A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6) (9 page)

The officer nodded. “He was quite dead,” he repeated.

“Okay, so what happened next?” asked Kendall.

“As I approached Mr. Charters, he stood up,” the Constable started to explain. “He turned to face me, and dropped the knife. I asked him his name. He just looked blank and shook his head. I said that I was arresting him on suspicion of murder. I warned him that he wasn’t obliged to say anything, but anything that he did say would ….”

“Did he say anything?” Kendall interrupted.

“He just shook his head once again, and said that he hadn’t done it,” replied the officer.

“What time was this?” asked Kendall.

The officer took out his notepad, and flipped the pages. “It was six minutes after seven, sir,” he replied and closed the pad. “I brought him back here, and put a call through to Cork, and they sent the forensic team. It was probably forty minutes before they arrived.”

“Were there any other witnesses?” Kendall asked. “Apart from our mystery one.”

The Constable shook his head. “Not to the actual murder I’m afraid,” he replied. “But Mrs. Mulvy said that she saw Charters a few minutes to seven. She was just coming out of Quinn’s store, and she saw Charters just crossing the road heading for the cove.”

“So clearly it wasn’t Charters who rang for the ambulance,” said Kendall.

“Right,” was the simple reply from Donovan.

Kendall was puzzled. “How does she know where he was going?” he asked.

The Constable smiled. “That’s easy. Charters took that same route every night, walking his dog, and always at about that time.”

“I see,” said Kendall. “How about a motive? I mean do you have any idea why he might have done it.”

“Oh yes sir, there was a motive alright,” replied the officer. “It were drugs.”

“Drugs?” repeated Kendall. “I don’t follow you.”

“Yes sir, we found some heroin at Mr. Charters’ house,” the officer explained.

“You found heroin at Charters home?” said Kendall in disbelief.

“That’s right, heroin,” replied the officer. “Two bags, of the finest quality.” He opened the folder on his desk, and took out a photograph. He slid it across the desk towards Kendall. “There you are.”

“You were expecting me weren’t you,” said Kendall.

The police officer nodded. “I told you I had a call from Inspector Whittaker.”

Kendall nodded. “No, I mean you were expecting me today, right now,” he said. He looked down at the folder. “File all ready, like that.”

“Oh, I see what you mean,” said the officer. “Oh yes, Mr. O’Rourke telephoned this morning. He said that you were on your way over. So I just got a few things ready.”

Kendall smiled. “That was very good of him wasn’t it?” he replied. “Incidentally, I don’t suppose it was him who made that second call to you, the night of the murder.”

Donovan started to laugh. “Oh no, it weren’t him, I’d recognise his accent anywhere. It’s very strong you see.”

“Right,” said Kendall, as he eliminated another possible from his list. He heaved a sigh, and turned to look at the photograph. “Interesting, very interesting, but they could have been planted couldn’t they?”

Officer Donovan said nothing.

“And only two packets, doesn’t seem right somehow,” Kendall continued. “I would have expected to see a lot more than that.”

“Perhaps they had been hidden somewhere,” Donovan suggested. “Or already out on the market.”

That was certainly possible, Kendall had to admit,
but why still have two packages remaining.
“Did you ask Charters about them?”

The Constable nodded. “Yes, we did,” he replied. “He just said that he knew nothing about them.”

“So what happened to him?” asked Kendall.

“I brought him back here as I said, and telephoned Cork,” Donovan replied. “A short time later Detectives Jameson and Murray arrived and took him into custody.”

Kendall nodded once again. “And do we know the time of death?

“The doctor said between five and seven, sir.”

“And the cause of death was?” asked Kendall.

“He was struck on the back of the head, and then stabbed several times,” said Donovan. “The stab wounds are clearly seen in the photographs.”

“Could I see them?” asked Kendall.

“Certainly,” replied Donovan. “Just a moment, I’ll get them for you.” He went over to the corner of the room to a filing cabinet. He opened the drawer and took out an envelope. He then returned to where Kendall was waiting.

