First Frost (13 page)

‘Then why the flaming hell,’ he said, almost spitting as he leant over her desk and turned the beam of the lamp directly in her face, ‘did you call us to say she’s awake?’

‘Come on, Jack,’ Clarke murmured behind him.

‘Firstly, I didn’t call anyone,’ said the nurse, tapping his hand off her lamp with a biro, ‘I only came on at ten, and secondly, as I understand it, she
was
awake – briefly.’

Frost stepped back from the desk. ‘Thank you so much for your help,’ he barked. ‘The next time she happens to wake up, perhaps you would do me the favour of letting me speak to her, so that I might have some chance of finding not just the person who damn nearly killed her, but her missing twelve-year-old daughter, who could be in serious danger.’

The nurse looked down at the notes she’d been writing, saying nothing.

‘If it’s not too much trouble, of course,’ Frost added, barely able to contain himself. ‘Nurse …?’ He couldn’t read her badge.

Finally she began to speak. ‘It’s sister, actually … please keep your voice down.’

Frost had already turned his back on her and was marching towards the exit. He could hear Clarke scampering after him. He needed a cigarette, and a drink. ‘Why does the whole of Denton seem to be filling up with Irish? And none of them any bloody help.’

‘Sorry?’ Clarke asked, confused.

‘Never mind.’

Once out of Lister Ward, and on another, more brightly lit corridor, Frost had an idea. ‘Where’s the kiddies’ ward?’

‘
They
’re certainly going to be fast asleep,’ said Clarke.

‘It’s not the kids I want to have a word with. Come on.’ They had reached an atrium of sorts, with signs pointing in all directions. Frost realized he had no idea where the Fraser child was now being kept, in isolation.

Still he led Clarke towards the clearly marked paediatrics section of the hospital. After a couple of flights of stairs and more dismal corridors they came to the internal paediatrics lobby.

Commanding the main desk was a fearsome-looking matron in a sharp blue uniform, complete with white hat. Frost knew in an instant that, warrant card or not, he wasn’t going to get past this one.

‘I’ve had enough people snooping around this ward today,’ said the matron, before Frost had even opened his mouth, ‘with all manner of excuses and lies.’

‘Sorry to hear it,’ said Frost.

‘One chap even tried to bribe me, he did,’ said the matron. She looked at Frost keenly. ‘I know what you two are up to – on the hunt for a story. Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree with me. You’re not going to get another inch down that corridor.’

‘Wait a minute, love,’ Frost protested, alarm growing. ‘Just because I wear a raincoat doesn’t make me a scavenging news-hound.’

Finally having established his and Clarke’s identity, the matron was surprisingly forthcoming about Becky Fraser’s predicament. ‘The poor mite’s obviously being kept in a room all of her own, and we’ve set up a bed for her mother to be by her side; didn’t seem any point in keeping her out.’

‘No, of course not,’ agreed Frost, though suddenly worrying about Liz Fraser, and whether he’d got it all wrong and that it was her and not the child’s father who had been abusing Becky. Frost had too much on his mind – he was losing sight of what was really what, losing his edge, his conviction.

‘I think they’ve been together all day, playing happily,’ said the matron.

‘I see,’ said Frost.

The matron looked around her, before whispering, ‘The tests are continuing, but we won’t know anything until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.’ She winked.

Frost could sense that Clarke was on the verge of giggling. He had no idea how much the matron really knew, or whether she realized the child’s isolation had actually been orchestrated by a Denton CID detective both for her immediate protection and to gain some precious time.

‘And the consultant?’ Frost suddenly couldn’t remember the doctor’s name. ‘Can I have a word with him? Is he about?’

‘No, Doctor Philips has long been gone for the day,’ the matron said, adding quietly, ‘though I do believe he tried to contact you at the station this afternoon.’

‘Is that right? Well, the message never got through.’ Frost tried to remember whether it had or not.

‘He’ll be here in the morning,’ said the matron more sternly.

‘Good, I’ll contact him then.’

‘Do you want to see whether the mother’s still awake? You could perhaps have a word with her.’

‘No,’ said Frost. ‘No need to bother her. It’s Doctor Philips I should talk to first.’

Frost also knew he had to get on to Social Services sharpish.

Standing outside the hospital, in the cold night air, under the car-park lights, Frost held out a match for Clarke. She cupped his hand and leant forward, cigarette between her teeth, but shivering as she did so.

‘Feels like winter is well and truly on its way,’ she said. ‘It’s bloody freezing.’

