by John Holt
“This is all very interesting, but ….”
Mallory held up his hand. “Just bear with me a little longer, please.” He drained his glass. He held it up. “How about a refill?”
Without waiting for an answer he took hold of Kendall’s glass, and that belonging to Mollie. He walked over to the corner, returning a few moments later with the refills. He placed the drinks on to the coffee table. “Now where was I?” he murmured. “Oh yes, I remember, the Quays.” He heaved a sigh. “The buildings are now mainly offices. You know the kind of thing. Small businesses, accountants, insurance agents, things like that.”
“So there’s lots of offices, what about ….”
“One of those offices is used by Anglo-Irish Commodities,” said Mallory. “And that address was on an envelope in the dead man’s possession.”
Kendall nodded. “That’s right,” he replied. “Constable Donovan did pay them a visit, but found nothing.”
“Who knows, it might be different if you went along,” suggested Mallory. “You might learn something worthwhile.”
“About the drugs you mean,” said Mollie.
“Could be,” said Mallory.
“So I guess you’re not really into marketing then,” Kendall suggested, smiling.
Mallory thought for a moment or two. Then he too, started to smile “Well I guess you could say that I am. The only thing is it’s a market dealing in a particular commodity, illegal drugs.”
Kendall nodded. “What about Mrs. Mulvy, she didn’t really see you that night then, the night of the murder. You said she was mistaken, I have to say that I hadn’t believed you, but ….”
Mallory shook his head. “And you were right not to believe me, because she saw me alright.”
Kendall looked bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
“I was actually following O’Rourke,” Mallory started to explain. “Brian had information which suggested that someone would be coming ashore that night. So we arranged to go down and see. That is Brian was to go down, and I was to follow behind, to watch his back.” He paused for a moment and shook his head. “Watch his back, that’s a joke.”
“Go on, so what happened?” Kendall coaxed.
Mallory remained silent for a moment. “Well if you mean did I see the murder, I’m afraid not. I saw O’Rourke walking along the High Street, and then he headed down towards the Coast Road. I decided to follow him.”
“Did you mention anything about it to him?” asked Kendall.
Mallory shook his head. “No I didn’t, I didn’t have to. He mentioned it himself, later that night, in the bar. He had gone to his doctor, the surgery is just off the Coast Road.”
“His doctor,” repeated Kendall. “Did he say why?”
Mallory smiled. “He certainly did. He thought he might have had cancer, you know. Fortunately he didn’t.”
“Did you see anyone else?” asked Kendall.
Mallory thought for a few moments. “Yes I did,” he replied. “I saw Derren.”
“Derren Lynch?” repeated Kendall. “Where was he?”
“Down at his boatyard,” Mallory replied. “I think he had just got in.”
“Got in?” repeated Kendall.
“From one of his trips,” Mallory explained.
Kendall nodded. “Did you see him later that evening, at O’Rourke’s?”
Mallory shook his head. “Well it was some while ago,” he replied. “I’m not sure that I can remember.” He paused for a moment. “Is it important?”
Kendall had to admit that he wasn’t altogether sure whether it was, or wasn’t of any importance. He shook his head, and heaved a sigh. “Just another loose end, I guess,” he replied. “I just like to get these little points cleared up that’s all.”
Mallory nodded. “Right, so let me think.” He took another drink. Then he started to smile. “Now I remember,” he continued. “He never came in that night. He said that he had to go up the coat for some parts for a repair job he was working on. He didn’t expect to be back that night.”
“Interesting,” said Kendall. “So why did Lynch tell me that after seeing Charters heading towards the Cove, he made his way to O’Rourke’s, I wonder.”
“Perhaps he just made a mistake,” suggested Mallory.
Kendall smiled, and nodded. “Oh he made a mistake alright, but not in the way you mean.” He paused for a moment and took a drink. “Now what about this trip to Dublin?” he asked. “Sounds like it might be a good idea. How about coming with us?”
“Sounds good to me,” Mallory replied. He looked at Mollie. “And I guess Catherine and Mollie might care to visit the shops.”
“But we’ll need a reason for going there,” said Kendall.
Mallory nodded and thought for a few moments. “Well that envelope was found in the dead man’s pocket, right.”
“Yes, it was,” agreed Kendall.
“There was an address written on it, together with a telephone number, right,” Mallory continued. “That address was for Anglo-Irish commodities, correct.”
Kendall nodded in agreement.
“Well we could say that we were trying to find out who the dead man was,” suggested Mallory. “And we thought that maybe the address was a good starting point.”
“Maybe,” said Kendall, unconvinced. “But why didn’t the police think of that?”
Mallory shook his head. “Who knows,” he replied. “But don’t forget they knew who the man was, and, more importantly, they had the murderer in custody.”
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Three
A Visit to Dublin
Mallory had decided to park his car in a side street in Blackrock, just a few miles to the south of Dublin, and continued the journey into Dublin on the DART railway. It was cheap, and convenient, and saved all the hassle and expense of finding somewhere to park in the city. Thirty minutes later Kendall and Mallory were standing on the Half Penny bridge, at the start of O’Connell Street.
