by John Holt
Kendall nodded. “Child’s fantasy, maybe, perhaps she never mentioned it,” he replied. “But I’m still puzzled.” He paused for a few moments. “You just agreed that it was your blanket. I wonder if you can say how the blanket actually finished up on the driveway?”
Mary looked at him, and thought for a few moments. “I don’t really know, sir,” she said. “I suppose it must have just fallen from the seat when I got out of the car.”
“Oh did you get out of the car,” Kendall asked surprised. “Why was that?”
Mary looked puzzled once again. “I don’t really remember,” she replied. “But I must have got out I think. Maybe I was going to look under the hood, try to see what was wrong. Or more likely I was going to go to the gatehouse and get Dave to help me.”
Kendall shook his head. “Dave never said anything about you asking for help that night.”
“Well maybe I never went to see Dave. Maybe I changed my mind, and I just took a look under the hood,” Mary replied. “I’m really not sure now.”
“Maybe so,” replied Kendall. “Even so I still can’t understand how the blanket landed on the driveway. You would have got out of the car on your side of the car. There would have been no reason for you to open the passenger door.”
It was now her turn to shake her head. “But I did open the passenger side door, I remember now. I wanted something from the glove compartment,” she replied. “So I opened the door and reached across. I must have knocked the blanket down.”
“Well I suppose that could have happened. It’s a little unlikely, but just possible.” He paused for a moment looking at her. Then he suddenly shook his head. “No, that can’t be right,” he said. “You see the blanket was not on the passenger seat when you returned. Dave never saw it. So where was it? And how did it finish up on the driveway? You see the problem.” She said nothing. “And then there’s another little point that baffles me.”
She looked at him. “Yes, what is it?” she asked.
Kendall shrugged. “It’s something that doesn’t seem to add up. Try as I may I just can’t get it to work out,” he said. “The blanket was actually found on the edge of the driveway, close to the woods. Correct?”
“That’s what you said,” Mary agreed.
“Well you see that makes no sense. If the blanket had been on the passenger seat, and it fell out as you reached for something in the glove compartment, then it would have fallen out on the other side of the car, away from the woods.”
She shook her head, and looked puzzled. “I don’t follow you, Mr. Kendall,” she said.
Kendall started to laugh. “It’s really quite simple,” he said. “You see from the information that I have been given, your car was parked with the driver’s side closest to the woods.” She looked at him, but said nothing. “Believe me,” he continued. “I’ve checked the area, and driving from the gatehouse, towards the garages, that is exactly the way that I parked, with the driver’s side nearest the woods, and the passenger’s side onto the roadside.”
She shook her head once again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I still don’t see your point.”
Kendall nodded, and looked towards Mollie. Then he turned back to face Mary. “It confirms what I said earlier,” he explained. “That is if the blanket had been on the passenger’s seat, then it would have fallen out onto the roadside, and not the woods.”
She thought for a few moments, and then nodded. “I see,” she announced. “Yes I understand perfectly now that you have explained it. I must have moved the blanket to the back seat, that’s all.” She shrugged her shoulders, and smiled at Mollie. “Simple really.”
“Well that is certainly possible,” said Kendall. “The question then is, why? Why would you move it?” She said nothing. “The other question of course, is did you in fact move it? There is also another little problem.”
“Yes,” Mary replied simply.
Kendall smiled. “We are back to the beginning,” he said. “If it was on the back seat, how did it end up on the driveway?” Once again she made no reply. Kendall made a quick note in his pad.
He suddenly looked up. “You said earlier that you weren’t feeling well that night, and that you went to bed with a hot toddy.” Mary said nothing but merely nodded her head. “And yet you were well enough to go out earlier to see Mister, what was it.” He quickly glanced through his pad. “Ah here we are. Mister Jack Warner.”
