Kendall - Private Detective - Box Set

by John Holt

  He then turned around and quickly walked out of the room.

  * * *

  Kendall was dozing. Just resting his eyes, he would say. The television set was on. He had been watching one of those endless crime scene dramas. He smiled. Amusing, he thought. Entertaining in their way, but nothing like real life? Give me a break.

  The program finished, and then the news came on. The main item concerned Trenton Pharmaceuticals. Kendall opened his eyes, as the newsreader started the item. On the screen was a shot of Trenton Tower. The picture then changed to show the main entrance door. The doors swung open and four police officers, including Devaney, came out bringing somebody with them. Along the bottom of the screen the banner said quite simply “Trenton CEO arrested.” The voice over filled in the details. “In the midst of fast moving developments, Alan Clark, CEO of Trenton Pharmaceuticals was arrested earlier today. He has been charged in connection with the murder of Richard Dawson, a reporter for the Miami Herald.” There was a pause as the picture changed to show a small hospital in Central America. “It is understood that other charges are to follow in connection with the recent virus epidemic which started here at this hospital in Punta Rojas.”

  The picture faded back to the studio. “There is some breaking news just coming in.” There was a slight pause. “We have just heard that Trenton Pharmaceuticals are to be investigated in connection with events that took place in Punta Rojas in 2005. More on that as soon as we get it.”

  The screen changed to show a gathering of people outside a steel plant in Detroit. “The Steelworkers Union has just announced that they are to hold a ballot regarding possible strike action,” said the voice over.

  Kendall wasn’t too concerned about the Steelworkers. He flipped the channel. “… showing great foresight and ordering large quantities of vaccine, the United States Government is now in a position to offer massive help to the Third World.”

  Kendall shook his head, and stood up. He walked over and switched the television off. He yawned. He was tired. It had been another long day. He looked over at Mollie. “You know what that means don’t you?’ She shook her head. She knew what it meant, but she wondered if Kendall did.

  “It means that they over re-acted. They panicked, and ordered far too much of the vaccine, that nobody wants.” He shrugged. “That’s what it means.”

  Mollie smiled. Kendall was absolutely right.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Case is Closed

  “British Medical Journal”, London, Saturday. – “There have been no new cases of the so-called Rican Flu reported for the past three weeks. Scientists are hopeful that the worst is now over. “It would appear that the drug, Dioxycill, developed by Trenton Pharmaceuticals, in the United States, has been successful in combating the virus,” said Professor Guy Chandler of the Royal College of Physicians.”

  “The Washington Post”, Saturday - “It was officially reported today, by the World Health Organization, that the epidemic is now over. With no new cases reported anywhere for the past three weeks the World Health Organization has announced that the incubation period had now passed.

  The virus had affected over eighty countries and had resulted in seven hundred and ninety-two deaths. In total, over one hundred thousand people had been affected. Almost five and a half billion vaccines have been distributed throughout the world. In a statement issued by the United Nations the Secretary-General praised the actions taken by the Nations in combating the virus. “It is an example of co-operation on a massive scale,” he said. “And it shows what can be achieved with a little effort when countries work together.”

  “Miami Herald,” Saturday – “The White House has announced that, following agreement with the International Community, major new powers are to be introduced to control the activities of the pharmaceutical industry. New initiatives are to be introduced immediately. In particular rules regarding drug development are to be tightened. Furthermore, more stringent rules are to be introduced in connection with the testing of drugs.”

  * * *

  Nurse Juanita Martes had been standing in the corridor for almost ten minutes. She was looking out of the window, watching a group of young soldiers working in the grounds below. For the past two or three days they had been dismantling a number of large marquees. The last one had just been taken down and the tents were now being loaded on to a lorry.

  One of the young soldiers carrying out the work suddenly looked up and saw her. He smiled and waved. She smiled and waved back. So it was finally over, she murmured. The temporary wards had now all gone. All that remained now was the tidying up. She started to rub the side of her face. It had been hard going. Almost nine months. But it was now over. Naturally it would still be some while before they were back to normal. She knew that, but even so.

  She smiled. She might get that holiday now, that trip they had planned to the coast. She looked down at where the tents had been. The area was littered with papers, bottles, discarded bandages, and empty boxes. The grass was all brown now, dead. She sighed and slowly nodded her head. It was dead, but it would come back, she murmured. The grass would recover. It would come back to life.

  Suddenly her bleeper sounded. She pressed the button to answer. It was Matron. “I’m on my way,” she replied simply, and placed the bleeper back inside her tunic. She looked out of the window once again, and sighed. She raised a hand to her face and brushed a tear from her eye. The grass would come back to life, she whispered, but many poor people would not.

  She quickly turned away from the window and started to hurry along the corridor. She started to run. Suddenly she heard a voice call out to her. “Nurse Martes, we do not run along the corridor. Ladies do not run. Ladies walk.” Martes stopped and quickly looked around. She saw no one. She started to smile, and then continued on her way.

  Walking, not running, but walking quickly.

  * * *

  Kendall looked up from his newspaper, and nodded wisely. “Well it’s about time too,” he announced. “That’s just what I’ve been saying for years.” He started to tap the desk. “They should have done something about it long ago.” He slowly turned the page.

