Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  Lying on the desk was the folder that Devaney had given him. Inside that folder were a series of photographs taken by the coroner showing the body of Richard Dawson. “There, in that folder,” Mollie replied impatiently. “Here they are.” She opened the folder, took out the photographs and placed them in front of Kendall.

  There were six in total, showing the body from every conceivable angle. Kendall slowly spread them out on the desk in front of him. He looked at each one carefully. He suddenly looked up and started to rub his chin. “Mollie, do you notice anything strange about these photographs?”

  Mollie looked at them carefully, and shook her head. “No,” she replied. “I don’t think so. Why?”

  Kendall started to tap the photographs. “There’s not a scratch,” he murmured. “Not even a slight bruise. It doesn’t make sense.” He shook his head. “Apart from the wound to the head, and the cuts on the neck, there are no other injuries.” He shook his head. “The coroner has just confirmed that there were no other injuries, nothing.” He hit the desk with his hands. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Mollie looked at the photographs once again, and then slowly nodded her head. “I see what you mean,” she said. “If you had fallen so hard and suffered such a wound to the head, it stands to reason that you would sustain other injuries as well.”

  “That’s absolutely right, Mollie,” Kendall replied. “Even if it were just a slight scratch to the knee, or scraping the skin on your hand as you tried to stop the fall. You would expect something. But there’s absolutely nothing. Not a mark.” He started to shuffle through the papers lying on his desk. “Here it is,” he murmured as he found the coroner’s report. He slowly scanned the page, mumbling to himself. “Contusions to the temple, and lacerations to the side of the head and the neck.”

  Mollie looked up. “Contusions,” she repeated. “That’s bruising, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right,” replied Kendall. “Bruising, or discoloration. Something like that.”

  She nodded her head. “What about… what did you say… laceration?

  “That’s just the posh way of saying a cut, or a graze,” Kendall explained knowledgeably. Mollie was impressed. If she had actually seen the document that Kendall was reading she would have noted where it said lacerations, it continued with cuts, and grazes. “This is strange,” Kendall suddenly announced.

  “What is?” Mollie asked.

  Kendall shook his head. “The bruising is to the right hand side of the head,” Kendall replied slowly. “The temple region, you know.”

  Mollie wasn’t entirely sure, but nodded her head anyway. “Go on,” she said.

  Kendall looked at her and shook his head. “But the cuts to the neck are on the left side of the head.”

  “So?” said Mollie, puzzled. “What about it?”

  Kendall looked at her. “He trips and falls, over a curb, or step, or something,” he replies. “He hits the right side of his head on a wall.” He paused. “Okay, I don’t believe it, but it’s possible. It could happen.” He paused once again, and then shook his head. “What I don’t understand is how he then receives some cuts to the neck, on his left side.”

  Mollie nodded her head. “Just one of those things, I suppose,” she said simply. “Perhaps he hit his head, and then rolled over.”

  Kendall sighed. “Then cut his neck, I suppose,” he replied. “On what?”

  Mollie looked at him and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she replied becoming agitated. “A piece of glass, who knows.”

  Kendall shook his head. “A piece of glass,” he repeated. “Which just so happened to be lying there, where he fell.”

  “It’s possible,” said Mollie.

  “So why isn’t the glass shown in the photographs?” asked Kendall.

  Mollie didn’t know the answer, but had another suggestion. “Maybe he had cut himself earlier,” she suggested. “Somewhere else.”

  Kendall sighed. “Somewhere else,” he repeated.

  Mollie nodded her head. “It could happen,” she replied, although she was far from convinced.

  Kendall nodded. “I suppose.” He was unconvinced. “A bit of a co-incidence though, wouldn’t you say? And you know how I feel about co-incidence.”

  She nodded her head. She knew. “All I’m saying is that it could happen,” she replied. “That’s all.”