‘I like the winter,’ said Frost, ‘clears my sinuses.’ He paused, looking towards the bushes. ‘But what I don’t like are sneaky old hacks.’

‘I’m sorry, not with you.’

The rustling Frost thought he’d heard became more pronounced.

‘Jack!’ rang out from the shadows, as a tall, slim man stepped into the light and walked towards them. Frost realized he’d been expecting as much.

‘Hello, Sandy,’ said Frost dismissively. ‘What brings you to Denton General this time of night – I hope you’re not as ill as you look?’

‘Fit as a fiddle, actually,’ the tall man said.

‘Sue, allow me to introduce you,’ said Frost. ‘DC Clarke, this is Sandy Lane,
Denton Echo’s
one and only hack.’

‘Hello, DC Clarke,’ Lane said, taking his time over shaking Clarke’s hand.

‘So, why are you skulking about out here?’ Frost asked, wheezing slightly as the chill air got right inside his lungs.

‘My mum, taken bad a couple of days ago. They think she’s had a stroke.’

‘Sorry to hear that,’ said Frost, trying hard to sound like he meant it.

‘She’s doing all right, though. Made of stern stuff, us Lanes.’ The reporter paused. ‘Funny bumping into you, Jack. She’s in a ward with another old dear, a Mrs Hanlon. Been chatting to one of your colleagues this afternoon, as it happens – DC Arthur Hanlon.’

With a sinking feeling Frost had a good idea what was coming next. Though thorough and diligent, Hanlon wasn’t always as sharp and on his guard as he could be.

‘Rabies in Denton. Now, Jack, that’s a big scoop,’ said Lane smugly. ‘Of national interest.’

Frost said nothing. Reached for another smoke. Working out his line.

‘Care to comment?’

Frost knew the presses for tomorrow’s paper would have run by now, and that anything he said would be largely irrelevant. ‘What have you set in motion, Lane? Be awful for you if it turned out to be nothing more serious than an errant squirrel cosying up to a nipper.’

‘Come on, there’s a little girl in there undergoing tests for rabies, and that’s a fact.’

‘Can’t argue with that,’ said Frost.

‘See, see, I knew it was true!’ cried Lane. ‘That bloody lying matron.’

Had Frost simply confirmed Lane’s suspicions? ‘Hold on a minute. A test is one thing – confirmation’s another. Besides, how do you know there aren’t other reasons why she’s here as well?’

‘But Jack, you don’t get it, do you? Whether there really is rabies in the county is neither here nor there. The possibility that it
might
be here is enough of a story. Doctors, tests, isolation wards. It’s a bloody big story too – with pictures, interviews. We’ve got more than enough.’

‘Interviews?’ Frost laughed. There was only so much that Lane could have cobbled together. Though standing in the shocking cold, pushing eleven at night, Frost was almost beyond caring. ‘You and that rag of yours, Lane’ – Frost tapped Clarke on the arm, gesticulated towards the Escort – ‘you’ll be begging us for the real story one day. For
any
real story. So, in the meantime, just remember the public, those people who’ll be too terrified to leave their houses, to go to school, to the doctor’s, to do their shopping. All because you couldn’t be bothered to check the facts. They’d be better off reading the bloody
Beano
.’

Once in the Escort, the engine being warmed by Clarke’s keen foot, Frost asked, ‘How about a nightcap? We should just make last orders. I’m frozen from the inside out and the Cricketers is just around the corner from here – believe there’s a bit of a darts match going on.’ It was also just possible, Frost hoped, that Bert Williams could be there; it was one of his regular haunts. Or if he wasn’t, someone might have seen him very recently.

‘Can’t,’ said Clarke. ‘I’m already late.’

‘Aye-aye – who’s the lucky chap?’

‘As if I’d tell you.’

‘Amount of gossip flying around that nick, could be one of many,’ said Frost, laughing.

‘Not everyone mixes work with pleasure.’ Clarke accelerated out of the hospital car park.

‘No, but you’re a copper. Coppers don’t have much time for anything other than the job.’

‘Yes they do, if they’re quick about it,’ said Clarke, turning to smile at him.

‘That’s my problem, then. I always take too bloody long.’

‘There’ll be a lot of women who think that’s an advantage,’ she said, turning on to the Rimmington Road. ‘I’ll drop you off, if you like.’ The Cricketers appeared up ahead.

‘That would be grand, thanks.’

‘Do you ever go home?’ she asked.

