by John Holt
She shook her head, and stood up. “And what about New York?” she asked.
Kendall looked down at the papers lying in front of him. “I shall just have to go alone,” he said. “It’ll be tough, but I’ll just have to get on with it.”
Mollie slowly walked towards him. “You really don’t think I’m going to stay here, while you are off enjoying yourself do you?” she asked. “Think again.”
Kendall looked hurt. “Enjoy myself, Mollie?” he repeated, and shook his head. “You don’t really think I want to go do you?” It had been nearly ten years since he had been in New York. Then he had been a detective with the NYPD, in the 32nd Precinct. He had to admit that New York was okay, and he had enjoyed living there. It would be exciting to see it again, more than exciting, much more. He sighed once more. Enjoy himself did she say? There was absolutely no way that he would enjoy himself, well, not too much anyway. “You don’t think that I am actually going to enjoy it do you? Nothing could be further from the truth.” He looked down at the floor. “I do this because I have to,” he announced.
Mollie glared at him. Yes, right, she thought.
* * *
Two days later Kendall was at the airport waiting to be called for his flight. Mollie had taken him and they were now waiting for the boarding call. Kendall had given her his instructions. He would be back in two or three days. She had some things to check on. “Call Mrs. Simmonds, see if she had heard anything more since the pay off,” he said. “And check with Devaney, just see if he has turned anything up.” He smiled, and put his hand on her arm. “And take care of yourself won’t you. I’ll call you the minute I arrive.”
She smiled back. She had given him his instructions. They had agreed a compensation package for her. He was to go to Macy’s and Tiffanys. There were one or two little things she would like. “And just be careful,” she had said.
“Flight 291 to New York, now boarding at Gate 16,” came the announcement.
Kendall stood up first. “Time to go,” he said as he held his hand out to help her up. She stood up and took hold of it. She held on tightly, not wanting to let go. He leaned forward and kissed her gently. “You take care now,” he said. “Remember I’ll call you.”
She nodded and smiled. Reluctantly she let his hand go. “Where will you be staying?” she asked quickly.
“Where will I be?” he repeated. “Oh I’ll be staying at the Hotel Lexington.” He then turned and quickly walked towards the departure area. As he reached the entrance he stopped, turned and waved to her. Then he was gone.
* * *
Kendall settled himself into his seat. He secured his seat belt, and made himself comfortable. It was a window seat. And assuming that there was to be no heavy cloud he was expecting a good view of the country as he flew over. He quickly scanned through the safety leaflet, and was now engrossed in the first article in the In-flight magazine. He was blissfully unaware of the heated argument that was currently taking place at Gate 16 in the departure lounge. Two men were insisting that they be allowed through the gate on to flight 291. It was imperative that they were on that plane, said one. The security guard was equally insistent. He was very sorry, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was too late, the gate was closed. The plane was ready for take-off. The argument was going nowhere.
“Come on, let’s go,” said the first man to his companion. The second man, stocky and built like a wrestler, would not budge. The first man started to pull him away. “Come on. Leave it,” he said.
* * *
Kendall soon tired of the article that he was reading. He closed the magazine, and placed it back inside the compartment at the back of the seat. He casually glanced out of the window. The plane was now beginning to taxi down the runway. He suddenly felt his heart besting fast. He had difficulty in breathing, and his hands began to shake. “Here we go,” he murmured, suddenly wishing he had taken a train instead. He looked around at his fellow passengers. The plane was gradually building up speed, as it thundered down the runway.
* * *
A little over four uneventful hours later Kendall landed at Newark Airport. From the airport he took a cab along the Interstate 95, turning right along 30th Street, and then into the Lincoln Tunnel. Once on the island the cab then went across town and turned north into Lexington Avenue. There, at the corner of Lexington Avenue and 48th Street, in the heart of Manhattan’s fashionable East Side was the Hotel Lexington. Built in 1929, the twenty-seven storeys high hotel had been a hospitality landmark for decades. Kendall had been at the hotel once before, almost twelve years ago. Not to stay, but for a formal dinner. It was some kind of awards ceremony for the police department. As Kendall sat in the cab, looking at the building, he could suddenly see his past colleagues marching in. Their uniforms all neatly pressed, with their pure white gloves, their polished medals gleaming. There was Adam, and behind him Colin. They were all there, clear as day, The Police Commissioner at the door, welcoming them in.
