed to the paper that lay on the desk in front of Kendall. “With the death of Wheeler the investigation went nowhere. We were stumped. Then a few weeks later Bradley told us that he had got the jewels back, and that the case should now be dropped.”
Kendall rubbed the side of his face. For a moment he wondered if he had actually heard correctly. “Drop the case. Why would he say that?” he asked.
“We didn’t know, and he never said,” replied Devaney.
“But surely getting the jewels back after Wheeler had died was proof that there was an accomplice,” suggested Kendall.
“I couldn’t agree more,” replied Devaney. “Anyway despite what he had told us, we continued our investigation for a little while longer. We got nowhere, so we closed the case, and filed everything away. After all Bradley had got his jewels back and Wheeler was the thief, end of story. That’s about all that I can tell you, except a few short weeks after the robbery Eve Bradley and Carl Simmonds were married.”
Kendall couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Certainly Wheeler’s part in the robbery had been discovered. But there must have been an accomplice. Otherwise all of the jewels would have been discovered in Wheeler’s room, and not just the earrings. There was someone else involved that was an absolute certainty, but who he wondered. Furthermore, it didn’t make any sense to just drop the case. No sense at all. He made a mental note to speak to Bradley about it.
“So the case was dropped, just like that,” Kendall said. “Over and done with, case closed.”
“That’s right, over and done with,” said Devaney. “Anyway now tell me what possible connection could there be in a robbery that occurred so long ago, and what we have today?”
“I’m not really too sure, just yet,” Kendall replied. “But as I said earlier, somehow I think that there could be a connection between that robbery, and Carl Simmonds’ disappearance, and kidnap, and now this murder.” He pointed towards the file. “Of course it could just be co-incidental as you suggest,” he continued. “But it could be something more.”
“It has to be co-incidence, pure and simple,” Devaney replied. “The case was solved within a short time, and the culprit discovered, and that’s that.” He looked at the pile of papers waiting for his attention. He really needed to get on. He looked back at Kendall. “The kidnapping, and Eve’s murder, are totally separate matters. They are nothing to do with that old robbery. Take my word for it.”
“Maybe,” said Kendall, sounding far from convinced. “But I just have some doubts so let’s agree to disagree shall we? Anyway, as you know I was already employed by her to investigate the disappearance, and alleged kidnap of her husband. It’s all getting a little involved and confused wouldn’t you say?” Devaney nodded in agreement. “So what can you tell me about the murder?”
“Well so far this has me beat,” replied Devaney. “There’s no sign of a break in, and there were two glasses on the coffee table. It looks as though she knew her killer.”
Well that narrowed the field down if nothing else. “Do you know who would benefit from her death,” Kendall asked. “The husband maybe?”
“Not so. Apparently he gets nothing more than his present allowance,” Devaney replied. “Apart from some small payments to her staff, and some donations to various charities, the bulk of her fortune goes to a nephew and a niece living somewhere in England.” He picked up the file, and opened it, and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “Here we are,” he said. “Her sister’s children, living in ..” He paused as he scanned further down the page. “Essex,” he announced. “A place called Witham, about forty miles north-east of London.”
Forty miles, or four hundred, it didn’t help. Or four thousand, what difference. Kendall sighed, and shook his head. One idea shattered. “Was anything stolen?” he asked hopefully.
“Nothing, as far as we can tell,” Devaney replied. “In fact lying on the cabinet, in plain sight, was a jewelry box, full to the brim. It hadn’t been touched.” Kendall sighed once again, as another idea bit the dust. “So she wasn’t killed in a robbery then,” he said. “So what happened?”
Devaney flipped the pages in the file back to the beginning. “Mrs. Simmonds was shot twice, at close range. Once in the back, the bullet penetrating her right lung, and the second bullet straight through the heart. The doctor is of the opinion that it was the second shot that killed her.” Devaney scanned further down the page. “Both shots came from a 38.”
Kendall looked up. It was the same type of bullet that had killed Wheeler four years previously. Another co-incidence? He really didn’t think so.
“You remember I told you about the ransom notes?” Kendall asked “I am sure that somehow that kidnapping, and this murder, are linked.”
“Well that certainly is a possibility, I suppose,” said Devaney. “Do you think she was killed because she refused to pay the random?”
“No I don’t,” replied Kendall. “She made the payment all right. I was there, I saw it. And besides usually if you don’t pay the ransom, the kidnapper will carry out their threat, whatever it was.”
“Yes you’re right,” said Devaney. He took a deep breath, and cleared his throat, and continued reading from the file. “There was no sign of a forced entry. She let the person in, whoever it was. Presumably she knew them.” He closed the file. “If she had been murdered by the kidnappers, then she must have known them, and I don’t go along with that.”
