by John Holt
Kendall shook his head. No he didn’t know how these things went. He had never gambled in his life. Oh sure, he knew all about being in debt. He had been there, got the tee shirt, and seen the video. But to actually contemplate suicide because of it, that was something entirely different. That he just could not understand.
“It was building up over a long period, I believe,” Clark continued. He started to tap his fingers together. “I should have done more, Mr. Kendall, much more.” He looked down shaking his head.
“What do you mean, Mr. Clark?” Kendall asked. “How could you do more?”
“Mr. Kendall, I am the Chief Officer of this Company, and the Chairman of the Board. I should get to know my staff, all of them. Not just the senior managers or the board. No, I should know all of them, from the bottom up. It’s difficult I know, but I should try. I have to try.” He paused for a moment. “In future I want to be there for any of my staff who needs me. And I mean really be there.”
Kendall shook his head. “You’re being too hard on yourself,” he said. “You’re not to blame. After all, what could you have done?”
Clark smiled and nodded. “What could I have done? You know, Mr. Kendall, I’m a very wealthy man. I could easily have paid off Summers’ debts, if I had known about them, no problem. He would have still been alive today.” He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. “As it is, Mr. Kendall I failed him, and he is dead.” He raised his hand and brushed the side of his face. “What price do you put on human life, Mr. Kendall?”
Kendall shook his head. He really did not know about such things. You couldn’t put a price, any price, on human life. It was priceless. He shook his head once again. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he would still be alive. Maybe you could have helped him, maybe not. We’ll never know will we? But one thing is for sure, there is no point in beating yourself up over it.”
Clark looked up and started to smile. “You’re probably right, Mr. Kendall, thank you.”
“That’s better,” Kendall said. “Now what can you tell me about this virus? What’s been happening?”
Clark shrugged. “What can I tell you,” he replied. “As you probably know the epidemic started in Punta Rojas a small village in Costa Rica. It is now spreading, and a lot of people are being struck down.”
Kendall nodded. “And I understand that there have been a number of deaths.”
“Sadly that is correct,” Clark replied. “We are working hard with the UN and the World Health Organization. We are trying desperately to find a cure, a vaccine.” He heaved a sigh. “We’ll find one, rest assured.”
“I’m sure that you will,” Kendall replied. He slowly turned the pages of his notepad, and sighed. “I think I’m about done,” he said. He sighed once again. “Oh, there is one more thing.” He looked up from his pad. “What happened about Mr. Dawson’s car?”
Clark looked puzzled. “His car,” he repeated.
“Yes,” said Kendall. “His car, I mean he did come by car, didn’t he?”
Clark continued to look puzzled. “I don’t really know, Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “I’m afraid I never gave it any thought.”
Kendall smiled and shook his head. “He was in the car park, wasn’t he?” he said. “It stands to reason that he was returning to his car when this terrible accident happened.”
Clark nodded. “Oh, I see.” He paused, unsure. “I suppose that you are right, I just never gave it a thought. Is it important?”
Kendall shook his head. “Probably not, but I’m just curious,” he replied. “It’s a loose end. I don’t like them. I like everything tied up good and tight. You know.” He snapped his thumb and second finger together, and clicked.
Clark nodded. “Yes, yes. I understand,” he replied. “I’ll find out what I can and I’ll let you know.”
* * *
Kendall got back to his office shortly after three thirty. He had not been back for long when the telephone rang. It was Alan Clark. “Oh, Kendall,” he said. “I have some information about Dawson’s car.”
“I’m listening,” said Kendall.
“Apparently it was collected and taken away by the police, that same day, the day of the accident.” There was a momentary pause. “I understand that it was subsequently collected by one of Mr. Dawson’s friends, or a neighbor. Or possibly even a relative. I’m really not sure which.”
“What type of car was it?” Kendall asked.
