by John Holt
Simmonds smiled and nodded his head. “Exactly so, Kendall, you have an excellent memory,” he replied. “I did say that, exactly that. But what I actually meant was that I had not married Eve by that time. I wasn’t accepted into the family, at least not by her father.” He paused and started to grin. “I was, to all intents and purposes, an outsider, a stranger if you will.”
“And yet you went to see Wheeler, a few days after the robbery,” Kendall said.
Simmonds looked surprised. “That’s correct. I did,” he replied. “How did you know that?”
Kendall started to grin. “It was all put down in his diary,” he replied. “It was also confirmed by his daughter Ann,” Kendall lied.
Simmonds took a deep breath, and looked down at the desk top. “Oh I see,” he said quite simply.
“Why did you go to see Wheeler?” repeated Kendall.
Simmonds put his hands together, and took another deep breath. “As I said earlier, I was still very much an outsider at that time,” he explained. “Wheeler, out of all of them up at that house, was at least friendly to me. I got on well with him, we had something in common. We both liked jazz.” He paused once again, and started to tap his hands together. “I just thought that perhaps I could help him somehow. He was very worried, what with the robbery, and the accusations that were being made. And then they found the earrings, right there in his sideboard. Things were looking quite bad for him.” He looked back down at the desk, and heaved a sigh. “I went to give him some advice that was all. To try to help him, to hopefully stop him from worrying.”
“That was really very good of you,” Kendall replied. “I mean to take the time and trouble.” He started to rub his chin, and shook his head. “Not many people would do that, you know. Not in the light of so much evidence against him.” He shook his head once again. “You thought him innocent then, did you?”
“I don’t know what I thought at that time,” Simmonds replied. “I would never have thought Charles to be a thief, never in a thousand years. He just wasn’t the type.” He looked up at Kendall. “But the evidence against him was building up and up, and then there were the earrings. I mean it was just overwhelming. It was beginning to look as though he were guilty after all.” He paused once more, and slowly shook his head. “I still couldn’t believe it,” he continued. “I found it hard to accept, you know. Not Charles. It just couldn’t be him.”
Kendall nodded wisely. “So why did you think you could help him?” he asked. “I mean why you?”
Simmonds looked up. He suddenly looked angry. “Why?” he repeated. “I’ll tell you why.” He shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Kendall. “Of everyone in that house he at least was always polite, and he always spoke to me. Not like that chauffeur, Chambers, or that maid, Mary. She hated me.” He looked down at the desk and shook his head. Then he suddenly looked back up. “He was all alone, no one believed his story.”
“I see,” Kendall said. “Were you able to help him?” he asked.
Simmonds shook his head, and started to rub his hands together once more. “Well I thought I was, but clearly subsequent events showed that I was sadly mistaken.”
“It would seem so,” said Kendall. “The following morning he was found dead, by his daughter I believe. That’s correct isn’t it?” Simmonds nodded. “He had shot himself.”
“Tragic Mr. Kendall,” Simmonds replied. “Absolutely tragic. Even now, despite everything, I still cannot believe that he did it.” He looked at Kendall and took a deep breath. “But I suppose he must have done it after all.”
Kendall shook his head. “You know Mr. Simmonds, it really is quite odd though,” he said.
Simmonds looked up. “What is?” he asked.
Kendall started to gently tap the desk. “This whole thing is odd. Wheeler shooting himself I mean.” He stopped tapping, and looked directly at Simmonds. “After all he had never used a gun before. So why choose that particular method? Why not just take an overdose or something?”
Simmonds thought for a moment. “Well I don’t really know, but maybe he wouldn’t be sure that an overdose of tablets would be sufficient to kill him,” he replied. “Maybe he thought that a shot to the head would be far more conclusive.” He paused for a moment waiting for a response. Kendall said nothing. “So he had never used a gun before, what about it? It’s really not that difficult, not at close range anyway. All he had to do was place the gun in the correct place, and squeeze the trigger.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’m not convinced, but I have to admit that it is just possible,” Kendall said. “I don’t know though, there’s still something bothering me. I mean if you were in such a mental state like that, and you were planning on committing suicide, would you be rational enough to think things out like that? I mean would you be thinking that an overdose might not work, but a bullet to the head would. Or perhaps I should just take some poison, or whatever. No I don’t think you would somehow.”
