Kith and Kill (5 page)

The woman blushed slightly.

“No, not at all,” she said hastily. “You’re known by reputation.”

It was an obvious lie. So Esther Bell had not kept her side of the bargain. Amos decided, however, that he would keep his and he asked to see the drug records as if it were a routine inquiry.

He and Swift worked through them. Usage of ketamine varied from month to month, which was hardly surprising but not particularly helpful as it was impossible to establish a pattern. There was, though, a spike in use over the past two weeks.

Amos commented on the fact.

“Yes, it is a bit of a surge but that’s nothing unusual. We had one or two cases out at the riding school. These things happen,” she added unconvincingly.

“You have the invoices, I take it?”

“Certainly. I’ll get them for you.”

Johnson seemed to fulfil the role of office manager as well as owner. There was no sign of anyone else on the premises. She extracted a file from a cabinet behind her desk and produced copies of three invoices, all made out to the Wolds Riding Academy.

“They were all paid cash,” Amos pointed out. “Was that unusual?”

“The stables sometimes paid cash,” Johnson responded. “I think it depended on whether clients had paid for riding lessons in cash or by cheque. And before you say anything, I’m not suggesting the money didn’t go through the books. It’s just that if they did have more cash than they needed it was easier for them to pay us in cash. It saved them from putting the money though the bank and incurring bank charges.”

“I never suggested any such thing,” Amos said soothingly. “This isn’t a financial investigation. They must have had good cash flow, though, to pay the invoices on demand.”

Johnson looked more carefully at the invoices. The dates on which they were issued and on which they were paid were identical in each case.

“Yes, that is unusual,” she admitted. “We usually have to chase them for money, although they always pay eventually. To be honest, I think they barely scrape a living. We must have been in luck.

“Esther deals with them so I suppose they paid her when she administered the ketamine and she paid it in here at the end of the day.”

“Well, it certainly helps with your own cash flow,” Amos said genially. “Beats having to chase people up.”

Johnson emitted a forced laugh but Amos hoped he had allayed any suspicions that the discovery was significant. He might need to catch Esther Bell unawares.

“Thank you,” he said. “You’ve been most helpful. “I very much doubt if I shall have to trouble you again.”

As soon as he and Swift were safely back at the car and out of earshot, he said: “You notice that not only was she expecting us and knew who I was, she never asked what the inquiry was about. I take it she knew.”

Chapter 10

“Something about this doesn’t add up,” Swift commented.

She had remained silent throughout the visit to the vet’s because she knew that Amos preferred on the whole to conduct the interviews himself uninterrupted, but she also knew that the inspector valued her opinion and reaction to what was said.

“My thoughts entirely,” Amos replied. “There’s something fishy about this, and a sick fish at that. Let’s have a drive to the riding school. You drive. I want to think.”

“I’d better warn you, sir, that I had riding lessons there as a child. I know the owner Jim Schofield, though I haven’t seen him in years.”

“That’s good,” Amos said cheerfully. “At least you know the way there.”

Nothing further was said until they reached the entrance to the establishment. Amos jumped out and opened the gate, closing it carefully after Swift had driven though.

Schofield did not recognise his former pupil. Many years had passed and Swift had no doubt changed as she grew up in the intervening period.

Amos introduced himself and Swift. The name didn’t seem to ring a bell, perhaps because Schofield looked distracted by all the cares of the world. A visit from the police was just another burden he could do without.

He had a pitchfork in his hands.

“I have to do my own mucking out,” he offered by way of explanation. “You’ll have to excuse the smell.”

“I’ve smelled worse,” Amos said, “but I’m surprised to see the boss of the riding stables doing the menial jobs. Don’t you usually employ someone to do it?”

“I used to have a school leaver helping but I can’t afford wages. Horse riding was the first thing to go in the downturn. And the horses still need feeding and looking after.”

“Yet you can afford to pay cash for their medical treatment,” Swift remarked casually.

Schofield looked at her in astonishment. He had started to yawn but Swift’s interjection stifled it.

