Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  Late on Tuesday evening it was confirmed that one case was infected with the disease. “The identified woman is recovering after prompt treatment,” said Kim San, the head of the Division of Public Health Crisis Response at the Korean Centre for Disease Control and Prevention. “To prevent passing on the disease and to monitor the development of the disease, she will be quarantined at her residence for more than a week,” he added. “The fifty-one year old female patient is believed to have contracted the disease after contact with a local driver during her trip to Panama City two weeks ago.”

  “Japan Times,” Tokyo, Wednesday – “The number of Rican flu cases in Japan has risen rapidly, the Japanese authorities have announced. There have been more than one hundred and twenty cases now confirmed. Nearly 2,000 schools and companies have been closed, and the government has discouraged unnecessary travel to quell the spread of the disease. Just four cases had been confirmed in Japan as of last Friday. All four were people who had recently returned from Canada. The first case in someone who had not been abroad, a 17-year-old student in Kobe, was reported on Saturday night. Japanese media said the new wave of infections would make Japan the fourth-most infected country in the world, after Costa Rica, the United States and Britain. None of those infected are thought to be in danger of their lives, officials say, but the government is taking no chances. “The sharp increase is worrying, but only makes us more determined. We must be vigilant, and constantly monitor the situation. Then, by being careful, and with quick treatment, patients can recover,” said Prime Minister Taro Aso. “We must respond calmly and appropriately,” he added. Most of those infected are thought to be students in the Hyogo and Osaka prefectures in Western Japan.

  * * *

  It had been a very quiet morning on the reception counter so far. It was Sam’s turn for the day shift this week. He much preferred it to the night shift. He really hated that one. It was far too quiet, far too dark, and far too lonely, for his liking. No he much preferred the day shift. He liked meeting people. You know, a bit of activity, someone to talk to. He wasn’t one for just sitting around, reading the newspaper, or watching television.

  Certainly, he read the papers, but he would never spend hours at it. It was a means to an end; that was all; to find out what was happening in the world. A glance at the headlines would soon tell him which items needed further attention, and which ones could be ignored. He wasn’t really that interested in the sports pages either, except perhaps for the baseball. Big business held no great fascination for him, and he certainly wasn’t interested in the celebrity news, or the latest fashions. Stocks and shares left him absolutely cold. He wasn’t good at the puzzles. Those five or six topics accounted for almost three-quarters of the average newspaper, leaving just a few short pages only in which to detail the happenings in the entire world. Even then, it was usually about the epidemic, or the situation in Iraq, or the war against terror, or global warming.

  As for the television, well, most of the programmes were rubbish. You never learnt anything from them, he reasoned. Generally, they were a complete waste of precious time, his precious time. Many of the programmes were boring or downright depressing. And the language, he could certainly live without that. They somehow couldn’t make a decent programme without some foul language. He shook his head. They used to be able, but not anymore, it seemed. Sometimes he wondered why he even had a television set. He would watch the occasional documentary perhaps, or maybe an old film on video, or DVD, and that was about it. Even then, the programme had to be worthwhile. He hated all of those modern dramas, and those reality shows. The endless makeover shows, and the celebrity homes. “Who cares?” he murmured.

  He hated just sitting around. He had to have something to do, something to occupy his mind. He needed to be active. Not that there had been much activity so far today. It was unusually quiet. Normally there would be a lot of coming and going, visitors, repair staff, deliveries, and so on. Not today, though. He shook his head. Holidays maybe.

  There were no visitors, and no tradesmen calling. There had been nothing to disturb him at all. There hadn’t even been a single telephone call, not even a wrong number. He had managed to get his reports all written up, and his paperwork was now completely up to date. All he had to do now was make a few calendar entries in the computer, and he was done.

  He glanced over to the board hanging on the sidewall. It was a simple device, designed to show which of the offices were occupied, and which were not. He shrugged and smiled. It was far from foolproof though. It relied heavily on the co-operation from the various companies in the complex. Co-operation that was seldom forthcoming. In fact it was about as rare as hen’s teeth, he murmured. The vast majority of the occupants just forgot, or couldn’t be bothered.

