Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. There was a second knock, the door opened, and the two men from the car park came in. The first man was holding a badge of some kind. “Mr. Kendall,” he said. “This is Special Agent Bishop, and I am Special Agent Townes.” He held out the badge for Kendall to see.

  Kendall started to read. “Federal Bureau of…” he paused. “The FBI,” he said. “You’re kidding right.”

  Special Agent Townes shook his head. No, he wasn’t kidding. He reached inside his pocket and took out a sheet of paper. “I have a court order.” He handed the document to Kendall. “We have been instructed to search your offices.”

  Kendall was shocked. “Instructed?” he said. “Who by?”

  Agent Bishop moved closer. “We are not at liberty to say, sir.”

  Kendall shook his head. “What is it that you are looking for?” he asked.

  “We are not at liberty to say, sir,” said Bishop.

  Kendall shook his head once again. “Is it Trenton Pharmaceuticals?” he asked. “Are they behind this?”

  “We are not at lib…….” the agent started to speak.

  “I know, I know,” said Kendall. “We are not at liberty to say, sir.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Help yourselves, and if you find anything useful perhaps you would let me know.”

  He turned away, and looked at his desk. The folder had completely disappeared. He looked at Mollie, a puzzled look on his face. She smiled and pointed to the copy of Celebrity Lives that she was reading.

  Kendall turned back to the two men who were now busily searching. “Can I get you fellows a coffee, or something?” he asked. “Perhaps something stronger, or maybe that’s not allowed.” He paused for a moment or two. “Oh, by the way I lost a rather nice pen a few weeks ago. A dark blue one, about oh, I don’t know, five or six inches long,” he said. “If you find it perhaps you would let me know.”

  He looked at Mollie and smiled. She shook her head and glared back at him. “Perhaps not,” he continued. They said nothing. “If you would tell me what it is that you are looking for, maybe I could help.” The agents said nothing, but continued their search. Kendall shrugged his shoulders. He was trying hard to think what it might possibly be. He couldn’t think of anything.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later they had completed their search. “All done,” said Bishop. He started towards the door, quickly followed by Townes. “Thank you for your co-operation, Mr. Kendall,” he said. “We might be back.” With that, both men left the office.

  “What was that all about?” asked Mollie. “What were they looking for?”

  Kendall shook his head, and glanced around the room. He started to smile. “Oh that was nothing really,” he said. “What were they looking for?” He shook his head. “I’ve no idea, but they never found anything, did they?” He shook his head once again. “I don’t think they were really looking for anything. I think that they were only trying to frighten me off.”

  Mollie took a deep breath. “Well, I have to say that it’s working. The Federal Bureau of Investigation, I mean, that’s serious stuff.”

  Kendall looked at her and smiled. It certainly was serious, he thought. The only thing was he wasn’t entirely sure that they were from the Bureau. In fact, he doubted that they were, doubted it very much.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about them,” Kendall said. “The more that kind of thing happens, the more I know we are on the right track.” He started to smile. He leaned forward and picked up Mollie’s magazine. There was the folder safely inside. “I always knew that Celebrity Lives would be useful for something one fine day.” He paused for a moment. “More coffee?” he asked.

  Mollie looked up, and started to laugh. “I’ll get the chocolate biscuits.”

  * * *

  Kendall had just finished his coffee when the telephone rang. It was Devaney. “Kendall, I’m just checking,” he said. “You have stopped those enquiries, haven’t you?”

  “Of course, I have,” Kendall snapped back, lying. He looked towards the door where the federal agents had been just a few minutes before.

  Devaney wasn’t sure. He was hesitant. “So I can tell my boss that everything is all right, and he doesn’t have to worry anymore?” Kendall said nothing. “Kendall, are you there?”

  “I’m here,” Kendall replied. “You tell your boss that I hear what you say, and that I am taking the appropriate action.”

  Devaney gave a deep sigh. “Kendall,” he replied. “I don’t want to hear. I was told to ask the question. I asked.” He paused for a moment and took another deep breath. “Tom,” he continued. “You just be careful you hear.”

