A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6)

by John Holt

  “It’s about Mr. Mulligan,” the officer explained. “The preliminary investigation has been carried out. I’ve just got the report. I thought you might be interested in seeing it.”

  “I certainly would,” replied Kendall. “It was good of you to call.”

  “Well if you would like to come up to the station, today,” Donovan continued. “Say about eleven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be there,” said Kendall. He replaced the handset, and returned to the dining room.

  Mollie looked up as he came in. “What did he want?” she asked.

  Kendall sat down, and reached for the coffee pot. “He has just received the report on Mulligan’s death, he wondered if I would like to see it.” He poured himself a coffee.

  “What does it say?” asked Mollie.

  Kendall shook his head. “He never said,” he replied. “But I’ll know soon enough. I’m expecting at eleven.”

  * * *

  It was just after eleven when Kendall arrived at the Garda station. Donovan was waiting at the open door, as Kendall walked along the path.

  “Ah, good morning to you, sir,” the Officer called out. “It’s a fine morning it is to be sure.”

  Kendall looked up at the sky. Okay so it wasn’t raining, that was something, he guessed. But he didn’t actually think ‘a fine morning’ quite cut it. Although there was no wind, it still felt cold, and the sky was overcast.

  “Hope you’re right,” Kendall said. “But it certainly looks like it could rain, to me.”

  “Ah, don’t you be worrying about that, sir,” the officer continued, as he pointed to the sky. “It’s going to be a grand day, and that’s a fact. I’ve just heard the forecast on RTE. The clouds will go away, and it’s going to be sunshine for the rest of the day, you’ll see.”

  Kendall smiled. “We can live in hope, I guess, but I’m not convinced.”

  The officer stepped to one side and hushed Kendall inside. “In you go, sir. The kettles just boiled,” he said. “I’m sure you’d like a coffee. I know what you Americans are like about your coffee.”

  Five minutes later Kendall and the police officer were drinking their coffee. There were no chocolate biscuits Kendall noted. In fact there were no biscuits of any kind. He wondered if he should say anything, but decided against. It probably wouldn’t have had any effect anyway.

  “So what can you tell me?” Kendall asked. “You said that it was important.

  Donovan picked up a folder that was lying on the table next to him. He opened it. “Well the first thing to say is that it was no accident, which was your opinion right from the start I believe.”

  Kendall said nothing, but merely nodded.

  “Apart from a wound at the back of the neck, there were no other injuries,” Donovan continued. “A blunt instrument the doctor said. A club of some sort. His neck was broken by a single blow. We think he was probably so drunk he didn’t know a thing about it.” He paused and took another drink. “He was then placed at the base of the cliff, to make it look like he had fallen.”

  “And if he had really fallen forty feet, from the top of the cliff, there would have been a lot more injuries,” suggested Kendall.

  “That’s right, said the officer. There should have been cuts, broken bones, bruises, but there was nothing. Certainly Mr. Mulligan was the worse for wear, and had had a good few drinks, but he never fell.”

  “So clearly it was murder,” said Kendall.

  “That’s correct, sir,” replied Donovan. “It was a clear case of murder.

  “I thought so,” said Kendall, perhaps a little too smugly. “So do we know what happened?”

  The officer took a drink of coffee. “To get to his home he wouldn’t normally be anywhere near the cove, but we think that he was followed and deliberately brought down to the spot where he was found.”

  “So it must have been someone he knew,” said Kendall.

  “That’s right,” agreed Donovan. “There was the remains of a broken whiskey bottle, probably used to entice him to come along.”

  “I saw it,” said Kendall.

  “Well it seems to us that Mulligan was given that bottle by his killer,” Donovan continued.

  ”My thought exactly,” replied Kendall, feeling very pleased with himself. “What about the time of death?”

  “We know that he left O’Rourke’s just before ten,” replied Donovan.

  “That’s right,” agreed Kendall. “It was about ten minutes before I left.”