Mary shook her head and started to smile. “Oh there’s no problem, sir,” she said. “I was feeling all right earlier that evening. It was only later that I began to feel ill, much later. I think I was a little upset after the argument, you know.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Kendall said, as he continued to write in his pad for a few moments. He suddenly looked up. “That will do for now,” he said. “It was really very good of you to come in like this.” He held out his hand and took Mary’s arm, and gently led her to the door. “Thank you very much for your help, it really was much appreciated, and extremely helpful.”
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jerry’s Bar
Two days later Kendall paid a visit to Jerry’s bar. As he entered into the bar a voice called out loudly. “Read the sign. We’re closed. Come back later.”
Kendall smiled. He looked at the sign. Closed, that’s what it said all right. There was no mistake. No error. It was crystal clear. He looked over to where the voice had come from. He saw someone busy wiping down the tables. “Are you Jerry?” he asked.
The man stopped what he was doing and looked up. “I’m Jerry,” he replied. “But we’re still closed, and you should still come back later.” He went back to work and moved on to the next table.
Kendall was not put off easily. He walked slowly into the room. It was larger than he had imagined. From the outside he was expecting something quite small, and cramped. This was altogether different, it was spacious, and comfortable looking. To one side was a large, obviously well stocked, bar that stretched halfway along the wall. At the rear and to the other side were a number of small intimate dimly lit booths. Across the middle of the room were a number of small tables. Kendall could hear noises from someone stocking the shelves behind the bar. From the far end of the room came the noise of someone vacuuming the plush carpet. Kendall looked across the room, and saw that it was a young woman.
Jerry moved on to the next table. As he did so he looked up and saw Kendall coming towards him. “Are you still here? Exactly what don’t you understand with we’re closed?” he asked angrily. Kendall said nothing but continued walking towards him. Jerry shook his head. “Do you have a problem with your hearing, or maybe you just don’t understand English?” he said. Kendall smiled once again. “I told you we were closed.” Kendall kept on. “Okay, that’s enough,” Jerry yelled. He took off his apron and placed it on the adjacent table. “Out,” he called menacingly. He then started to walk towards Kendall. “Come on,” he said waving his arms threateningly. “Outside.” Kendall did not budge. “Now, I said,” Jerry called loudly. “Out, now, or do I need to call the police?”
Kendall shook his head. “That won’t be necessary,” he said. He reached inside his pocket and took out his old police badge. He opened the case and held it out in front of him. “I’m a detective,” he continued. “I wonder if I could just ask you a few questions.” As Jerry drew nearer he glanced up at the displayed badge. Kendall quickly closed the case, lowered his arm, and returned the badge into his inside pocket.
Jerry looked puzzled. “Was that an NYPD badge I just saw?” he asked.
Kendall shook his head. “NYPD? Of course not.” He made a mental note to speak to Devaney. Perhaps he could get hold of a Miami badge. He shook his head once again. He did not feel particularly confident, but he’d give it a try in any case.
“All of these badges look the same. No imagination,” he explained. “Now about those questions,” he continued. “I hope that you can help me.”
Jerry was far
from anxious to answer a lot of foolish questions. He had a lot to do between now and opening time, and he was short of staff. Tony was on holiday for another four days, and now Malcolm had got some bug or other. He would be off for weeks no doubt. Leonard, the other barman, wasn’t expected in for another hour or two. Now he had to put up with this guy playing twenty questions, and no prize at the end. “I can spare you five minutes, and no more,” he said wearily. “So what is it? What do you want to know?”
Kendall walked up to the table where Jerry was standing. He looked down at the chair. “Can we sit down?” he asked.
Jerry looked at the chair, and then looked back at his unwelcome visitor. He gave a deep sigh, and without a word, he sat down.
Kendall shrugged and then did the same. For a second or two he wondered if he might order a drink. After all it was a bar. Bars served drinks. A scotch and soda would go down real well, he thought. All right, forget the soda. He looked at Jerry for a moment or two. The words “We’re closed” suddenly flashed into his mind. He decided to forget the drink. “I’m investigating the murder of Eve Simmonds,” he said. “Maybe you can help me.”