Kendall rubbed his eyes. He could hear somebody calling to him. “Here we are bud,” the voice said. “The Lexington Hotel.” Kendall nodded, and got out of the cab. He paid the driver, and the car sped away. For a few moments, Kendall stood on the footpath, looking up to the top of the building. From the outside it was exactly as he remembered it. He felt pleased to be back in New York. It felt strangely good. He was surprised to admit that he had missed it. Despite the noise, and the dirt, and the crowds, and the traffic, it still had something.
He was certainly going to enjoy himself. He only had a little over a day, but he was going to see everything. He suddenly thought of Frank Sinatra, and Gene Kelly. They only had one day in that film, ‘On The Town’. Just one day, but they managed it, and so would he. He would go to Central Park, The Empire State Building, Fifth Avenue, Broadway, the UN building. You name it, and he intended seeing it. He was beginning to get quite excited. “Right that’s settled then,” he murmured. “Best check in though.” The sooner the business is over and done with, the more time he would have.
He slowly walked up the short flight of steps into the main entrance. A uniformed doorman stepped forward, and tipped his hat, as he held the door open. “Good afternoon sir,” he said, smiling. Kendall nodded and walked past into the lobby. This was all different somehow. He couldn’t actually put his finger on anything in particular. It was a lot brighter than he remembered, but somehow it seemed smaller. He stopped and looked around. There on the far side was the reception counter. He started to walk slowly across the marble floor towards the reception. There were a few people sitting in the lobby, taking coffee. To his left a young couple sat talking animatedly. Opposite an elderly man lay asleep. Two men walked in behind him, and stopped to speak to the doorman. They were noisily seeking directions to Raffles, the coffee shop attached to the hotel. Kendall gave them a momentary glance, and then continued on his way.
No one took any notice of him as he passed by, except for one man seated on the far side. He slowly lowered his newspaper a fraction, and for the briefest of moments. He glanced over towards Kendall, and then went back to his reading. Kendall never noticed a thing, and continued on his way. The receptionist was busy with two other people who were just checking in. There appeared to be some problem over the booking. It looked as though it might take some while to sort out. Kendall moved to the end of the counter to wait. He idly glanced at a rack of brochures placed at the corner of the counter. He selected one of the brochures giving details of New York attractions. On the front cover was a photograph of the Statue of Liberty. He shrugged as he realized that he had never been over to the island. All of those years living in New York, he had never been to see the Statue. He wondered if he had time this trip. He had never been on a helicopter before either. A flight over Manhattan, and taking in the Statue sounded good.
Although he had been born in the City, he was beginning to feel like a tourist. He mentally added it to the other places he intended to visit. He folded the brochure and placed
it in his inside pocket. As he did so he turned and leant against the counter. The young couple were still talking excitedly. The man with the newspaper looked as though he had fallen asleep.
He heard a sudden noise over at the entrance. A small group had arrived all talking excitedly. “English tourists,” he murmured. First time in the Big Apple probably. He watched them as they walked to the lift. He turned back to face the reception. The two people booking in had finished their business and had now moved away. The receptionist looked at him and smiled. “Good afternoon sir, can I help you?”
“The name’s Kendall,” he replied. “Tom Kendall. I have a reservation for tonight.”
The receptionist looked down at a computer screen and started to press the keyboard. “Kendall,” she murmured, as she typed in the name. “Is that with one L?” she asked.