“Chance would be a fine thing,” he said bitterly. “I can’t afford the vet and I certainly can’t afford the treatments. Luckily I haven’t needed her for several months.

“Don’t worry,” he added hastily. “I don’t let the animals suffer. I’d rather go without food myself to pay if they needed it. I managed to sell a couple of ponies for a pittance but at least that’s two fewer to need treatment.”

“By she, I take it you mean Esther Bell,” Amos said. “We’ve just come here from the vet’s. I gather she is the resident expert on large animals.”

“Yes, Esther,” Schofield repeated wearily. “She’s wonderful with animals. She sure picked the right vocation.”

“Let me get this straight, Mr Schofield,” Amos said. “You haven’t had Mrs Bell – or any other vet – here during the past two or three weeks?”

“No. What on earth is this all about?” the weary riding school proprietor, finally aroused, asked warily. “Is this about tax, because if it is I’ve paid everything I owe, which wasn’t much anyway.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” Amos assured him. “You’re not in any trouble and we are most definitely not investigating you or your riding school. But I have to know if you paid Esther Bell in cash for any recent visits, or for any outstanding past bills.

“We’re not interested in whether you paid cash to keep it out of your books or for any other reason for that matter. The inquiry is not a financial one and we shall not report this to anyone else, whatever your answer is, but I do need the truth. Have you paid Esther Bell in cash?”

Schofield looked unconvinced by this assurance but he shook his head slowly as if he thought Amos had lost his mind.

“I don’t have any money,” he said wearily. “I told you.”

Amos drove as they left. As soon as they were out of view of the stables he pulled over into a small layby.

“So who do you think is telling the truth?” he asked Swift.

“I’ve no hesitation in backing Schofield,” she replied emphatically. “The riding school has clearly gone downhill since I had lessons 20 years ago. Rotting wooden fences, peeling paint, no staff. He really must have hit rock bottom.

“The place used to be full of stuck up, toffee-nosed county set parents and their brats. I loved the riding and hated the kids. Now the man’s clearly exhausted having to do all the work himself. There’s no way he’s been paying cash for vet’s services.

“Paying Esther Bell cash in hand to cut costs, yes, but those payments went through the system so where’s the advantage?”

“And Vicky Johnson?”

“Everything seemed above board.”

“It seems to me,” Amos said, “that there are two possible scenarios. One is that Esther Bell sold ketamine through Schofield to kids stupid enough to take it for kicks. That seems unlikely, as ketamine is virtually unheard of among Lincolnshire drug takers.

“Schofield could certainly use his share of the proceeds but they wouldn’t get rich splitting the money from selling a comparatively small amount – unless it’s been going on for some time.

“In which case Vicky Johnson is involved as well because there was no sign of previous dubious sales in the accounts. If they covered up earlier sales, why leave the latest ones in the accounts?”

“I don’t buy that for one moment,” Swift said.

“Nor do I, Amos agreed. “Which leaves us with the far more likely explanation that Esther used the ketamine to kill her brother Matthew, for whatever reason we don’t yet know, and hastily covered her tracks by getting Johnson to issue invoices to Schofield, either knowingly or in good faith, and paying the bills out of her own pocket.”

“In that case the murder was premeditated, not spur of the moment,” Swift said. “The first invoice dated back to several days before Matthew Wilson was killed.”

“Let’s find out,” said Amos. “She was getting a bit rattled yesterday. Perhaps if we confront her she’ll crack.”

Chapter 11

Esther Bell’s home was nearer than the vet’s surgery and Amos thought it worth trying there first. They could always go on to the surgery if she was not at home.

However, it was always possible that she would stay away from work, realising that she was highly likely to receive a repeat visit from Amos once he had had the chance to check the drug register. That would be preferable to having a confrontation in front of clients.

Mrs Bell was indeed at home. She showed no surprise on seeing the police officers other than to remark: “I see you have a different sidekick today, inspector.”

There was no sign of her husband, who was presumably at work. That suited Amos, for Esther was more likely to admit her guilt on her own.

Once more Amos found himself in the front room of Esther Bell’s very comfortable and substantial home, although Swift was seeing it for the first time.