Jerry shook his head. “I very much doubt it,” he replied. “I never heard of her.”
Kendall nodded his head. “No that’s right, you hadn’t had you,” he replied. “But you have heard of her maid, Mary Dwyer, haven’t you?”
Jerry looked up surprised. “Mary, Mary Dwyer,” he repeated, and started to smile. “Sure I know her, but I haven’t seen her for a long time now.” He paused, staring at the floor, thinking back, trying to remember.
“What was she like?” Kendall asked.
“Mary,” Jerry repeated. “Mary Dwyer. Oh she was okay.” He started to smile. “A really nice person, she was quiet, and very shy. Came from Ireland you know.” Kendall nodded, he knew. “She used to come here every week, on a Tuesday afternoon, regular as clockwork, with six or seven of her friends. She’d come in at about two, and stay until about five, or six.”
“How were they?” Kendall asked. “I mean their behavior?”
“Oh they were okay as far as I can recall.” He stopped for a moment thinking back. “Of course they weren’t exactly teenagers you know. They were in their mid twenties. A little more grown up I suppose. I never had any trouble with them.”
“Six or seven of them you say?” Kendall asked. Jerry nodded. “Did Mary have a special friend amongst them?”
Jerry started to laugh. “I guess you must mean her boyfriend, Jack,” he replied.
“That’s right,” Kendall said. “Jack Warner, did you know him?
Jerry nodded. “Yes I knew him,” he replied. “I didn’t like him from the very first. He was arrogant, conceited. He was just a bad man, plain and simple.” He looked up staring into the distance. “I remember it as though it were yesterday. She was early that day, her friends hadn’t arrived, and she was quite alone. She had just sat down, and was getting ready to order. I’m standing them waiting, you know.” Kendall nodded wisely. “In he comes bold as you like. He pushes right past me, and takes over like he owns the place. A Martini for the lady, he says, as he sat down, as cool as you like. And a scotch and soda for me, he says. Then he dismisses me like he’s brushing flies away from the honey pot. I tell you if looks could kill I’d have been dead on the floor right there and then.” Jerry shook his head.
“Then a few short months later he’s dead, killed in a car crash or something,” he continued. “I can’t say that I was that sorry, you know. Not very charitable I suppose, but that’s the way I felt.” He paused for a moment. “Funny though, I thought I saw him, after, I mean after the crash.”
He shook his head, and looked at Kendall. “But that’s not possible is it. I mean the guy was dead. She was devastated. She went to pieces.” He shook his head again. “Then she suddenly stopped coming here. She stopped seeing her friends. I haven’t seen her for a few years now. In fact she hasn’t been in not since that day, the day of the accident.” He looked up and checked his watch. It was getting late, and he still had a lot to do.
Kendall looked at him. “Not much longer,” he said. “Just a few more questions and then I’m done.” Jerry gave a sigh of relief. Kendall smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry,” he said. I’ll be as quick as I can. What about her friends? Do you still see them?
“Oh they still call occasionally,” he replied. “Not as often as they used to, but they drop by once in a while.”
Kendall rubbed his chin. Had he learnt anything? Or had it been a waste of time? He shrugged his shoulders. Time will tell, he murmured. “One last question Jerry,” he said. “Can you describe our Mr. Warner?”
Jerry shook his head. “Well it was a long time ago. Let me think.” He thought for a few moments. “I’m not really too sure, and I have to say I’m guessing a lot.” He thought for a few more moments. “I would say that he was thirty-something, thirty-two or three, something like that. About five feet eight tall; medium build, like myself; and about one hundred and sixty pounds.” He stopped for a moment thinking hard. “Oh yes he had dark brown hair,” he continued. “Quite thick, and wavy if I recall.” He stopped once again and nodded. “That’s about it I think,” he continued. “Oh, yes,” he said, as he remembered something else. “He had a large scar on his left wrist. Some kind of accident with a wire fence or something, I think.”