There was a long silence. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kendall I really don’t know that,” Clark replied. “Was it important? I’m afraid that I never thought to ask. I’m not good at that sort of thing you know. One car looks very much like another these days, don’t you think?”
Kendall nodded in silent agreement. Then he shook his head. Was it important, indeed? No, of course it wasn’t important, he murmured. I only ask dumb stupid questions, don’t I? I like to hear my own voice, and waste my own time. Was it important? He shook his head, and took a deep breath. Calm down, he whispered. Take it easy.
“Oh that’s all right, Mr. Clark. Just another loose end, that’s all. You remember that I said I didn’t like them,” Kendall replied. “You are absolutely right about modern cars, though. They do look the same. There’s no originality these days. No style. I guess that’s progress for you I suppose. Thank you for your help anyway.” He slowly replaced the handset.
* * *
Chapter Fifteen
The Two Witnesses
Der Welt, Hamburg, Tuesday - “The Rican flu virus continues to spread relentlessly. There have been a further twenty-seven cases reported in Germany today. Two people have died, the first reported deaths in the Country, health officials at the Berlin Isolation Hospital said.”
“The Guardian”, London, Tuesday – “According to the Chief Medical Advisor, Sir Anthony Tyler, Britain has been hit by the virus harder than anywhere else in Europe. Sir Anthony stated that there have been another sixty-one cases of the Rican flu confirmed today, bringing the United Kingdom total to three hundred and ninety two cases. Worldwide there have been eighteen thousand confirmed cases.”
* * *
The next day Kendall returned to the car park at Trenton Pharmaceuticals. He had made arrangements to meet the two witnesses. He had telephoned the two men on the previous afternoon.
As Kendall was waved through the security gate he saw two men waiting over by the cordoned off section. “Vickers and Norris,” he murmured. They were deep in conversation.
Kendall drove to a nearby space, stopped, and got out of the car. “John Vickers,” he called out, as he approached the two men. “Is that right?”
The taller of the two men turned to face him and nodded. “I’m Vickers,” he replied. “And this is Norris.” He indicated the shorter, stocky man standing next to him. “You’re Kendall, I imagine,” he continued. “They told me that you would be coming.”
Kendall held out his hand. “That’s right,” he said. “I’m Kendall, Tom Kendall.” Vickers shook his hand. “Good of you both to come,” Kendall continued. He looked up at the sky. “It’s going to be a hot one.” There was no reaction from either of the two men. Kendall walked past, and stopped by the taped section. “I understand that you saw the accident,” he continued.
The taller man nodded, and started to rub his chin. “I saw the whole thing,” he said enthusiastically.
Kendall looked down at the spot where Dawson had fallen. “So that’s where it happened, right?”
“That’s right, Mr. Kendall,” said Vickers. “Right there, his head hit the low wall, just near the corner.”
Kendall turned around. “All right, so tell me what actually happened?”
Norris moved closer. “He tripped, just there, on that curbstone,” he said.
Kendall nodded. “I see it.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Could we start from the beginning?” He paused. “Firstly, Mr. Vickers what were you doing in the car park area?”
Vickers hesitated for a moment. “I had gone to
my car. I needed some papers for a meeting. Then I saw the young man come out of the building. He was in something of a hurry”
“That’s right,” interjected Norris. “He was walking very fast, running almost.”
Kendall nodded. “What were you doing in the car park, Mr. Norris?”
Norris nodded his head. “I had just been talking to Harry.”
“Harry?” repeated Kendall. “Who is Harry?”
Norris looked over to the gatehouse. “Harry Cutler, he’s one of the security guards. I was over there, talking, you know, just talking.”
Kendall nodded, and looked back at Vickers. “Whereabouts was your car, Mr. Vickers?”
“My car,” Vickers said. “Oh, it was over there.” He pointed over to his left. “Just near where that green Mustang is parked.”
Kendall looked in the direction indicated. The Mustang was about ten yards beyond the spot where Dawson’s car had been parked. He made a note in his pad. “And where were you at the time?”
