Kith and Kill (12 page)

“Then why didn’t he leave me for you?” Jane blurted out.

“He would never leave while his precious son was still at home, and when James grew up it was a bit late for him to be starting out again. In any case, I preferred to keep things as they were. Married men are less clingy.

“However,” she continued in an increasingly officious tone, “the fact is that for the last 20 years of his life Matt spent more time with me than he did with you – and he certainly had more sex with me.

“I fed him, kept him company, tended to his needs at least as much as you did, probably a lot more. I think I’m entitled to half his estate now that he’s gone.”

Jane had collapsed back into her chair by this stage, unable to gabble a coherent response.

DC Smith came to her rescue. Producing her warrant card, the detective identified herself.

“I need your name and address,” she said. “Do you have a driving licence as identity?”

Now it was Anita’s turn to be taken aback. She rose to go but Smith stood up with her and insisted on identification.

“You knew the victim and you have just provided a motive for murdering him,” she said.

Reluctantly, the unexpected visitor produced her driving licence. As soon as Smith had noted down the details and returned it to her, she was out of the house like a shot.

Chapter 22

Amos was not familiar with the road that Detective Constable Smith hastened to convey to him when she immediately called him on Jane Wilson’s telephone. He got out a street map of Lincoln and eventually found it about four miles to the south of Lincoln City Centre.

He stared at the map. The street was within walking distance of the pub where Matthew Wilson had presumably taken a fatal dose of ketamine.

“Come on, Juliet,” he shouted to his detective sergeant. “I think we have the mystery woman who was so interested in the Wilson’s wake. She’s just left Jane Wilson’s house in her car but let’s see if she’s gone back home – or to the pub.”

They drew a blank at the address on the driving licence but had better luck at the pub. They arrived to find their quarry seated at the bar in animated conversation with the landlord. They were the only two people in the establishment.

Amos saw the landlord mouth “police” to the woman, who matched DC Smith’s description and was about the right age in her late 40s.

“Anita Berry, I take it,” the inspector said.

“Not much point in denying it,” the woman responded unenthusiastically.

“So, Miss Berry – or is it Mrs? – I gather you knew Matthew Wilson, who died recently.”

Berry shrugged her shoulders.

“What if I did?” she demanded. “I’m sure lots of people knew him. And it’s Ms by the way.”

“As you wish,” Amos said coldly. “I’m sure lots of people did know him but they haven’t all turned up on his doorstep demanding half his estate.”

“It didn’t take that little snitch of a detective long to report back, did it? She was nearly wetting herself. Perhaps she did.”

“Perhaps she didn’t. I gather you saw rather a lot of Mr Wilson?”

“I knew him socially,” Berry replied non-committedly.

“Very social it was too, I gather. Or were you exaggerating? We’ve only your word for it.”

“I just knew him,” Berry said nonchalantly, trying not to get drawn into saying anything incriminating.

“You knew him well enough to turn up at his father’s funeral wake,” Amos said, adding disdainfully: “Don’t tell me you knew his father as well.”

Berry half turned and shot an accusing look at the landlord, who had remained behind the bar just far enough away to detach himself from proceedings but close enough to hear all that was said. He shook his head once then turned away to straighten an already neat row of glasses lined up behind him.

“Well?” Amos demanded.

All the cockiness had been knocked out of Berry.

“How did you know?” she asked sheepishly.

“Because we were told that a middle-aged woman who was not a member of the family took a curious interest in proceedings,” Amos said. “And now we know why.”

Berry bristled at the term “middle-aged”, not knowing that Amos had thrown it in deliberately to rile her, but decided there was nothing to be gained by making an issue of it. Instead, she turned sulky like a spoilt child who had been caught out.

“I wanted to know what his wife looked like, if you must know,” she said truculently. “He never carried a picture of her. I just wondered what sort of woman was so stupid as to sit at home at night waiting for a husband who was out with other women.

“Oh no, I wasn’t the first but I was certainly the last and longest.”