Kendall nodded and made a note in his notepad. “Fine, Jerry, that’s really helpful,” he said. He closed his pad and put it into his pocket. “I think that’s about it, for the time being.” He looked across at the bar, and then he looked back at Jerry. He smiled. “I don’t suppose I could get a drink around here could I?”
Jerry smiled and shook his head. “I told you, we’re closed.”
Kendall smiled and waved his hand in the air. “That’s right, you did say that didn’t you.” He turned and headed towards the door. “I’ll be seeing you,” he called out. Jerry shook his head, and went back to wiping down the tables.
* * *
Two days later Kendall was at Police headquarters. As he walked into the office he saw detective Devaney over in the far corner talking to someone on the telephone. Devaney saw him and waved. He held up his hand, the fingers spread out. “Five minutes,” he called out. Kendall nodded.
He walked over to Devaney’s desk and sat down. On top of the desk were a number of files and several scraps of paper containing messages, all awaiting attention. Kendall casually glanced at the notes. He then looked up and looked back over to where Devaney was seated, still in deep conversation. Kendall picked one of the files and started to look through.
Exactly five minutes later Devaney came over and sat down. As he did so he took the file out of Kendall’s hands, and threw it on top of the pile. “Okay Kendall what are doing here? Slumming it, I suppose?”
Kendall smiled. “Just seeing how the poor people live,” he replied.
Devaney started to laugh. “Nice to know you care,” he responded. “You and the Red Cross.” He smiled. “Right what can we do for you?”
“I need some information,” Kendall replied. “Can you help me?”
“Can’t manage without us can you?” Devaney said, and started to laugh.
“Well I have to admit that you do have your uses, occasionally,” said Kendall.
Devaney shrugged his shoulders. “We are here to serve,” he said. “Now what is it?”
Kendall took his notepad out of his pocket. He flipped the pages. “Do you know the Tamiani Trail, Highway 41,” he asked. “Close to Dade Collier airfield?” Devaney nodded. “There was an accident there in April or May, four years ago. A young man, Jack Warner, was killed.”
Devaney nodded. “Jack Warner,” he repeated. “So, who was he?”
“Apparently he was Mary Dwyer’s boy friend,” Kendall replied.
Devaney looked puzzled. “And who precisely is Mary Dwyer if I dare ask?”
“She is, or I should say, was Eve Simmonds’ befor
e she married,” explained Kendall.
Devaney shrugged his shoulders. “So what’s so important about him, or the accident?” he asked.
Kendall shook his head. “I’m not really clear about that myself, not yet.” He paused for a few moments. “But I have a theory that it was the boyfriend, this Jack Warner, who had actually carried out that robbery up at Rutland Hall that night. I’m convinced that Mary Dwyer had actually brought him on to the grounds.”
Devaney shook his head. He looked at the pile of papers on his desk waiting for his action, and here he was talking about a crime that had happened four years ago. A crime that had been solved and the file closed. He heaved a sigh. “Why I should even show interest I’ll never know, but go on. What makes you think that?”
“The night of the robbery Mary had gone out quite late, it was nearly midnight,” Kendall started to explain. “She came back shortly before one o’clock. She drove in and, for some reason, stopped her car over by the woods. She was there for a minute or two and then drove on.” He looked at Devaney.
Devaney turned his head. “How do you know that?” he asked. “And what about it anyway, so she stopped her car. Not illegal is it?”
“She was seen, but the person who saw her never thought that it was significant, so they never said anything at the time,” Kendall replied. “The next day a blanket was found close to where the car had stopped. Once again the person who found it thought nothing of it at the time, so they said nothing.”
Devaney shook his head. “So two people see something four years ago, they don’t think it is important, so they say nothing. Am I right so far?” he asked. Kendall sighed and lowered his head. “But now after all of that time super detective Tom Kendall comes along and suddenly it’s all different.” Devaney shook his head. “Why, Kendall? What is it that is so important?”