Vickers thought for a few moments. “I was just coming back from my car,” he replied. “I had collected the papers that I needed, and I was going back towards the building.”
Kendall nodded, and then turned towards Norris. “And what about you, Mr. Norris?” he asked. “Where were you?”
Norris looked at Vickers for a moment. He then looked back at Kendall. “Oh, I was over there.” He pointed across the car park. “I was coming back across there.” He paused for a few moments. “About twenty yards away.” He paused once again, and shook his head. “Something like that I guess.”
“So you say that the young man was running from the building?” Kendall continued.
Norris shook his head. “Not running, no,” he said. “But he was walking fast, real fast.”
“That’s right,” said Vickers. “He was obviously in a hurry.”
“Like he had an appointment or something, and he was late, you know,” suggested Norris.
Kendall said nothing, but merely nodded, and made another note on his pad.
“Anyway, he walked across that way,” Vickers continued, pointing towards the cordoned off section. “The next thing I know he’s flying through the air, and lands up on the ground near the raised flower beds.” He shook his head. “One minute he’s walking along, the next he’s just lying there.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He went crashing to the ground and his head struck the wall. He must have tripped on the pathway, or something.” He shook his head yet again. “Terrible. But, you know, accidents do happen.”
Kendall sighed and nodded. Yes he knew that accidents happened. “So what happened then?” he asked.
Vickers looked at him. “What happened next,” he repeated. “Well someone must have called the ambulance, I suppose, because it arrived shortly afterwards, and took him to the hospital.” He shrugged his shoulders once again. “That’s it. What can I say,” he said. “There’s nothing more to tell you.”
“Do you know who called the ambulance?” Kendall asked. Vickers shook his head.
“It wasn’t us,” Norris replied.
“Maybe it was Harry, the security guard,” suggested Vickers. “Maybe he saw the accident as well.”
Kendall shrugged his shoulders. Maybe he had, he thought, but it wasn’t likely. He looked back in the direction of the gatehouse. He could just see the roof of the building through the trees. He would not have had a clear view of the area, not from the gatehouse. Of course he could have been walking across the car park at the time. He could have seen the whole thing, then ran back to the gatehouse, and made the call. But if he had, why wasn’t that mentioned in the reports. Why only mention two eye witnesses if there were in fact, three.
“Could be, I suppose,” Kendall replied. He was disappointed. He had learned nothing of any real importance. The two men hadn’t told him anymore than he already knew, but it was more than enough to confirm that Richard Dawson’s death had indeed been an accident, and nothing more. “Anyway, thank you for your help. Much obliged,” he said. “I shan’t delay you any further.”
The two men nodded, turned and slowly walked away. Kendall watched them until they were out of sight. He then turned and walked back over to the site of the accident. He stood there for a while, just staring at the spot. Then he started to make a rough sketch of the area, marking on the salient points. He suddenly looked up and shook his head. He started to tap his notepad. There was something that just did not seem right. Something didn’t quite add up. But what that something was he had no idea.
At a window on the eighth floor somebody watched as he closed his notepad and slowly walked back to his car. A short distance away, Kendall was being watched by a second person, the gardener.
* * *
“How did you get on, then?” Mollie asked as Kendall sat down.
He looked at her and shook his head. He yawned. It had been a tiring day so far. A little drink would have been welcome. He shrugged. It didn’t look like he was going to get one.
“It was an accident, just like everyone has said. Those two men saw the whole thing. It was an accident, end of story.”
Mollie couldn’t believe it, and shook her head. “But you said, not that long ago, that it was beginning to look like it was murder after all. You know all of that talk about the arms, and no blood, and, and, things.”
Kendall nodded, and looked down at the desk. “I know I did, but I was wrong. It doesn’t happen that often, I know, but I made a mistake.” He sighed wearily. “It was an accident, and that’s that.”
