A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6) (15 page)

“Many times,” O’Rourke agreed. He turned to face Kendall. “So you are suggesting that even though he had the drink he was still able to get that far without trouble.”

“I am,” said Kendall. “He travelled that far, manages to walk up a slope, he gets to the top, then slips and falls.” Kendall shook his head. “Someone said about the pathway, that it wasn’t near the edge.”

“It was me,” said O’Rourke. “Ten or fifteen feet away I said.”

“Right,” said Kendall. “So if he had tripped and fell, he wouldn’t have been anywhere near the edge would he?”

“So how come he was found at the bottom of the rock?” asked Lynch. “He must have fallen over the edge.”

“Because that’s where he had reached when somebody struck him, and placed him in a position to make it look like he had fallen,” replied Kendall.

“Now I’ve heard everything,” said Lynch, as he began to laugh. “So who would have done that?”

“The same person who killed the man on the beach, that’s who,” Kendall replied. “Right, that’s it gentlemen. I’ve had a busy day, and tomorrow’s going to be another one.” He drained his glass.

“You can’t say something like that and just go,” insisted Mulvy.

Kendall shook his head. “All I’m saying really is that at present there is room for doubt,” he replied. “The police might be right in their conclusion. But they might also be wrong. There are still a lot of unanswered questions to my mind.”

“One thing, Mr. Kendall,” said O’Rourke, rubbing his chin. “Let’s say, for sake of argument that you’re right. Mulligan was struck down, and it was made to look like an accident.”

“It were an accident,” insisted Lynch. “Clear as day.”

“I said for the sake of argument,” said O’Rourke.

“Go on,” said Kendall. “What’s your point?”

“You said something about Mulligan could have been murdered,” O’Rourke continued. “And that it was probably the same man who had killed the man on the beach.”

Kendall nodded. “Yes that’s right.”

“Well that would suggest that Mr. Charters is innocent wouldn’t it?” said O’Rourke.

Kendall nodded once again. “I’m off to bed,” he said. “Good night gentlemen.”

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Finster Rock

It was just after eleven when Kendall left O’Rourke’s. It was such a good day. Although it was still fairly cool, the sky was cloudless, and the sun was trying its best. A brisk walk down to the cove was called for. After all exercise was supposed to be good for you, wasn’t it?

“Get some of that fresh air into your lungs,” he announced, punching the air. He took a couple of deep breaths. “There’s nothing like it.” Then a few more deep breaths, and an attempt to show the muscles in his arms. He looked at Mollie. “Are you coming?” he asked. “Do you the world of good.”

Mollie smiled, and shook her head. “This all seems rather sudden, doesn’t it,” she replied. “I mean you and exercise don’t normally go together. I don’t suppose this new found interest in healthy exercise is anything to do with visiting a possible crime scene is it?”

Kendall heaved a sigh. “Perish the thought. It’s purely a bit of good clean exercise, never hurt anyone,” he replied. There were a couple more deep breaths. “So are you coming or not?”

Mollie shook her head. “I think I’ll give it a miss,” she replied. “I think I might slow you down, and I wouldn’t want that, would I? Spoil it for you. Besides I have some cards to write.”

“Right, I’ll be off then,” Kendall replied, running on the spot, and pumping his arms up and down. “See you for lunch, then.”

Mollie looked up. “I’ll be sure to have some lentils, and some yoghurt, waiting for you.”

Kendall made a face at her, and left the room.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, an out of breath Kendall arrived at Carrick Cove. Down at the shore were the two boys he had met previously.

“Hi guys,” he called out, as he walked down on to the beach. “Here again I see.”

Alan looked around. “Hi Mr. Kendall,” he called out. “How’s it going?”

Good question, Kendall thought. How was it going? He looked out at the waves rolling in. Just like the waves, he thought. Coming in, and then flowing out. Constant movement, but going nowhere. “Okay I guess,” he called back.

Large mounds of sea weed had built up all along the beach, making it virtually impossible to reach the sea for a swim. “I see what you mean about the sea weed,” he said. “But it wasn’t this bad the last time was it?”

“It’s the wind,” said Alan trying to sound knowledgeable.

“We’re so exposed here on the west coast,” explained Michael. “And if we have a lot of wind, we get a lot of seaweed. Like now.”

“The corporation come down and clear it,” added Alan.

“When they feel like it,” said Michael. “They haven’t bothered for months.”

Kendall nodded, and walked over to the two boys. “It’s nothing like as rough as this, on the coast where I live,” he said. “Miami Beach.”

He looked out to sea once again, looking towards the southwest. “There it is,” he said, pointing. “Florida, about three and half thousand miles away. You can just see it.” He started to laugh. “If you use your imagination that is.”

Then he turned to face the boys. “Still exploring then?” he asked. “Have you found anything exciting?”

