A Case Of Murder (Kendall Book 6) by John Holt Read Free Book Online

here. In fact it took longer to re-claim our baggage.”
    O’Rourke placed the drinks on to the counter. “Here we are, now, and good health to you.” He paused for a few moments. “Kendall,” he said suddenly. “’Tis a fine old Irish name it is to be sure, if ever I heard one.”
    “Maybe it is, but I’m not Irish,” Kendall replied.
    “Not Irish, you’re joking,” O’Rourke replied. “I can hardly believe that.”
    “Did yer say yer name was Kendall?” asked somebody seated a few yards away. “You’ll not be related to the Kendalls of County Clare I’m thinking.”
    Kendall smiled and shook his head. “No I’m not, I’m sorry. I’m not Irish.”
    “Right you are, but how about the Kendalls from County Donegal?” suggested O’Rourke.
    Kendall shook his head once again. “I’m not Irish, I tell you,” he repeated. “I’m ….”
    “Sure you’re not Irish, it’s just as I thought. I have it now,” said O’Rourke. “It’s the accent, there’s no mistaking that. It’s a dead giveaway. You’re Australian, without a doubt.”
    “I don’t like Australians,” a voice close by declared.
    Kendall glanced around to see who it was, and turned back to the bar. “I’m not Australian, and I’m not Irish,” he said as forceful as he could without being rude. “No, we’re from America. Florida, you know Disney World.”
    “You’re an American, is that a fact now?” said an old man sitting at the bar.
    “That’s right,” said Kendall smiling, feeling pleased that at last he was getting somewhere. “We’re Americans.”
    “I don’t like Americans,” the old man said, and quickly turned away.
    Kendall looked around once more, shaking his head, and looking skyward.
    “You mustn’t take any notice of old Mulligan there,” said a young man seated at the end of the bar. “He doesn’t like anyone, especially the English, and that’s a fact.”
    “And I can vouch for that,” said a well-dressed English man sitting in the corner. “The name’s Mallory by the way, Anthony Mallory, I’m from Berkshire in England.”
    Kendall nodded and tried to smile. He wasn’t entirely convinced.
    “He’s an edgit,” the young man continued, pointing to Mulligan. “The town drunk. Why we put up with his old nonsense, I just don’t know. He should be in a Home, or locked up.”
    “Oh, he’s harmless enough,” said Mallory. “A bit eccentric, but that’s all.”
    “He’s crazy,” said the young man. He turned to face Mulligan. He put his hand up to the side of his head, and commenced making a circling motion. “I said you’re a crazy old coot. His mother probably dropped him on his head when he was a baby I’m thinking.”
    “Ah, that’s all nonsense,” said O’Rourke. “He was never a baby, and he never had a mother.”
    Mulligan said nothing and merely smiled.
    “What did I tell you, Mr. Kendall?” said the young man. “He’s as mad as a hatter.” He paused for a moment, and held out his hand. “The name’s Mulvy, by the way, Vincent Mulvy. I’m the local builder hereabouts, for my sins.”
    “Of which he has many,” said O’Rourke.
    “No job too big, nor too small,” Mulvy added, and smiled. “All work guaranteed.” He reached into his inside pocket, and withdrew a business card. He handed it to Kendall. “You never know when you might need it,” he said, and smiled.
    The old man stood up and walked up to Kendall. “Mulligan’s the name, and I don’t like strangers. Any strangers,” he said. “They’re nothing but trouble, and they aren’t to be trusted. Had one in here once, he was locked up.” He placed an empty glass on to the counter in front of Kendall and glared directly at him.
    Kendall looked at the glass, then at the man, and then the glass once again. Then it finally dawned on him. He nodded his head. He looked at the bar man. “A drink for the gentleman,” he said. “And I’ll have a scotch.”
    The bar fell silent. You could have