  He shook his head once again. He decided to send out another circular to everyone asking for their co-operation. All that they had to do, when they went out, was to slide the card across to expose the word OUT. Then when they returned they simply slid it back again to show the word IN. That was all. That was hardly strenuous, was it? Wouldn’t bring on a stroke, would it? Cardiac arrest, or cause a heart attack? How much time would it take anyway? A minute, he murmured. He shook his head. Not a minute, not even thirty seconds. It was simple enough. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, was it? It wasn’t high tech. It didn’t take an Einstein. You didn’t need a college degree to understand it. There was no long drawn out training course to go through. No complicated learning curve.

  Was it, perhaps, inconvenient? He shook his head once more. It was there right by the door. How inconvenient was that? You had to pass right by it in order to leave the building. All you had to do was raise your hand slightly as you walked by. A quick flick of the wrist and it was done. It was so easy, a child could it.

  He shook his head once again. That was it, he murmured, he would issue an instruction, one child to be supplied to each office suite, no extra charge. He started to laugh at the idea. He sighed and looked away from the board and continued with the computer entries. He would try once more, he decided. Once only, and that would be that. If they didn’t co-operate this time he would call it a day, and take the board down.

  * * *

  Suddenly he heard a loud squeaking noise as the main door open. He really had meant to oil that door long ago. It was simple enough, and would take no more than five minutes. So what was the problem? He kept forgetting that was all; that was the problem, but it had to be done. He would have to do it the first opportunity he got. He looked up just as a man walked through the door, into the lobby, and then slowly came towards him.

  The man suddenly stopped, startled by the loud clicking of his shoes on the marble floor. He looked over at Sam and smiled. “Sorry,” he whispered, as he looked down at his feet. “Sorry.” He placed his forefinger across his lips. “Shhh,” he murmured.

  Sam looked at the man and smiled back. “Come on in,” he called out. “What can we do for you?”

  “We,” repeated the man as he looked around to see if there was anyone else around. He shook his head. He was disappointed. There wasn’t anyone else.

  As he drew nearer, Sam could see that the man was slightly stooped. His clothes were stained, and he was unshaven. It was hard to guess his age, but his grey hair suggested that he was no longer in the prime of youth. “Now,” said Sam. “What can we do for you?”

  Once again that word, “we”. Surprised, the man looked around once again. He shook his head again. There was still no one else in the area. He turned back to face the reception counter. “I’ve come to see Mr. Kendall,” he said slowly. He started to shuffle his feet nervously. Then he started to gently rock backwards and forwards. Every few moments he would look around at the door, and then back again.

  “Mr. Kendall,” Sam repeated. “Is he expecting you?” he asked.

  The man looked up, surprised. “Is who expecting me?” he asked.

  Sam smiled. “Mr. Kendall,” he replied gently. “You asked for Mr. Ken
dall, remember.” He paused. “Is he expecting you?”

  The man looked down and started to rub his hands together. “I saw it, you know,” he said, nodding his head, and smiling. “I saw the whole thing.”

  Now it was Sam’s turn to look puzzled. “Is Mr. Kendall expecting you?” he asked once again.

  The man shook his head. “Oh no, I don’t think so.” He paused for a moment thinking hard. “No. he’s not expecting me,” he replied. He took a deep breath. “I saw everything,” he said. “He was just lying there. On the ground, you know.”

  Sam smiled and nodded his head. “Sure he was, just lying there. Now let me see if Mr. Kendall is in, shall we?”

  Sam looked across at the board. According to that Kendall was in. He picked up the telephone and dialed the number of Kendall’s office. As he did so he was watching the man, who was now slowly walking around the lobby area. Suddenly he looked up and saw Joe watching him. Sam smiled, and then looked away. The telephone rang and rang. There was no answer. Mr. Kendall must be out, he thought. He glanced back at the indicator board on the sidewall. He shrugged his shoulders. The Kendall Detective Agency was definitely shown as being in according to the indicator board.

  “I do wish he would tell me so I can keep an eye,” he murmured. He let the phone ring a few more times. Then he sighed, and slowly replaced the receiver. He looked up. Where was his visitor? There he was, over by the staircase. “I’m afraid Mr. Kendall is out,” he called out.