‘Something always seems to crop up first,’ Frost said.

Tuesday (1)

‘What the blazes is this?’ Mullett slammed the newspaper on Frost’s desk, sending paperwork and cigarette ash everywhere.

Frost looked up, doubting whether he’d ever seen the super so angry. Mullett’s face was puce above the starched collar of his white shirt. His magnified eyes seemed to be popping out of their sockets behind his horn-rimmed glasses. Frost glanced across at Hanlon, who immediately rose from his chair and made a dash for the door.

‘Desperate,’ Hanlon muttered, clutching his vast stomach and backing away down the corridor.

Frost unfolded the
Denton Echo
and read the headline: RABIES IN DENTON! BABY CONFINED IN GENERAL. The story was accompanied by a huge photo of a rabid dog – the image looked familiar. ‘Wonder where the snap came from?’ Frost said, mostly to himself, lighting a cigarette.

‘Balls to the photo!’ Mullett shrieked as he paced the cramped CID office. ‘Have you any idea what this means? We’ll have every vulture up from Fleet Street now, all right.’

‘I thought they were here already,’ said Frost. ‘On the hunt for paedophile-aiding-and-abetting coppers.’

‘That’s more than enough of your lip, Frost. I’ve already had the Chief Constable on the phone. Give me one of those.’

Frost slid the Rothmans over. ‘I don’t know anything about it, sir. Presumably the hospital isn’t airtight. One of the nurses, maybe?’ The superintendent was making him feel even more defensive than normal.

‘What do you mean, you know nothing about it?’ Mullett barked. ‘That hack Sandy Lane told the Chief Constable first thing this morning – the Chief Constable no less – that he’d spoken to one DS Frost outside the hospital late last night, and you’d all but confirmed it was true. For heaven’s sake, Frost!’

‘It was unfortunate that Lane was skulking about there. His mother’s ill, apparently.’

‘I don’t give a
damn
about his mother,’ said Mullett.

‘No, sir.’

‘No, sir?’ Mullett shouted. ‘This whole rabies nonsense has got completely out of hand already, for which you, Frost, are entirely to blame.’

‘It was the health and safety of a little girl, Becky Fraser, that was my most pressing concern,’ said Frost. ‘Thankfully she’s being well cared for right now. To be honest, an opportunity arose and I went for it. At least it’s given us some time.’

‘No, Frost, that’s exactly what we don’t have – time. Not now. What the hell were you doing at the hospital late last night anyway? Presumably little Becky Fraser was safely tucked up in bed.’

‘I was checking on Wendy Hudson, sir. The woman who was nearly battered to death?’ Frost said angrily. ‘We had a call yesterday evening – after you’d gone home, I presume – saying that she’d woken up. All on her own.’ He looked his superior in the eye. ‘With no bloody WPC at her bedside, ready to record anything she might say, because someone wasn’t prepared to sanction any further overtime. So when I eventually get there—’

‘Oh yes, the case of the missing girl.’ Mullett frowned, stubbing out his cigarette and looking at his watch. ‘Have we found the chap yet? The husband? This thing should have been wrapped up by now.’

‘No, sir.’

‘How hard can it be?’

‘I’m more concerned about the girl, Julie Hudson. Her mother was nearly clobbered to death – her disappearance has to be related.’ Frost paused. ‘We’ll pick her father up soon enough. But it’s Julie Hudson’s safety I fear for. She’s not even thirteen.’

‘She’s still on the run, is she?’

‘She’s still missing, if that’s what you mean,’ said Frost, despairing.

‘Well,’ said Mullett, ‘you’ll have to make do with the resources at hand. Unless you’re as stupid as you look, you must realize we’re suddenly facing a very grave personnel crisis at the station, and when the whole of Denton is about to explode with anxiety over rabies scare stories. DI Allen, as you know, is on annual leave for the rest of this week, and there is still no sign of DI Williams – I don’t suppose you have any idea where he is? You’re his partner in crime, aren’t you?’

‘No, sir, sorry. I’ve no idea where DI Williams is. Some sort of domestic crisis, I imagine.’

‘It had better be good. By God.’ Mullett scratched at his moustache, before resuming, ‘I need time to think and plan a course of action, before this morning’s briefing. Just don’t go opening your great gob again, not to anyone, or you can kiss your job goodbye. Call yourself a detective? At least you’re wearing some approximation to a suit today.’

With that Mullett made an about-turn, only to bang straight into Grace’s tea trolley, which had silently appeared in the doorway.