“Nothing much,” Michael announced shaking his head and sounding disappointed. “A few more shells that’s all.”

“Ah, you have to keep trying,” said Kendall, “You’ll find something I’m sure.”

He looked at the two boys, their wet shoes, and the mud on their clothes. He suddenly thought of a day long ago, a day when he and Billy Taylor had gone down by the old docks. They were both just ten years old. Billy trying to be clever, lost his balance on the jetty, and fell into the dirty smelly river. Kendall had pulled him out. Their clothes were ruined. Billy got a trip to the movie house as a treat for being safe and unharmed. Kendall received a beating for going to the docks, knowing that it had been forbidden. He looked at the boys once again, and wondered whether they were due a beating, or a treat.

He started walking away from the shore, back towards the cliff face. The two boys following behind. He stopped at the foot of the cliff, and looked up. “That’s Finster Rock is it?”

Michael looked up. “That’s right, he said. “That’s where poor old Mulligan was, right up there, at the top, and he fell.”

Kendall looked down, and pointed. “And that’s where they found him, is that right?”

The two boys moved closer to the spot.

“It was just there,” said Michael.

“There’s the blood stains,” added Alan as though he had made the discovery of the century. “Poor Mr. Mulligan, it’s such a shame.”

Michael started to smile. He put his hand up to the side of his face and did circulatory motions. “Nutty as a fruit case,” he said. “And twice as thick.”

“He was alright. I liked him anyway,” said Alan. “He didn’t do no harm to no one.”

Michael shrugged. “He was okay, I guess.” He looked up at the cliff face. “He was probably drunk as usual, stumbled and fell. That’s what the police said anyway.”

Kendall looked up at the rocks. He shook his head. “And yet there’s no indication that he fell. I mean I would have expected to see torn clothing clinging to the rocks as he fell. There’s nothing.” Kendall looked back at the spot. “And look at that.” He pointed to the remains of a broken bottle lying amongst the rocks. “That bottle broke just there, not up at the top, or anywhere else on the way down.”

Michael looked at the pieces of broken glass. “Could have been there for ages,” he said. “You get broken glass all over the place.”

Kendall nodded. Michael was certainly right. People threw bottles anywhere and everywhere. The beach was probably littered with broken glass. And yet from a quick glance, the beach looked surprisingly clear.

“You’re right, Michael,” Kendall replied. “People and their garbage, I’ll never understand it.” He looked down at the broken glass. “But the thing is I’m sure that glass hasn’t been there that long. That glass is, or once was, a whiskey bottle. See the label. I’m guessing that Mulligan had that in his arms as he fell to the ground.” 

“Maybe it was,” replied Michael. “But how can you be so sure that there’s no more glass up there?” He pointed up the cliff face.

Kendall smiled. “I’m a detective, remember,” he replied.

“But how do you know?” Michael insisted.

Kendall bent down and looked at the broken pieces. “Let’s just say that I’m an expert when it comes to whiskey bottles,” he said proudly. “Look at close all of the broken pieces are to each other,” Kendall started to explain. “If that bottle had fallen from up there, then there would have been pieces of glass scattered all over, and not just all in the one spot.” He paused for a moment, and looked up the cliff face. “No, take my word for it, you can search and search, all you like, but you won’t find any other bits of glass up there. That bottle broke at that spot, and nowhere else.”

Alan was still puzzled. “So it broke there, what about it?” he asked.

Kendall rubbed the side of his face. “Well, for one thing. it tells me that Mr. Mulligan never fell from the top of Finster Rock. He fell just there, right at that spot.” He pointed to the spot next to the broken glass. “And secondly it tells me that Mulligan knew his murderer.”

The boys still looked puzzled. “Okay, just think about it,” Kendall said. “First off, where do you think that bottle came from?”

The boys shook their heads.

“Well there are two possibilities. I’m guessing that either Mr. Mulligan had it with him when he left O’Rourke’s, or he got it after he had left,” Kendall explained. “Now I was at O’Rourke’s when he left, and he certainly had no bottle of whiskey with him then. So he must have got it sometime after. He couldn’t have bought it anywhere could he? Quinn’s was closed, so where else could you buy whiskey?”

Once again the boys shook their heads.

“Nowhere,” Kendall continued. “Which leaves a third possibility.” He paused and looked at the boys. “I’m guessing that someone gave it to him, probably to entice him to come here, to Carrick Cove.”

The boys were clearly not much the wiser, and made no comment. Kendall heaved a sigh and slowly shook his head. “He didn’t just come here on his own accord, did he?” he said. “This wasn’t on his way home was it? So why was he here?”

Once again the boys said nothing. “I’m willing to bet that he was brought here, deliberately,” Kendall continued. “Attracted by that bottle of whiskey. And that’s why I’m so sure that he knew the person that killed him.”

“That’s very clever, Mr. Kendall,” said Alan, who was clearly impressed.