  “It could happen,” Kendall agreed reluctantly. He continued to read the document through. “There is no mention of any other injuries anywhere,” he continued. “There’s nothing to the legs, or the arms, or the upper body, nothing. Not a scratch, not a cut, not a bruise. Not a mark.”

  Mollie looked at him. “Well, it could happen, I suppose,” she suggested. “I mean you do hear of some amazing accidents, people falling from great heights and not receiving a scratch.”

  Kendall had to agree with her. Certainly, there had been freak accidents in the past. People involved in major car crashes, just getting up, and walking away. “That’s true,” he said. “There certainly have been such cases.” But they were rare, unusual, he thought. Certainly this case could have been another one, but somehow he didn’t think so. After all, this clearly was not one of those accidents. In this accident the victim didn’t escape without a scratch. He had received contusions to the right side of his head, and lacerations to the left side. In this accident the victim hadn’t walked away. The victim had sadly died.

  He started to rub the side of the face, and began looking through the papers once again. Apart from the Coroner’s photographs, there had been a number taken by the police at the scene of the accident. He shuffled through them until he found the one that he was looking for. He slid the photograph in front of her. It showed Richard Dawson lying on the ground in the car park area.

  “It does happen,” Kendall agreed, “but just look at that photograph. Look how he is lying, notice where his right knee is in relation to the curb. Falling like that he must have struck a very hard blow to that knee. It certainly should have been bruised at the very least. But it wasn’t, why not?”

  Mollie sighed and shook her head. She didn’t know why not. He was the detective, not her. “Does it matter?” she asked. “I mean, so there aren’t other injuries, so what?”

  Maybe it means nothing, Kendall thought. But then maybe it meant a great deal.

  * * *

  Kendall had been jogging for a little over an hour. He was, perhaps surprisingly, really getting into it. It had been Mollie’s idea. “You need to get fit,” she had said. “And to lose a few pounds.”

  He had to admit that at the time he was far from convinced. It seemed like physical torture, and a great waste of his time and effort. Besides, he was already supremely fit wasn’t he, and as for the weight… well, what could you say? All right, all right, so he could lose a pound or two. Who was arguing? A pound or two, he could accept. So reluctantly he had agreed. Shouldn’t take too long, should it. A week or two at the most, maybe three, well, no more than four anyway.

  So he had made a start. It had been hard at first, and many a time he threatened to pack it all in. Mollie had insisted, so he had persevered. And now, although he would never admit it to Mollie, he was really quite enjoying it. He and four or five others were regularly seen on the beach every Tuesday, and Friday morning. Today, however, there were only three of them running. Two had been taken into hospital suspected of having the Rican flu. It was nothing but a slight cold, Kendall had commented. A lot of fuss about very little he had observed. Nonetheless, the doctor had insisted, and into hospital they had gone. So that had left Jack, David, and Kendall. Of all of them, Jack was probably the best. He was certainly the fittest, the slimmest, and the fastest.

  As usual, he had taken the lead, and was, by now, probably miles away. Kendall came along second, and a few yards behind him, struggling a little, was David. Kendall smiled. He glanced behind him. There was David, completely oblivious to everything around him. Listening to the music on his MP3, he just kept plod
ding on. David needs to lose weight even more than I do, Kendall thought. He smiled, and turned away. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his calf. Cramp, he murmured, the runner’s worst nightmare. He tried to keep going, but eventually he had to stop. He bent down and started to rub the calf. David didn’t see him until it was too late. He ploughed straight into Kendall, pushing him forward. As Kendall fell forward he threw his arms out in front of him, to try to break the fall. He fell heavily on to the ground, and lay quite still for a few moments. David ran up to him, and started apologizing profusely.

  Two people passing by tried to help him up. “Are you all right?” said one. “Do you need an ambulance?” said the other. David continued apologizing. Kendall turned around and looked up at the small crowd that was now gathering. He was smiling. “It’s the arms,” he announced. “There’s something odd about the arms.”