Mollie shook her head once again. “Tell me what they said, and I want every detail.”
* * *
It didn’t take too long for Kendall to tell Mollie the whole story, in detail. It was obvious that she was bitterly disappointed. She had been convinced that it had been murder. Now it was clear that Richard Dawson’s death had been an accident.
That was almost an hour ago. Since then Kendall had been unusually quiet. Mollie looked at him and wondered if he was asleep. He was hunched over his desk, staring at a piece of paper. She stood up and slowly walked behind him, staring over his shoulder.
It was a rough plan of the car park area at Trenton Tower. On it was marked a large X showing where Dawson’s body had been discovered. A short distance away was a black square that indicated Dawson’s car. There were two smaller crosses, showing where Vickers and Norris had been at the time of the accident. Lastly, there was a thick dotted line showing the route that Dawson had taken coming from the building, to the spot where the accident had occurred. Kendall was scratching his head. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he constantly murmured.
Mollie stared at him. “What doesn’t make sense?” she asked.
Startled, Kendall looked up. “That doesn’t,” he replied pointing to the dotted line. “Why didn’t he go directly to his car? It would have been a much shorter route, much quicker. Why make a detour, and walk over to the footpath?”
Mollie shook her head. She had no idea why. Furthermore she wasn’t that interested. What did it matter anyway? Then she suddenly smiled, and placed her hand on Kendall’s shoulder. “Maybe he saw something,” she suggested. “Something that simply attracted his attention and he went over to take a look.”
Kendall shrugged and shook his head. “What could be there that would interest him so much. It’s a flowerbed, after all. There’s nothing there, except some plants.”
Mollie removed her hand and glared at Kendall, making faces at him behind his back. “Perhaps he liked flowers,” she replied angrily. “I don’t know.” She slowly walked back to her desk and sat down.
Kendall looked at her, and smiled. “Maybe he did like flowers,” he replied. “But there’s still a slight problem.” He shook his head. “He was in a hurry, wasn’t he? That’s what the witnesses had said. He was in a hurry and he was running.”
“He wasn’t running,” Mollie corrected him. “He was walking fast. That’s what you said.”
“Correct,” K
endall replied. “He wasn’t running, he was walking fast, that’s what the witnesses said.”
“Like he had an appointment and he was late,” Mollie added. “That’s what Vickers had said, wasn’t it?”
“Norris, not Vickers,” Kendall replied. “It was Norris who said it.” He shook his head once again. Then he suddenly looked up at Mollie. “But he wasn’t late for an appointment, was he?”
Mollie looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“He had just seen Alan Clark, hadn’t he? His appointment was over, so why the rush?”
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Old Fashioned Detective Work
Reuters, Beijing, Thursday – “The Chinese authorities have begun issuing face masks following the confirmation of the first case of Rican flu to hit the country. The patient, identified only as a 30-year-old with the surname Bao, is a university student in the United States, Chinese health officials said. He flew from St. Louis via St. Paul, Minnesota, to Tokyo before boarding Northwest Airlines flight NW143 to Beijing on Saturday. He then took an internal flight to Chengdu, the capital of Western China’s Sichuan province. The Chinese medical authorities said that they were attempting to quarantine all the passengers who had flown with the sick man aboard that flight from Tokyo. About 120 of the 143 passengers on the flight from Tokyo have been contacted, including several dozen foreign nationals. So far, none are known to have the symptoms, but the officials said they were "persuading them to take quarantine measures." It was unclear how many are already in quarantine.”
“The patient was first suspected of having the flu after checking into a hospital on Sunday. By Monday evening, health authorities said they had confirmed it was the Rican flu. China has developed its own rapid flu-detection kits, officials said. Mr. Bao appears to be recovering, Chinese health officials said later. China, which had been criticized for its handling of the Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome outbreak in 2003, has reacted aggressively this time to isolate any cases. But it has been accused of unfairly targeting some foreign citizens.”