by John Holt
“That’s right,” said Kendall. “We have an alleged suicide.” He wrote a figure 4, and next to it he wrote the name Charles Wheeler. He looked at Mollie. “Which was not a suicide.”
“Five, and six, we have a boy friend, who did not exist, being killed in a car crash which didn’t happen,” said Mollie.
“Right, we have the alleged car crash.” He looked down at the paper, and shook his head. “Not a lot,” he mumbled. “Do we have anything at all?”
Mollie looked up. “Did you say something?” she asked.
Kendall looked over to her. “I said, not a lot,” he replied. “When you get right down to it, we don’t have too much to go on.”
Mollie thought for a few moments, and shook her head. “We have quite a lot when you think about it.”
Kendall thought for a while. Mollie was right, though. They did have quite a lot. Unfortunately most of it was circumstantial, conjecture, or guesswork. Not much was actually proved. “Go on,” he said. “Let’s hear what you think.”
Mollie hesitated for a few moments. She took a deep breath, and cleared her throat. “Well let’s take this so-called kidnap.” She looked at Kendall. “We know that Simmonds wasn’t really kidnapped. In fact we know that he wasn’t anywhere near New York. He was here, about twenty or thirty miles away.” Kendall nodded again. “Why?” she asked. “Why go to all the trouble, and deception? What was the point?”
Kendall smiled at her. “Well?” he prompted. “Why? You tell me.”
Mollie looked down at her desk, and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she said quite simply.
Kendall stood up. “Well I have a pretty good idea,” he said. He started to pace the room. “It’s clear to me that the kidnapping, the murder of Eve Simmonds, and the robbery at Rutland Hall four years ago, are all connected in some way.” He paused for a moment. “And also fitting in somewhere along the way there is the alleged car crash that killed Mary’s boyfriend.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Mollie pointed out. “I mean you don’t have any proof, do you?”
Kendall shook his head. “I’m not so sure of that,” he replied. “I don’t have all of the pieces yet, but I do have a few.” He paused. “Besides if the three main items are not connected, then it is a pretty big co-incidence, and I don’t go along with that.” He stopped pacing. “Let’s consider the robbery,” he continued. “Charles Wheeler was judged to be the culprit on the basis of a confession, the earrings, and later his suicide. But we know that he did not kill himself. We know that his murder was meant to look like suicide, to incriminate him. It is obvious that whoever killed Wheeler, also carried out the robbery.” Kendall paused for a moment. “Wheeler saw someone running from the house that night. He thought that he recognized who that someone was. Once it had been confirmed that there had been a robbery Wheeler put two and two together.”
He knew that the robbery had been committed by the person that he had seen,” suggested Mollie. “And that someone was Carl Simmonds. We know that because Ann Wheeler also saw him.”
“That’s right,” said Kendall. “And it’s just as well that she did.” Kendall stopped for a few moments and nodded. “Wheeler thought that he could make some money out of the situation and started to blackmail Simmonds. He got greedy and sadly got more than he had bargained for.”
“So if Simmonds committed the robbery, he must have had help from someone on the inside,” said Mollie.
Kendall nodded. “That’s correct,” he said. “I’m convinced that it was certainly not Eve Simmonds. Simmonds himself tried hard to place the blame on her didn’t he, even suggesting that as a possible reason for her murder.”
“Mary Dwyer also tried to blame her,” said Mollie. “Do you remember what she said, I saw her at the door waving.”
Kendall nodded. “That’s right,” he agreed. “And she also told us that it was Eve who had unlocked the front door.”
“That’s right,” replied Mollie. “So it wasn’t Eve. And it was not Charles Wheeler.”
“So who was it?” Kendall asked.
“It was Mary herself, assisted by Jack Warner, in other words Carl Simmonds.”
Kendall nodded. “Mary Dwyer,” he replied. “Mary Dwyer and Carl Simmonds.” He started to tap the desk. “The robbery, kidnapping, and murder, three separate events, but all linked.” He looked at Mollie. “Three events and we have Simmonds well and truly implicated in two of them, now for the third.”