  “That makes sense,” replied the Officer. “The doctor puts the time of death at between ten and twelve. But we actually think he died shortly after arriving in the area, which would have been about ten o’clock, or a few minutes after.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked Kendall, although he already had a good idea of what the answer would be.”

  Donovan took a deep breath. “Mulligan lived above Finster Rock,” he started to explain. “From O’Rourke’s to his place would take you or me about twenty minutes, thirty at the most. Even Mulligan, after a few drinks, would do it in forty-five minutes.”

  “So he certainly wouldn’t have been anywhere near the Cove by, what ten-thirty,” Kendall suggested.

  The Officer nodded. “That’s right,” he replied. “But under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have been anywhere the Cove anyway.” He paused for a moment. “We are thinking he was dead by ten thirty.”

  “Poor old guy,” said Kendall. “They all said he was harmless, nothing but a story teller. Lynch, Quinn, even O’Rourke, all considered him nothing more than a talkative drunk.”

  “Sure he drank a bit too much,” Donovan said. “But if he was so harmless why kill him?”

  “Good question,” said Kendall. “Why indeed.”

  “Who knows the mind of a killer?” said the officer.

  “Who indeed,” agreed Kendall. “I have a theory that he was killed because he knew something, or had seen something, or at least that’s what the killer thought.”

  “You mean he might have seen the other murder?” said the Officer. “The body on the beach?”

  “It’s certainly a possibility,” said Kendall. “You know, officer, in my experience every criminal makes a mistake sooner or later, and I think our murderer just made his.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Donovan. “Do you think the two murders are linked then?”

  Kendall nodded. “Certainly they are linked,” he replied. “Two separate murders occurring in a small place like this, in such a short time would be too much of a co-incidence. And if you got to know me, you would know that I have no time for co-incidence.” He paused for a moment. Sure it was possible for two unconnected events happen. Certainly co-incidence wasn’t an impossibility. But in his experience, as far as crime was concerned, co-incidence was way down the list to be considered. Once everything else had been checked, double checked, re-assessed, and then dismissed, then, and only then, was co-incidence a maybe, a perhaps.

  “I believe that the person who killed the man on the beach, also killed poor old Mulligan,” he continued. “Carried out by the same person, and for the same reason.”

  “So it couldn’t have been Mr. Charters then,” said the officer.

  Kendall shook his head. “No it wasn’t Brian Charters that’s for sure,” he replied. “Remember what I said to you the other day?”

  The officer remembered. “You said that he was set up,” he replied. “But why kill Mulligan?”

  Kendall took a deep breath, and sighed. “Because of something he knew,” he replied. “Or at least something that the murderer thought he knew.”

  “But he never knew anything did he?” said the Constable.

  Kendall took another deep breath and shook his head. “Well I’m not so sure about that,” he replied. He paused for a moment. “Did you ever check-up about the ambulance?”

  “The ambulance,” repeated the Constable. “Yes I did.”

  “What did you find out,” asked Kendall.
/>   Donovan reached for his notepad, and opened it. “They got a call at six forty eight. Somebody had reported seeing someone lying on the beach. They said that it was a German.”

  Kendall smiled. “I knew it,” he said. “But it wasn’t a German was it?”

  “No it wasn’t,” said Donovan. “It was a Turkish man.”

  “So it was Mulligan who made that call, just as I thought,” said Kendall. “So he did know something after all. Sadly he wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but the murderer couldn’t take any chances. Mulligan had to be silenced.”

  Donovan reached for the telephone. “I must report this, and get Mr. Charters released at once.”

  Kendall placed his hand on Donovan’s arm, and shook his head. “No, leave it, for now,” he said. “I hate the idea of Charters inside that place, but I think it could be best for the time being. Let the murderer think he’s quite safe, and that we don’t suspect anything. Let him think that we still believe Mulligan’s death was a simple tragic accident. He might make another mistake, who knows. Then we’ll get him.”

  The officer stood up and walked over to his desk. He opened the top drawer, and removed an envelope. He returned to his seat. And offered the envelope to Kendall. “We found that on the beach.”