Simmonds looked surprised. He shook his head, and sighed. “I really don’t know how I would be in such a situation, Kendall,” he replied. “Perhaps he had owned a gun for a long time, and just never told anyone. Perhaps he kept it a secret. I really don’t know.”
“Maybe, maybe,” Kendall said. He thought for a few moments. “Let’s say, for the sake of further discussion, that you are right. Let’s say that he had owned a gun for a long time.” He paused and looked at Simmonds. “The only thing though, is where did he get the gun from? And if the gun was his why were there no identification marks on the gun?”
Suddenly the door opened and Mollie came in. She looked towards Kendall, and nodded. “Coffee anyone?” she asked.
Kendall smiled at her. “What a good idea,” he replied. He turned back to Simmonds. “I’m sure that you would like a coffee.” Simmonds nodded.
“Now, as I was saying the identification marks had all been filed off. Furthermore, there was no license for the gun. If it had been Wheeler’s gun why the need to remove the identification marks? Why was there no license?” He paused once again, and shrugged his shoulders. “You see the problem. You answer one question, and a dozen others pop up in its place. So we still have a problem.”
“Who knows,” Simmonds replied. “Perhaps the gun had just been stolen.”
“It could have been stolen that’s certainly possible,” replied Kendall. “But then the identification marks would still be there wouldn’t they? I mean why would Wheeler remove them? What would be the point?”
Simmonds shrugged his shoulders. He was beginning to get impatient with this whole conversation. “What difference does it make anyway?” he replied. “Wheeler died from a single shot to the head, not an overdose. He wasn’t stabbed, and he didn’t take poison. He was shot, pure and simple.” He started to tap the desk nervously. “Besides how do you know he never had a gun, or had never used one before?”
“Well that’s what his daughter told me,” Kendall replied. “And I believe her.”
“She was probably wrong, a young girl like that,” said Simmonds. “I mean what would she know anyway? It stands to reason. I mean how old was she then anyway? Twelve?”
“She was thirteen,” Kendall replied. He shrugged his shoulders. “You might be right Mr. Simmonds.” Kendall took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled. “Incidentally were you aware that Charles Wheeler was left-handed?” he asked.
Simmonds looked puzzled. “Left-handed,” he repeated. “No I didn’t know that. What about it? Is it important?”
“Oh yes I would say it’s very important,” said Kendall. “Wheeler was actually shot on the right side of his head,” he started to explain. “Apparently the bullet entered at a slight angle, pointing forward and downwards. It certainly looked as though he was shot slightly from the rear, as you would expect from a right-handed person, not someone who was left-handed.”
Simmonds continued to look puzzled. “Kendall, why are you raking this all up now? As far as I’m aware the police files on this case
are closed, have been for over four years. So I don’t understand what this is all about, or what connection it has to my wife’s death.”
“Well now Mr. Simmonds, please forgive me. I’ll get to that shortly if I may,” Kendall replied. “In the meantime I just have another small problem. Bear with me will you, just for a moment.” Simmonds said nothing.
“You’ve been quite helpful so far. Perhaps you can solve this one. You see a shot like that would be very difficult for a left-handed person. In fact it would be completely impossible.” He held his left hand across his right temple, his first two fingers representing the barrel of a gun. He tried to turn his hand so that the fingers pointed slightly forward. “You see, it just can’t be done. It’s impossible.”
“Okay okay,” said Simmonds. “It’s impossible. I can see that.” He thought for a few moments, and then he started to smile. “Perhaps Wheeler actually used his right hand,” he suggested. “I mean it would probably be a little difficult, but not impossible. What do you think?”
