by John Holt
What indeed, Kendall murmured although somehow he couldn’t believe that someone like Duncan would be too concerned about cost. He glanced back at the paintings, then turned back to face Duncan. “Could you tell me in what capacity did he work for you?”
“Oh, let me see now,” Duncan replied, placing his hand underneath his chin. “We often have need for independent people to carry out specific tasks. Research projects, that sort of thing.” He looked at Kendall. Kendall appeared to be puzzled. “It might be a financial forecast, or perhaps the development potential of a certain property.” Kendall still looked puzzled. Duncan was becoming frustrated. “Special reports, you might say.”
“Special reports?” repeated Kendall. “Reports about what specifically?”
“I don’t really see the point of all this Mr. Kendall,” Duncan replied.
“Humor me, please,” said Kendall.
“All right, although I don’t know why,” said Duncan. “They usually relate to land use, and development.” He stopped and looked at Kendall once again. Kendall was busy scribbling something into his note pad. “Information very useful to a construction company, wouldn’t you say?”
Kendall stopped writing, and looked up. He didn’t know whether it would be useful or not. He didn’t really care much either. “Was the Rosemont Valley the subject of one of those one offs?” he asked. “Was that something of interest to your construction company?”
“Rosemont Valley?” queried Duncan. “I’m afraid I cannot help you there, Mr. Kendall.” He paused for a moment or two, thinking hard. “I don’t know anything about that one.” He paused once again. “No, I don’t know that one at all. Where is it exactly?”
“I understand that you spoke to Mr. Shaw approximately five weeks before he was murdered,” Kendall said, ignoring Duncan’s question. “Could you tell me what that was about?”
Duncan remained silent for a while, a puzzled look on his face. “I spoke to Mr. Shaw? I really don’t remember, Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “I certainly don’t recall speaking with him. Could you be a little more specific? I mean I speak to so many people in the course of a few weeks.”
Kendall ignored the question once again, and continued. “What do you know about the name Latimer?”
“Latimer?” Duncan sounded puzzled. He remained silent for a few moments, frowning. “I don’t think I know anything about that name, should I?” He paused, and started to gently massage his forehead. “No, I don’t know the name. Perhaps it is the name of one of my employees. I’ll check that out, and let you know as soon as I can.”
“Don’t bother, Mr. Duncan,” Kendall replied wearily. “It isn’t a person. It is a company, as I am sure you already know.”
Duncan looked hurt. He held his hands out in front of him. “Mr. Kendall, I am dismayed that you could think such a….” He stopped abruptly, and started to laugh. “Oh Mr. Kendall, what a fool I am, how stupid of me. A company you said. You don’t by any chance mean Latimer Holdings, do you?” He paused once again, looking down at the floor. After a few moments he looked up and turned to face Kendall. “Of course you do. I really must apologize, Mr. Kendall. I’m getting so forgetful these days.”
Sure you are, thought Kendall, and I’m starring on Broadway later this week. I’m playing Maria in ‘The Sound of Music’.
“Latimer Holdings, of course.” Duncan continued. “Actually, I know very little about them. They have a small office in my building, as I am sure you know. On the fourth floor I think. No, no, it’s the fifth.” He paused. “No, I’m sorry, it is the fourth floor. A small real estate business I believe. I have used them on occasion. Small tasks, you know. Nothing major, negotiating a lease, I believe, on one occasion. A short term rental agreement, that sort of thing, I’m sure that you know what I mean. Why do you ask?”
Once again Kendall ignored the question. He flipped through the pages of his note pad. “Were you at the Marshall Building on the ….. the 19th?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Duncan replied. “The nineteenth you say. Let me check my diary.” He walked over to his desk and flipped through his diary. “Ah. Here it is, the nineteenth,” he suddenly announced. “No. As I thought, I was in Chicago that day. In fact I was there from the seventeenth, right through to …”
He flipped a few more pages. “Here we are, it was right through to the twenty-second. A very boring conference regarding investments, I’m afraid.” He was absentmindedly tapping the diary. “It was all about investment opportunities, and incentives, if I remember correctly.” He closed the diary. “Why do you ask?
