Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  “His daughter kept his diary hidden,” Kendall explained. “She thought that it would incriminate her father even more, so she told no one about it. Until now that is.” He paused for a moment and looked at Simmonds. “Nonsense or not, you killed Wheeler to keep him quiet,” Kendall continued. “And you made it look like suicide to incriminate him.”

  Simmonds started to laugh. “You don’t say,” he said.

  “I do say Mr. Simmonds,” Kendall replied. “I do say.”

  “What nonsense you talk, Kendall,” Simmonds said. “I don’t know what your game is but you are way off beam on this one. Way off.” He shook his head once again. “You’ll be accusing me of murdering my wife next.”

  Kendall ignored the comment, and merely smiled. “Shall we turn our attention to other matters,” he said. He flipped through the pad. “I seem to have got myself a little confused, perhaps you can help me out.” Kendall continued to turn the pages. “Ah, here it is,” he announced. “Let’s talk about New York shall we?” He looked up from his notepad, and looked directly at Simmonds. “Remind me why did you go to New York.?”

  Simmonds started to grin. “I was away on business,” he replied. “As I’m sure you already knew.”

  Kendall nodded. “You’re absolutely right,” he said. “A business trip, I did know, must have just slipped my mind.” He remained silent for a few moments. “I understand that business is not too good just at the moment,” he continued. “In fact I understand that things are pretty dire.”

  Simmonds looked surprised. “Oh I wouldn’t exactly put it that way,” he said. “Things aren’t that bad. We’re just going through a difficult time at present, that’s all.”

  Kendall nodded his head, and started to smile. “I see,” he said. “So there’s no possibility of bankruptcy then?”

  Simmonds started to laugh nervously, and shook his head. “As I said, Kendall, we are just having a bad patch, that’s all,” he replied. “We’ll get through it. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Pleased to hear it,” said Kendall, as he reached down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He took out a light blue folder, and placed it on the desk. He opened it and took out a number of documents. He spread the documents on the desk in front of Simmonds. “I’ve been talking to your business associates,” he said. He pointed to the folder lying on the desk. “This folder contains copies of bank statements, letters from your creditors, details of cancelled orders, together with sworn statements from your suppliers, you name it and it’s all there. The picture they all show is no oil painting I can tell you.” He paused for a moment as he shuffled through the paper. “They show quite clearly that the company is barely surviving. In fact it shows company debts of one point two million dollars, and assets of only three hundred thousand dollars.” He looked up at Simmonds. “What did you call it? A difficult time?”

  “All right Kendall,” Simmonds replied. “You have obviously been busy, and you have done your homework.” He paused and looked at the papers lying on the desk. “Certainly we have some problems. I went to New York to arrange for new finance, satisfied?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Opportunity And Motive

  “You weren’t in New York were you?” said Kendall.

  “Of course I was in New York,” Simmonds replied. “I just told you, I went there to arrange for some finance. When I arrived I was kidnapped, don’t you remember?”

  Kendall shook his head. “No, no you weren’t,” he said. “I’ve had my suspicions about that kidnapping for a long time. It was the notepaper that started me thinking. Then when you mentioned about the rain the other day, I was convinced.”

  “The rain,” Simmonds repeated, puzzled. “What rain?”

  Kendall smiled. Then he suddenly sneezed. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. “You remember I told you that I had got absolutely soaked the other day. I caught this miserable cold as a result.”

  “Kendall where is this leading?” Simmonds asked impatiently.

  “When I told you about the heavy rain, do you remember what you said?” Kendall asked. “You said that you knew all about it. I then asked if it had rained in New York that same day. What did you say?” Kendall paused for a moment. Simmonds made no reply. A grin suddenly appeared on Kendall’s face. “You said that it had.”

  “That’s right,” Simmonds said. “I did say that.”

  Kendall shook his head. “Wrong Simmonds,” he replied. “I checked with the weather bureau. That day was sunny in New York, not a cloud to be seen anywhere, temperature in the low seventies. In fact the only place on the entire east coast to have rain that day was right here in the sunshine state. Here in south Miami, and on the Keys to be precise.”

