A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6) (3 page)

And so the case was discussed from every angle. Forwards, backwards, and sideways. But at the end of fourteen hours and twenty-three minutes there was no getting away from the fact that the accused was guilty. Of that there was no doubt.

* * *

“You are free to go,” said the Judge once again.

The Court bailiff indicated the door to their left, and intimated that they should now leave. Slowly the twelve good and true members stood up and made their way through the open doorway.

“This Court is adjourned,” the Judge announced hitting the desk with his gavel. He stood up

“All rise,” announced the Court Usher.

The Judge bowed, turned and left the Courtroom.

Members of the press rushed from the room anxious to get their stories to the press rooms. Court officials mingled with each other briefly, and then gradually left the room.

* * *

“Can I help you?” a voice asked as Kendall and Mollie reached the top of the stairs.

“We are looking for the public gallery,” replied Mollie.

“Which Courtroom, Miss?” the voice asked.

Mollie looked at Kendall, and shook her head. “Courtroom number four,” replied Kendall.

“Ah, the Crown Versus Collier,” replied the voice. “Second on the right. You best hurry though, his Lordship’s just about to start with the sentencing.”

Kendall and Mollie thanked him and hurried along the corridor. They entered the public gallery just as the Judge began to speak.

“I have considered all aspects of this case, and taken note of the recommendations of the Prosecution. I have also considered the mitigating circumstances put forward by the Defence.”

The Judge paused and then turned his gaze towards the dock where the prisoner stood, flanked by two prison guards. In the Court there wasn’t a sound.

“The prisoner will rise,” announced the Court Usher. One of the guards sitting by Collier’s side nudged him, and indicated that he was required to stand up.

Collier stood up slowly, and looked at the Judge.

“John Wyndham Collier, you have been found guilty in that you did wilfully murder Robert Andrews, as charged.”  The judge paused for a moment. “Have you anything to say before I pronounce sentence upon you?”

Collier looked impassively at the judge. He said nothing but merely shook his head.

“It is the sentence of this court that you be given Life Imprisonment, with a recommendation that you serve not less than twenty-five years.”  The Judge paused for a moment. There was another muffled groan from somewhere in the public gallery. The prisoner made no sound. “Officer, take him down.”

The police officers standing either side of the prisoner placed a hand on to Collier’s shoulders, and lead him away.

Members of the public up in the public gallery started to make their way down the stairs and out to the street. Amongst them Kendall and Mollie.

* * *

Chapter Three

Chief Inspector Whittaker

“Mr. Kendall,” a voice called out, as they came down the stairs. “And Miss Adams. It’s so good to see you again.”

Tom Kendall smiled and offered his hand, as he reached the bottom of the staircase. “Inspector Whittaker,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I was hoping to catch you before getting back,” said the Inspector. “And by the way, it’s Chief Inspector now.”

Mollie stepped forward, put her arm around him and kissed him on the cheek. “Congratulations on the promotion, Chief Inspector,” she said.

“So, when did that happen?” Kendall asked, patting the Inspector on the back.

“Oh, a month or two back,” said the Chief Inspector. “They probably thought it was about time, you know, what with my age and all. Felt sorry for me I guess.”

“Now, Chief Inspector,” Mollie protested wagging her finger at him. “Your age has nothing to do with it, and you know it. It’s all to do with ability. Besides you’re not old, not like someone that I could mention.”

“Why are you looking at me?” asked Kendall.

The Chief Inspector smiled. “I’m glad to see that you two haven’t changed.” He paused for a moment, and then he looked over at the door leading into the Court-room. “So what did you think of that, in there? A sample of British Justice?” he asked. “A bit different to back home I guess.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the World,” Kendall replied. “And yes, it’s a lot different. Back home that would have all been on National television, with highlights every evening, and everything, that was said or done, would have been analysed left right and centre.”

The Chief Inspector smiled. “Are you happy enough with the sentence?” he asked.

Kendall smiled. “Happy ain’t exactly what I would have said,” he replied. “I guess it was okay, but back home he would have got ninety-nine years to life, at least.”

“With no chance of parole,” Mollie added.

The Chief Inspector nodded. “Have you seen Roger?” he asked.

“Roger Andrews?” said Kendall. “Yes I saw him a couple of weeks ago, he was in the public gallery. He’s not looking too good is he?”

The Chief Inspector shook his head. “He’s aged considerably in the last few months,” he replied.

“I’m not really surprised,” said Mollie. “I mean in the circumstances.”

“No, I agree,” said Kendall. “To lose your brother is one thing, but for your brother to be murdered like that, that’s something else.” Kendall shook his head. “At least he has had some justice here today. Hopefully, that should bring him some closure.”