* * *
Chapter Thirty-One
Roger Coe
Kendall and Mollie had been silent for some while, both deep in thought, when the telephone rang. It was the reception area. “Mr. Kendall, there’s a Mr. Roger Coe downstairs,” said Joe the duty receptionist. “He would like to come up and see you.”
Kendall shook his head. He was in the middle of something important. He did not want to be disturbed, not when he was putting two and two together, and actually getting four. “Who is Roger Coe, Joe?” he asked.
“Sorry Mr. Kendall, I don’t know who he is. He just said that he had some information that might be useful to you that’s all.” There was a brief pause. Kendall could hear Joe speaking to the visitor. A few moments later Joe was back on the telephone. “Something about Mrs. Simmonds, he says.”
“Eve Simmonds?” Kendall repeated. I wonder what this is all about, he murmured. There’s only one way to find out, he decided. “Alright, send him straight up, Joe.”
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, and a young man entered. “Oh Mr. Kendall,” he said as he entered the room. “I’m Coe, Roger Coe. Sorry to disturb you like this, I mean without an appointment and everything.”
Kendall nodded. “Yes, yes, come in Mr. Coe,” he said, beckoning with his hand. “Have a seat.” Kendall pointed to a chair. The visitor sat down in the chair indicated. Kendall looked at his guest. “Now what can I do for you?” he asked.
“I saw you the other day, at Mrs. Simmonds apartment,” Coe replied. “You were with that detective. The police officer told me who you were.” He started to rub his hands together nervously. “I live in the apartment directly above.”
“Yes Mr. Coe,” Kendall coaxed. “So what is it that I can do for you.?”
The young man shook his head. “I’m not sure really,” he said. “It may be nothing at all, but there was just something about that night, the night that she died, the night that she was murdered.”
“Something?” Kendall repeated. “Exactly what do you mean by something?”
The man shook his head once again, and started to tap his hands once again. Suddenly he was beginning to feel as though it was nothing after all. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. He saw Kendall looking at him. “Mr. Kendall, I hope that I’m not wasting your time,” he said. “It was just something that has been bothering me ever since that night.”
“Why didn’t you go straight to the police?” Kendall asked.
The man nodded and smiled. “Well, because I wasn’t exactly sure, you understand. It might have been nothing,” he explained. “I did not want to waste the police time did I?”
Oh I see, Kendall thought. Waste my Time all you like, but don’t burden the police. That sounds most reasonable, and perfectly understandable. That’s mighty noble of you Mr. Coe. He shrugged his shoulders. Never mind me, Mr. Coe. After all what am I, I’m nothing important. He took a deep breath. “All right Mr. Coe, tell me all about it,” he said. “Go for it.”
“Well I don’t really know where to start,” he said hesitantly.
“The beginning is always a good spot I find, said Kendall. “Some people start at the end and work backwards, but I find that a little confusing. I mean you might know who done it, but you haven’t a clue what it was they did. Besides I find that by the time you get back to the beginning I’ve forgotten the ending anyway. Of course you could start in the middle. The problem then is which way do you go? Forward to the end or backward to the beginning?”
Kendall paused and shook his head. Mollie sat at her desk glaring at him. Kendall shook his head once again. He looked back at his visitor. “No,” he continued, “You just start at the beginning, that’s the best way. Take my word for it.”
The young man looked at him for a moment or two. There was a puzzled look on his face. He was beginning to wonder whether this had been such a good idea or not. Then he started to smile as he realized what Kendall had said.
“Sure, sure, I guess you’re right.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’ll start at the beginning, just like you say.” He coughed to clear his throat, and took another deep breath. “Well I had been out that night, with some friends. I got back late a little the worse for wear,” he said. “You know, we had been out drinking, I had a little too much.” He paused again, and looked around the office. “Talking of drink, I don’t suppose.”