Michael, clearly un-impressed, merely shrugged his shoulders, and tugged at Alan’s arm. “We best get on,” he said. “It’s getting late.”

Kendall looked at his watch, it was twenty five past twelve. Lunch was calling. “You’re right Michael, it is getting late,” he said. “Will you be going home for lunch, and will you be doing anymore exploring?”

“We might try some of the caves,” Michael replied. “We’ve brought some lamps. So we might have a look this afternoon.”

Kendall smiled. “Well I wish you well. If you do find anything let me know won’t you,” he said. “Well I’ll be going now. Be seeing you.”

He turned and headed back towards the road. He suddenly stopped and turned. He waved, but the boys hadn’t seen him. They were off on further adventures, and more excitement. Kendall turned and continued on his way. He looked at his watch once again. It was twelve thirty. If he hurried he would just make it back for lunch.

As he walked along he wondered what had been achieved. Certainly he was convinced that Mulligan’s death had not been an accident. He had been murdered, and by someone that he knew. Someone that he trusted. But who?

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Bread Crumbs

The following morning the sun was shining, in a clear blue sky. The overnight rain had finally stopped. It was just after ten-forty. Kendall and Mollie were sitting in the town park. There were several dog walkers taking the air, and several children taking advantage of the weather, and the school holidays. Kendall and Mollie had found a nice quiet spot, close to the lake, and Mollie was busy feeding the ducks. It had been Kendall’s idea that they get away from the hotel for a while, and go somewhere they could talk, and try to make sense of what was going on. There had now been two murders, in a few short months, in a small town where nothing ever happened. That is to say that Kendall was convinced that Mulligan’s death had not been an accident, but was, in fact, actually another murder.

Clearly the two deaths were linked in some way, or so Kendall believed. They had to be connected. Two completely separate murders would have been too much of a co-incidence, and co-incidence was something that Kendall just would not accept.

* * *

“Okay so, there we are,” said Mollie, as she emptied her paper bag of the last of the bread crumbs. “That’s the last of it, all gone, every crumb.” She looked at the ducks, and raised her hands. “There’s no more, sorry.”

The ducks hesitated, as though that didn’t believe her, and remained focussed on the paper bag. “It’s all gone,” she repeated. She screwed up the bag and looked around for a litter bin. Not finding one she placed it into her hand bag. The ducks finally took the hint, and moved off to the next person who was supplying breakfast.

Mollie watched as the ducks moved away, and then she turned towards Kendall. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Poor old Mulligan, dead like that, I mean we only spoke to him the other evening.”

Kendall said nothing, but heaved a sigh. “Bread crumbs,” he said as he looked at the ducks.

“Sorry what did you say?” asked Mollie. “Something about bread crumbs?”

“Oh I was just mumbling,” Kendall replied. “The bread crumbs just seemed to describe the little bits of evidence that’s all. A crumb here, another one there. Just little things, you know,”

“Oh I see,” said Mollie, as she raised her eyes skyward. She hated it when Kendall started to get philosophical, he wasn’t good at it.

“A simple accident like that,” Mollie continued. “You never know do you? One minute you’re okay, and the next you’re dead. A little bit too much to drink, and he trips, and, well, it’s just too terrible.”

Kendall looked up, and shook his head. “You know what, I don’t actually think it was an accident at all,” he said. “As I said last night I think he was murdered, and whoever did it tried to make it look like an accident.”

Mollie shook her head. “Murdered,” she repeated. “But why would anyone want to murder him?”

“That’s a difficult question,” said Kendall. “But I think in order to find the answer to that, we need to look a bit more at the first murder.” He paused for a moment.

“So what about the first murder?” asked Mollie.

“Well the first thing about it, is that I find it hard to believe that nobody knew the dead man, the man on the beach, Abel Nadir,” Kendall continued. “As far as the village was concerned he was a total stranger.”

“Well perhaps he was,” said Mollie.

Kendall shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. Someone was clearly lying,” he replied. “Somebody knew him, that’s for sure.”

“Like who?” Mollie asked.

Kendall started to grin. “Like the murderer, for a start,” he replied. “He, or she, must have known him wouldn’t you say?”

Mollie said nothing.

“The next question of course, is why was he at the beach, at that particular time, anyway?” asked Kendall.

“Didn’t the police say that he was there to meet Charters,” said Mollie.

Kendall shrugged and started to smile. “Do you believe that?” he asked. “Because I certainly don’t.” He paused for a moment and looked at the lake. The ducks had gathered together a few yards away and were now being fed by a couple of young girls. “Pity we’ve no more bread for them.”

Mollie looked at him and smiled. “They actually say that bread isn’t good for them,” she replied. “They should have duck pellets, you can buy them in a good pet shop.”

Kendall nodded. “Maybe, I don’t know.” He sighed. “Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, I remember.”