  Simmonds shook his head. “Really,” he replied. “I must have been mistaken, that’s all. Perhaps it was the day before, or the day after, I really can’t remember now. I never really take much notice of those things.”

  Kendall nodded. “Sure, I understand, I hate talking about the weather as well,” he replied. “So tell me how was it in Key Largo?”

  “Key Largo?” Simmonds repeated. “What are you talking about, is this more of your fairy stories?”

  “It’s a fascinating area isn’t it?” Kendall continued. “Did you ever see the film? I love the old movies you know. You just can’t beat them, even with the modern computer graphics and special effects.”

  “Kendall this is all getting rather tedious,” Simmonds responded.

  “Did you do any fishing?” Kendall asked.

  “Fishing?” Simmonds replied. “Are you quite mad? I haven’t been fishing since I was a kid.”

  Kendall looked puzzled. “You haven’t?” he said. Then he hit the table with his fist. “Oh no that’s right, they told me that you hadn’t used the boat.”

  “Boat? What boat?” Simmonds asked angrily.

  “The one at East Shore Drive,” Kendall replied. “It’s still there tied up at the jetty I saw it the other day.”

  Simmonds shook his head, and started to smile. “I have no idea what you are talking about Kendall,” he replied. “You really are confused.”

  “I saw the house too, it’s really very, very nice,” Kendall continued. “What would a place like that cost to rent I wonder?” Simmonds said nothing. “I would guess, what, five hundred dollars a week, maybe more. Then there’s the boat. That would be at least two hundred and fifty dollars alone.” He held up his hand, and shook his head again. “You know I reckon the whole thing would be.”

  Suddenly he sneezed again. “What did I say,” he said. “I knew I’d catch a cold after that rain.” He took out a paper handkerchief, and blew his nose. “Don’t you just hate these things,” he said indicating the handkerchief. “Mollie makes me use them,” he continued. “They are more hygienic, she says. I don’t know she might be right.” He paused again and wiped his nose. He then turned towards Simmonds. “What do you think Mr. Simmonds?” he asked. “About paper handkerchiefs I mean?”

  Simmonds was not in the least interested in paper handkerchiefs. “Can we just get on Kendall,” he said angrily.

  Kendall looked hurt. He screwed the handkerchief up and dropped it into the wastebasket. “Yes, sure,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s just this cold,” he murmured. “I better take something for it ….”

  “Kendall!!” Simmonds yelled.

  Kendall held his hand up. “Sorry,” he said. “Now where were we?” He thought for a few moments. “I remember, we were talking about the house on East Shore Drive.” He paused once more, gently tapping his forehead, deep in thought. “A thousand dollars,” he suddenly announced. “One thousand dollars per week I would guess. That’s a lot of money, but hey, you can afford it, right?”

  Simmonds shook his head. “Kendall, there was no boat, and there was no house on, where did you say?”

  “East Shore Drive,” Kendall answered.

  “There was no house on East Shore Drive.”


  Kendall smiled. “Simmonds you were seen, they identified your photograph. The young man, Ben, you know the gardener. And there was one of the neighbors, Mr. Thompson. They both identified you.”

  Simmonds banged the desk. He glared at Kendall. “Then obviously they are both mistaken,” he yelled. “I was never in Key Largo. I was in New York, being held against my will.”

  Kendall shook his head. “I don’t buy that one,” he said. “There you were in Key Largo, and all of that time your wife thought that you had been kidnapped, being held against your will. She was frantic, she feared the worse. She thought that you might have been killed. Little did she realize that it was all an act. That it was all make believe, and that it had all been staged by you.”

  “Why would I stage such a thing? Simmonds asked.

  Kendall looked at the desk. Then he looked back at Simmonds. “That’s easy,” he replied. “It was all done to establish an alibi for when you murdered your wife.”

  Simmonds shook his head, and grinned. “I knew you get round to this sooner or later,” he replied. “You’re wrong Kendall, so wrong. I was in New York. I never killed my wife.”