“Two,” Kendall replied quickly. “K E N D A …”
“Ah yes,” she said. “Here it is, room 409”. She reached over to her left. “Here we are sir,” she said, as she placed a key on to the counter top. “Fourth floor, it’s to the left, as you come out of the lift.” She then placed a small brochure on to the counter. “Some information about the hotel,” she explained. “And the City attractions.”
Kendall started to read about the hotel. “The Radisson Lexington Hotel has a long and illustrious history. It was built in 1929. Most notably, the hotel features a penthouse suite that was once the residence for Hall of Famer Joe DiMaggio, during the eighteen seasons he played for the New York Yankees.”
“Imagine that, Joe DiMaggio stayed here.” He read on. “Aptly named the Centerfield Suite, it is adorned with granite, marble and mahogany furniture, and features rare photos of DiMaggio on and off the field in addition to a terrace that offers a sweeping view of Midtown Manhattan from eighteen stories high. Marilyn Monroe was also a guest of the suite when the two were married.”
He stopped reading and looked at the receptionist. “So there you have it,” he said. “Joe DiMaggio, Marilyn Monroe, and now, Tom Kendall.”
* * *
Chapter Twelve
An Old Acquaintance
The man with the newspaper had woken up. He watched Kendall for a few moments. He rolled up his paper, and slowly stood up. He looked all around, and then quietly walked over to the reception counter, and stood behind Kendall. He pushed the rolled up newspaper hard into the middle of Kendall’s back. “All right Kendall,” a voice said. “Put your hands flat on the counter, and don’t turn around.”
Kendall looked at the receptionist, and did exactly as he was told. The receptionist moved as far away as possible.
“Thought that you would get away with it, did you?” the voice continued. Kendall started to turn around. “Keep your eyes to the front Kendall,” the voice said. “And don’t make any sudden moves.” He pushed the newspaper harder still. Kendall looked to the front, his hands beginning to sweat. “Thought you were being smart,” said the voice. “Thought you had pulled the wool over my eyes did you?”
The young couple sitting in the corner was startled by the sudden commotion coming from the reception counter. They saw someone pressing something against another man’s back. They stopped their conversation, got up and quickly left the lobby. Two people coming down the stairs saw what was happening. They stopped, turned around, and quickly went back up the stairs.
Kendall started to protest. “What’s this all about?” he asked. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“Keep quiet.” the voice demanded menacingly. Kendall kept quiet. He was sure that he knew the voice. There was something strangely familiar. He was trying hard to remember where he had heard it before. “Don’t do anything foolish,” the voice continued.
The newspaper was pressed ever harder into the small of Kendall’s back. Kendall had no plans to do anything foolish. The object pressing into his back felt like a 45, or perhaps a Magnum 44. Either way he reasoned, should he do anything foolish, and the guy behind him got a little nervous, then whatever the object was, it would make a pretty big mess of his back. That was for sure.
The hotel lobby had been full of people just a moment ago. Kendall wondered if anyone was going to come to his aid, or perhaps call the police. As the minutes ticked by it seemed that there was no help to be had. Kendall could not believe it. Nobody was going to come forward to help him. Surely they would not just stand around and watch him being shot. Surely Society had not sunk quite that low. The noise of people hurrying out of the lobby gave him the answer. No they weren’t going to stand around and watch. That was obvious. They weren’t going to stand around period. They were getting out as fast as their little legs would carry them.
Kendall was ashamed of present day values, ashamed of today’s society. Nobody did anything for anyone any more. There was no hand being held out offering assistance. Whatever happened to the Good Samaritan he wondered? Had he passed by on the opposite side of the street? No, he had left town completely, and in a big hurry.
Kendall shook his head in disbelief. So they had all deserted him had they? So he was completely alone, was he? So be it, he whispered. He looked up. Even the receptionist had now gone. He shook his head once again. He had actually expected better things from the receptionist. Should he call out, he wondered, a cry for help, maybe? Would that stir anyone into action? Was there anyone left to stir? On the wall opposite, behind the reception there was a small mirror. As far as Kendall could see there was no one in sight. He tried to see who it was standing behind him, but he was at the wrong angle.