Kendall looked up at Devaney. She must have known them, he repeated under his breath. She must have known the kidnappers. He started to tap his fingers
together. Unlikely maybe, but it was certainly an idea. “Maybe she did know them,” he muttered to himself. “Maybe she did.”
Devaney looked at him, expectantly. “Go on,” he said. Kendall said nothing. “Well, are you going to share your thoughts with us or not?” he asked.
Kendall shook his head. “For the time being I think I’ll keep it to myself if you don’t mind,” he replied.
Devaney was disappointed. “Okay Kendall, have it your way, for the time being. But you keep us informed, do you hear?” Kendall smiled. “Do you understand Kendall?”
“Sure sure, I understand perfectly, don’t worry about it,” Kendall replied. “Incidentally would you mind if I had a look around the apartment.”
Devaney looked up from the desk. He was hesitant. He started to tap the top of the desk. Then he started to shake his head. “Well I don’t know about that, Kendall,” he replied. “It’s a little unusual you know.”
“Well she was my client, so I do have a vested interest,” Kendall replied. Devaney was still unsure. “Come on what harm could it do, especially if you were there as well?”
“Probably no harm at all,” Devaney replied reluctantly. “All right, you can come. I’ll be there tomorrow morning, at ten. Come along then if you must.”
“Thanks, I’ll be there,” replied Kendall. “Oh by the way, can I hang on to this for a while?” He held up the paper containing Wheeler’s confession.
Devaney didn’t like documents like that leaving the building. It was Kendall though, and the case was four years old. So what, four or forty, it was still against regulations, simple as that. It was more than his job was worth. “No can do,” he replied.
“It’ll be quite safe with me,” Kendall said helpfully.
“Why do you want it?” Devaney asked. “It can’t possibly have any connection with the alleged disappearance of Simmonds, or his kidnap, or this murder. So what’s the point?”
Kendall had to admit that Devaney was probably ninety-nine point nine percent right. But there was still that point one percent that was saying he might be wrong. There was something about that notepaper, something nagging at the back of his mind. He was sure that it was similar to the notepaper that the kidnappers had used for the ransom notes. Certainly such paper was probably quite common, and it was probably just co-incidental, but Kendall wasn’t one for co-incidence.
“You’re probably right, I know that,” he replied. “But I’m just curious, like the cat. I just need to check something out.” He looked at Devaney. “You’ll get it back, no problem.” He held his hand up. “Promise, Scouts honour.” He raised his right hand up to his forehead in mock salute.
Devaney shook his head. “You were never a scout,” he said.
“You’re wrong,” Kendall said. “I was a scout for all of two weeks. I left. I hated all of that outdoor camping.” He started to laugh. “In the rain and the snow, it wasn’t for me. I liked my comforts too much, and I missed mum’s cooking.” He paused for a moment, and looked at Devaney. “So what do you say?” he continued. “Can I borrow it?”
Devaney was still hesitant. He looked at the paper, and then he looked at Kendall. He took a deep breath, and shrugged his shoulders. It would probably be all right after all it wasn’t as though he had an immediate need for the paper. In fact he probably would never need it again, bearing in mind that the case was well and truly closed. “All right,” he replied, as he nodded his head. “But I want it back, so don’t lose it.”
“I’ll look after it with my life,” Kendall replied.
Devaney grunted. “Don’t you have something more valuable than that?”
“Funny, very funny,” replied Kendall. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, at ten at the apartment.” He stood up, and waved as he slowly walked towards the door.
“Don’t forget Kendall,” Devaney called out. “With your life, remember.” Kendall said nothing. “By the way,” Devaney called out once again. “You know the story about curiosity and the cat don’t you?”
Without looking around Kendall raised his hand and waved once again.
Chapter Fourteen
The Crime Scene
The following day, at the stroke of ten o’clock, Kendall arrived at the door to Eve Simmond’s apartment. At the doorway a young police officer stood guard. He was standing rigidly to attention, his eyes staring straight ahead. Probably his first real assignment, Kendall thought.
“Excuse me sir,” the officer said as Kendall approached. “I’m sorry but you can’t go in”.
Kendall looked at the young man, and smiled. “Detective Devaney is expecting me,” he said. “He’s inside isn’t he?”
“I’ll check sir,” the officer replied. “I’ll let him know that you are here.” He opened the door slightly and then suddenly remembered something. He stopped, and turned around to face Kendall. He took a deep breath. “Who should I say it is, sir?”