  Oh yes, he would be careful all right, Kendall thought, but he had to continue. He couldn’t stop, not now, not yet. It was not an accident. It was murder, but he still had to prove it.

  “It was murder, you know,” Kendall said slowly. “I have all the information I need now. It was murder.”

  Devaney sighed, that was not what he wanted to hear. “Okay, so it was murder, says you. What do you want me to do about it?”

  There was a momentary pause. “Bring in those two witnesses, that’s what I want you to do,” Kendall replied. “They did it.”

  Devaney paused and gave another deep sigh. “Kendall, you’re crazy. I can’t just bring them in. You know that. I need evidence.”

  “I have the evidence,” Kendall replied.

  Devaney sighed once again. This was not the conversation he had planned. He had told Kendall to back away, as instructed. He could just say goodbye, and hang up. So why was he still on the line listening?

  “All right, Kendall,” he said. “You better let me have what you think you’ve got. Then we’ll see.”

  Kendall remained silent for a moment. “It’s three o’clock now. I’ll see you in an hour, in your car park.”

  Devaney sighed a third time. He really did not need this. He didn’t have the time. It was an accident, pure and simple, so why was Kendall going on and on? More to the point why was he still listening? He could not believe what he was about to say. “Four o’clock, in the car park,” he said and hung up.

  Kendall continued to stare at the telephone still in his hand. He shook his head, and slowly replaced the receiver. He stood up. Doubts started to invade his thoughts. Was he right? Did he really have sufficient evidence? Enough to show that it was murder, and that Vickers and Norris had done it? Was there enough to convince Devaney?

  He shook his head. He was hesitant. Slowly he started to pace around the room. It usually helped him think. Not today, though. Today his thoughts were all confused. Maybe the coroner had been right all along. Maybe it was just a simple accident. The police should know, shouldn’t they? As he reached the window he casually glanced out into the car park. There were two men standing over at the corner. Kendall shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

  It was obvious that he was being watched, but by who? Were they working for the police, or were they really FBI agents? Or were they Trenton’s men? Or maybe, just maybe, they were connected to those counterfeiters. He shook his head. Somehow, he didn’t think so. He looked once again, and then he nodded. They weren’t from the police. They weren’t FBI. They were Trenton’s men. He knew then that he was right. It was murder. There was now no doubt in his mind.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kendall Presents His Evidence

  The Herald Tribune, Friday – “Whilst the number of confirmed cases continue to fall rumors are beginning to spread concerning an alleged previous outbreak of Rican flu. Details are, at present, vague and sketchy, but it has been suggested that a previous smaller outbreak occurred some five years ago, also in the Punta Rojas region. It has further been suggested that the outbreak had been started deliberately. Investigations are currently being undertaken, and details will be published as soon as anything further is known.”

  * * *

  It was four o’clock exactly when Kendall drove into the police department car par
k. Devaney was waiting at the gate. He waved him through, and walked over to the car just as Kendall switched off the engine.

  “Where’s your car?” Devaney asked.

  Kendall smiled. “Oh, I’ve just borrowed this one for a while. It belongs to one of Dawson’s neighbors. It’s the same car Dawson used the day he died. Get in.”

  Devaney shook his head and started to walk around to the passenger’s side. Kendall leant out of the window, and called him back. “Not there,” he called out. “In here, in the back behind me.”

  Devaney sighed and shook his head once again. He shrugged, and opened the rear door. He got in and closed the door. “All right now?” he asked.

  Kendall smiled. “Fine,” he said.

  “Okay Kendall, so what do you have exactly?” Devaney asked. “And I’ve already heard about the so called photographic evidence.” He paused. “The absence of other injuries; the lack of marks on the clothing…” He paused once again. “…the position of the legs etc.”

  Kendall smiled and shrugged. “All pretty compelling, I would have thought,” he replied. He shook his head. “You are obviously not impressed.”

