Kith and Kill (16 page)

Amos noted that Beth seemed more sympathetic towards her brother-in-law than towards her own husband but that could be down to shock. She had not yet had time to fully take in what had happened that evening.

“Did you go to the meeting together?” he asked.

“We arrived together, yes. Mark only called the meeting yesterday, which was a bit short notice. I went down to Luke’s office and we went together from there.”

“And did you leave together?”

“Yes, but Luke had to get back to work so I caught the bus home.”

“So you came back on your own. Was Enid here when you got back?”

Shock was gradually taking its toll on Beth Wilson. She was staring as in a trance at the kitchen blind and her answers were slow and mechanical. Amos hoped he would not lose her before he had gathered the information he needed.

There was a long pause before Beth replied: “No, she was in Lincoln with her cousins. Caroline got a phone call to get home quickly because her dad had had a heart attack. So Enid came home as well.”

“And you were both here together for the rest of the evening.”

Beth distractedly issued a grunt that sounded like affirmation.

“But Luke didn’t come home to eat this evening?”

“No, no. Luke had to catch up on his work.”

Beth suddenly sprung back to life.

“If only he had done. If only he had done. Why did he never listen to me?”

At this point a young woman rushed into the kitchen and threw her arms round Beth. The two held each other and sobbed quietly.

This, Amos assumed, was Enid. He also assumed that she had been listening from the bottom of the stairs, though he did not know for how long. He spoke quietly and gently.

“For the moment, Mrs Wilson, we must view Luke’s death as part of our inquiry into the murders of his two brothers,” he said, “but we will be keeping an open mind.

“I will not be disturbing any other members of your family tonight, although we will want to talk to them in the morning in case they can throw any light on Luke’s death.”

Beth nodded. Enid did not look up.

“If you won’t let me help you, Mrs Wilson, I’ll say goodnight. Are you quite sure?”

“I’m quite sure,” she insisted.

As Amos left he heard the door close quickly behind him, the chain put back on its catch and two bolts slammed across. Then the house was plunged back into darkness.

Chapter 30

With his sleep broken, Amos felt tired when he arrived at Lincolnshire police headquarters at 8am next morning. He had left Mrs Amos sleeping. Over the years he had learnt how to depart quietly after a disturbed night.

“Burning the candles at both ends, are we?” a voice behind him said as he entered CID. “You look done in.”

“It’s all very well for you,” Amos replied curtly without looking round. “You don’t turn out at night. You don’t believe in setting an example. You don’t lead from the front.”

“Too exciting,” pathologist Brian Slater responded, following Amos through into his office. “I shall live longer with less stress and lower blood pressure than you. Still, don’t let me dampen your enthusiasm.”

“You won’t,” said Amos. “Now was there something else or have you come just to taunt me that I’m more conscientious than you?”

“There was something else, as a matter of fact,” Slater said, slightly miffed. “The tests on Mark Wilson are back double quick time. You see, I do try to help. They confirm it was ketamine.

“There was definitely ketamine in the glass. That’s how he was poisoned,” Slater said. “There was only the tiniest trace of ketamine mixed in with the whisky in the decanter. Nowhere near enough to kill anyone.”

“In a way,” Amos said, “that confirms that that was how Mark was killed. The ketamine was placed in the decanter, which was much easier to do unnoticed than getting at his glass. Someone has emptied the decanter, washed it out not quite carefully enough and refilled it to the same level.

“Why do so many killers commit a second murder? It provides twice the clues, twice the scope for error and twice the opportunity to get caught. This narrows the suspects down and now we can be completely certain the murderer is a member of the Wilson family.”

“Just remember when you come in grumpy and take it out on me,” Slater said, “God ordered the day so that you can get the worst bit over with first: getting up and looking at yourself in the mirror.”

With that parting shot he strode off.

Detective Sergeant Juliet Swift appeared almost immediately.

“I heard about Luke Wilson on Radio Lincolnshire,” she said breathlessly. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought I’d better get in as soon as possible.”