“I was wondering what sort of a woman goes out with a man who returns home to his wife every night,” Amos commented.

“Suited me fine,” Berry said, her defiance returning. “I didn’t want him under my feet all day and night. I prefer married men. You can get shut of them when you’re fed up with them.”

“And had you got fed up of Mr Wilson? Perhaps he no longer wanted to go back to his wife.”

“You can’t pin food poisoning on me,” Berry said firmly. “I never went near the food.”

“It wasn’t food poisoning,” Amos said. “It was ketamine.”

“Whatamin?”

“Ketamine. They use it to anaesthetise horses. Or perhaps you knew that already. We believe some was stolen from a car in the car park of this public house while the wake was going on.”

Berry looked genuinely shocked.

“I’ve never heard of it, I don’t know what it looks like and I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Amos eyed her closely but decided not to pursue the matter at this stage. Instead he turned to the landlord.

“Why didn’t you tell me Miss – I mean Ms – Berry was the woman seen peering into the function room?”

The landlord shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed but remained silent.

“You’ve deliberately hindered and misled a murder inquiry,” Swift said suddenly. “Perhaps you’d like health inspectors crawling all over the premises. I don’t suppose your customers will be keen to eat in an establishment where someone was poisoned.”

“That’s not fair,” the landlord protested. “I wasn’t hiding anything – nothing important anyway.

“Matt was a good customer here. He came in with Anita. When he booked the room he made me promise not to tell anyone that he knew the pub. I swore Kate – the girl who was helping - to secrecy as well. Please don’t blame her.

“Anita was supposed to keep well clear. “

At this point he glared at his wayward customer but she just laughed.

“You just couldn’t resist sticking your beak in, could you Anita?” he said to her rather than the detectives. “If you hadn’t let curiosity get the better of you no-one would have been the wiser.

“But I can assure you,” he said to Amos, “She never came into the function room. Not right in. She never came past the doorway.”

“But did Matthew Wilson ever leave the room during the wake? Did any others of his family leave for that matter?”

“I’m pretty sure Matt didn’t. I can’t be absolutely certain but he was close to the bar pretty much all the time. The others could have done, though. I think one or two of them went to the toilet.”

“How much did Matthew Wilson have to drink?”

“He had a pint when they arrived. I remember because I nearly said ‘the usual’ when he walked up to the bar and just stopped myself in time. Later I topped him up with a half but that was definitely all he had.

“I was really surprised when he started to wobble a bit just before they left but I assumed he must have had some Dutch courage before the funeral.”

“We’ll need statements from both of you,” Amos said suddenly. “The sooner the better, and as the pub is empty now would be ideal. Your wife can look after things,” he added quickly as the landlord opened his mouth to protest.

“If we get on with it you’ll be back before any of your customers know anything about it. Cooperate and we’ll overlook the matter of obstructing a police inquiry.”

Gibson and Berry reluctantly agreed to accompany Amos and Swift back to police headquarters but both insisted on having a solicitor present, which took time to organise.

While they waited, Amos told Swift: “I’ll take Wingate and you take Berry and let’s see if their stories match. These two seem thick as thieves so they could be in it together. Berry has the motive of expecting a share of Matthew Wilson’s estate but Wingate had the better opportunity of spiking his drink. We need to find out if Berry and Matthew were breaking up.”

Despite separating the two suspects, Amos and Swift spent a fruitless afternoon trying to persuade the pub landlord and his customer to either contradict or accuse each other. Finally Amos stuck them both into a police car and sent them back to the pub.

Chapter 23

It was dead on 9am next morning when the phone rang on DC Susan Smith’s desk. Smith was on day off prior to moving onto nights, which was inconvenient from Amos’s point of view but he knew from experience that messing with the rota usually created more problems than it solved so he had decided to leave well alone.

DS Juliet Swift picked up the phone. An agitated Jane Wilson, Matthew Wilson’s newly-bereaved widow was on the line. She was in such as state that she did not realise she was talking to another officer, not Smith, even though Swift gave her own name as she answered the call.