  Mollie looked up from the magazine that she was reading. “What is it now?” she asked wearily.

  Kendall shrugged. “At last they are talking about controlling the drug industry,” he explained. “They have been getting their own way for far too long.” He looked back down at the page. “Look at that,” he said indignantly. He held up the newspaper that he was reading. “Look at that headline, Addicted In Just Three Days.”

  He tapped the newspaper several times. “Just look at what it says. It’s talking about becoming addicted. Not on heroin, or crack, or cocaine. Oh, no. This isn’t talking about ecstasy or anything like that. This is about becoming addicted to painkillers.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Painkillers, I ask you.”

  He looked at Mollie and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “It says here… let me see where it is .... Here it is.” He folded the page over and started to read. “Over the counter painkillers taken by millions can cause addiction in just three days, a spokesperson for the Federal Drugs Administration said today. The pills, which contain codeine, are routinely used to ease headaches, back problems, and other chronic pain conditions. Official figures show that tens of thousands of people have become dependent on these drugs.” He slowly put the newspaper down and looked at her. “So, what do you think of that?”

  She smiled at him. “What have I always been saying?” she asked.

  Kendall nodded. She was right. She was no lover of conventional medicines. She was a great advocate of alternative remedies: charcoal capsules, aged garlic, and that kind of thing. He had to admit that she was, generally, healthier than he was. On the other hand, he had been heavily reliant on conventional drugs for many years, especially for his hay fever.

  He smiled at her. “Alright, alright, you told me so, I know.” He carried on reading for a fe
w moments. Then he suddenly thought of those strange sounding ingredients in the tablets that Clark had given him. He wondered if codeine had been one of them. He shook his head, he couldn’t actually remember.

  “So what are they going to do about it then?” Mollie asked.

  Kendall looked puzzled, and returned to the newspaper. He started to read once again. “Here we are. The health authorities say that from next year all packets will contain a government health warning, stating the risks of addiction.”

  Mollie shrugged, and clapped her hands slowly. “Terrific,” she said sarcastically. “Well done, FDA. Did they come up with anything else?”

  “They are going to restrict the number of tablets per packet,” Kendall continued. “They are to be reduced from 100 down to 32.” He looked at her and smiled.

  She shrugged once again. “That’ll be a big help, I don’t think,” she said. Kendall frowned. “You say that according to the newspaper, you can become addicted in just three days. Is that right?” Kendall nodded. “In three days you would probably take how many tablets?” She paused for a moment, waiting for Kendall to make a guess. He said nothing but continued to look puzzled.

  “Let’s say, for argument, that it would be no more than eight tablets a day.” She looked at Kendall. “For a drug like panadol the packet actually advises not to take more than eight tablets in a twenty four hour period,” she explained. “In three days that’s twenty-four tablets, which is still a long way short of thirty two. In other words the packet will still contain more than enough tablets to get hooked on.” She shook her head. “Do they have any other wonderful ideas?”

  Kendall sighed, and turned back to the newspaper. “There will be warning leaflets inside the packet.”

  Mollie was shaking her head slowly. “Brilliant. In other words they are planning very little useful action.” She sighed. “No more than I expected.”

  Kendall looked at Mollie. “Well, anyway they have announced that there are to be more stringent rules regarding drug testing. That should put a stop to people like Alan Clark.”

  Mollie looked at him and shook her head again. “Don’t you believe it,” she said. “There will always be people like Clark; greedy, crooked, people out to make a fast buck, and not worried who gets hurt while they do it. They will always find a way, somehow. The authorities might close a door on them somewhere, but they will find an open window somewhere else.”

  Kendall smiled. Very profound, he thought. But she was right. No question about that. She was absolutely right. There would always be a Clark somewhere in the world.

  * * *

  He returned to the newspaper, and turned to the inside pages. At the bottom of page four was a small item. “In a surprise announcement today it has been reported that Alan Clark, the CEO and Chairman of Trenton Pharmaceuticals has been arrested in connection with the death of Richard Dawson. Other charges are expected. At the present time there are no details concerning the circumstances, or what charges are to be made.”

  Kendall put the newspaper down. He was smiling. “So,” he whispered. “Clark has been arrested, but there are no details of the charges.”

  He rubbed the side of his face. “What charges would there be?” he murmured. “Well, they have already mentioned one.” He held up one finger. “The murder of Richard Dawson, that’s one charge.” He paused for a few moments. “Then, there’s poor old Joe.” He held up a second finger. “That’s two. Then there’s that reporter in Punta Rojas five years ago.” He paused once again. “What was his name?” he muttered. “Lopez,” he suddenly remembered. Carlos Lopez.” He held up a third finger. “That’s three.” He sighed and shook his head. “Martin Summers, that’s four.”

  He took a breath. “Then there are all of those poor people who died because of that wretched virus in 2005.” He shook his head once again. “And how many hundreds have died as a result of this last outbreak.” He would need a whole lot more fingers than he had, at least five or six hundred more, probably. He nodded his head. “I certainly know what the charges will be,” he said slowly.