  * * *

  An hour later a bruised and battered Kendall was back at his office. In front of him on the desk were the photographs of Richard Dawson lying in the Trenton car park.

  “Mollie,” he said. “Do you see anything strange about these photographs?”

  Mollie sighed. Not again, she thought. She laid down the magazine that she had been reading. “We have been through all of that before,” she replied, trying not to sound bored. “There are no other injuries, right. We’ve done all that.”

  Kendall smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’m not talking about the injuries. Not this time. Now, I’m talking about something completely different.”

  Mollie shook her head and sighed once again. “I don’t see anything,” she said wearily.

  “If you had tripped over, and were falling to the ground, where do you think your hands might be?” Kendall asked.

  Mollie looked puzzled. She hated these guessing games that Kendall was so fond of. She shook her head. Why doesn’t he just tell me? Just get on with it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t really understand what you mean.”

  Kendall stood up. “You have just tripped on something, and you are falling over,” he explained. He pretended to stumble, throwing his hands upwards and outwards. “Do you see what I’m doing?” he asked.

  Mollie nodded. She started to smile. “That’s right,” she said. “You would try to break the fall by putting your hands out like that. To save yourself, and perhaps provide some sort of protection to your face, although why you would want to protect your face I’ll never know.”

  Kendall smiled and nodded, ignoring her last comment. “Correct,” he said. “Now looking at the photograph, whereabouts are Dawson’s hands?”

  She looked at the photograph. She looked at Kendall, and shook her head. “They are lying at his side,” she said slowly.

  “Precisely,” said Kendall. He started to return the documents into the file. Then he suddenly stopped, and shook his head. “What about his legs?” he said. “Just look, where are his legs?”

  Mollie looked puzzled once again. More guessing games, she thought. Kendall pointed to the photograph. “Look, his legs are lying completely straight. There’s no way that he could have fallen like that, unless he tripped with both feet at exactly the same time.” He shook his head once again. “It’s just not possible.”

  Mollie looked at him. “Why not?” she asked.

  “He was moving forwards, wasn’t he?” Kendall started to explain. “Reasonably fast, according to the eye witness reports.” He stopped for a moment, and started to look through the file. “Here we are,” he announced. “This is the statement from John Vickers.” He glanced through the document. “Suddenly he’s flying through the air, and lands up on the ground near the raised flower beds. He went crashing to the ground and his head struck the wall.” Kendall sighed and looked at Mollie. “He trips, and is flying through the air, and he falls to the ground, striking his head.”

  Mollie looked at him still not sure of where this was leading.

  “Falling like that, one of his legs should have been slightly forward and probably slightly bent, as he hit the ground,” Kendall explained. “And his arms should have been stretched out in front of him.”

  Mollie nodded her head as it all became clear. “That’s right,” she said.

  “They should be but they’re not,” repeated Kendall. He paused for a moment. “And another thing,” he continued. “There’s no blood.”

  “What did you say?” said Mollie.

  Kendall looked at her, and shook his head. “There are no bloodstains,” he explained. “On the brick wall, I mean. No blood. And there’s no blood on the footpath.”

  “So,” Mollie looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. “So there was no blood. What about it?”

  “There should have been,” said Kendall. He started to tap the photograph. “His head hit that wall, and his neck was badly cut. There should have been some blood at the very least. But there isn’t any. The photographs show no blood.”

  Mollie looked up. “As I said before, so there was no blood. What does that mean?”

  Kendall looked at her and frowned. He shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure, but it looks like it wasn’t an accident, after all,” he murmured. “It’s beginning to look like it was murder.”

  Mollie started to smile. “Pardon,” she said quite simply. “Didn’t quite catch what you said. Could you speak up a little?”

  Kendall glared at her, and took a deep breath. “I said that it looks like it wasn’t an accident, after all.” He hesitated, and took a deep breath. “I said that it’s beginning to look like it was murder, after all.”