The Chief Inspector took a deep breath. “Guess so, but he’ll never really get over it will he?” The Chief Inspector paused for a moment. “So, now that the trial is over, what plans do you have?”

“Oh I’m not sure,” said Kendall. “Mollie here, I’m sure would like to do some shopping, so I suppose that’s what we’ll do.”

The Chief Inspector looked at Mollie and smiled. “I’m sure that you’ll enjoy that,” he said. “But what I meant was when do you plan on going back to America?”

“Oh, I get you,” said Kendall. “Well we’re not really sure just yet. Not for a little while I’d say.”

“It could be a couple of weeks,” said Mollie. “We thought that we might get a vacation this time, you know a proper holiday.”

“Unlike the last time,” added Kendall.

The Chief Inspector nodded his head slowly. “Naturally,” he replied. “I can appreciate that.” He paused for a moment, and heaved a sigh. “The thing is ….”

“Yes, Chief Inspector,” said Kendall. “You wanted to say something.”

The Chief inspector sighed once again. “Well to be perfectly honest, Mr. Kendall, I find that I am in need of your services.”

Kendall looked puzzled for a moment. “You in need of a private detective, I don’t believe it.”

Kendall smiled. He thought back to the first meeting that they had had with the Inspector, just a few months ago. He remembered the conversation almost word for word. It should be said that the Inspector wasn’t exactly impressed with Private Detectives at that time. In fact he had rather a negative view about them.

* * *

“So you’re a Private detective, eh,” Whittaker had said. “That’s what’s written down here.”  He tapped the paper that he was holding. “It’s all there.”  He paused for a moment. “That’s what it says. You are a Private Detective in Miami.”  He placed the paper back on to the desk, and shook his head. “What’s that then?  Some kind of Philip Marlowe are we?”  He shrugged, and looked up at the ceiling. “You know I’ve seen all of those films. Humphrey Bogart, Robert Mitchum. The lot of them.”  He started to laugh. “The Big Sleep. The Maltese Falcon. You name it.”

Kendall began to wonder what all of this had to do with the death of Bob Andrews. “Inspector I wonder …” he started to speak.

“Enjoyable in their own way I suppose, but it’s all fantasy of course,” Whittaker continued. “None of its real you know.”  He shrugged once again, and looked at Kendall. “I mean there’s absolutely no way that they would really solve a crime is there?”  He shook his head. “I mean a real crime that is, not one of those pretend things on the films.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hollywood. Fiction. That’s all it is. Fairy tales. It’s all staged. Clever mind you, very clever. And very entertaining I admit. But I mean.” He shook his head and started to smile. “Stands to reason,” he continued, looking up at the ceiling, and leaning back in his chair. “Oh no, I’m talking about a proper crime. You know, real life. Things aren’t quite so easy in reality are they?  They are far more complex, more involved.”  He shrugged his shoulders once again, and sat up straight.

He looked at Kendall. “You need a real professional for that. Someone with the knowledge, and the experience. The skill. Someone who knows what they are talking about. Someone who can recognise the important things. To sift through the clues, and arrive at a logical, well thought out conclusion based upon the facts.”  He paused for a moment. “It’s all to do with deduction you see,” he continued. “Deduction and logic.” 

* * *

“But I thought that you said that we only had limited value,” said Kendall mockingly. “Like checking up on a husband who is playing around, or an unfaithful wife. That kind of thing. The odd insurance claim perhaps, or maybe checking up on a benefit cheat.” 

“Alright Kendall, alright, you win. So I was wrong,” the Chief Inspector protested. “I have to admit that Private Detectives do have some uses, occasionally. How’s that? Better?”

Kendall smiled and nodded. “Go on, Chief Inspector, I’m listening.”

“Well the thing is, I was actually hoping to employ you,” the Chief Inspector started to explain.

“You were hoping to employ me?” replied Kendall disbelievingly, and trying hard not to laugh. “Am I hearing right.”

Kendall suddenly felt a sharp pain in his left calf. He looked at Mollie. She simply smiled sweetly, and nodded. Kendall looked back at Whittaker. “You were saying.”

“Perhaps we could get a drink somewhere and I’ll explain further,” said Whittaker. “There’s a pub just around the corner. How does that sound to you?”

A drink sounded like a good idea and Kendall did not need to be asked twice.

* * *

Ten minutes later the drinks had been ordered, and the three were seated at a corner table of the “Wig and Pen” public house. Although it was only four o’clock in the afternoon it was very busy.