“Thank goodness you’re in,” Mrs Wilson said. “I waited as long as I could because I didn’t want to disturb you before you were on duty.”

“Calm down, Jane, it’s all right,” Swift assured her. “We told you that you could ring any time and we meant it. What on earth has happened?”

“I had a call from Mark, Matthew’s brother, just after eight this morning. He wants all the family to meet at his house this lunchtime. And he insists that I bring their father’s will with me. I don’t know what to do. I know Matthew was very worried about the will but he wouldn’t tell me why.”

“Did Mark give you any clue what the problem was?” Swift asked. “Or did Matthew drop any hint or give any indication of what was bothering him?”

“Matthew wouldn’t say anything. I know he called a meeting of just the six brothers and sisters on the Thursday before his Dad’s funeral and we were all to meet again, with our partners, a week later, three days after the funeral – but of course Matthew died before and the meeting was left in limbo.”

“It sounds as if Mark has waited a day or two for the sake of decency and then reconvened the meeting at his own home. Did he indicate if the others would be bringing partners?”

“I don’t know,” Jane said doubtfully. “I never thought to ask. Agnes, Mark’s wife, is bound to be there. She sticks her nose into everything. Mary will be on her own as she never married.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Swift said. “I’ll have to run it past Inspector Amos but I’m pretty sure he’ll agree. I’m not Susan, by the way. She’s off duty today but we can probably contact her. Why don’t we arrange for her to come along as a friend giving you moral support? If the others have partners with them it’s only fair that you have someone as well.”

“As long as you don’t mind, it really would help, but I really don’t want to put Susan to any trouble and I think the others will be a bit hostile. I’m sure you’ve got much more important things to do than nursemaid me.”

Smith rang off to clear her plan with Amos, who agreed immediately but with one proviso: they would not contact Susan. Instead, another female officer who was nearer to Jane’s age and who was not known to any family members would pose as a friend.

“Ring back to confirm,” he said, “and make sure she isn’t getting cold feet. Ask her if she’s got the will and if she’s read it. Tell her not to let the others know in advance that she’s bringing a friend. It’s harder to turn her away once she’s there.”

While Swift was ringing back, Amos rapidly briefed Detective Constable Emma Rodgers, who had not been involved in the case and therefore needed bringing up to speed very quickly. She was approaching retirement after a solid but unremarkable career, having been held back more by a lack of ambition than ability.

“You can take an unmarked police car,” Amos told her. “It’s better if you drive because she may be in no fit state to drive herself, especially if the meeting goes badly. Make sure you read the will yourself, without the others knowing.”

Swift meanwhile was already on the phone to Jane Wilson.

“Yes, I’ve found the will and I’ve read it, but please don’t tell the others, will you,” Jane said. “I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Was there anything odd about it?” Swift asked. “Can you see what Matthew was worried about?”

“It all looks straightforward to me,” Jane replied. “He left everything divided equally between his six children. Matthew was sole executor so I suppose that’s why he was given the will. He was the eldest. I assume Mark is taking over because he was the next eldest.”

Rodgers read the short will as soon as she arrived. Jane wasn’t sure if this was all right but the officer pointed out that Jane had herself taken a surreptitious look and the will could contain evidence regarding her husband’s murder.

A quick glance was enough for Rodgers to spot the omission that had troubled Matthew but she said nothing. She put the document back into the envelope, resealed it and handed it to Jane.

“Put it in your handbag,” she said, “and keep your bag closed until we are inside. That way Mark can’t take the will and then turn us away on the doorstep. Don’t worry, he’s not entitled to take the will. He’s not named as executor.

“Also, it’s probably best if you don’t tell him I’m a police officer. I’ve never met any of the others so they don’t know. In any case,” she added with a liberal interpretation of the truth, “I’m going along as your friend and not as a detective.”

Her judgement proved justified, for Mark was clearly not pleased to see that his sister-in-law had brought along moral support.

“Have you got the will?” he demanded on the doorstep.

Jane Wilson nodded.