“Well I suppose it’s just possible,” Kendall said. “I never considered that before.” He thought for a moment or two, and started to rub his chin. “It would certainly have been awkward, but at close range it would certainly be possible I think. You know I think you might have something there. You could very well be right,” he continued.
He nodded his head and smiled. Then suddenly the smile vanished. “No, no, I’m afraid your idea just won’t work,” he said. “I’ve just thought of something that makes it quite impossible I’m afraid.”
Simmonds looked at him for a few seconds. A frown started to spread across his forehead. “Why not?” he asked. “You just agreed that it was possible, what changed your mind?”
“If you were left-handed would you even bother trying to use your right hand?” he asked. “I certainly wouldn’t. I mean what would be the point. Why not just use the hand that you were used to? Much easier I would think.”
Simmonds gave a deep sigh. This was now fast becoming tedious. “Maybe his left hand had been injured or something,” he suggested. “What does it matter anyway?”
Kendall ignored the question, and started to smile once again. “Well now that’s quite a suggestion, and I have to say that you are pretty close to the truth.” Simmonds said nothing and looked puzzled. “You see Wheeler had injured his arm, a day or two before he died. His wrist was heavily strapped up.”
“Well there you are then.” said Simmonds. “That solves that little problem.”
Kendall shook his head. “Afraid not,” he said. “You see it was his right hand that he had injured. So it would have been completely impossible for him to have shot himself using that hand.”
Simmonds looked at Kendall. “So he must have used his left hand then,” he pronounced. “End of story.”
Kendall shook his head. “No, we’ve already explained how difficult that would have been remember?
Simmonds glared at Kendall. “Alright, so it’s impossible, I am willing to agree with you. He could not have shot himself with either his left hand, or his right hand. So maybe it wasn’t suicide after all. Maybe he was actually murdered.”
Kendall smiled. “Do you really think so Mr. Simmonds? Murdered! Well I hadn’t got quite as far as that, but it certainly is a possibility isn’t it.”
Simmonds began tapping the desk once again. His breathing appeared to be laboured. “I suppose so,” he replied. “So are we done? Can I go now?”
Kendall ignored the questions. “Although, of course, the police never considered murder as a possibility did they? After all there was still that confession note lying next to the body.”
Simmonds shook his head. He was becoming more and more impatient. More and more agitated. “Maybe the note was actually written by the murderer,” he suggested. “It wouldn’t be difficult would it?”
“I suppose not,” replied Kendall. “Quite simple really I suppose. That’s quite an interesting idea. Of course if Wheeler had been murdered, as you suggest, that would also suggest that he had not stolen the jewels. And that someone else was the criminal, and that someone else is still walking the streets, today, free as a bird.”
“You could be right I suppose,” Simmonds replied. “As I said earlier I really didn’t believe that Charles had stolen the jewels anyway. It was so unlike him. But the evidence was just so overwhelming.” He stopped tapping the desk. “Anyway, I’m off now unless there is anything else that I can help you with.”
Once again Kendall ignored Simmonds comments. “And of course if Wheeler had not stolen the rubies, then the earrings were deliberately planted to arouse suspicion, wouldn’t you agree,” he said.
“More than likely,” Simmonds said, becoming more and more impatient, more and more exasperated. “I told you that I thought that Wheeler had seen someone that night, and that he was probably trying to blackmail that person. I actually thought that it was Eve, do you remember? Maybe I was right.” Kendall said nothing, and just watched Simmonds. “All right Kendall I really must get going now,” he continued. “I have a lot to do.”
Kendall nodded. “I’m sure that you do, Mr. Simmonds, but I have a few more questions still. I’ll be as quick as I can.” Simmonds sighed audibly, and glared at Kendall. “Where were you on the night of the robbery?” he asked.
Simmonds looked up. “I was in Baltimore. I already told you that the other day,” he replied. “Don’t you remember? I went to the game on that day.”