It was a little early in the day, even for Kendall, but he was beginning to feel he needed a drink himself. He stood up and walked over to the cabinet on the far side of the room. He looked round. “Mollie,” he called. “Anything for you?”
“A coffee would be nice,” Mollie replied. “And some chocolate biscuits.”
A few minutes later Kendall returned to his desk with a coffee for Mollie, and two scotches and water. He placed one on the desk in front of his visitor. “All right Mr. Coe,” he said. “Carry on.”
Coe took a long drink. “As I said I was a little the worse for wear. I shouldn’t have been driving I know, but well.” He took another drink. “I was okay all the way from the bar down town. I was fine all the way back. It was just as I was almost parked when it happened. It was stupid really, but what can you do.”
Kendall had no idea what you could do. Perhaps if he had known more about what had happened, that might have been useful. “So what happened,” he asked, beginning to get a little impatient.
“I hit Mr. Simmonds’ car,” he said. “That’s what happened.” He took another drink. “At least I thought it was Carl’s car. I knew that he had a dark green Pontiac G8. He had got it only a few months ago. I just glanced it on the offside, at the rear, just as I pulled in, another inch or two and I would have missed it. But then I thought it couldn’t have been his car because I knew that he was away on business. He had gone to Chicago, or somewhere. I don’t know. He had left three or four days ago. So it couldn’t have been his, could it”. Kendall shook his head. “It must have been someone else’s, right?” He drained his glass.
“Care for another?” Kendall asked, now beginning to find the conversation a lot more interesting. He stood up and refilled the two glasses. “So what did you do?” he asked.
Coe took a drink. “Well I was feeling pretty bad, you know. Damaging a brand new car like that. One that possibly belonged to one of my neighbors, it was so embarrassing to say the least. The last thing I wanted was a problem with my neighbor, you can imagine can’t you.”
Kendall had to agree, he could certainly imagine. He would have preferred to actually be told, but if he had to imagine well so be it. His imagination really wasn’t that great, but he would give it a try. “What did you do?” he asked again.
Coe took another drink. “Just in case it was Carl’s car, I decided that the next morning I would go up to his flat, and tell him what I had done, and apologize.” He took another drink. “And to offer to pay for the damages, it was bound to be expensive but well my insurance would cover most of it.” He sighed once more. “Mind you my excess is quite high. I would have to pay the first three hundred dollars.”
Kendall wasn’t really that interested in Coe’s insurance arrangements. He shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, what can you do,” he said. “It’s better than paying the full amount. So you were saying.”
“Right, so I was,” Coe replied. “Anyway it had to be done. I had no choice did I? I mean I had to tell him.” He paused once again, and took another drink. “I suppose I could have just ignored it, forgotten the whole thing, he wouldn’t never have known would he?” He looked at Kendall. “I could have, couldn’t I? I mean how would he ever have known? But there was a chance that somebody might have seen it, and then told him, and that would have been worse.”
Kendall was becoming impatient once again. Coe could easily have forgotten all about it. The way time was passing by they could all have forgotten it couldn’t they? “Anyway, you didn’t forget it did you?” he said. “So what did you do?”
Coe was beginning to sweat, and breathing heavy. “Well the next morning the car had gone, so I thought perhaps it hadn’t been his car after all, maybe I had been mistaken.” He took another drink. “Maybe it was someone else’s car. I could never find them, so I’d be in the clear.” He smiled nervously. “I decided that I would go up to his flat anyway, just to be sure.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It could have been Carl’s car after all, and he had just gone out early. A little unusual for Carl, but well he could have. Anyway I went up to the flat, and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I knocked again. Still there was no answer. I called out a few times, but there was no response.”
“What time was that? Kendall asked.
Coe shook his head, and thought for a moment or two. “Just a little after ten,” he replied. “There was no answer, but I knew that she was there. So why wasn’t she answering? Tell me that, if you can.”
Kendall knew why she hadn’t answered the door, because she was dead. “What made you think that she was inside the flat?” he asked.