“Anthony Shaw was at the Marshall building on that day,” Kendall continued. “His diary mentions a name, Latimer, in connection with that appointment. I was hoping that you might have been able to throw some light.”
“I’m really very sorry Mr. Kendall,” Duncan responded. “I really can’t help you.” He paused, then as an afterthought, he added. “Perhaps Mr. Shaw was doing some work for Latimer Holdings. Perhaps he was negotiating a property lease. I’m sorry Mr. Kendall, but I really have no idea. Was it important?”
Once again Kendall ignored the question. “Do you ever go to the Marshall Building?”
“The Marshall Building, oh yes, occasionally”, Duncan replied. “Well quite often really, I suppose. I have a client or two who have offices there. In fact I was there on the 16th if my memory serves. He glanced at his diary once again. “Yes, there it is.”
Kendall was far from convinced. He had already put two and two together. He hadn’t quite got four, not just yet, but he was working on it. “Who did you see on that occasion?
“I’m sorry Mr. Kendall, that really is confidential, I’m afraid,” Duncan replied, as he closed the diary. “I’m sure that you understand.”
Kendall understood all right. Duncan was trying to hide something. “Certainly, Mr. Duncan, I appreciate that, thank you,” he said. “Perhaps now I could ask you a few questions about the death of Governor Reynolds.”
“Well I don’t really see what that has to do with you Mr. Kendall,” Duncan responded. “Or indeed any possible connection it has with the death of Mr. Shaw. Besides, the local police seem to be handling that matter quite adequately.”
“I’m sure that they are,” Kendall replied, biting his tongue. “But there are just one or two things that crossed my mind, you know. It’s probably nothing. I’d just like to get it out of the way, so to speak.”
Duncan looked at Kendall. “It’s against my better judgment Mr. Kendall, and I cannot see that it will be of any value, but I’ll help if I can. What is it that you would like to know?”
Kendall raised his hand in a gesture of acknowledgement. “I’m sure that you are absolutely right, Mr. Duncan. It will probably be a complete waste of time. But after all it is only time. And something might come out of it. It’s worth a try I always say.”
“Yes, yes, Mr. Kendall,” Duncan responded. “But you know the saying, time is money. So if you don’t mind, perhaps we can get on.”
“Absolutely,” Kendall replied, raising his hand once again. “That night, the night that Governor Reynolds was killed, after you had left, I was wondering why you had telephoned him so late? After all you had been with him all evening. What was left still to say?”
“Oh Mr. Kendall if only I hadn’t made that call,” Duncan replied, holding his head in his hands. “He wouldn’t have gone out to the garage that night. He would probably still be alive today. I have gone over that, time after time. It will haunt me till the day I die. I don’t think I will ever shake off the guilt that I feel. Mr. Kendall, I killed Frank, even though I never actually pulled the trigger.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “You understand what I’m saying? I killed him.”
Kendall knew exactly what he was saying. It agreed exactly with what he himself believed. “Yes sir, I fully understand how you feel,” he replied. “But exactly why did you telephone?”
“It was so stupid really. One of those incredibly silly
things I’m afraid, a stupid action which later proved so significant.” Duncan paused. “Excuse me Mr. Kendall,” he continued as he took his handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed it across his eyes. “I thought that I had dropped my wallet in the garage earlier that evening. The Governor and I had been in there discussing his Bentley, a 1926 Roadster Coupe. Did you know that there are only ten of them in the whole world? Just imagine that, only ten.”
Try as hard as he could Kendall could not imagine it. He didn’t know what one 1926 Bentley Roadster Coupe looked like, let alone ten of them. He was wondering how many ten year old Ford Coupes there were in the world. He guessed that there were probably hundreds, if not thousands. He wondered how many would last until they were nearly ninety years old, like the Bentley. None, he decided. He looked at Duncan. “Is that right, well what can I say?” Kendall was trying to sound impressed, but failing. “Only ten, that is truly amazing. I guess they weren’t that popular.”
