Frost 5 - Winter Frost

by R D Wingfield

  'And what time was this?'

  'Three minutes to one in the morning.'

  'Which means,' the solicitor cut in, 'there is no way my client could have got to that fast food van between your window of times.'

  Frost stared at the dentist. 'Did anyone see you there, sir - anyone who could confirm your story?'

  'There was no-one else about at that time of the morning.'

  'A pity,' said Frost, sounding relieved. He was afraid Ashby was coming up with a cast iron alibi. 'And why did you need £50 at that time of night?'

  'The lady in question insisted on payment in cash, and I didn't have any on me.'

  Frost frowned. 'Are you telling us that you drew money out to go with a prostitute?'

  Ashby hung his head. 'I'm not proud of myself, Inspector, but yes.'

  After a session with your receptionist,' said Frost, 'I doubt if I would have had the strength to crawl back to my car, let alone go with another woman.' He pulled the cap from his pen. 'Details, please, so we can check.'

  'I was out of luck, Inspector. When I got back, I couldn't find her, or anyone. I drove around looking for a while, then returned home.'

  'Then we have nothing to corroborate your story, sir,' said Frost, trying not to sound relieved.

  'On the contrary, Inspector,' smirked the solicitor. 'A timed receipt is provided with money withdrawn from the bank's cash machines. Fortunately, my client remembered he had retained his and it was in the pocket of his other suit. He phoned me this morning. I collected it, and here it is!' Like a magician asking 'Is this your card, sir?' he flourished the receipt at Frost. The date and time checked. The solicitor then produced his client's plastic credit card so Frost could see that the account number agreed.

  'It does look fairly conclusive,' admitted Frost, grudgingly.

  'It is proof positive,' smirked the solicitor. 'I take it my client will be released immediately? He does have a surgery to run.'

  Frost thought hard for reasons to say no but couldn't come up with any. 'We'll need to make a few more inquiries, but at the moment he is free to go.'

  Nodding with smug satisfaction, the solicitor zipped his briefcase and stood up. 'You will be hearing further about our claim for substantial damages for false arrest and unlawful imprisonment.'

  'Fair enough, sir,' agreed Frost. 'We'll co-operate with you in every way. We'll even give the court full details as to why we suspected your client: his kerb-crawling, his late night excursions looking for nooky, his extra-marital affair with his receptionist . . ."

  Ashby and his solicitor exchanged concerned looks, with the dentist shaking his head firmly. 'I'm not vindictive,' he told Frost. 'A full apology will suffice.'

  'Then, sorry,' grunted Frost. He opened the interview room door and yelled to the custody sergeant: 'We're releasing this gentleman . . . no further action.'

  Frost grabbed another mug of tea from the canteen and plodded back with it to the murder incident room, giving Mullett's office a wide berth in case the superintendent bounced out, as he always seemed to do at the wrong moment, to demand to know if the dentist had signed a full confession yet. Morgan was hovering at the incident room door and seemed reluctant to enter. 'What's up, Taff ?'

  Morgan pointed to the towering figure of the mini-skirted prostitute who was savagely applying fresh lipstick to replace that adhering to the rim of her mug of canteen tea. 'What on earth is that, guv?'

  'You haven't met Mrs Mullett then?' said Frost, jerking his head for Morgan to follow, then sitting in the vacant chair next to her. In the corner of the room he could see Burton and Liz Maud in deep conversation. He introduced himself to the tom. 'I'm Inspector Frost. What can you tell me?'

  She rammed the tube of lipstick back in her handbag. 'About bloody time! Is it true? Is Sarah dead?' Frost nodded.

  'The same bastard who did for the others?' Again Frost nodded.

  'And all you do is sit on your arse-hole drinking tea?'

  'What else can I sit on?' asked Frost. 'My ear-hole?' He swigged from the mug. 'If you can help us we flight catch the bastard, so tell us what you know.'

  'Like I told the other copper, I saw Sarah last night going off with a punter.'

  'What time was this?' Frost was giving her face a quick once-over: eyelashes heavily caked with mascara, make-up plastered on, but he was sure he could see dark stubble underneath.

  'Late, ducky, getting on for two in the morning.'