“Because her car was still in the parking area,” Coe replied. “Besides I always saw her leave, everyday, nine twenty-five on the dot, just like clockwork.” He paused and took a drink. “I hadn’t seen her that morning so I just knew that she was still in. She just wasn’t answering the door, for some reason. I guessed there was something wrong, so I got the janitor to open up. And that’s when we found her. She was just lying there. It was such a shock.”
Kendall nodded. “What time was it that you hit the car?” he asked.
Coe looked up, and thought for a few moments. “Well I left the club a little before two. So it must have been about two thirty, or thereabouts,” he replied.
Around about the time that she was murdered, Kendall thought. He stood up. “Thank you Mr. Coe,” he said. “That was very helpful.” He helped Coe out of his chair. “Let me see you to the door.”
Coe quickly finished his drink, and stood up. He looked at Mollie and smiled. “Glad to be of help,” he spluttered as he walked into the corridor.
Mollie looked at Kendall, as he walked back into the room. “That’s it then,” she said. “We have motive, opportunity, and now we can tie him in at the scene of the crime.”
Kendall smiled, and nodded his head. “I think it’s time I had another word with Carl Simmonds don’t you?”
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Two
The Puzzle Starts To Come Together
There was a loud knock on the door, and then it slowly opened.
“Hello Mr. Simmonds,” Kendall said as he stood up. “Do come in, so good of you to come.” Kendall walked over to the door, his hand outstretched. Simmonds smiled and took hold of the proffered hand, and shook it. As he did so Kendall noticed a large scar on the wrist to his left hand. “That looks rather nasty,” he said pointing at it.
Simmonds looked down at his hand, and shook his head. “Oh that. I just caught it on a rusty nail somewhere and I neglected it. I should have cleaned it, and dressed it straight away. Stupidly, I just didn’t bother I’m afraid, and it became infected.” He shrugged his shoulders once again. “It’s all right now.”
“When was that?” Kendall asked.
Simmonds looked at the hand once again, and thought for a while. “Oh three or four years ago I think.” He paused. “Yes, it was four years ago. Why do you ask?”
Kendall shook his head. “Oh no reason,” he replied. “Not really, just curious I suppose, nosey, my detective training I expect.”
Simmonds smiled.
“You know what they say about curiosity Kendall,” he said.
Kendall smiled. “It killed the cat, I believe,” he replied. “Don’t worry, it won’t do that to me, never fear.” He shook his head, and escorted Simmonds into the room. “Have a seat,” he said pointing to a chair. “You managed to park all right then?” Kendall asked. “I mean you found a space alright.” Kendall smiled and then he sat down. “It’s usually quite difficult, specially this time of day. The offices tend to get a lot of visitors round about now.”
Simmonds smiled, and shook his head. “Oh no,” he said. “I found a space easily enough. No problem at all, not really. In fact there were several spaces available. I’m actually parked over at the back, next to the Boiler House.”
“That’s good,” said Kendall. He looked over to Mollie and smiled. “Can you do that for me now?” he asked.
She smiled and nodded. She got up and walked to the door. “Right away,” she said as she left the office.
“Now then, I’m sorry about all this but I’ve a few more questions to ask,” Kendall explained. “And I’m afraid I want to go over some of the old ground once more. I hope you don’t mind.”
Simmonds said nothing. “Right, then we’ll get on shall we,” Kendall continued. “Firstly I want to talk about Charles Wheeler. Did you know him very well?”
Simmonds was surprised at the question. “What possible connection does that have with the murder of my wife?” he asked.
Kendall smiled. “Just bear with me for a while will you,” he said. “It will all become clear as we go along. I promise you.”
Simmonds was not convinced, but he reluctantly agreed. He shook his head, and heaved a deep sigh. “Well I wouldn’t say that Charles Wheeler was a personal friend or anything like that, but he was the family butler,” he replied. “I knew him about as well as anybody else up at the Hall.”
Kendall looked at his guest and started to frown. “But I thought that you had said that you weren’t in the family at that time,” he replied. “Your words exactly if I remember correctly.”