  Mollie started to smile. “Told you so,” she said smugly. She turned back to the magazine that she had been reading, “Celebrity Lives.” It was an article all about how the stars kept fit. She vowed to copy them, although how she could afford a personal trainer was not absolutely clear at that precise moment.

  Kendall said nothing, and merely continued to glare at her. Then he started to shake his head. All right, so the photographs threw some doubts on the alleged accident, but there was still the small matter of the two eyewitnesses. They had seen the whole thing, hadn’t they? Everything? They said it was an accident, and they should know. Of course they could have made a mistake, Kendall thought, clutching at straws. He shook his head. It was a little unlikely to say the least, though. One of them being wrong was possible, but two? There was no way. That would have been nothing more than a co-incidence, and he just did not believe in co-incidence.

  He sighed once again. They must have been right. It was an accident. All of this talk about the position of the arms and legs was nothing. It was just nonsense. It was an accident, and that’s that!

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Trenton Pharmaceuticals

  “The World Health Organization (WHO) has confirmed that there are reports coming in of cases of Rican Flu in India, the Far East, and West Africa. The death toll has increased dramatically in the last forty eight hours, and now stands at four hundred and fourteen.” (Reuters)

  “The Jerusalem Post,” Tel Aviv, Wednesday – “Two people, who have recently returned from Belize, have been quarantined with flu-like symptoms, Israeli health officials said today. As an added precaution Israeli authorities announced that the borders with the Gaza Strip, and the West Bank, are to be closed for the foreseeable future. The Palestinian President has lodged a formal protest, and the situation is to be discussed at an emergency session of the United Nations Security Council, which has been arranged for early next week.”

  “The Hindustan Times”, New Dehli, Wednesday – “Following the confirmation of the twenty-sixth case of Rican flu to hit the sub-continent, the Indian authorities have issued a Rican flu advisory today and asked that all travelers coming to India from any of the Rican flu affected countries to report symptoms of any respiratory difficulties, or skin rashes, to the airport health authorities.”

  “Nigerian News”, Lagos, Wednesday – “Nigerian health authorities are on full alert
to watch out for possible cases of Rican flu in Africa’s most populous nation. The government has set up a committee to monitor the situation and co-ordinate with the World Health Organization. No case of Rican flu has yet been reported in Nigeria, but the country has joined the race to contain the deadly outbreak of the influenza virus. Health Minister Adeyamo Nkruma stated today that Nigeria is focused on early detection of the virus and response in an attempt to check a possible outbreak in the country.”

  BBC News – “South Africa's first Rican flu case, a middle aged man who flew in from the United States on Monday, has been confirmed. The man, who had not been named, was admitted to a private hospital on Monday afternoon, said a health ministry spokesman. “The patient was kept in isolation and discharged after a few days in hospital. He is well and recovering in isolation at home,” the spokesman continued.”

  “Sven Borksen, the Secretary-General of the United Nations has expressed serious concerns about Africa’s capacity to deal with an epidemic, should one occur, given the poor state of health infrastructure in sub-Saharan Africa. Marcel Deshommes, the President of the European Union, has also expressed strong doubts, and has pledged to do all possible to assist. “Nigeria is still grappling with a previous flu outbreak, years after it was first detected,” he told waiting reporters. A spokesperson for Oxfam said today, that further problems due to years of civil war, and drought, make the present situation in Africa extremely serious, and one that the aid agencies will be watching closely.” (Associated Press.)

  * * *

  Trenton Pharmaceuticals’ large modern headquarters building is located in Fort Lauderdale, in a leafy suburb on the western side of the town. The building, which was constructed in nineteen ninety-seven is a modern ten storey concrete, glass and steel structure comprising the main tower, and two ancillary buildings, located within landscaped grounds.

  Mollie had telephoned Alan Clark, the CEO and Chairman of the Board earlier that day for an appointment. Clark had been reluctant at first. He was an extremely busy man and time was a commodity that he had very little of.