  'Are you sure about the time?'

  'Bloody sure. If you're not one of Harry Grafton's girls you're not allowed out on that beat until all Harry's toms have packed it in for the night. He plays rough otherwise.'

  Frost nodded. He knew this only too well.

  'I gets there about half-past midnight and there was still a couple of his girls working, so I went to the pub for a drink, came back just after one and it was all clear. It's unfair, ducky, at that time of night all we get is the dregs of the trade.'

  So do the punters, thought Frost. 'Right, then what?'

  'Had a couple of customers and was standing there just before two when this car crawls up. I saw the bloke inside was giving me the eye, so I goes over to him. He looked the sort of bloke who only buys the reduced to clear stuff from the supermarket. "How much?" he asks. "Forty quid," I tells him. The bastard offered me a tenner. A tenner! I wouldn't even blow in his flaming ear for a tenner. I told him to get knotted.'

  'I'd have thought you would have grabbed any trade that was going at that time of the morning,' said Frost.

  'You're got to have standards, ducky,' she said, dragging up her miniskirt so she could give her thigh a vigorous scratch. I'd have come down to fifteen quid at a pinch, but a tenner, no way!'

  'Then what?'

  'Further down the road, leaning on that lamp post by the phone box, there's Sarah, wearing that moth-eaten fur coat of hers. He goes over to her in his car, they chat, she climbs in his motor, and he drives off.'

  'And you didn't see her again?'

  'No. For ten quid I'd have expected her back in five minutes. - ten minutes if she was feeling generous - but she never came back.'

  'Can you give us a description of this man?'

  'Hardly took a look at him. Anyone offering ten quid wasn't worthy of my contemplation.'

  'Come on, Fanny,' urged Frost. 'If we're to catch him, we want some sort of a description.'

  'Medium age, medium height, black hair.'

  'And distinguishing features?'

  'No, apart from him being a stingy bastard.'

  'Clothes?'

  'Blackish coat, black jacket . . .'

  'The man in flaming black,' snorted Frost. 'I suppose he had black fingernails as well?'

  'Can't say, ducky - he had gloves on, black gloves I think.'

  'Funny,' said Frost, 'I was going to say that. What about his car?'

  She shrugged. 'An old banger, could have been black as well. I didn't pay that much attention.'

  'Would you recognize him if you saw him again?'

  'I doubt it.'

  Frost sighed. They were getting nowhere. 'We're going to show you a few photographs, see if you can pick him out.' He went over to Burton. 'Show her some mug shots, slip in one of the dentist, you never know your luck.'

  Morgan gawped as she strode out, towering over Burton. 'She's a big girl, guv!'

  'Yes,' agreed Frost. 'She wouldn't waggle it under your nose, more like over your head.' He swallowed the last of the tea and thought he'd try his joke out on Morgan. 'Did I tell you about the midget that married this tall girl . . . Great big tart she was, just like Lily . . .' Morgan didn't think it funny either and was about to tell Frost a joke of his own when Burton returned, Lily traipsing after him. 'Flicked through the lot, recognized no-one,' he reported.

  'Did you slip the dentist's photo in?'

  'Yes. She passed it over, the same as the others.'

  'Knickers!' said Frost. But it was only what he expected. He turned to the woman. 'Thanks for your co
-operation. If you think of anything else that might help us, please let us know.'

  She stared angrily at him. 'And that's it? What about some protection? If I'm out tonight and the same flaming bloke turns up, I could be lying on the slab next to Sarah.'

  'If you're worried, don't go out on your beat until we catch him,' said Frost.

  'And if you never flaming well catch him, how do I pay the lousy rent? If I was the Queen Mother you'd fall over backwards to protect me, but just because I'm a flaming tom you don't give a toss.' She snapped open her handbag and took out a ten pence piece which she banged down on the desk. 'For the coffee . . . so you don't waste your money on flaming toms.'

  She stamped out, barging into Mullett as he came in, sending him crashing against the door post. Mullett glared his annoyance. 'What was that all about?'

  Frost held out the ten pence piece. 'She brought your change back from last night, Super.'