“That’s Peterson’s office, over there.” Said Mallory pointing to a drab three storey Victorian building that had clearly seen better days. “He’s up there on the second floor.” Mallory paused and looked at his watch. “It’s a quarter to two now,” he continued. “How long do you think you’ll be?”
Kendall shrugged. “Who knows, how long is a piece of string?” he replied. “I guess it largely depends on him doesn’t it. He could just refuse to see me, and throw me out. Might be all over in a few minutes.”
Mallory nodded, as he looked down at the River Liffey. He heaved a sigh. “I know what you mean,” he said. “As long as it takes, I guess.”
Kendall nodded. “Let’s just hope he takes the bait.”
Mallory nodded in agreement. “Well I’ll be waiting for you at Bewleys, just around the corner in Grafton Street.” He pointed over to his right side.
“Bewleys,” repeated Kendall. “What’s that?”
“It’s a tea shop, very famous, and very popular with the tourists,” explained Mallory. “We’ll have some tea, and one or two of their scones.”
“And it’s around the corner,” Kendall queried.
“Anyone will tell you where it is.”
“I don’t doubt it,” said Kendall. “But tea! Sounds terrible. When this is all over I might need something a lot stronger than tea.”
Mallory smiled. “Okay, we’ll go to Finnegans, it’s a bar I frequent. You can try a Guinness.”
“And what exactly is a Guinness?” asked Kendall.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” replied Mallory. He looked at his watch once again. “You best get going.”
Kendall looked at Mallory, and then looked at the building opposite. He turned back to Mallory and nodded. “I’ll see you in Bewleys then.” He then turned and started to cross the bridge. He suddenly stopped, and turned around. “And we’ll go for that Guinness, or whatever you called it.”
Mallory smiled and waved. Kendall turned and continued on his way. Mallory watched
until he had reached the building.
* * *
”Mr Peterson,” Kendall asked peering from around the door. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I wonder if you can help me?”
Without waiting for a response, Kendall entered the room, and closed the door behind him. “I have a small job to do, and I’m hoping that you can assist me.”
Peterson looked up, surprised.
Kendall walked over to where Peterson was seated, and took the chair opposite. “Business not so good, then,” he said heaving a sigh.
“Who are you?” Peterson asked.
“I said business not looking so good,” Kendall repeated, ignoring the question, and waving his hand indicating the two lonely files lying on the desk. “Not much happening by the look of things.”
Peterson, clearly none the wiser, continued to look puzzled. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he replied.
Kendall tried to read the names written on the labels of the two files. He gave up, he wasn’t very good at reading upside down. Even worse the names were foreign. Eastern European he guessed, but they could have come from anywhere.
“Must be the time of year, I guess,” Kendall continued. “Business being so slow and all. It gets like that sometimes.”
At last Peterson grasped what Kendall was saying. He smiled and shook his head. He looked at the two files. “I see. No don’t be misled by them. I’m actually very busy.”
It was now Kendall’s turn to look puzzled. He recalled what the Chief Inspector had said. “It seems that the company hasn’t done much importing or exporting of anything, at least not in the normally accepted sense of the words that is. It should have closed down long ago.”
“This isn’t my main office. This is purely, what do you call it? An accommodation address here in Dublin. It’s just convenient sometimes. I also have a warehouse over in Rathmines. So you see it’s not quite as it appears.”
Kendall nodded. “I see,” he replied, not seeing at all.
“Who are you?” Peterson repeated. “And what can I do for you?”
“I’m investigating the death of a man. Or I should say murder of a man,” Kendall started to explain. “This man.” He placed a photograph on the desk.
“But I thought that you said you needed my assistance,” Peterson replied. “I had imagined that you had something to export.”
Kendall smiled. “Oh no. I’m sorry that I gave the wrong impression,” he replied. “No nothing like that. No I’m trying to find out about that guy.” He pointed to the photograph. “I hope that you can help.”
Peterson shook his head. “I don’t have time for all of this. As I said I am a busy man, so if you would just close the door after you.” He pointed to the door.
Kendall smiled. “You know I had a feeling you would do that,” he replied. “I said to my friend that you would probably send me packing inside a few minutes. I should have placed a bet.”
Peterson shook his head once again, and stood up. “I said that you should leave, now.”
Kendall never moved. “Could do with some fresh paint,” he said looking at the walls. “And a new carpet would work wonders.”
He turned back to face Peterson. “The name’s Kendall, I’m a private detective, and I’m here to investigate a murder,” he said slowly and deliberately. “Now I have a few simple questions, and then I’ll leave you alone. Now we can do it here and now, or I return later with a couple of police officers. What do you think?”
“Kendall did you say?” asked Peterson. “And you are investigating a murder.”
“That’s right, Tom Kendall, you may have heard of me.”
Peterson shook his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied. He sat back down and reluctantly picked the photograph up and looked at it. “Sorry but I don’t think I know him. Should I?”
“Take another look,” Kendall coaxed. “It’s a very poor photograph, he wasn’t looking that good at the time it was taken.”
Peterson looked up a puzzled frown on his face. “He was dead,” Kendall explained.