Kendall smiled. A rookie still wet behind the ears. Almost certainly his first case, definitely his first murder anyway. “Kendall’s the name,” he replied. “Tom Kendall.”
“Tom Kendall,” he repeated. Kendall nodded. The officer disappeared inside the apartment. A few moments later he returned. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir, you can go right in, Detective Devaney is in the lounge.”
Kendall thanked the officer, and entered into the apartment. As he had expected it was full of police officers, taking fingerprints, taking photographs. Searching for clues, for anything that might supply some answers as to what had happened. There close to the entrance door was the taped outline of where the body had been found. Close by were other tapes indicating spent cartridges.
Standing in the middle of the room was Devaney. He turned as Kendall came in. “Hi Kendall,” he called out. “Come to see the master at work have you?”
Kendall stifled a laugh. “Sure thing,” he called back. “Let me know when he gets here.”
Devaney smiled. “Kendall, look and learn,” he responded. “Look and learn.” Kendall said nothing and started to slowly walk around the room. “And don’t touch anything.”
Kendall raised his hand in acknowledgement, and started his examination of the apartment. Windows all closed, and there’s no obvious sign of a forced entry.
He walked back to the doorway of the lounge. “Hey Devaney you wouldn’t have a spare notepad, or a couple of sheets of notepaper would you?” he asked, as he poked his head around the door.
Devaney looked up and smiled. “Forgot yours did you?” Kendall nodded. “You just can’t manage without us can you?” Kendall started to laugh. “You’ll find some paper in that drawer over there,” Devaney continued, as he pointed towards the bureau in the corner of the lounge. “Take as much as you like. She won’t mind, not now.”
“Thanks,” Kendall called out, and made his way over to the bureau. He opened the top drawer. Inside was an open packet of light blue notepaper. He took three or four sheets, and closed the drawer. “Got it,” he called out to Devaney. He walked back into the lounge. “You said nothing had been taken. Is that correct?” he called out.
“Nothing taken as far as we can tell,” Devaney replied. “We are waiting for the maid to come in to see what she can tell us. She’s had a couple of days off, and comes back today.”
Kendall nodded. “Oh I see,” he replied. “Convenient.” Devaney looked puzzled. “For the murderer, I mean,” Kendall explained. “No witnesses.”
“Oh I see,” Devaney replied. He paused for a moment. “I’m not entirely sure that you’re right though,” he replied. “You see there were two witnesses.”
“Two,” repeated Kendall. “That sounds promising.”
Devaney shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Their statements are a little vague, and I’m not sure that they will get us very far in finding the murderer.”
“But they might help to prove something when you have a suspect,” suggested Kendall.
Devaney nodded. “Absolutely right,” he said.
He turned to his right and spoke to one of the police officers. “Have you finished here?” he asked.
The officer looked at him and nodded his head. “All done, and dusted,” he said. “There are no prints worth mentioning. I’ll try the bedroom, but I don’t hold out much hope.”
Suddenly there were two or three flashes behind him. “All finished, Sergeant,” the photographer said. “I’ll have a set of prints on your desk by late this afternoon.” He turned around and headed for the door.
Devaney watched him go. “Thanks Bob,” he called out. “Don’t forget Saturday will you?”
Dave held up his hand. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he said as he went out.
Devaney smiled. He hoped that he could get to the game as well, and wasn’t tied up on this case, as seemed quite likely. He walked over to Kendall. “So what do you think?” he said. “Doors and windows all closed. There’s no sign of a break in. Nothing taken as far as we know. No finger prints worth talking about, and no sign of a struggle.”
“And two whiskey glasses over on the table, both used,” Kendall added as he looked across at the table. “She knew her killer definitely.” He looked down at the outline of the body. “She let him, or her, in.”
“Unless he, or she, had a key,” suggested Devaney.
“As you say, unless he, or she, had a key,” said Kendall. “Maybe someone like Carl Simmonds, but of course he couldn’t be him though, he’s in New York somewhere, being held for ransom.”
Kendall looked over at the door, then down at the carpet. There were a number of scuff marks. “Muddy shoes,” he murmured. “From the size of the marks, a man’s shoe I would say.”
“Did you say something?” Devaney asked.
“No, not really, just thinking out loud,” Kendall replied. “Now, what about these witnesses?”
Devaney smiled. “Well they are both a bit vague,” he replied. “I’m not really sure that they know what they saw.” He pulled out his notepad and flipped through the pages. “Graham Whitmore,” he started to read. “He lives in the apartment just across the corridor. He got home last night at about twelve. He said that he heard raised voices. Two people were arguing.”