  Devaney grunted and shook his head. “Meaningless, the whole lot of it,” he replied. “Just one of those things, I would suggest, and certainly no proof of a murder.” He shook his head once again. “There were two witnesses remember. It was an accident.”

  Kendall shook his head and sighed. This is not going to be easy, he murmured. He took a deep breath. “All right,” he replied. “It’s just one of those things, or to be strictly accurate, just three of those things.”

  Devaney opened his mouth to protest. Kendall raised his hand and stopped him. “Devaney,” he said. “Before I proceed, I need to ask you something.”

  Devaney sighed. “Go on,” he replied wearily.

  Kendall smiled. “Am I being watched by the department?”

  Devaney looked up surprised. “No,” he said shaking his head. “Not as far as I am aware.”

  Kendall nodded. “As I thought,” he said. “Then they must work for Trenton.” He handed two photographs over to Devaney. “Those two have been watching me for the past few days.”

  Devaney looked at the photographs for a few moments. He shook his head. “They are definitely not from this office,” he said. He placed the pictures in his pocket and looked up at Kendall. “I’ll check them out. Now, can we get on? You might not have anything else to do, but I have.”

  Kendall smiled. “At the risk of being considered boring, I would like to spend a little time and consider the wounds to Dawson’s head.”

  Devaney sighed loudly. Not again, he whispered. “Go on,” he replied. “Get on with it, but be quick.”

  Kendall smiled once again, as he watched Devaney through the rear mirror. “There were two wounds to Dawson’s head, if memory serves.”

  “That’s right,” said Devaney.

  “A deep cut and bruising, to the right temple,” said Kendall.

  “A deep cut to the right temple,” Devaney interrupted impatiently. “And two scratches to the left side of the neck. So?”

  “How do you think he got those wounds?” Kendall asked.

  Devaney shrugged and sighed. This had all been gone through so many times. “He fell and hit his head on the low wall, hence the deep cut and the bruising.”

  Kendall nodded. “Yes okay, but what about the scratches to the neck?”

  Devaney shook his head. “Obviously as he fell he struck his head, then he rolled over and ….”

  “Maybe, but why would the neck be scratched?” Kendall asked. “That wouldn’t occur by falling over would it? Why not more bruising, or perhaps another cut?”

  Devaney shook his head. “I’m not a doctor, I’m a poor detective,” he replied. “Am I expected to know things like that?” What was the point of all of this anyway?

  “Perhaps he scratched his neck earlier. Or maybe even on a different day. I don’t know,” he replied. “Perhaps he cut himself shaving. It didn’t have to be the same time as the other wound, did it?”

  Kendall thought for a moment. No, that’s right. It didn’t have to be the same time. It could have happened earlier. Certainly he could have cut himself shaving. It happens. Why, he had done it himself, many times, but not to the bottom of the back of the neck? Kendall shook his head. It was possible, but not very likely. In fact, if he had been a betting man, which he wasn’t, the odds would have been heavily against it. He was convinced that both the scratches, and the cut, had actually occurred within a few milliseconds of each other.

  He shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I’m convinced that the scratches happened at the same time as the bruising.”

  Devaney fell silent for a moment, thinking hard. He shook his head. “And how do you know that?” he asked. “Suddenly you’re an expert in that kind of thing?”

  Kendall nodded. “I’ll tell you how I know,” he replied. “Listen and learn.”

  “Get on with it, Kendall,” Devaney yelled. “There’s a game on at nine. I want to see it.”

  “All right, all right, patience, I’m getting there,” replied Kendall. He paused for a few moments. “Now, sitting here, as we are, what do you think would happen if you struck me hard on the right side of my head?”

  Devaney thought for a few moments. He was beginning to be sorely tempted. “Well, I imagine there would be a lot of bruising.”

  “And probably a deep cut as well, wouldn’t you say,” added Kendall helpfully.

  “Depending on what I hit you with, then yes, there would probably be a deep cut as well,” Devaney agreed.

  “Just like Dawson?” suggested Kendall.

  “Just like Dawson,” Devaney agreed once again.