“Here we are,” he said. “These first ones were taken at the scene.” He handed the first photograph to Kendall. It showed a man’s body lying on the beach, a few feet from the shore line. “That’s how we found him,” explained the officer. Donovan then passed Kendall another half a dozen photographs, all showing the body from different angles. “Now, you see that one,” the Constable continued. “It clearly shows the stab wound, and the bruising at the back of the head.”

“Were there any other wounds?” Kendall asked.

“Nothing much,” said the officer. “A few bruises to his right leg, and his hand that’s about it.”

“Consistent with being involved in a fight,” suggested Kendall.

Donovan nodded his agreement. “I would say so.”

“Can you tell me anything else about the man?” Kendall asked, as he handed the photographs back to the officer.

“Not a lot I’m afraid,” replied Donovan. “His name was Abel Nadir, and we believe that he came from Turkey. At least that was the name on his papers. Aged thirty-four, again according to his papers, but as far as we can tell he was in the country illegally.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Kendall.

The officer opened a drawer to his desk, and took out a buff coloured folder. He opened it. “We have all of his papers here. There’s his passport, his birth certificate, his Employment Permit.” As he mentioned each item he withdrew it from the file and placed it onto the desk. “We even have a driver’s license, and a Bank of Ireland Credit card.”

The police officer smiled and shook his head. “All forgeries I’m afraid,” he continued. “Oh, they were certain good ones, and no mistake. Done by a real professional I’d say, but forgeries nonetheless.” He tapped the documents, he then collected them together and replaced them into the folder. “Oh no, there’s no doubt, our man was here illegally. Smuggled in without a doubt. And probably at great cost. Documents like those don’t come cheap.”

Kendall heaved a sigh.
Things were beginning to get complex. On top of murder, there was now drugs, and illegal immigrants
. “Anything else?” he asked.

The police officer shook his head. “Well, he had nothing on him except this envelope.” The police officer handed Kendall an envelope. “You can see on the top left hand corner there is a name, Anglo-Irish Commodities, and an address.”

“What was in the envelope?” Kendall asked.

The police officer shook his head. “We never found anything,” he replied. “But we are certain that there is some connection between the dead man, and Anglo-Irish Commodities, but what that connection was we have no idea.”

“Anglo-Irish Commodities,” repeated Kendall. “Do you know anything about them?”

The officer heaved a sigh. “Nothing much, I’m afraid. A small import export business based in Dublin, run by a man named Alex Peterson.”

“Have you spoken with him?” asked Kendall.

The officer shrugged. “A couple of detectives paid him a visit a few days after the murder,” Donovan replied. “He was most apologetic, but really he knew nothing about the dead man. As for the envelope, he was guessing, but it was probably just a circular letter that had been sent out. Nothing important.”

Kendall shook his head, and heaved a sigh. “So why would Abel whatever his name was, bother to keep an empty envelope?”

“That’s a good question, Mr. Kendall,” the officer said. “We wondered the same thing.” He paused for a moment. “We believe Abel kept it for that address.”

“Some kind of contact point, you mean,” suggested Kendall. “Work maybe, or perhaps Mr. Nadir was one of the imports that Mr. Peterson had brought in.”

“Precisely what we had thought,” replied Donovan. “But without any proof we were unable to make any progress.”

Kendall nodded. “I can see that,” he replied. “One last thing Constable. I wonder if I might be allowed to visit Mr. Charters?”

The officer nodded. “I don’t see why not,” he replied. “He has been taken to Cork Jail awaiting his trial. It’s about eighty miles away. We didn’t have the necessary facilities here you understand.” He paused for a moment and closed his file. “I’ll see what I can do, sir. You’re staying at O’Rourke’s I understand.”

“That’s right,” said Kendall.

“When would you like to go?”

“How about Thursday?” Kendall replied. “That’s three days from now.”

“Should be alright. It’ll give me enough time to make the arrangements,” Donovan replied. “I’ll be in touch.”