  Mullett's expression froze. The man was a disgrace and the sooner he could get rid of him, the better. He was now considering Liz Maud in a more friendly light. If he had her made up to inspector he might be able to get Frost moved on elsewhere. The thought was tempting. But he squeezed out a smile to show he enjoyed a joke against himself. 'What was that all about?' he repeated.

  Frost explained. 'She saw last night's murdered tom going off with a client. We're hoping to trace him.'

  'You think he could be the killer?'

  'No,' replied Frost. 'He turned down the tall torn because she asked too much.'

  'So?' asked Mullett.

  'If you pick someone up intending to torture and kill them, you don't give a sod about the asking price. You wouldn't be paying it anyway . . . the poor cow would be dead.'

  'So why are you trying to trace him?'

  'I want to know where he dropped Sarah off. Her next client could have been the killer and our man might even have seen him.' A thought struck him. 'Actually, Super, you could help us with this.'

  'Oh?' said Mullett warily.

  'We need a TV and press appeal for this man to come forward. We say we know he's not involved, but his information could be vital to our investigation.'

  Mullett mulled this over. The chance of appearing on TV always appealed, and he had his formal uniform in the office cupboard. 'Do we have a photo-fit picture?'

  'No, and if we want him to believe we're going to keep him anonymous, the last thing he will want is his mug shot sprawled all over the telly. Can I leave that in your very capable hands, Super?' he smarmed.

  Mullett beamed. 'I'll see to it right away.' He marched out, silently rehearsing his TV announcement, completely forgetting he had sought out Frost to tear him off a strip for not letting his Divisional Commander know the dentist had been released without charge.

  Frost turned back to his team. 'Right. First, we're glad to welcome Inspector Maud back. I'll just go over what we've got so far in case she can spot anything we've missed.' He jerked a thumb to the photograph. 'There's our prime suspect. Ashby, the dentist. He's cautions for kerb-crawling, his receptionist, Helen Stokes, was murdered the same way as the other toms, he's two-timing his wife with his new receptionist and he was seen talking to Sarah Hicks the same night she too was abducted. Also, he claims to suffer from insomnia so is out of the house in the early hours which is when the murders have taken place. Lastly, he's got a little black moustache like Mullett. Now anyone with all that against him would have to be guilty.'

  'He sounds a cert to me,' commented Liz Maud.

  'That's what I thought when we brought him in, but the lousy swine has provided an alibi for more or less the exact time Helen Stokes's body was dumped.' He showed them the service till receipt. 'He never could have drawn the money out, then got back in time to shove her under the meat pie van.'

  Liz Maud, who had been studying the service till receipt, raised a hand. 'Someone else could have used his card to withdraw the money.'

  Frost stared at her, then grinned happily. 'You're right! His red-headed receptionist could have got the money out for him.'

  Liz nodded. 'She uses his card to draw the cash out while he dumps the body. She gives him a phoney alibi.'

  Burton looked doubtful. 'But how would they know he was going to need an alibi for that time? It was only sheer chance the fast food van happened to be deserted.'

  Frost thought for a minute. 'Supposing it wasn't meant for an alibi at the time. It was only later, after we arrested him, that he realized he could use it as one.'

  'The trouble is,' said Liz Maud, 'it's all theory -how do we prove it?'

  Everyone went silent, but it was Frost, again, who came up with the answer. 'Wait a minute. Some of these banks have closed circuit TV cameras set up by their cash machines in case someone swears blind it wasn't them who drew the money out.' He jabbed a finger at Burton. 'Phone Bennington's Bank at Lexton and find out if they've got one.'

  They waited anxiously while Burton made the call. As he listened, he smiled, then turned to give Frost the thumbs-up. 'Yes, they have.'

  'Tell them we're on our way,' said Frost, rubbing his hands with glee. 'If it's anyone other than our teeth-pulling friend on candid camera, we've got him.' He was snatching his mac and scarf from the coat hook when Bill Wells came in with a face that telegraphed trouble.

  '13 Denton Way, Inspector. Frantic mother on the phone. Her two six-year-old daughters have gone missing.'

  Frost went cold. He had pushed the child killings right to the back of his mind. No clues and suspects. He had been hoping the killer had moved away to someone else's patch. 'How long have they been missing?'