Peterson shook his head once again. “No I’m sorry he’s not familiar.”
Kendall heaved a sigh. “How disappointing,” he said. “We thought that he worked for you.”
“What made you think that?” Peterson asked.
Kendall reached inside his jacket. He took out an envelope. “That envelope was in the pocket of the dead man,” he explained as he handed it to Peterson. “It has your address on the corner, that’s this address isn’t it?”
Peters looked at it and nodded. “So what?”
“We figured that there was a connection somewhere,” said Kendall.
Peterson looked once more. “No, I’m afraid not,” he said as he started to hand the photograph back. “Sorry but I’ve never seen him in my life.”
Kendall returned the photograph to his inside pocket. He shook his head. “Pity, we were hoping that the envelope would come up with something” he replied. “Oh well I’ll have to keep searching.”
“You said that he was murdered,” said Peterson. “What happened?”
“The poor guy was stabbed. Three times,” Kendall replied.
“How dreadful,” said Peterson. “Did he have any family?”
Kendall smiled and shook his head. “We don’t think he had anyone over here. In fact we believe that he was an illegal immigrant.”
Peterson looked puzzled. “Illegal immigrant, where was he from?”
Kendall shook his head. “We don’t know,” he lied.
“Amazing,” said Peterson. “How on earth did he get into the country?”
“That’s another one of several puzzles I’m working on,” replied Kendall.
“It isn’t easy to come to Ireland, and get a job, you know,” Peterson started to explain. “Especially for a non-EEA National, unless they are exempted. Apart from anything they must hold a valid Employment Permit.”
“A non-EEA National did you say,” Kendall repeated. “Just what is that?”
“EEA means the European Economic Area,” Peterson replied. “So a non-EEA National would be someone from outside of Europe.”
“Somewhere like America maybe, or Turkey perhaps,” suggested Kendall.
“Precisely,” replied Peterson.
“Interestingly enough, he did have all of the documents,” said Kendall. “Trouble is they were all false. They were good, but forgeries I’m afraid. Guess he paid a lot of money for them as well. And I don’t suppose it was cheap to bring him here.”
Kendall paused for a few moments, and heaved a sigh. “You know I’ve heard of sums like ten or twenty thousand dollars being charged. It really needs to be stopped, but what can you do?”
Peterson shrugged and held his hands out. “It’s a dreadful world we live in,” he replied. He took a deep breath. “Do you know why he was killed?” he asked.
“Well we’re not exactly certain, but we think he was involved with bringing drugs into the country,” Kendall answered. “It’s quite possible that his death was somehow connected.”
“Really,” replied Peterson. “Do you think he was a supplier? Or what do they call them, a dealer?”
Kendall shook his head. “We’re sure that he was working for someone,” he replied. “It’s quite possible that he had ideas of going into business for himself.”
Peters heaved a sigh. “Do you know who he was working for?”
Kendall shook his head. “No, not yet I’m afraid.”
“I expect you’ll find out soon enough,” said Peterson. He heaved a deep sigh. “But you know what, I don’t actually think you came here to talk about that man anyway.”
Kendall shrugged. “So why do you think I’m here?” he asked.
Peterson started to rub his chin. Then he sighed and shook his head. “I really have no idea, I’m afraid.”
“Well let’s say that I did have other things on my mind,” said Kendall. He opened his briefcase case again and took out a white pack
age. He placed it on the desk in front of Peters. “I understand that you might be interested in that.”
Peters picked up the packet, and looked at it. “What is it?” he asked.
Kendall shook his head and smiled. “Let’s not play games shall we, Mr. Peterson? We both know exactly what that packet contains.”
Peterson replaced the packet back on to the desk. He looked at Kendall. “Alright, so I have a good idea what is inside,” he replied. “Where did you get it?”
“Oh let’s just say that it came into my possession,” Kendall replied.
“So now it is you playing games,” said Peterson. “Never mind, but why do you think it would be of interest to me.”
Kendall smiled once again. “I know where there are several more bags like that,” he said. “What do you think a package like that would eb worth?”
Peterson heaved another sigh, and shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea,” he said. “I repeat, why do you think I would be interested?”
“Do you know a Derren Lynch?”
“I think it’s about time that you were going,” said Peterson. “I do have a lot to do.”
“It was his idea that I brought that to you,” Kendall lied, and pointed to the packages “He assured me that you would be interested.”
Peters said nothing, but picked up one of the packets once again. He then shook his head, and put the packet down. “I don’t believe I know him, in fact I’m sure I don’t. So what you please leave and take that with you.”
Kendall heaved a sigh. “Pity, he certainly knows you,” he lied once again. “You haven’t by any chance been taken out on his boat, whale watching, or just going over to the islands.”
Peterson shook his head once again. “No, I’m positive, I don’t know him,” he said. “Now if you don’t mind, I have some things to do.”
“Or perhaps he has brought in some imports for you,” Kendall continued, completely ignoring Peterson’s comment.
“I don’t know him I tell you, for the last time,” Peterson said growing, becoming more and more impatient.
“Interestingly enough, we actually found several packages. In a cave on the north side of Carrick Cove. Do you know it?”