Amos turned, having kept his back to Slater, and said: “Come in, Juliet, and close the door behind you. Brian was here to confirm that Mark died of ketamine poisoning, just like his elder brother. Someone tried to destroy the evidence by emptying the decanter he had poured his whisky from and refilling it.”

By now they were both seated at either side of Amos’s remarkably tidy desk.

“Jennifer,” Amos said in response to Swift’s gaze along the desk top.

“Let’s take stock,” he continued. “We have to decide if Luke is a one-off or part of a wider package. Same murderer or an unrelated incident?”

“It does seem a remarkable coincidence if a third brother has been killed by someone entirely unconnected to the first two,” Swift replied. “It’s as if the murderer is building momentum. As you know, the more often the killer gets away with it the bolder they become.

“Yet the methods are so completely different it’s hard to reconcile Luke’s murder with Matthew’s and Mark’s. After all, Luke was beaten up in the city centre one evening some time ago. This could be a repeat that was meant to really teach him a lesson, especially if he hadn’t paid off a gambling debt from the first time or had run up more.”

“That has to be a possibility,” Amos said. “Indeed, it does seem more likely but the killer – if it is the same killer for all three brothers – may have been forced into a new method. He or she may have used up all the ketamine on the first two. It would be a bit hit and miss measuring out the two doses, especially if the killer wasn’t used to handling ketamine.

“He or she would have gone for the certainty of using too much rather than risk either of the elder brothers surviving an underdose.”

“It depends on the motive, which we just don’t have any real inkling of,” Swift replied. “That’s the weak link. We don’t know if the killer was in a hurry to kill Matthew and Mark for some reason and had to be sure.”

“Looks like musical chairs again,” Swift said despondently. “We’ll have to check which family members have alibis for last night. They’re not going to take too kindly to it.”

“First,” Amos said, “we’ll pay a visit to Luke Wilson’s bookmaker. Just in case he really is a separate incident.”

Chapter 31

Luke Wilson’s bookmaker had its office in the City Centre. Luke would have walked from the betting shop through the Stonebow in a direct line to where he had parked his car after parking restrictions had ended for the day.

Swift rang the bookie to be sure that there would be someone there, as there were no horse races until 2.30pm that day according to the morning newspapers. The owner, having heard the news of Luke’s vicious demise on the local radio station as Swift had done, was already in the office and expecting a visit from the police.

However, Donald Lingard looked relaxed, almost smug.

Amos introduced himself and Swift.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure, Inspector,” Lingard said smoothly. “I don’t believe you were involved in investigating the earlier unpleasant matter regarding Luke Wilson. Bad business, bad business.”

Lingard ushered the two officers through the betting shop, which was not yet open to punters, and into his office at the rear.

“Let’s start with last night, Sir,” Amos said. If Lingard wanted to steer the interview round to the previous attack on Luke Wilson, then the inspector wanted to talk about the murder. This did not, however, discomfort Lingard in the slightest.

“Yes, Mr Wilson was here,” he said. “There was dog racing in Walthamstow.”

“How was he doing?”

“Not too badly. With only six runners a race there isn’t a lot of money to be won or lost on dog racing.”

“Unless you play for high stakes,” Amos commented. “Was he doing?”

“Just a hundred quid a race. He’s bet more in the past.”

“Like before he got beaten up?” Amos asked.

“That was nothing to do with us,” Lingard said testily. “We cooperated fully with the police inquiry. We don’t want that sort of publicity. It’s bad for business.”

“Yet on two separate occasions Luke Wilson leaves this establishment and gets beaten about the head. Bit of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

Lingard didn’t say.

“Did Luke Wilson owe you money when he left these premises last night?” Amos asked.

“Just a few hundred,” Lingard replied. “We limited his credit after the previous incident because people were saying he couldn’t pay his gambling debts. We didn’t want to get a bad name. He always paid up eventually.”

“With persuasion, perhaps,” Swift commented.