“Keep still,” the voice ordered. Kendall gave up on the mirror idea and kept perfectly still. “That’s smart,” the voice said. “Very smart.” Kendall said nothing, but silently agreed that it was indeed smart. “Now Kendall where were we?” the voice continued. “Oh yes. Thought you would get away it, that you would outsmart me, wise guy. Perhaps you thought I would just forget about it maybe. That it didn’t really matter anyway. It wasn’t that important.”
“What are you talking about?” Kendall demanded to know, unable to keep quiet any longer. “What’s this all about?”
“As if you didn’t know,” the man replied. “Why I should just let you have it right here and now.” He pressed the newspaper harder into Kendall’s back. Kendall tried to turn, but was roughly pushed back. “I told you Kendall keep facing the front.”
Kendall took a deep breath. “Look I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that Kendall,” the voice said. “You know precisely what I’m talking about. Don’t play the innocent.”
Kendall was now beginning to panic. What was going on, he wondered, and why was no one trying to help? If this was a hold up just get on with it. “Okay look just take the wallet, and go,” he said. “There’s one hundred and fifty dollars there.” He started to lower his left arm. “I’ll get it for you.”
The newspaper pressed harder into his back. “Keep your hands up,” the voice demanded.
Kendall quickly raised his arm up high. He was now beginning to get deeply worried. He had concluded that somehow this was all connected with his days back in the department. That voice was so familiar. He just could not place it. It probably belonged to some criminal that he had apprehended years ago, who now bore him a grudge, blamed him for being locked up. There would probably be a considerable number of those around, he thought, but who exactly this particular guy was, he was still unsure. Either way he knew that he had to be careful. One false move, and the guy behind would flip, and that, as they say, would be it. “What is this all about?” he asked.
“You really don’t know do you,” the voice said. “Okay Kendall I’ll tell you. You owe me. You thought you would get away with it. Well let’s be clear shall we, you won’t.”
Owe me, Kendall thought. That confirmed his suspicions. It was one of those guys who he had put away. But what exactly did he want? “Get away with what?” Kendall asked. “What do I owe you?”
“Not buyin
g me that drink, that’s what you owe me,” the voice replied and started to laugh. “Ten years ago when you left the force, remember?” The figure moved back a step to allow Kendall to turn round.
Kendall turned, recognition slowly dawning. “Mills,” he said, disbelievingly. “Alan Mills? It can’t be.”
“Detective First Class Alan Mills to you,” the voice replied. “And don’t you forget it.”
Kendall was now facing the man directly. He started to laugh. “Is it really you,” he said. “It’s been more than ten years. You haven’t changed a bit.”
The man slapped Kendall on the back. “You have,” he said. “You’re older, and you’ve put on some weight.” He smiled. Kendall nodded. “Now what about that drink you owe me?” he continued. “Here over at the lounge bar, come on.”
The two men walked towards the bar, Mills holding tightly on to Kendall’s arm. “You won’t get out of it this time.” The receptionist cautiously peered around the office door. The coast was clear, the excitement thankfully over. She gave a sigh of relief, a wide smile slowly spreading across her face, as she watched the two men go by. Then she slowly walked back to the counter.
* * *
A few minutes later the two men were propped up against the bar in the Lex Lounge. It was still quite early and there were only one or two other people in the lounge. “Hi Tony,” Mills said to the barman. “I want you to meet an old friend of mine.” He pointed towards Kendall. “Tom Kendall.” He looked at Tony. “Tom, this is Tony, the best bar man on the entire east side.”
Tony grinned. “Nice to meet you Mr. Kendall” he replied as he finished wiping the counter. “What can I do for you Mr. Mills?”
“We would like a drink, Tony,” Mills answered. “Two scotches, doubles.” He looked at Kendall. “And one for yourself, he’s paying.”
Kendall started to laugh. He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “That’s right, I’m paying.”