  The man slowly walked back to the reception counter. He looked down. “I wanted to see Mr. Kendall,” he said quietly. He started to wring his hands together. “He was just lying there.” He sighed deeply. “I wanted to speak to Mr. Kendall.”

  Sam smiled and nodded. “I know, I know, but I’m afraid that he isn’t in,” he said. The visitor looked disappointed. He was staring down at the floor. “Is there anything I can do?” Sam asked. “Perhaps I could take a message, perhaps.”

  The man continued to stare at the floor mumbling to himself. Sam stood up and walked around the counter over to where the man was standing. “Come over here and sit down,” he said, as he led him to the sofa in the small waiting area. “Let me see if I can help you.” The man sat down, and so did Sam. “Now tell me,” said Sam. “Who are you?”

  “I saw the whole thing,” the man said. “He was just lying there on the ground.” He shook his head. “He never moved. They carried him over.”

  “It’s Mr.?” Sam asked.

  The man looked up. Suddenly he noticed the flowers in the containers by the window. He started to smile. He stood up and walked over to the window. “Pelargoniums,” he murmured. “We have them in the lobby at Trenton.” He bent down to smell the flowers. “Lovely,” he whispered. “Mr. Clark loves them. I take a fresh bunch to his office every morning.”

  Sam looked at him and smiled. “What did you call them?” he asked. “I call them Geraniums.”

  The man looked at him and smiled back. His eyes were shining. He slowly shook his head. “Pelargonium,” he repeated slowly. “That’s their proper name, you know.” He paused and looked back at the flowers. “That one is Black Velvet Apple Blossom Sunset. We have lots of those,” he said as he pointed at the plant. “Do you see the leaves? They are all dark and velvety.” He looked up. “That’s how you get the name, Black Velvet.” He looked back at the plant. “Look at the color of the flower, pale green, and pink.” He smiled. “Just like a nice juicy apple.” He moved further along. He started to clap his hands excitedly. “Begonias, Impatiens.” He stopped and looked back at Sam. “You probably call them Busy Lizzie.”

  Sam nodded and smiled. “That’s right,” he replied. “You certainly know your plants, Mr?”

  The man looked back at the container. His eyes sparkled. “Coleus, oh and look my favorite, the African Violet.” He bent down for a closer look. “Look at that deep purple color, and those tiny yellow centers.” He started to clap his hands together. “It’s so perfectly formed and so delicate.” He then turned around and slowly walked back to the sofa. “I grow all of them for Mr. Clark,” he said. “We have a big display in the entrance at the office.” He glanced back at the container. “Ours are much bigger than that.”

  Sam nodded. “I’m sure the display is lovely,” he said. “Come and sit down, Mr?” He paused and looked at his visitor. “What is your name?”

  “Oh I’m Joe,” the man replied, a huge smile slowly spreading across his face. “Joe Louis, you know… like the boxer.”

  Sam smiled. He had no idea what the man was talking about. He knew nothing about boxing. Baseball was more his game, watching that is, not actually playing. That was too much like hard work, and far less enjoyable, he thought. He nodded. “Fine, Mr. Lewis,” he said. He started to write the name down. “L E W I S,” he said slowly.

  “No, no,” the man interrupted. “Louis,” he said. “Joe Louis, the boxer, I told you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “L O U I S,” he spelt out his name. “Joe Louis, you know.”

  Sam smiled. “Oh, that Joe Louis,” he said. “Why didn’t you say so?” he whispered. He heaved a deep sigh. He crossed out the name Lewis, and put in the correct name. He looked up, and smiled. “Hey, is that right?” He paused. “My name is Sam,” he said. “Well, really, it is Samuel, but well.”

  The man looked up and smiled. “That’s a nice name,” he said. “Samuel.” He paused for a moment. “He was a great prophet. Did you know that?”

  Sam had to admit that sadly he hadn’t known that. He shook his head, and smiled. “Okay, now, Joe, what is this all about?” he asked. “What did you want to see Mr. Kendall about?”

  “Could I have a drink, please?” the man asked. “I am very thirsty.”