Lingard, however, was not going to be drawn by cheap shots. He merely smiled thinly.

“What time did he arrive?” Amos asked.

“I didn’t see him actually arrive as I was in the back office but one of my staff remembers him placing a bet at 7pm so it must have been before then. Probably not long before. He’s well known here so we tend to notice him, and of course the staff are alert to him because of the restriction we put on his betting level.”

“How did he seem?”

“As far as I know he was his normal self. Nothing untoward was reported to me.”

It was quite possible, Amos thought, that Luke had come to spend an evening at the bookies blissfully unaware that his brother Mark had suffered the same fate as Matthew. Events had moved rapidly the previous day.

“What time did he leave?”

“That I can tell you pretty accurately,” Lingard said amiably, as if helping the police solve the murder of one of his clients gave him the greatest pleasure.

“It was getting towards closing time and I came through the front. He left about quarter past 10, and I know that because he actually said cheerio to me.”

“Did he leave with anyone?” Swift asked. “Did anyone follow him out?”

“One or two regulars left about the same time,” Lingard replied, “but I don’t think anyone was with him or trying to follow him. I can’t be sure, though. I wasn’t taking particular notice.

“By the way,” he added for no obvious reason, “you can tell his wife we won’t be chasing him up for what he owed us. I’ve already written it off.”

Chapter 32

“Now it is back to the musical chairs,” Amos said wearily as he and Swift left the bookmakers with nothing much resolved. “Mary first.”

The youngest of the six siblings did not seem surprised to see the two officers.

“I thought you’d be back,” she said brusquely. “Wipe your feet.”

“I take it you know about Luke,” Amos said as soon as they were inside.

“I can switch on a radio,” Mary answered. “I can manage that much at least. Yes, I know. What are you doing about it? Or are you waiting until we have all been wiped out?”

Amos was tempted to ask if Mary wanted protection but she said the words without any show of fear for her personal safety.

“Have you spoken to your sister-in-law?” he asked.

“Which one?”

“Don’t be facetious, Mary. You know perfectly well I’m referring to Beth, Luke’s wife.”

“I know who Beth is. No, I haven’t spoken to her today. I’ve been too busy. I shall have to clean up again after you’ve gone.”

“Do you have any idea who might want to kill Luke?”

“Ask the bookies. They had him beaten up last time.”

“I have to ask you, Miss Wilson, where you were last night.”

“At home, or course. Where else would I be? And I don’t see why you have to ask me. Luke was my brother.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t alter the fact that I have to eliminate members of the Wilson family from our inquiries. I take it you were alone. Did you speak to anyone? Did anyone call at the house or phone you?”

“Nobody bothers with me. I might as well not exist.”

“So what did you do?”

“Watched a bit of telly and cleaned up.”

“What did you watch?”

“I really have had quite enough,” Mary said emphatically. “My three brothers have been killed and you stand here questioning me about last night’s TV. Go out and find the killers.”

With that, Mary strode to the front door and opened it to usher them out.

Esther was also at home, not surprisingly now that, like Mary, she did not have a job to go to. She received Amos and Swift coldly.

“I suppose you’d better come in,” she said icily. “You’ve already cost me my job and accused me of killing two brothers, I suppose you might as well say I beat the third one to death.”

Amos waited until they were in the front room before he replied equally coldly: “I rather think you cost yourself your job and I have not accused you of anything. But since you raise the possibility, perhaps you would kindly tell us where you were last night.”

Esther sniffed.

“I was at home, where I always am now I don’t have a job and I don’t have any money to spend.”

“And who was with you?”

“No-one. George is away on business.”

“In this country?”

Esther looked at him curiously.

“Are you accusing George now? He’s in France. He went yesterday. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

“I’m not accusing George any more than I’m accusing you. Did you speak to anyone last night or see anyone.”

“Sounds like an accusation to me,” Esther responded. “I was here on my own, I didn’t see or speak to anyone and before you asked I watched television and cleaned up a bit.”