Fatal Frost (19 page)

‘Should you do that while on duty? Turn off the radio?’

‘Put it this way, last time I turned off the radio I nearly got blown up. It can’t get any worse than that.’

‘Whatever you say, man,’ Waters said, bemused.

‘There we go.’ Frost sank back as the music filled the Vauxhall.

‘Count Basie?’ Waters said, surprised. ‘How old are you? Anyway, back to the case. This idea of Drysdale’s, pagan rites or whatever, I don’t see it somehow. I mean, it’s not Halloween or anything.’

‘It does seem far-fetched, I’ll grant you. Many things’ve turned up in Denton Woods over the years, but witches or satanists is pushing it,’ Frost said. They sat at a junction on the Rimmington Road, the Vauxhall purring heavily while waiting
for
the lights to change. Frost observed them taking down the May Day bunting from the pub on the crossroads. On a blackboard a colourful chalk drawing advertised Morris Men. ‘When did Drysdale reckon the kid was killed?’

‘He didn’t say specifically; sometime over the weekend.’

‘The bank holiday weekend. May Day is, I’m sure, some sort of pagan deal. Originally, before the developers moved in, Denton was a small market town, very rural. We tend to forget.’ Frost had an envelope with copies of the crime-scene photographs in his lap. He took out one picture and studied it.

‘What you driving at?’ Waters asked. ‘You worried you’re gonna get lynched and burned alive like Edward Woodward in
The Wicker Man
?’

‘Just a thought, though I wouldn’t say no to the bird who cast the spell or whatever … What was it Drysdale said about the lad’s position – was it a pentangle?’

‘Pentagram,’ Waters corrected.

‘Pentagram,’ Frost repeated slowly.

‘So you agree with Drysdale that there might be witches out there?’

‘Who knows? We’ve got bugger all else to go on.’

Wednesday (3)

‘WITCHCRAFT? ARE YOU
sure?’ Superintendent Mullett looked from Frost to Waters, vexed. There was a clatter of china as Miss Smith entered with his afternoon tea.

‘Thank you, Miss Smith, that will be all. I’m not to be disturbed.’ His secretary smiled uncertainly at him and left the room.

‘Of course I’m not sure,’ Frost said, pacing the office, a plume of smoke in his wake, ‘but you said yourself the manner of death was significant.’

‘I know what I said, but still, witchcraft? This is the 1980s. The computer age. Not the Middle Ages.’

‘Sir, the body was only discovered this morning; it’s very early days. This is just an idea.’

‘Ideas have no place in Denton CID. Procedure, Frost. Hard evidence. We can’t have talk of witches and goblins.’

‘Goblins?’

‘You know what I mean. We can’t have you propounding ridiculous theories. If anything like this gets out, we’re really
done
for.’ Mullett frowned. ‘Now will you please sit down, before you wear a hole in the carpet!’ Mullett had never seen Frost like this, accustomed as he was to the detective slouching in a chair. This pacing about the office was irritating and unsettling. Waters sat quietly to one side, offering nothing up. Mullett’s eye was caught by the flashing red light of his new, multi-line phone.

‘The press,’ Mullett continued, ‘have been on the phone constantly. We’re going to have to say something.’

‘We?’ Frost retorted, lighting a further cigarette off the butt of the one just finished. ‘It’s you who’s at the forefront, sir, having discovered the body …’

Mullett was sure the smug reprobate was smirking. But Frost was interrupted by a rap on the door, followed by Miss Smith entering the office.

‘I thought I said I wasn’t to be disturbed!’ he snapped.

‘It’s Mr Winslow, sir,’ she said apologetically, ‘on line one.’

‘Put him though, then,’ Mullett said sharply.

‘He’s there, sir,’ she said, pointing at the phone, ‘flashing in red.’

Mullett snapped up the receiver, saying to Frost as he did so, ‘Here, give me one of those cigarettes.’ He pressed the flashing red button.

‘Afternoon, sir.’

‘Stanley, what the blazes is going on? I’ve had the
Denton Echo
pestering my people all morning.’

‘About what, sir?’

‘Whether I thought the sinking of the
Belgrano
was the turning point in the war – what the hell do you think? This boy ripped apart on the golf course, you imbecile!’ the Assistant Chief Constable barked down the line.

‘With all due respect, sir, the body was only discovered this morning.’ Mullett looked at Frost, conscious he was repeating what the DS had said, but Frost feigned not to be listening, and
was
staring out of the window. ‘We’re still assessing matters. It’s not an unusual occurrence for us to hold back a day, even if the situation is … is bizarre.’

‘Of course, under usual circumstances the discovery of a body in a most “bizarre” state would accord us a day or so’s grace …’ The Assistant Chief Constable paused; Mullett could hear him take a breath. ‘But these aren’t usual circumstances, are they? You, a superintendent of the County police force, discovered a body in full view of every town dignitary between here and Reading! You can’t just sit back and do nothing. I thank my lucky stars I had emergency root-canal treatment this morning and couldn’t make it. I never thought I’d hear myself say that!’

‘Root canal? Sorry to hear that, sir – very painful,’ Mullett said carefully.

‘Not as painful as life will be for you if you don’t get on top of this. Who’s heading the investigation?’

Mullett was silent for a second.

‘Jim Allen?’ Winslow prompted.

‘DI Allen is on a computer course. At Hendon. At your request, sir,’ Mullett added.

‘Well, what of it? Who’s running this?’ Winslow hissed irritably.

‘DS Frost,’ said Mullett softly, regarding Frost as he spoke, who was still standing at the window, looking like a refugee from the sixties, in what could well be a shirt from Oxfam.