“They are nearly all legal people in here,” Whittaker explained, as he looked around. “Barristers in between cases, that sort of thing. Lawyer’s Clerks. Oh, and of course we can’t forget the press can we?” He looked over to the far side of the room.  “Daily Express boys,” he said indicating a group. “And just behind them we have the Daily Mail reporters.” He gave a cursory wave.

Kendall wasn’t really interested in the tour. “All right, Chief Inspector, so we know who’s who.” He paused for a moment, and looked over at the reporters. He smiled, and turned back to face Whittaker. “So tell me, what’s this all about?”

Whittaker was about to say something when a young lady arrived with their drinks. “Ah, here’s our drinks,” he said as they were placed on the table. “That’s a scotch for you, Mr. Kendall, and ….”

“Kendall, will do just fine,” said Kendall.

“Pardon me,” said Whittaker.

“The name is Tom Kendall, right,” Kendall started to explain. “The trouble is back in the department, the NYPD, there were four of us. Four Toms. Every time someone called out Tom, half the office looked around. The four Toms looked to see which Tom was actually wanted, the rest looked around to see if they had won their bet.”

Whittaker looked perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

Kendall smiled. “The office would lay bets as to which of us would be called next,” Kendall replied. “We even had odds quoted.” He paused as he remembered how things had been. “Anyway it got so bad the four of us decided to make some changes. We would no longer be called Tom. So there was Baker, Woods, and Young. I became Kendall, and that’s how it’s been ever since.”

“But you can call him, Tom,” said Mollie.

“Yes, right, you can call me Tom, I guess,” said Kendall. “As long as you don’t need to call it out loud.”

“Oh, right you are …. Tom,” Whittaker replied. “Well a scotch for …. Tom, and a martini for you Miss … Mollie. And that’s mine, a pint of Worthingtons.”  He took a long drink, and looked at Kendall. He smiled. “Shouldn’t really you know. Drinking on duty so to speak.”

Kendall smiled. “It’s alright I won’t say a word.”

“Nor me, Chief Inspector,” said Mollie quickly. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The Chief Inspector looked back at the newspaper men. “Not so sure about that lot though,” he smiled and raised his glass. The reporters smiled and returned the gesture. “They’ll print anything for a decent front page.” He took a long deliberate drink. “I can see it now, Inspector Drunk In Charge.” He then turned back to face Kendall. “Now about this, er job,” he said. “Incidentally, what are your fees?”

“We’ll get to that later shall we?” said Kendall. “Now, how about the job you mentioned?”

Whittaker nodded and took another drink. “Yes, the job.”  He nodded slowly and clicked his teeth. “I have a cousin,” he said. “Son of my mother’s sister actually. A few years younger than me though. Quite a few in fact. Thirty eight he is.” He paused and took another drink. “Well anyway he is over in Ireland, over on the west side, a little place called Killmacud. Have you ever been there?”

Kendall shook his head. “No, I haven’t,” he replied. He looked at Mollie. “We were going to Ireland if you remember, but well our plans got overtaken by events.”

The Chief Inspector nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Right, well it’s a nice place, a small town you know the kind of thing, everyone knows everyone else.”

Being New York born and raised Kendall had to admit that he did not know anything about small towns. The thought of everyone knowing everyone else horrified him.

“So what about your cousin?” Kendall asked. “Can we maybe start with a name?”

“Brian Charters,” Whittaker replied.

“Is he Irish?” asked Mollie.

Whittaker shook his head. “Oh no, he’s English. Actually born in London, not very far from where we are now sitting in fact.”

“So does he live over there, in Ireland?” Kendall asked. “In, where did you say?”

Whittaker shook his head. “Killmacud,” he replied. “He’s over there on a job.”

“A job?” said Mollie. “What kind of a job?”

Whittaker looked over to the group of reporters. “He’s one of those,” he replied pointing towards the group. He looked back at Mollie. “He works for the Daily Express, he is an investigative reporter.”

“Go on, I’m listening,” said Kendall, still wondering what the job was all about, and whether Whittaker would actually get to the point.

“Well it’s all a bit cloak and dagger, if you know what I mean,” Whittaker continued.

Kendall shook his head. He didn’t know what he meant. “I’m still listening” he replied, and took a long drink.

Whittaker drained his glass, and looked over at the bar. Catching the eye of the barman he indicated another round of drinks. He turned back to face Kendall. “Brian has been over there for about nine or ten months now,” he explained. “Originally he was staying in Killarney, but then about three months ago he moved a few miles south to Killmacud.” The Chief Inspector paused for a moment. “He has been investigating smuggling.”

“Smuggling,” repeated Mollie.

* * *