  'I don't know, Jack. She was almost incoherent and her English wasn't too good. I said we'd get someone over right away. Shall I send an area car or do you want to take it?'

  Frost crushed his cigarette under his heel. This sounded bloody nasty. 'I'll take it if you like,' offered Liz Maud.

  He nodded. 'Thanks. We'll join you as soon as we've checked the bank's video.' . He sat, slumped, sucking at an unlit cigarette in silence, as Taffy Morgan drove them to Lexton. He hoped that this, at least, would give him some good news.

  The manager was busy with an important customer so he instructed one of his female clerks to get the videotapes out for the detectives to view. She was very young, sixteen or seventeen at the most, and wore tight jeans with an even tighter sweater. Morgan couldn't keep his eyes off her. As she knelt to get the tape from a bottom shelf, her sweater rode up as the jeans rode down, revealing the start of an inviting buttock cleft. Frost nudged Morgan who didn't need any nudging. 'I wouldn't mind swiping my credit card down that,' he whispered.

  'Pardon?' asked the girl, turning her head.

  'Nothing,' said Frost. 'Just hoping we weren't putting you to too much trouble.'

  'No trouble at all,' she smiled, straightening up and tugging her sweater back into position, causing a sharp intake of breath from Taffy as it stretched and hugged. 'I've got what you want,' she told them.

  'You certainly have,' muttered Frost through smiling ventriloquist's lips. Aloud he asked, 'Does the camera record all the time or only when there's someone using the cash point?'

  'All the time, I'm afraid, so we'll have to run it through to try and find the right spot.'

  'I'd love to find her right spot,' whispered Morgan as the girl fed the tape in the recorder and fast-forwarded. Smudgy, furtive-looking customers zipped across the screen poking in plastic, jabbing keys, removing money at high speed. A timer at the bottom counted through the hours and minutes. None of the pictures were very distinct. 'I bet the bank paid at least two quid for that camera,' said Frost.

  The girl smiled. 'The bigger branches get the best equipment.' She checked the screen and slowed down the tape. 'Ah . . . this is what you wanted.'

  But it wasn't what Frost wanted at all. There, on the screen, taking his money and carefully checking it as the timer showed 00.57, was the dentist.

  'Shit,' hissed Frost in dismay. 'We're right back where
we bloody started.'

  Detective Sergeant Hanlon was waiting in the murder incident room. He didn't look as if he was going to bring the smile back to Frost's doleful face. 'We've checked out most of the known toms, Jack. Very few of them were working that late, but we did find a couple who were around. Neither of them saw Sarah after midnight.'

  'Have you ever considered how useless you are, Arthur?' asked Frost, dropping into a chair and fishing out his cigarettes. 'A serial killer of toms who loves inflicting pain, and we haven't got a single flaming lead.'

  Hanlon took the offered cigarette. 'Most of the girls are demanding police protection.'

  'They can flaming well demand. If they're that worried, they can stay indoors.'

  'Couldn't we ask Mr Mullett to authorize extra patrols of the red light district?'

  Frost exhaled smoke. 'And what good would that do? Uniforms in cars buzzing around every five minutes would scare the sod off. And what are they looking for? How would they know he was not a genuine punter?'

  'We could take notes of all car registration numbers,' suggested Hanlon, 'then follow them up if there's another killing.'

  Frost chewed this over. 'Better than sod all, I suppose. We could give it a whirl.'

  The Phone rang. Hanlon held it out to the inspector. Liz Maud for you, Jack.'

  Frost went cold. The two missing kids. What kind of a bloody detective was he? He had completely forgotten about the kids. He snatched the phone grabbing for his scarf with his free hand. 'On my way, he began, but this time, for a change, it was good news. "The kids are all right, Inspector. They were with the father although he's denied right of access. Uniform are dealing.'

  A hot surge of relief flooded through his body. 'Thanks, Liz,' he croaked. His hand was shaking as he put the phone down. What if they had been killed and he hadn't even remembered they were missing? God! The thought made him shudder.

  'Jack!' Bill Wells had poked his head round the door. 'Bloke called Scrivener in the lobby, asking for you.'

  'Unless he's come to confess to something, I haven't got time.'