“So if he wasn’t there to meet with Charters, why was he there?” asked Mollie.

Kendall shook his head. “At this stage of the game I don’t know, but I’m guessing it was something to do with little white packages.”

“Like the ones found in Charters’ house you mean?” suggested Mollie.

Kendall looked at her for a few moments. “Yes, just like them,” he replied. “But those packages had been deliberately planted there to incriminate Charters, I’m sure of that.”

“Who by?” asked Mollie.

Kendall started to laugh. “The killer of course.” He looked back at the lake. The ducks had all gone. He looked up the sky. It had started to cloud over.

“The next question to ask is, of course, where did the guy actually come from?” said Kendall. “I mean did he just walk to the Cove, from the bus stop in the town maybe, or did he come by cab?”

Mollie shook her head. “There’s no way of knowing,” she said. “Does it matter?”

Kendall shook his head. “Well maybe there is a way of knowing,” he replied. “And yes it certainly matters. It matters a great deal. I actually think the man on the beach came in from the sea, just as Mulligan suggested.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mollie.

“You remember the other day, when I visited the local police?”

Mollie nodded. “What about it?”

“Well Constable Donovan showed me some photographs of the dead man, at the scene, there on the beach,” Kendall started to explain. “The first thing I noticed was that the bottom of his trousers was damp.”

Mollie looked puzzled. “So his trousers were damp,” she replied. “Perhaps it had been raining.”

“It was only the bottom section that was wet,” Kendall repeated. “Which suggested to me that he had been walking in the sea, but only for a short distance. Maybe ten feet, or so, certainly no more.”

“Why do you think it was such a short distance?” Mollie asked.

Kendall nodded. “Because there was no sign of any seaweed,” he explained. “Remember what the boys had said about the seaweed?”

Mollie nodded. “They said that it was smelly.”

“Yes they did,” said Kendall. “But they also said something else.”

Mollie thought for a few moments. “They said that it was so thick that it wrapped itself around your legs, and that’s why they didn’t go swimming in the cove.”

“That’s right,” said Kendall. “That means that the guy was never really in the sea.”

“But what about the wet boots?” asked Mollie.

Kendall nodded. “Like the German sailor I believe that he came in from the sea, brought in by a boat. But the boat didn’t come right on shore, it stayed out a few feet, so he would have had to get out and walk the last few feet, on to the shore.”

“So he definitely came in by boat,” said Mollie.

“That’s right,” said Kendall. “But more than that. He was actually brought in by boat, by somebody else.”

“But why couldn’t he have been on his own?” asked Mollie. Then she suddenly realised why. “Because there was no boat discovered in the cove, right.”

“Correct,” agreed Kendall. “No, he was brought in by someone else, and that someone killed him for reasons that at present are unknown.”

“And they killed him right there on the beach,” added Mollie, looking pleased with herself. “Then they sailed away.”

“That’s right,” said Kendall.

“Alright so that sounds reasonable. All we have to do now is find the person who had the boat, but it could be anybody,” said Mollie.

“That’s right, it could be anybody,” Kendall agreed. He heaved a sigh. “But there’s another little mystery.”

“Now what?” she asked.

Kendall looked at her and smiled. “I wondering why here,” he replied. “Why that particular beach?”

“Maybe the man, was going to meet someone in the village,” Mollie suggested.

“Maybe,” replied Kendall unconvinced. “But who, and why?”

Mollie shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps Mallory, or the young man. Or maybe O’Rourke, or maybe it was to meet with Charters after all.”

Kendall smiled. “Or perhaps he was going to meet old Mulligan.”

“Maybe,” said Mollie hopefully.

“So why was he killed?” asked Kendall.

Mollie shook her head once again. “I don’t know why,” she replied. “There could be all kinds of reasons. Maybe he and the other man had an argument.”

“Maybe,” replied Kendall. “But I don’t really think he was brought here to meet anyone. He was brought here for one purpose and one purpose only. And that was to be killed.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Mollie.

Kendall looked at Mollie. “I don’t know why but he was brought to the cove deliberately, and whoever brought him here killed him. I’m convinced of that.”

“So wouldn’t that mean that Brian Charters wasn’t the killer?” said Mollie.

“I think so,” said Kendall. “But we still need to prove it.”

“So Charters being there at that time was just a co-incidence then,” suggested Mollie.

Kendall smiled, and shook his head. “It wasn’t a co-incidence at all,” he continued. “It was all arranged. The killer knew that Charters would be there at about that time. He knew Charters’ routine of taking his dog for a walk. The plan was to kill Mr. Nadir at a particular time, and somehow incriminate Charters.”

“With the packages of heroin,” suggested Mollie.

“Exactly,” said Kendall.

“And it seems to have worked,” said Mollie.

Kendall nodded. “We shall see,” he replied trying to sound confident.

* * *