“That’s right you did tell me that,” Kendall said. He started to smile. “I checked up you know. I spoke to two of your companions. Sadly Mr. Russell is no longer with us. Anyway you did go to the game, as you said you did. Your friends confirmed it. Why one of them, Mr. Turner I think, actually had a programme signed by a couple of the players.” Kendall shook his head. “The only thing is you said that you went to the game on the same day as the anniversary didn’t you.”
“That’s absolutely right,” Simmonds replied. “So what’s the actual problem?”
Kendall heaved a deep sigh. “The anniversary party was actually held on the Saturday, three days later than the actual date.” He paused for a moment, watching Simmonds. Simmonds said nothing, but he was no longer smiling. “You told me that you arrived back in Florida on the twenty-seventh of the month. The party was actually on the twenty-eighth.”
Simmonds took a deep breath. “Kendall what is this all about?” he asked. “That old case was solved long ago. And besides why are you raking this all up anyway? Why all of these questions?”
Kendall ignored the questions. “You do know that you were seen that night don’t you?” he responded. Simmonds looked puzzled. “The night of the robbery I mean. You were seen just after three o’clock, you were running from the house towards the wood.” Simmonds still said nothing. Kendall suddenly sneezed. “This wretched hay fever,” he said, as he wiped his nose. “You’re fortunate not to have it.” Simmonds said nothing. “As I was saying, you were seen by a young girl. You were seen by Ann Wheeler.”
Simmonds shook his head, and started to laugh. “Ann Wheeler, that’s ridiculous,” he said. “She was only a child then, you couldn’t rely on anything she would say. Besides why didn’t she say anything at the time?”
“Simple, she thought that her father had committed the crime,” Kendall replied. “After all the earrings had been found in his room.”
Simmonds shook his head once again. “What has that to do with her supposedly seeing me?” he asked.
“She thought that you were her father’s accomplice,” Kendall replied. “She did not want to say anything to incriminate him.”
Simmonds shook his head angrily. “What nonsense you are talking Kendall. Did you learn this in Detective School, or was it a correspondence course.” He started to laugh once again. “Become a Detective in ten easy lessons. I think you must have missed a lesson or two somewhere along the line.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You’re priceless Kendall, absolutely priceless. I’d ask
for my money back if I were you. You have been engaged to find my wife’s killer, so far without any success whatsoever. So now, to try to cover up your obvious ineptitude you start going over something that happened four years ago. Without any evidence whatsoever, in the space of about two minutes, you have accused me of murdering poor old Charles Wheeler, and now you appear to be suggesting that I actually carried out the robbery. Whatever next I wonder? I just wish I could spare the time and hang around to find out. But I can’t. Sorry, I’ve no more time for your games.” He looked at Kendall, and shrugged his shoulders once more. Kendall said nothing. “Kendall let me enlighten up,” he continued. “The so-called Marinski Affair was solved long ago. The culprit committed suicide. Bradley retrieved his jewels. The case was closed. End of story.”
Once again Kendall ignored the comments. “Someone else saw you that night,” he said quite slowly. “Charles Wheeler saw you. He knew instantly that you had carried out the robbery. Foolishly he thought that he could blackmail you. In fact you did actually make a couple of small payments to him.” Kendall flipped his notepad. “We checked his bank details. Two thousand dollars was paid two days after the robbery, and a further fifteen hundred the following day. Both payments corresponded to withdrawals from your own bank account.”
Simmonds glared. “Go on, Kendall, with your fairy tale,” he said. “I find it all quite fascinating.”
Kendall nodded his head. “I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “Sadly, Wheeler got a little too greedy. He wanted more, larger amounts.”
“Kendall, tell me one thing,” Simmonds responded. “How do you know all of this?”
“That’s really quite simple,” Kendall replied. “Wheeler wrote everything down in his diary. Every little detail went down, dates, amounts, times, people, everything.”
“More nonsense,” Simmonds yelled. “You don’t know what you are talking about. Why wasn’t his diary brought forward at that time?”