  “Mr. Simmonds, do you own a gun?” Kendall asked.

  Simmonds looked surprised. “I have a Smith and Wesson, a 38 caliber,” he replied. “But I’m sure that you already knew that.”

  “You’re right Mr. Simmonds, I already knew. Sorry, that was sneaky of me,” Kendall replied, as he reached across his desk, and picked up another folder. He opened it and took out the top document. “This is a copy of the license.” He started to scan the sheet of paper. “License number G23371, issued by the State of New York, on the 14 October 2001.” He continued reading for a few moments more. “You were living in Abercorn Street at the time, not very far from the precinct house where I worked. Why we could have passed each other in the street, and not known it, small world isn’t it.”

  Simmonds made no comment. Kendall continued to read. “Date of birth, twentieth of March 1979, height, five feet eight inches.” He paused and looked at Simmonds. “Strange I would have said no more than five feet seven.” He shrugged, and returned to the document. “And lastly your weight, let me see now. one hundred and forty pounds.” Kendall looked at Simmonds once again, and shook his head. “Maybe then, but certainly not now, you’ve put on a few pounds I would say.”

  “All right Kendall, that’s enough,” Simmonds said angrily. “So you know that I have a gun, so what?

  Kendall started to rub his chin. He reached into the folder and took out a second document. “Interestingly enough I have a copy of a second license. Strangely enough the gun description is identical to the gun that killed Wheeler. It was also a 38 caliber revolver that killed your wife, you know.”

  Simmonds glared. “Kendall are you seriously suggesting that because you know that I had a 38 revolver then it follows that I killed my wife? You’re out of your mind there are hundreds of 38 caliber revolvers. Anyone could have killed her.”

  Kendall nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Anyone could have. But it was you who did it.”

  “Why would I want to kill her?” Simmonds asked.

  Kendall smiled. “Because she was threatening to leave you,” he replied. “She wanted a divorce.”

  Simmonds shook his head and laughed. “You’re so wrong Kendall, she wasn’t going to leave me,” he replied with derision. “I was planning on leaving her.”

  “Exactly what your father-in-law told me,” Kendall said. “He was delighted at the news, did you know that.” Kendall shook his head. “Unfortunately she would not agree to a divorce would she? So you killed her.”

  “Why kill her?” said Simmonds. “I could have just packed my things and gone.”

  Kendall slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She would have told the police about you and your involvement in the Marinski robbery.”

  Simmonds shook his head. “What rubbish,” he said. “You can’t prove a word of it.”

  Kendall placed his hands together, and started to gentle tap his fingers together. He was grinning. “Oh but I can,” he replied.

  “No Kendall, you can’t prove it because it isn’t true,” Simmonds replied. “I know it, and you know it.”

  Kendall slowly shook his head, and the grin on his face slowly becoming wider and wider. He held up one finger. “Number one, you had the opportunity,” he replied. “You had established an excellent alibi. You were being held, against your will, just over a thousand miles away in New York. And all the time you were a few miles away, in Key Largo within striking distance.” He paused and held up a second finger. “Number two, you had the motive.”

  Simmonds glared and shook his head. “What motive?” he asked.

  “You wanted a divorce, you just said so. But she refused,” Kendall replied. “And she knew of your involvement in that robbery of four years ago. She saw you that night. She actually waved to you, whether you waved back or not I don’t know. The next day, when the robbery had actually been discovered she knew that you had been involved. She said nothing, in order to protect you. A few weeks later you were married.”

  Simmonds made no comment. “She actually persuaded you to return the jewels, she did not, however, realize that you had received a payment from her father for them.”

  “Go on Kendall,” Simmonds said. “This is really good stuff. Have you ever thought of writing fiction?”

  Kendall ignored him. “And now to actually place you at the scene of the crime.” Simmonds looked puzzled, but said nothing. “Oh by the way, there is one last question.”

  “Yes what is it?” Simmonds asked offhanded.

  “What type of car do you drive?” Kendall asked.