Duncan looked at Kendall puzzled. He shook his head dismissively. “I was interested in purchasing it you see, the Bentley I mean. I thought it would be fun, you know. A nice investment, you understand.”
Sure Kendall understood perfectly. Didn’t everybody have such fun? He wondered if Duncan would like to double his pleasure, by buying his Ford Coupe as well. Now that really would be fun, although somehow he doubted it. Not quite the same thing. Not really an investment, more likely a great big financial liability.
“The wallet, Mr. Duncan,” Kendall prompted. “You were talking about the missing wallet, and why you made that telephone call.”
“So I was, Mr. Kendall, so I was,” Duncan replied. “I do get side tracked easily these days, I’m afraid. My apologies, my age I suppose.”
Kendall knew the feeling. He also got side tracked easily, but in his case it was nothing to do with his age. At least that was his opinion.
“It wasn’t missing after all. It was in my car all the time. The wallet I mean. It must have dropped out of my jacket. So I need not have worried.”
Kendall tried to visualize the wallet falling from the jacket pocket. Was that possible he wondered. If it had fallen out as he was getting out of the car, the wallet would have fallen either into his lap, or in front of him on to the ground next to the car. Either way he would have been bound to notice. “So you hadn’t lost it then?”
“That’s right, it wasn’t lost at all. It was there all the time. Lying in the car,” Duncan continued. “I thought that it had fallen while we were in the garage. I was fooling around, you know. Checking my wallet to see if I had enough money, you know, to buy the car.”
Kendall looked on impassively. He could not imagine someone like Duncan fooling around, as he had put it.
“It was silly really, so unlike me,” Duncan continued. “What I don’t understand though, is why he didn’t send Jarvis out to look for it, as I had suggested. Why did he go himself? Why hadn’t he waited until the morning?” He looked down and placed his hands together. “It wasn’t that important.” He looked back at Kendall. “That such a dreadful thing could happen, Mr. Kendall.” He paused once again, overcome with emotion. “We live in a wicked, wicked, cruel world.”
“We surely do, Mr. Duncan,” Kendall replied. He flipped the pages of his notepad. “Why did you go down Hatfield Street? I mean it was not on the direct route to your home was it?”
“Hatfield Street,” Duncan responded. “I’m sorry I don’t understand, Mr. Kendall. What about Hatfield Street?”
“You went down Hatfield Street, down by the clock tower, to make the phone call,” Kendall replied
“Oh yes, of course I did. I had forgotten that for a moment, the fateful phone call.” Duncan replied. “Well it is a slight detour that’s true. But it’s not really too far out of my way, a mile or two, no more.”
“But why did you go there?” Kendall asked. “Why didn’t you wait until you got home, and then make the call?”
“That’s simple Mr. Kendall,” he replied. “I wanted to catch Frank before he went to bed that’s all. He tends to retire early, or at least earlier than I do. It all seems so meaningless now, so pointless. If only I had waited till the next morning. I mean it was only an old wallet, after all, hardly worth the life of a man. If only, Mr. Kendall. Two very small words, but hugely significant, wouldn’t you say. If only.”
“Yes Mr. Duncan. I’m sure that you are right,” Kendall replied. “But why did you go to Hatfield Street?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Kendall, I’m doing it again aren’t I,” he replied. Duncan paused for a moment or two longer. “How did you know I went to Hatfield Street, by the way? The bell I suppose. That was it, yes?”
Kendall agreed that it was indeed the sound of the bell. “It has quite a distinctive sound Mr. Duncan,” Kendall replied. “It’s easily recognized. But you still haven’t said why you went there.”
“You’re right, Mr. Kendall, I haven’t. I’m sorry to ramble on like I do,” Duncan replied. “Why did I go to Hatfield Street? It’s quite simple. I just knew that there was a telephone kiosk there. That’s all. No great mystery really. I wanted to make a call, and that’s where there was a telephone. It was just convenient, nothing more.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Duncan, I’m still puzzled,” Kendall responded. “Why didn’t you go to the corner of Marsh Avenue? There’s a telephone there.”