Kendall stood up, and started towards the door. “By the way, when is the trial?”

Donovan walked to the door and held it open. “It’s due in six months’ time, I believe,” he replied. “I’ll check the exact date and let you know.”

“Much obliged,” replied Kendall. “In the meantime I think I’ll pay a visit to Megan Duffy.” He held out his hand. “Thank you Constable, you have been very helpful. I shall certainly mention you to the Chief Inspector.”

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Megan Duffy

It was just a few minutes after three o’clock when Kendall’s rented car pulled up outside Rose Cottage, home to Megan Duffy. Kendall switched off the engine, but continued just to sit for a while, admiring the building.

Dating from the middle of the seventeenth century the cottage was small, but neat. It was the traditional “chocolate-box” cottage loved by tourists, with its leaded light windows, and it’s perfectly manicured thatched roof, with not a reed out of place. The structural timber beams were painted black; and the infill plaster panels were a pastel shade of pink. The trellised archway over the front door was covered with clematis. The front garden was a mass of rose plants of every colour imaginable. Clearly Megan Duffy loved her garden.

Kendall looked at his watch. Five minutes after three. He was very early, and wasn’t actually expected until three thirty. But just sitting there, and looking, wasn’t such a bad way to kill a few minutes of time was it? In fact it was quite pleasant. The sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
Pity he hadn’t brought along a flask of coffee, and a few chocolate cookies,
he thought.
That would have been perfect.
But there you couldn’t have everything could you – mores the pity.

* * *

Kendall had telephoned Mrs. Duffy earlier that day. It was more than obvious that she wasn’t happy about meeting with him. Oh, she was more than willing to help in any way she could, but she was doubtful that she could add anything to what she had already told the police. So there really wasn’t any point was there?

“Such a shocking thing to happen,” she had said. “This is normally such a quiet peaceful village. You don’t expect anything like that. I mean somebody actually getting murdered on your doorstep as it were.” She paused for a moment.
Was she crying,
Kendall wondered.

“But I’ve already told that young police officer Constable Donovan all I know,” she continued. “Such a nice young man, and so clever.” She raised a handkerchief to her eye. “They have already arrested someone anyway haven’t they?”

Kendall had to admit that someone had already been arrested, and had actually been charged with the murder. “That’s right,” he said. “But you know I’m not entirely convinced that the person had actually carried out the crime.”

Mrs. Duffy clearly wasn’t too impressed. “Well, Constable Donovan thinks he did it. He said so,” she replied. “So he must be right, mustn’t he?”

Kendall heaved a sigh. “Maybe he is right,” he agreed reluctantly. “But if you could spare me a little of your time, it would be appreciated. There’s just a few things I’d like to go over.”

Mrs. Duffy was still unimpressed.
A few things to go over, indeed. What did that mean? Besides it had all been said hadn’t it? What more was required?
She hated everything to do with the whole affair. She didn’t really want to talk about it. She just wanted to put it out of her mind. It was just too terrible. A man had been killed, murdered. That kind of thing never happened before, not here, not in Killmacud. The most newsworthy thing to happen previously was Maurice King winning the Church bazaar flower show for the sixth time; or possibly it was Mary Dowd receiving first prize for her fruit cakes, three years in a row. But murder, it didn’t bear thinking about.

She couldn’t think of the last time that a crime had been committed in the village, if ever. She wondered if the speeding ticket that was given to Mr. Quinn three years ago, counted as a crime, or was it the time that old Mr. Mulligan had got drunk, and broke a window at O’Rourke’s. Surely they didn’t count. But this was altogether different, this was a murder. She shook her head trying to shake all thoughts of the dead man from her mind, but to no avail. She had witnessed the whole thing. At least she had heard the two men arguing, their voices raised in anger. Then she had seen the struggle start. A struggle that had ended with the death of one of the men. She had actually seen the man fall to the ground.