  The telephone rang. It was Devaney. “Hi, Kendall,” he said. “Have you heard the news?”

  “About Clark, you mean? “ Kendall replied. “I’ve just read about it.”

  “No, not Clark, I’m talking about Lockhart and Day.”

  “Oh, no,” Kendall replied. “What about them?”

  “Their trial has been set for April 19th, Miami Central Court,” Devaney replied. “I’ll need you to give evidence.”

  “Oh good, I can’t wait,” said Kendall.

  “I thought you’d be pleased.” The phone went dead.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Kendall Sums Up

  “The Miami Herald”, Monday – “The two men who were taken into custody by Miami Police Department on Friday, have now been charged with three counts of forgery, two of assault, and one of being in possession of a deadly weapon. It is alleged that over a three year period more than fifteen million counterfeit US dollars were produced, together with large quantities of British pounds, and Euros banknotes.

  Roger Lockhart and Charlie Day are due to appear at the Miami Central Court in the middle of April. The trial is expected to last six weeks.”

  * * *

  “All finished,” Kendall suddenly announced, sounding pleased with himself. He placed his pen down on the desk, and picked up a sheet of paper. He started to read. “Statement by Thomas Kendall, dated March the dada da.”

  Kendall quickly scanned down the page, mumbling to himself as he went along. “….. Lockhart, and Day were seen leaving the barn at shortly after …..”

  Mollie looked over at him. “Is that the statement for Devaney?” she asked.

  Kendall placed the paper down on to the desk, and looked at her. He nodded. “The trial is due to start in about three weeks you know, Devaney wants this as soon as possible.”

  “Have you signed it?” she asked.

  Kendall glared at her. “Of course, I’ve signed it,” he replied.

  “And dated it?”

  “Of course I’ve …” He looked down at the document. It was undated. “I was just about to do it,” he said, quickly picking up his pen once more.

  Mollie smiled and went back to the article that she was reading in her health magazine. “The benefits of Essiac Green Tea,” she read. Then she suddenly looked up at Kendall. “It says here that this tea is not only a cure for cancer, but all kinds of other serious illnesses.”

  “Is that right?” Kendall murmured, trying to sound interested, but missing by a mile. “That’s good.”

  Mollie looked at him and pulled a face. What would he know anyway? “It might even cure your Dementia,” she continued as she turned back to the article.

  Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Kendall looked across at the wall clock. “Five to four,” he murmured. “That’ll be our visitors, Mollie.”

  He stood up, walked over to the door, and opened it. “Oh hello,” he said as he welcomed his expected visitors. “Come in, come in,” he said smiling. “Mollie,” he called out. “Mrs. Dawson and Peter are here.”

  Mollie walked over to greet their guests. “I’ll get some coffee,” she said. Then she turned and went over to the kitchen.

  Kendall was still holding the door open. “Come in, please,” he said smiling. “Please sit down.” He pointed over to the chairs. Suddenly he noticed someone else walking slowly along the corridor. “Miss Hall,” he said, surprised. “Angela, it’s good to see you. Come in, please.”

  Mrs. Dawson and her son walked over to the desk and sat down. Angela followed and sat next to Mrs. Dawson.

  “How are you Mr. Kendall?” Peter asked.

  Kendall nodded. “Fine,” he replied simply, and sat down. “Have you heard the news?” he asked.

  Peter Dawson looked at him. “News,” he replied. “What news?”

  Kendall nodded as he walked around the desk. “The news about Clark,
” he explained. “He’s been arrested.”

  Dawson nodded and looked at his mother. “Oh yes,” he replied. “It was just on the car radio.”

  Kendall sat down. As he did so Mollie entered the room carrying a tray. She placed it on the desk. “Coffee, anyone?” she asked. “Please help yourself to the biscuits.

  Kendall picked up a biscuit and dunked it in his coffee. He looked up. Mrs. Dawson and her son were watching him closely. They both smiled, as he saw them. He started to laugh. “Help yourselves to the biscuits,” he said, as he bit into his and started to chew.

  “So you were right,” he said to Mrs. Dawson. “It wasn’t an accident, despite all the appearances to the contrary. It was indeed, murder.” Kendall heaved a sigh. “You said that from day one.” He paused and looked at Mollie. “You and Mollie, I was the skeptical one, the doubter.”

  Peter Dawson smiled, and looked at Kendall. “We knew it all the time,” he said. “When did you finally come to realize it Mr. Kendall?” he asked.

  Kendall smiled. He dunked another biscuit into his coffee and started to chew. “Well, I have to admit that I was a little slower than the rest of you. I had to work it out, you see. I couldn’t just go on nothing more than a feeling.”

  He looked over at Mollie. She glared back, and pulled a face. He smiled back, and shrugged his shoulders. “It was an examination of the photographs taken by the police, and the medical examiner that started me thinking. They raised a lot of questions in my mind. That’s when the doubts started.”

  “What sort of doubts?” Mrs. Dawson asked.

  Kendall had just started chewing on a third biscuit, and was unable to speak. “It became clear that it couldn’t have been an accident,” Mollie answered quickly. “Apart from the head wound, there were no other injuries,” she explained. “Not even a scratch.”