Kith and Kill by Rodney Hobson

understand from bank records we have acquired in the course of our investigation that Mr Wilson senior made several payments to his son Matthew in the months prior to his death. It could have a bearing on the case.”
    Gibson brightened up.
    “Ah that’s a relief,” he said. “I was a bit worried – well, very worried as a matter of fact – about client confidentiality but as long as you can assure me that this is all relevant to a murder inquiry then I feel a lot happier about things. As a matter of fact I was very concerned about Mr Joseph Wilson and did in fact consider involving the police.”
    “Did you?” Swift asked a little too eagerly. “Involve the police, I mean.”
    Gibson, who had concentrated his gaze on Amos thus far, turned a patronising eye on Swift.
    “No,” he said coldly. “It’s not something I would do lightly.”
    “Why were you so concerned?” Amos intervened. “As far as possible, this will be strictly between the three of us.”
    Gibson gave one more glance at Swift then decided to trust Amos with information he was anxious to get off his conscience.
    The bank manager leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh. Then he leaned forward over his desk, clasped his hands in front of him and looked Amos squarely in the eyes.
    “I’ve known Joseph Wilson for about 30 years, since I began my career in banking, in fact, initially just by sight but increasingly well. I started on the counters and often served him. He used to pay in cheques occasionally and draw out cash once a week.
    “I had to check his account from time to time as part of bank policy, then we went over to computers and I could see on the screen each time I served him that there was always a healthy balance in the account without prying. In fact, I was the one who suggested he should also open a savings account so he could earn some interest on the surplus amount, which he did.
    “But Joseph Wilson was from the old school. He kept more than he needed in the current account even though he had instant access to the savings account.”
    “Presumably we’re not talking vast sums,” Amos commented.
    “No, no, but a few thousand rather than hundreds. Mr and Mrs Wilson were not big spenders. Once they’d cleared their mortgage and the children were off their hands there wasn’t much coming out of the account. I’d worked my way up to assistant branch manager round about that time and I had a chat with Mr Wilson about investing – you know, stocks and suchlike – but he was too conservative with his money. He said that sort of thing was for highfliers in London. He wouldn’t be shifted.
    “They just took a week’s holiday once a year, always in this country he told me, and they didn’t need any fancy investments for that.
    “But I’m not sure I should be telling you all this private stuff ...” Gibson suddenly said. He hesitated.
    “You’re really only confirming the picture we already have,” Amos said to calm him with a lax regard to accuracy. “But that in itself is extremely useful and you are adding aspects that we aren’t sure about and that is absolutely vital. If Mr Wilson was the type of man you describe, which I am sure he was, he would certainly have approved of the help you are giving us in investigating his son’s murder.”
    A mixture of flattery and reassurance worked well with Gibson, who nodded in agreement.
    “I gather, though, that things changed after Mrs Wilson’s death,” Amos prompted him.
    “Yes indeed,” the bank manager continued thoughtfully. “Mr Wilson started running down the current account, then the savings account. It came to my attention one time when he accidentally overdrew the current account. Not by much, but even a few pounds in debt was completely out of character.
    “I was branch manager by then and I phoned him to point out the matter and to ask him to pop in to see me. He was quite obstreperous, which again was quite unlike him. He