  “What car do I drive? Well I don’t see the relevance but I have a Ferrari 612 Spaglietti, if that means anything to you.” Kendall nodded. It meant something all right. It meant at least a half a million dollars, that’s what it meant. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for. He was disappointed. “But for everyday use I have a Pontiac G8, why do you ask?”

  “A dark green Pontiac G8?” Kendall asked.

  “That’s right,” Simmonds replied. “How did you know?”

  Kendall shook his head. “Oh it’s not really that important,” he replied. He looked over at Mollie. She looked up and nodded her head. Kendall nodded back and smiled. “By the way do you know a Mr. Roger Coe?” he asked.

  Simmonds looked up, surprised. He looked puzzled. “Roger Coe?” he repeated.

  “That’s right, Roger Coe,” said Kendall. “He’s a neighbor of yours I believe. In fact I understand that he lives in the apartment directly above you. Is that right?”

  Simmonds still looked puzzled. He looked at Kendall, and nodded. “That’s right, he does,” he replied. He started to nervously tap the desk once again. “What about him?” he asked.

  Kendall looked at Simmonds, “You haven’t touched your coffee,” he said. “It must be cold by now, how about a fresh cup?”

  “Get on with it Kendall,” Simmonds yelled.

  Kendall ignored the outburst. “Mollie, could we have some more coffee please.” Mollie got up and went over towards the kitchen. Kendall turned to face Simmonds. “Now to return to your Mr. Coe,” he said. “He was here the other day you know. He came to see me. He was telling me a very sad story about an accident that he had recently been involved in,” he paused. “It was actually the night that your wife was killed.”

  Mollie came back into the room carrying a tray containing three cups of coffee. Kendall saw her, and moved the papers away to make room. She placed the tray down in front of Kendall. She picked up one of the cups and placed in front of Simmonds.

  Simmonds looked at the coffee, and shook his head. He then looked at Kendall. “Kendall, I do have rather a lot to do you know. Could you please get on with your story. I hope that it’s better than the others I’ve heard so far.”

  Kendall started to laugh. “I’ll try not to disappoint you,”
he replied. “As I said he told me about this accident. Well apparently Mr. Coe had been out with some of his friends. Celebrating something or other, I don’t actually know what it was. Anyway they all had a bit too much to drink you know. Nonetheless he decided to drive home. He shouldn’t have really, he was way over the limit. Anyway it wasn’t that far, he thought, so off he went.”

  Kendall looked at Simmonds. “Enjoying it so far?” he asked. Simmonds made no comments. “Anyway your neighbor was fine all the way, and there were no problems right up until he actually arrived home and was parking his car. Then it all went a little bit wrong.” He paused once again. Still there was no comment from Simmonds. “It was just a simple miscalculation, could happen to anyone. He just turned a little bit too early, and he hit another car. He hit just at the rear on the offside, made a nasty dent. No one was hurt fortunately, except perhaps his pride. Quite a bit of damage was done to his car of course. And the car he hit, well that will probably be very expensive to repair, but of course his insurance will cover it. That is apart from the three hundred dollars excess he will have to pay.”

  “All right Kendall, enough,” Simmonds retorted. “What has this got to do with me, or my wife’s death? Can you just get to the point. if indeed there is a point to your story.”

  Kendall smiled. “Oh there’s a point all right,” he replied. “My secretary over there,” he looked at Mollie. She smiled and nodded her head. “She confirmed it when she came back into the room a few minutes ago.”

  “Kendall, just get on with it will you?” Simmonds said angrily.

  “Oh I’m sorry, I never actually finished my story. I didn’t mention any details about the other car did I? It was a Pontiac G8, a dark green Pontiac G8. Your dark green Pontiac G8 in fact.” Kendall stood up and slowly walked over to the kitchen. He tapped on the door. “Sergeant, you can come in now.”

  The door opened and Devaney came into the room, together with two police officers. He looked at Simmonds, and then he looked at Kendall. “Let’s have a look at this car shall we, Mr. Simmonds,” he said.