  Sam smiled, and stood up. “Sure you can,” he said, as he walked over to the drinks dispenser on the sidewall. He stopped and looked back. “Would you like a coke?” he asked. The man simply nodded. Sam deposited his coin into the machine, and pressed a button. A second later a can of Pepsi lay in the tray below. Sam picked it up and returned to where the visitor was sitting.

  “Here you are,” he said, handing him the can. The man started to drink quickly. Sam shook his head. “Now, Joe,” he said. “Tell me what this is all about.”

  The man finished his drink and placed the can neatly on the side table. He took out a handkerchief and slowly wiped his mouth. He took a deep breath. “I saw the whole thing,” he replied nervously. Louis took another deep breath. “Well, I saw him lying there,” he continued. “You know, lying on the ground. He wasn’t moving.” He paused and looked down at the floor. “He was so still.”

  “You saw who?” Sam asked.

  The man looked puzzled once again. “The young man, he was there in the car park,” he replied. “But he never moved.”

  Sam had no idea what this was all about, but he just wrote it all down. Word for word, exactly as Joe had said. “So he never moved,” Sam repeated. “What happened then?”

  Joe looked at him. “He was lying there,” he explained. “Mr. Vickers said that he had fallen and hurt himself bad.”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Right,” he said. “And did you actually see him fall?”

  Joe looked up and shook his head. “He was just lying there,” he replied. “On the ground.” He started to rub his hands together. “He wasn’t moving. He was just so still. I thought that he was asleep.” Joe then shook his head again. “But then I thought who would go to sleep on the ground, in the car park?” He started to laugh.

  Sam shook his head. “Right, so he wasn’t asleep, then.” Joe shook his head. “But he had fallen is that right? Did you see him fall?”

  Joe shook his head. “But he didn’t fall.” He looked down at the ground, a frown formed on his forehead. “No, he didn’t fall.” He paused for a moment. He looked over at the drinks cabinet. “Could I have another drink?” he asked.

  Sam looked at the man, and then looked across at the cabinet. He smiled and stood up. He was beginning to
wonder where this was all leading to if anywhere. Was it all a waste of valuable time? Should he call it a day and get the man to leave? Or should he try once more? He tried to think what Mr. Kendall would want him to do. He decided to carry on, to persevere a little longer.

  “Of course, you can,” he said, as he walked over to the dispenser. A few minutes later he returned with another can of Pepsi. “There you are,” he said as he handed the can to his visitor. “So, you were saying, he didn’t fall.”

  Louis looked up and smiled. He took a drink. “Oh no, he didn’t fall,” he replied. “I saw him lying there, on the ground. He was so still, he never moved.” He paused and nodded his head. Then he took another drink. “Mr. Vickers said that he had tripped,” he continued. “And that he hit his head. It was terrible. A young man like that. He was just lying there, you see. He was so still.”

  Sam shook his head. He took a deep breath. “Yes, yes,” he said. “He was very still. I understand that.” He paused for a moment. “But did you see him fall?” he asked.

  Louis looked puzzled. Then he smiled, and nodded his head. “He was lying on the ground,” he said. “He had tripped and hit his head, Mr. Vickers said so.”

  Sam shook his head once again. He sighed. “So he did fall then?”

  Louis looked up, took a drink and smiled. “No, he didn’t fall,” he said, becoming slightly agitated. “They carried him there. I saw them.”

  Sam shook his head. He was having great difficulty following all of this. Either he fell, or he was carried. Which was it? He shook his head again. It probably didn’t matter, anyway. Mr. Kendall would understand, wouldn’t he? He nodded his head. Of course he would, he thought, although not entirely convinced. “So they carried him there,” he repeated. “Who carried him?”

  Louis looked up and frowned. “I told you didn’t I?” he said. “I thought I did, anyway.” He looked down at the ground and shook his head once again. Then he looked up. “It was Mr. Vickers,” he continued. “Mr. Vickers and Mr. Norris.” He looked down at his hands and started to rub them together nervously. He then looked up and smiled. He took another drink. “The bubbles make my nose itch,” he said. He looked up at Sam. “He never moved, you know.” He paused for a moment. “They carried him over and laid him on the ground,” he continued. “He was so still.” He started rubbing his hands together again. “He never moved.”