She had told the police everything she knew hadn’t she, and now some stranger wanted to go over it all again.
Why?
Bringing it all up once again. She didn’t need that. It was all very upsetting.

“No,” she said finally, trying to sound forceful. “I don’t really think so, there’s no point.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry.”

It was a big mistake to apologise. It showed a weakness, a chink in the armour, and Kendall leapt at the opportunity. “There’s no need to apologise, I understand completely,” he said almost in a whisper. “I know that it must be very hard for you, but ....” his voice trailed away, and he heaved a deep sigh.

“I’ve already told the police everything that I ....” she started to say.

“Yes, you have, and I’m sure that you have been more than helpful, and that the police are very appreciative,” Kendall interrupted. “It’s just that we need to be very sure that we have the right man in custody. We don’t want to make a mistake do we? We don’t want the wrong person locked up do we? You do see that don’t you?”

Mrs. Duffy admitted that yes she did see that, but she was sure that there had been no mistake. “Constable Donovan was so sure, though.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” said Kendall. “And you are perfectly correct. The police certainly think they have the right man, and maybe they have, but if you could just spare me a few minutes of your time ....”

Mrs. Duffy heaved a sigh. It was clear that this stranger was not going to give up in a hurry. She looked at the clock on the mantelshelf. It was ten minutes to eleven. She had to attend a meeting at the church, and she was going to be late.

“All right, all right,” she announced. “You may come along if you like, but I don’t think it will do much good. Anyway, half past three, this afternoon. The address is Rose Cottage, on the Coast Road. Anyone will tell you how to get there. But I really must go now, I’m already late.”

She hung up, put on her hat and coat and hurried out. She was already regretting her decision. It would be a total waste of time, but she had agreed, and she would keep her word.
It’s what the Reverend Trevor Smith would expect.

* * *

Kendall looked at his watch. It was almost three thirty. He got out of the car, and walked towards the front door. He was just about to knock when the door opened.

“Mr. Kendall, you are certainly very punctual, right on time.” Mrs. Duffy stood back and beckoned Kendall in. “Do go in,” she said pointing to the room on her left. “Make yourself at home. I’ll make some tea.” She turned around and made her way to the kitchen.

The room was bright, and airy. Everywhere Kendall looked there were bright coloured flowers, all freshly cut. Bright floral curtaining hung at the windows. To either side of the brick inglenook fireplace, were bookcases containing porcelain figurines, and a number of photographs in silver frames. On one of the high backed chairs Kendall noticed recently discarded embroidery. He picked it up, and smiled.
She would much rather be doing that, than meeting up with me,
he thought, as he carefully returned it to its place. On the coffee table lay a copy of the local Church magazine. Kendall idly picked it up, and flicked through the pages. He then replaced it on to the table, and walked over to the french doors which lead out onto the garden. He stepped out on to the paved patio area. Everything was so green and lush, following the recent rain. He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. Then he heard a noise behind him. Mrs. Duffy had returned.

“Here we are Mr. Kendall. I wasn’t long was I,” she said, as she placed a tray on to a side table. “I hope you like chocolate biscuits.”

Kendall walked over to where she was standing, and sat down. “I love chocolate biscuits.”

She smiled and passed him a cup. “Hope you like tea. Help yourself to the biscuits,” she said, as she sat down in a chair opposite. “Now what can I do for you?”

Kendall picked up a biscuit, dunked it into his tea and took a bite. “If we could start at the beginning,” he replied. “I understand that you were on your way home that night, is that right?”

Mrs. Duffy took a drink of tea, and nodded. “That’s right,” she replied. “There had been a church meeting.” She paused for a moment and took another drink. “I’m on the flower committee you understand. It’s our responsibility to make sure that the Church is properly prepared for the services. The Vicar likes it just so, he’s very particular like that. Anyway, we had been talking about decorations for the Sunday service. It was going to be a special day you see, and things had to be just right.”

Kendall didn’t see, but nodded anyway. “So you left the Church at what time?” he asked.