“Marsh Avenue,” Duncan repeated. “I can’t quite place where you mean.” He thought for a few moments longer. Then he suddenly announced. “Why of course, down by Somerset Road,” he said. “That’s where you mean. I remember now.”
“That would have been much closer for you,” said Kendall. “In fact you probably drove right past it.”
“You’re right. I had simply forgotten all about it, Mr. Kendall. I just never thought of it. Strange.”
Yes it was certainly strange all right, Kendall thought. He wasn’t convinced, but it would have to do for the time being. Kendall estimated that by going to Hatfield Street Duncan had added at least another six miles to his journey. He was sure that there was more to it than Duncan was obviously prepared to say.
“Well that answers that point,” he replied. “One little mystery cleared up.” There was no point in pursuing that line, so he decided to try something different. “Have you any ideas as to why Governor Reynolds might have been killed?”
“Well they said that it was an intruder,” Duncan replied. “Imagine that, nothing more than a common thief, disturbed while in the act of committing a robbery. He panics, fires, and a good man is killed.”
“So the suggestion is that Governor Reynolds had gone to the garage to look for your wallet, and finds a thief instead.”
“Mr. Kendall, I did not actually expect him to go out and look, at least not until the following morning,” Duncan interrupted. “I did not actually expect him to go at all. I assumed that he would have sent Jarvis. That would have been the sensible thing to do, the logical thing.”
“Sure it would have been”, said Kendall. “But he didn’t send Jarvis. He went out himself, to find your wallet, and instead he found an intruder. That’s quite a coincidence wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t disagree with you Mr. Kendall,” Duncan replied. “But, it is the police who say there was an intruder. Not I.”
“You know, Mr. Duncan, I don’t actually go along with that idea of an intruder,” said Kendal. “An intruder in the house is one thing, perhaps, but an intruder in the garage. It doesn’t make any sense to me. No sense at all. After all what was there to steal in the garage? I know the price of fuel has gone up, but I don’t think it would be that do you? After all what could you carry away, a gallon or two? Some tools perhaps? A car jack maybe or possibly a tin of car wax? I hardly think so. The Bentley perhaps, although that would be a bit difficult getting past the security guard without rousing suspicion wouldn’t you say?”
“Mr. Kendall you could be right,” said Duncan. “I really don’t know. I’m not good at that sort
of thing. You know detective work. Who did what, and to whom, and how and why? It’s far too complicated for me. Just leave it to the experts. They know what they are doing I’m sure. There is one thing though, Mr. Kendall.”
Kendall looked puzzled. “Go on.”
“It may be nothing,” said Duncan. “But I believe that Frank was involved in something that he should not have been. Something, shall we say, not exactly correct, not exactly legal. I believe that is why he may have been killed.”
Kendall thought of the charred papers that Ed had given him. You won’t be troubled again, D. “Why do you say that Mr. Duncan?” he asked.
“I don’t really know anything, you understand,” Duncan replied. “It is just a feeling I have, a suspicion. A hunch if you like.”
“Mr. Duncan you don’t strike me as someone who acts on a feeling, or a hunch,” said Kendall. “You are the type who only acts on absolute certainties.” He waited for a reaction, any reaction. There was nothing. “If you know anything, or if you suspect anything, anything at all, you should tell me.”
Duncan was hesitant. “Mr. Kendall, you are much too clever for me,” he said. “Frank Reynolds was being blackmailed. That is a fact, not a suspicion. He asked me to help him. I did what I could. In fact I thought that I had actually managed to put a stop to it, and that the matter was over. Perhaps I was wrong.”
He stood up and walked over to the bureau. He took out a key and unlocked it. He reached inside and took out a bundle of papers. He closed the door, and locked it. He looked at the papers in his hand, gave a deep sign, turned and quickly walked back to where Kendall was waiting. “Mr. Kendall, Frank gave these papers to me a few weeks ago.” He handed them to Kendall. “Perhaps the blackmailer never got paid, and, well. I’m only guessing you understand, I don’t actually know anything, not for sure.”
Kendall quickly looked through the papers. He then looked at Duncan. “Are these allegations true?” he asked.