  “What is it?” Kendall asked, as he opened the envelope. He withdrew a small red and gold badge.

  “That sir, is a badge for the Killmacud Football Club,” the Officer replied.

  Kendall looked at the badge closely, just wondering what was so significant about it.

  “Have you seen anything like that before?” the officer asked. “A lot of people in town have one. I’ve got one.”

  Kendall thought back to O’Rourkes and the conversation about the football club. He nodded. “Yes I’ve seen one of these before,” he replied. “O’Rourke has one, and so does ….”

  Donovan looked at Kendall, and wondered why the hesitation. “And so does, who?”

  “Derren Lynch has one,” Kendall continued. “Where did you find it?”

  The officer took a deep breath. “It was under the body,” he replied. “We think the murderer must have lost it as he moved Mulligan.”

  Kendall started to smile. “I guess a lot of people around here have one of those,” you said.

  Donovan shook his head. “At one time that might have been true, but it’s not so popular now,” he said. “But now I’m guessing there would only be a handful of members.”

  Kendall smiled and nodded. “I’m guessing that one of them is our murderer,” he said. “All we have to do is find someone who used to have one, but doesn’t anymore.” He paused for a moment. He turned to look at Donovan. “But I already have an idea who I’m looking for.”

  “You do,” said the officer. “Now who would that be then?”

  “Two people left O’Rourke’s very soon after Mulligan that night,” Kendall started to explain. “Patrick Quinn was the first, but then less than a minute later Derren Lynch left. I have a lot of doubts about Mr. Lynch. I’ll tell you about them one day, but in the meantime it might be worth paying his yard a visit.”

  Donovan nodded. “I’ll get a search warrant.”

  Kendall nodded and heaved a sigh. “You know I’ve enjoyed our little chat.” He stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll be seeing you”

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Lynch Goes Missing

  At ten minutes after eleven o’clock Constable Donovan arrived at Lynch’s boatyard. He was accompanied by a small forensic team. In his inside coat pocket was a Search Warrant, authorised just a few hours ago. Lynch’s boat, The Lady Jane was lying at its mooring. Lynch’s car was parked by the entrance gate. Over by the river bank, were three small boats in various stages of repair work. Tools of all kinds lay scattered around, together with open tins of paint and discarded brushes. In the office, a mug of cold coffee and a half eaten sandwich sat side by side. The handset dangled from the wall telephone.

  There was no sign of Lynch.

  * * *

  “There was no sign of Lynch, anywhere,” said Donovan. “From what we can tell he must have stopped working, and decided to take a break. He has gone inside his office, for a coffee and a sandwich. Then, there was a phone call. What it was about we’ve no idea, but it must have been important, because he left in a hurry.”

  Kendall was confused. “But I thought you said his car was still there,” he said.

  “It’s there alright,” agreed Donovan. “But it’s not going anywhere that’s for sure.”

  Kendall was still puzzled. “Why not?”

  “Simple,” replied Donovan. “Two flat tyres, and no petrol.”

  Kendall remained silent for a few moments. “I suppose he did leave,” he said. “I mean he wasn’t just taken away, was he?”

  Now it was Donovan’s turn to be puzzled. “I don’t think I understand,” he said.

  Kendall wasn’t actually sure that he fully understood what he was saying either. “I’m just thinking aloud,” he replied. “If he left in a hurry, as seems likely, I wonder if he was actually physically taken away. You’ve just said that he never used his car, so perhaps someone picked him up.”

  “That’s possible I suppose,” said Donovan. “There were tyre tracks by the gate. But who do you think it could have been?”

  “Do you know who made the call?” asked Kendall.

  “No, unfortunately not,” replied Donovan. “Whoever it was withheld their number. But whoever it was, Lynch didn’t hang around.”

  “I’m guessing it was Peterson,” said Kendall. “Tipped him off, following my visit to Anglo-Irish the other day.”