Mrs. Duffy thought for a few moments. “It was twenty five to seven. I looked at the church clock as I passed by.”

Kendall picked up another biscuit. Once again he dunked into his tea. “These are good,” he said, as he started to chew. “So what time was it when you reached the cove?”

“It was about ten minutes to seven, something like that. Maybe a few minutes before,” she replied. “It’s not too far from the Church, but I’m not very fast on my legs these days, I’m afraid. Arthritis, you know.”

Kendall smiled sympathetically. “So you arrived at the cove, and you saw two men fighting,” he said.

Mrs. Duffy shook her head. “They were just talking at first,” she started to explain. “They were both smoking. I saw the flare of the match, as they lit their cigarettes, and then I saw the glow from their cigarettes. It all seemed very friendly.”

“Could you see their faces?” Kendall asked.

She shook her head. “Not really, they were so far away, and it was getting dark you understand. And my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”

“So you couldn’t positively say that one of the men was Mr. Charters,” Kendall continued.

She nodded. “Constable Donovan said that it was Mr. Charters,” she replied. “So it must have been him mustn’t it? I mean who else could it have been?”

Kendall heaved a sigh. “I’m puzzled,” he said.

Mrs. Duffy looked at him. “What is it?” she asked.

Kendall took a drink. “You said that you saw Mr. Charters at about ten minutes to seven.” Mrs. Duffy nodded.

Kendall shook his head. “It couldn’t have been Mr. Charters then. The Constable told me that Charters took that same route every night, walking his dog, and always at about seven o’clock.”

Mrs. Duffy smiled, and reached for the tea pot. “Well he must have been early that night,” she replied. “Perhaps he had an appointment with the man. Who knows?”

That was certainly possible
, Kendall thought, although far from convinced.
Didn’t Donovan say that Mrs. Mulvy had seen Charters a few minutes to seven, crossing the road heading towards the cove?
He decided to say nothing more for the time being.

“More tea?” Mrs. Duffy asked.

Kendall smiled and nodded. “That would be very nice, thank you.”

She poured the tea and handed the cup to Kendall. “I really should get some new glasses,” she said holding up her spectacles. “These are a few years old now,” she continued. “But it’s such a bother you know, and they can be very expensive.”

Kendall smiled at her. “I understand,” he replied, and took a drink.

“How’s the tea?” she asked.

“Well, I’m not usually a tea drinker,” Kendall started to explain. “Us Americans tend to prefer our coffee, but I have to say that this is very, very, nice.”

Mrs. Duffy smiled. “Have some more of the biscuits, please,” she said as she pointed to the plate.

“Okay, so the two men were talking,” Kendall continued, helping himself to another chocolate biscuit. “Go on, what happened next?”

“Well I don’t really know what happened, but suddenly the talking became louder. Then they were arguing,” she explained. “They were shouting at each other. I don’t know why.”

“Were you able to tell what they were arguing about?” Kendall asked.

She shook her head again. “As I told the Constable, I don’t know what they were saying,” she replied. “There was just a lot of shouting, but I couldn’t hear what they were actually saying. My hearing isn’t so good these days.”

Kendall smiled.
Her legs, her eyes, and her hearing. What else,
he wondered. “What happened next?”

“Then the fighting started,” she replied. “I saw one man fall to the ground. That’s when I decided to come back here to telephone for the police.”

“So you never saw anything after the man fell?” said Kendall.

Mrs. Duffy shook her head and smiled. “How could I, if I was here?”

Kendall had to admit that clearly she couldn’t see anything else. “So you never saw the man actually killed?”

She shook her head. “I saw a man fall to the ground that’s all,” she replied. “If only I had called the police sooner, then maybe that man would still be alive today.”

Kendall shook his head. “There’s no point thinking like that,” he said. “You called them as soon as you could. You couldn’t do any more than that. Nobody could.”

She heaved a sigh. “I should have ran home sooner, but instead I stood and watched the fighting. Then the man fell to the ground. I shouldn’t have waited, I ....”