‘He can hold the fort for now, but get Allen back pronto. And how’s our coloured friend doing?’

Mullett cringed at the reference, staring fixedly at Frost in an effort to avoid the eye of the large, inscrutable officer he was now required to talk about. ‘DS Waters is fitting in rather well. It’s useful to have a different … perspective.’ He found himself grinning inanely.

‘Good, good. You can never tell with those chaps. I’ll let you get on with it, then – and call a press conference.’

‘
Today?
Isn’t that rather rash? We’ve nothing to go on.’

‘Superintendent, that is not the point. Control of the situation is what counts here. You’ll think of something. Keep me posted. Good day.’ The line went dead.

Mullett replaced the receiver heavily in its cradle, noticing he’d dropped ash over the desk throughout the conversation.

Frost pivoted round. ‘All well at Gestapo HQ?’

‘That’s an inappropriate remark, Sergeant. It seems Mr Winslow would like a press conference.’

‘Would he, now. I’d best be off, then – to give you time to prepare.’

‘Ah, wait a minute.’ Mullett shifted awkwardly in his grand leather chair. Winslow and Frost had a point – his being there when the body was found somehow put the onus on him to apprehend the murderer. The situation was potentially sticky. If he could somehow shift responsibility on to Frost … ‘Jack, come here.’

Frost halted at the door.

‘Sit down a minute. Since DI Williams’s demise, we’ve been a detective inspector down.’

Frost sat stoically in front of the superintendent, saying nothing.

‘I think it’s time to raise your profile,’ Mullett weaselled, not entirely convinced this was the right tack, but proceeding anyway. ‘If you tidy yourself up a bit and are seen to be taking command of this situation …’

Frost raised his eyebrows. ‘I can dress myself, sir.’

‘Of course you can, but with a little more effort, and perhaps an occasional shave, it could be you in front of the press and TV cameras instead of me.’

Frost rubbed his bristly jaw. ‘I don’t know about that, sir. After all, you’re so good at it.’

‘Well, yes, Jack, but I can’t be seen to be hogging the limelight all the time. Wouldn’t you agree, DS Waters?’

‘I don’t think it’s really my place to say, sir,’ Waters replied, raising the palms of his hands defensively.

‘We can swap if you insist.’ Frost looked earnest. ‘But right now I’m required urgently at the lab; the pathologist wants to see me ASAP.’ He paused. ‘He’s found something in the remains.’

‘The remains?’ Mullett scratched nervously at his moustache. ‘You mean, the body?’

‘Call it what you like, sir, it’s not a very nice sight, however you describe it – as you would know. We’ve been there once today already, but since then Drysdale has opened it up …’

‘Maybe it’s best you remain in the field for now,’ Mullett conceded, but waving a manicured finger he added, ‘Think on, though – for the future.’

‘If that’s all, sir, I must dash, if I may. Need the loo.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Mullett waved him off dismissively. On second thoughts, it would clearly be unwise to unleash Frost on the press. He’d only say something uncouth, or at best incomprehensible. He, Superintendent Mullett, was the one most suited to dealing with the media. He should stop feeling so uncomfortable about this case. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d murdered the boy himself.

Chris Everett had slept like a baby on Tuesday night, and this afternoon he felt he could take on the world. He’d covered his tracks so well that Fiona had not suspected a thing. The unfortunate sweep had conveniently laid out his own shroud, making it easy for Everett to bundle the body swiftly into the back of his own van before Fiona and kids made it back from ballet. He’d backed the MG out of the garage and just about squeezed the van in its place.

Originally he had intended to get shot of the van and body at dawn, but had surprised himself by oversleeping. This presented him with a problem, as the longer the van stayed in the garage, the more likely Fiona was to stumble upon it.
Nevertheless,
he kept calm. He’d taken the kids to school and then dropped her off for a coffee morning, after which she had a hair appointment. He had time. He’d left the Regal office on the pretext of a valuation and had come home to dispose of the evidence. He would, of course, have preferred not to do it in daylight as witnesses could be a risk, but fortunately the well-to-do neighbours were all out at work, the women included; Fiona was the only idler. So he figured he was safe there. The big question was, where? The woods? Too exposed in the daytime, and how would he get back? Come to think of it, how would he get back from anywhere? Sipping his coffee, he looked out of the window at the darkening sky. The weather was about to break in a major way. What he needed was somehow to lose himself in a crowd …

Frost hurried out, heading for the Gents. Mullett must think I was born yesterday, he thought; mind you, I don’t blame him – facing the press will be pretty gruelling after such a discovery. Frost rubbed his hands gleefully, imagining Sandy Lane’s probing questions:
And what exactly was the superintendent of Denton Police doing on a golf course first thing in the morning in the middle of the week when there’s a host of unsolved crimes?

His thoughts were interrupted by Waters, walking briskly behind him. ‘What was all that about?’

‘I needed a wee – what’s to get?’ Frost said, agitated.

‘No – all the stuff about
remains
? We’ve just come from the lab …’

‘I had to say something, didn’t I – otherwise he’d have had me in front of the cameras, and we don’t want that, do we?’

‘No, I guess not.’

‘No, indeed. And by the way, we need to let Mark Fong go; no need for Myles to check his records. Lad claimed he was born at Denton General, which I very much doubt. You can sign the release.’

‘Shall I run some stuff through the Police National Computer?’ Waters said. ‘Check him out?’

Frost grimaced. ‘Computer checks? On the
what
? Don’t start using that sort of language with me!’ He paused. ‘It’s like you’ve caught Mullett’s progress bug just by being in his lair. No, just let the boy go.’