  “I’d say you were right,” said Donovan. “We checked the office in Dublin. Peterson has gone.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Kendall. “They could both be out of the country by now.”

  “We’ll get him and Lynch,” said Donovan. “I’ve already had a general alert issued. All airports, and docks have been advised. They won’t get far.”

  Kendall wasn’t so confident. “Well at least we now know who our murderer is,” he said, trying to sound positive. “So how’s the search going?”

  There was an audible sigh. “Nothing so far,” replied Donovan. “We’ve covered every square inch of the yard. Not a thing, nothing.”

  “What about the office, and his workshops,” suggested Kendall.

  “We’ve taken the workshops a part, and the same result, not a thing,” replied Donovan. “They are checking the office right now.”

  “Let me know won’t you?” said Kendall.

  “Will do,” replied Donovan. “I’ll call you back.

  The phone went dead. Kendall slowly replaced the handset, and shook his head. “I was so sure,” he said to no one in particular. “There has to be something, somewhere in that yard, something to link Lynch to the drugs.”

  Mollie shook her head. “Maybe you’re wrong,” she said. “Maybe Lynch isn’t the guilty party. Maybe there are no drugs.” She paused for a moment. “Maybe there’s nothing to find.”

  “The evidence is there,” said Kendall. “They just haven’t found it yet.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m going down there. You stay here in case there are any calls.”

  * * *

  Kendall saw Donovan over by the three boats being repaired. He called out. Donovan looked around and waved. “Can I come through?” Kendall asked.

  Donovan waved again. “Come on over,” he said.

  “Found anything then?” Kendall asked, as he walked over.

  Donovan frowned and shook his head. “Nothing. We’ve searched everywhere. We’ve torn the place apart.”

  Kendall heaved a sigh. He had been so sure. Could he have been wrong? He shook his head. He didn’t think so, and yet the search had proved pointless. “What about the office?” he asked. “No papers, no documents, there must be something.”

  “Oh there’s plenty of papers, but nothing to prove a crime,” said Donovan, soundi
ng despondent. “Just about work, you know, receipts, invoices.” He paused as he noticed Kendall staring at the three small boats supported on thick timber trestles.

  “I wonder,” Kendall murmured.

  “Wonder what?” asked Donovan as he looked in the same direction as Kendall.

  “You’ve looked everywhere, correct?” Kendall asked. The Constable nodded.

  “What about the boats?” Kendall continued. “Those three up there,” he pointed. “Do we know who owns them?”

  Donovan shook his head. “No idea,” he replied. “We’ve checked Lynch’s files, and there’s no mention of them anywhere.”

  Kendall shook his head. “So perhaps they don’t belong to anyone,” he said. “Perhaps they actually belong to Lynch himself.”

  “That was exactly our thinking,” replied Donovan.

  “Interesting,” said Kendall. “Strange though, I mean I would have expected to see some documentation showing ownership, wouldn’t you? A log boat, or whatever they are called. Or some kind of registration document.”

  “I agree,” said Donovan. “But we found nothing.”

  Kendall continued to stare at the three boats for a moment. He turned to face Donovan. “Have you searched them?” he asked. “And what about his own boat over there?”

  Donovan didn’t need to be asked twice. He nodded and called over to the search team. “Check the boats,” he instructed. “Take them apart if you have to.”

  * * *

  Thirty-five minutes later came the call Kendall had been waiting for. “Bingo,” cried out one of the team searching the repair boats.

  Kendall and Donovan ran over, and climber the ladder to the boat deck. As they arrived, packet after packet was being removed from behind the side panelling, and placed on the deck.

  Donovan looked at Kendall, and smiled. “You were right,” he said offering his hand.

  Kendall nodded. “Now all we have to do is find Lynch himself, and his boss, Peterson.

  “We’ll find them,” said Donovan. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “One other thing,” said Kendall. “Did you check up in Peterson’s office?”

  “Donovan nodded. “Yes we did,” he replied. “But he was very careful not to leave any incriminating stuff lying around I’m afraid.”