  “Good, we’re getting somewhere,” Kendall said smiling.

  Devaney was far from convinced that they were getting anywhere. This was all old ground they were going over.

  “Okay, now, after hitting me hard on the right side,” Kendall continued. “What would actually happen to my head do you think?”

  Devaney was puzzled. What was this all about, he wondered. Where was it all leading? “Your head,” he repeated. “I suppose it would flop over to the left side.”

  Kendall nodded, and turned his head over to the left. “Just like this.” He suddenly gave a little cry. He sat up and turned to face Devaney. He was holding the left side of his neck. As Kendall slowly removed his hand, he revealed two small scratches at the base of his neck. He winced once again. “I hadn’t meant to lean over quite so much,” he said. “But I think I’ve made my point.” He looked at Devaney through the rear view mirror. “I’ve just scratched my neck on a small piece of metal here on the top of the seat.” He pointed to the offending piece. “Do you see what it’s done?”

  Devaney looked closely, and started to smile. “It has scratched the side of your neck,” he said slowly. “Just like Dawson.”

  “Just like Dawson,” Kendall agreed.

  Devaney nodded his head. “So what are you saying then?” he asked.

  “I’m saying that Richard Dawson actually received his wounds in this car, and not by tripping over that curb,” Kendall replied. “That would make sense of the evidence from my third witness.”

  Devaney looked surprised. “Your third witness,” he repeated. “What’s that all about?”

  Kendall smiled. “Joe Louis, the gardener,” he replied. “He saw everything, including two men carrying someone from a car, over to that spot by the wall, the spot where Dawson’s body was later discovered.”

  Devaney looked at Kendall for a few moments, and then shook his head. “Wasn’t it the gardener who got killed in that car accident?” he said. “The hit and run?”

  Kendall nodded. “That’s right.”

  Devaney shook his head once again. “So you have no witness then.”

  “Maybe not,” Kendall said. “But Dawson was dead long before he was placed at that wall,” he said. “He was dead in this car.�
�

  “You could be right,” Devaney said. He looked at the blood staining once again. Then he nodded his head. “You could just be right.”

  Kendall nodded. “Dawson was murdered right here, take my word for it.”

  “So the so-called witnesses were lying,” Devaney continued. Kendall nodded a second time. “So it’s a fair bet that they actually carried out the murder.” Kendall nodded a third time.

  Devaney shrugged. He hated being shown to be wrong. What he hated more was the fact that Kendall was enjoying it. Smug, Devaney thought. There was no other word for it, smug.

  “I think if you check out these bloodstains, you will find that they match Richard Dawson’s blood type.” Kendall said as he pointed to the marks on the seat.

  * * *

  Kendall had been sitting at his desk for quite some time. Mollie had gone home hours ago. In fact, everyone had probably gone home by now, he thought. The building was probably deserted. It was quite dark in the office. He reached across the desk and switched on the desk lamp.

  He glanced across at the wall clock. “Eight seventeen.” He shrugged, and sighed. It had been a long day, but it had been a most productive one. He sighed once more, and stifled a yawn. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he was very tired. He really wanted to get home, to relax, put his feet up. There was that game on TV at nine. He shook his head. He would never make it, he might just make the second half.

  Yes it certainly had been a long day, but it wasn’t over, not just yet. He was waiting for a telephone call. He slowly stood up and started to walk towards the kitchen. He stopped at the window, and pulled the curtain back slightly. He glanced down at the car park. As he had expected, it was completely empty. He glanced across to the gatehouse. He could see a light shining, and somebody moving around inside. Graham, or was it Douglas? He nodded. It had to be Graham at that time of night. Douglas was now safely at home, he thought. Had his dinner, and was now sitting, relaxing, waiting for that game to start.

  Kendall shrugged his shoulders, and sighed deeply. He let the curtain drop back into place, and continued towards the kitchen. At that moment the telephone rang. Kendall turned around and hurried back to the desk. He lunged forward and picked up the receiver on the fourth ring.