“Well, inspector?” Esther said defiantly.

“Well indeed,” Amos replied equally unhelpfully.

“What can I do for you?”

“Ketamine,” Amos said flatly. “The ketamine that you took from the surgery and paid for with your own money. You can tell us about it.”

Esther sat in silence for a few moments.

Finally she said: “I take it you’ve been to the riding stables. I was hoping against hope that you wouldn’t but I suppose it was inevitable it would all come out. Yes, I paid for the ketamine myself.”

“Tell me something else I already know,” Amos said. “Like what happened to the ketamine.”

“My guess is the same as yours. It could well have been the ketamine that killed Matthew. Assuming it was ketamine, that is.”

“You had ketamine, you lied about where it had gone and you paid for it. What does that add up to, do you think?”

“I didn’t kill Matthew,” Esther blurted out. She was close to tears. “And I don’t know what happened to the ketamine. It went missing.”

“For goodness sake, Mrs Bell,” Amos said. “Face reality. Tell us what happened. You are beginning to try my patience.”

Esther was snivelling and wringing her hands.

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded. “This will finish me. I’ll get struck off.”

“We’re rather more concerned about the fact that it finished Matthew,” Swift butted in ungraciously. Esther looked as if she had not heard.

“I think it was stolen from my car,” she said, pulling herself together. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it must have been. I carry a small amount with me for use in emergency. It saves going back to the surgery.”

“A small amount?” Amos demanded. “Enough for three prescriptions.”

“I had to split it up to cover it up. I hoped it would be less noticeable in bits. Jim Sutcliffe would never be able to afford to pay for it all in one go and none of the farmers ever paid cash. They always wait for the third reminder.”

“So you didn’t report that a quantity of ketamine had gone missing? You must have known that if it can knock a horse out it can kill a human being.”

Esther remained silent.

“The obvious conclusion,” Amos said deliberately, leaning forward to look fully into her face, “is that the ketamine didn’t go missing at all. You took it to poison your brother for some reason that we will find out in due course and you covered up by pretending you had used it at the riding stables. Did you really think you were going to get away with it?”

“That’s the point,” Esther suddenly blurted out. “Of course I could never have got away with that. But when I faked the payments I didn’t know that Matthew was going to be poisoned.”

“Which brings us back to your claim that the drugs were stolen and you chose not to make a clean breast of it. If you’re clever enough to work out that you couldn’t get away with killing Matthew with the stuff, surely you have the intelligence to know you should have reported the theft – unless it didn’t happen.”

“It did happen,” came the indignant reply.

“Where and when?”

Esther looked cornered.

“From my car,” she said lamely. “On Thursday. I’d put it in the car when I left the surgery in the morning and it had gone when I came to want to use it in the afternoon.”

“That’s conveniently vague,” Swift commented sarcastically. “You must know when your car was broken into.”

“It wasn’t broken into. Someone stole a key. I always take both keys with me, separated of course, in case I lose one. I don’t want to find myself stranded at a farm. One key, the one I use, is in my pocket. The other I keep in the zipped up section in my handbag.

“I don’t know exactly when the one from my handbag was taken, although it must have been fairly recently. I only noticed it had gone when I realised the ketamine had been stolen and the car hadn’t been broken into.”

“Presumably the ketamine was clearly labelled,” Amos asked. “Whoever took it knew what they were taking.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I issued three invoices to the riding school, back-dating two of them to make it look as if the ketamine had been used over a longer period, and paid them myself. I would have got away with it if Matthew hadn’t died.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you chose to cover it up,” Swift objected. “You could have reported the theft to the police, as you should have done, and no-one would have blamed you.”

“You don’t understand,” Esther said wearily. “I’m certain the keys were taken by a member of my family. That’s why I didn’t go to the police. Ketamine is taken by young people these days as a social drug, although it’s not widespread because not many people know about it. I thought one of my nephews or nieces had taken it. I’ve had to ask the local garage to send off for a new key, which has cost me £80 and God knows when it will arrive.