someone, I’d pick somewhere more romantic than a flaming coffin store.’
Frost’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who said she’d been raped?’
‘I’m not stupid. What have you been asking me questions about sex for if she hadn’t been bloody raped?’
‘And what were you doing in the crypt in the first place?’
‘About eleven o’clock we had this dirty great bleeding thunderstorm. Didn’t last long but it was bucketing down. There was no cover and I was getting drenched. I thought the crypt was a tool shed or something, so I forced out the screws with a claw hammer and stood inside the door. When the rain stopped, I hammered the screws back in and went on with my work.’
‘What do you think, Jack?’ asked Hanlon while Hickman’s statement was being typed, ready for his signature.
‘I’ve got an awful feeling the sod’s innocent. We’ll have to let him go for now, but check every bit of his story out. I want confirmation that his car was up the spout that day, witnesses who saw him working in the bone yard that day, and I want you to find out if it was peeing down with rain like he said.’
‘He knew about the rape,’ said Hanlon.
‘He thought she was raped in the crypt,’ said Frost, ‘but she was already dead and bagged when she was dumped there. He’s our only suspect, but I don’t think he did it — so let’s go and wipe the smile off our Divisional Commander’s face.’
Mullett pulled his overflowing in-tray towards him and flicked through the contents. No sign of the promised amended car expenses from Frost but a complicated-looking batch of multi-coloured forms from County requesting a detailed inventory of the station. He shook his head in dismay. County did pick the worst possible time for their returns. A tap at the door. He straightened his back, smoothed his hair and called, ‘Enter.’
A disgruntled-looking Sergeant Wells came in with Mullett’s cup of tea which he banged down rather heavily on the desk. ‘Could I have a word with you, sir?’
Mullett’s face fell. No more moans from the sergeant, he hoped. Everyone was overworked, but the solution was to buckle down and do that little bit extra, not keep whining about it all the time. He forced a creaky smile and pointed to the chair for Wells to sit.
The phone rang. Mullett glared at it, then frowned at Wells. He had specifically asked that all his calls be held. Wasn’t there anyone capable of obeying a simple order? ‘Mullett,’ he snapped, but immediately his expression changed, his back went straighter than straight and his free hand was adjusting his tie. The caller was the Chief Constable. ‘How are we coping, sir? Well — you’ve seen our manning figures… Yes, I appreciate Shelwood Division are in the same position as us… I see, sir… Well, if Shelwood can cope, then so can we…’
Wells gave a silent groan. The Chief Constable was playing Denton off against neighbouring Shelwood, knowing both Divisional Commanders were at daggers drawn in rivalry, each striving to be next in line for promotion.
Mullett swarmed on. ‘Yes, sir, this epidemic has hit us pretty badly too, but thanks to…’ and he gave a modest cough, ‘good leadership, marvellous team work and…’ He raised his voice and shot a significant glance across to Sergeant Wells. ‘… uncomplaining co-operation from the full team, we’re coping extremely well.’ He swivelled his chair around and lowered his voice. ‘Sorry if I sound a mite ragged, sir, but I’ve been up half the night. You’ve heard we’ve found Paula Bartlett’s body?’
‘Stinking to high heaven and raped.’
Mullett cringed. He hadn’t heard Frost come in. He spun his chair round and signalled frantically to the inspector to be silent. ‘Apparently the poor child was sexually assaulted, sir, although I don’t have the details at the moment.’ He glared to let Frost know whose fault this was. ‘However, we do have a suspect…’
‘No, we don’t,’ called Frost. ‘I’ve let him go.’ Mullett clamped his hand over the mouthpiece and his eyes spat fire. ‘Keep quiet,’ he hissed. Back to the phone. ‘Events seem to be moving faster than I thought, sir. I’ll come back to you.’ He smiled sycophantically until the receiver was safely back on its rest, then the smile snapped off. ‘You will not make comments when I am on the phone,’ he snarled at Frost.
‘Sorry, Super. I didn’t want you to make a prat of yourself with the Chief Constable.’
The inspector didn’t sound sorry and Mullett was irked to note the lighted cigarette wiggling in the man’s mouth. He expected people to ask permission before smoking in his office. In Frost’s case that permission would have been refused, but that wasn’t the point. However, he would see what Wells wanted first.
‘Sergeant Johnson is still away. I’m doing double shifts and I’m on again tonight, sir. It’s getting a bit much.’
Mullett tried to look sympathetic. ‘Don’t talk to me about double shifts, Sergeant. It goes without saying that no-one works harder than I do…’ He paused. He thought he heard a snort of derision from Frost. But the innocent look on the man’s face suggested he was wrong. ‘If Shelwood Division can cope without extra help, then so can we.’ He raised a hand to silence the sergeant’s protest. ‘A little extra uncomplaining effort and we’ll come out with flying colours. If you’ve got any problems, any worries, come straight to me. My door is always open.’ He beamed at the sergeant. ‘Perhaps you’d close it as you leave.’
Wells opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it and accepted his dismissal. He resisted the temptation to slam the door behind him.
Without waiting to be asked, Frost slid into the vacated chair and yawned loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth. What a pig the man is, thought Mullett. ‘How are you coping?’ he asked.
‘We’re not coping,’ said Frost. ‘We’re struggling and sinking bloody fast.’
‘Shelwood…‘ began Mullett.
‘Sod Shelwood Division,’ chopped in Frost. ‘Shelwood haven’t got three major murder enquiries on the go.’
Mullett breathed on the lenses of his glasses and polished them carefully. With his glasses off, the blurred image of Frost didn’t look quite so scruffy. But when he replaced them, there was the man, creased, crumpled and slovenly in sharp focus. ‘The reason we are not coping, Inspector, is because of sloppiness and inefficiency.’
‘You’re doing your best, sir,’ said Frost generously.
Mullett glared. ‘No-one can accuse me of inefficiency, Frost. I prepare the rotas, but no-one sticks to them. I never know who is on duty and who isn’t. We’ve got to organize ourselves… allocate the tasks, use our resources to the best advantage. I’ve prepared new duty rosters.’ He pushed a neatly typed list across the desk. ‘And they will be strictly adhered to. I will not tolerate any deviation… any excuses.’
Frost picked up the roster and studied it. Like most of Mullett’s edicts, it was beautifully laid out, but would be impossible to adhere to.
‘We’ll all have to work that little bit harder,’ cajoled the superintendent, ‘but it won’t be for long. Mr Allen will be off the sick list next week and you’ll hand the Paula Bartlett case back to him. Other men are coming off the sick list all the time.’ He flashed his ‘be reasonable’ smile. ‘It will only be for a few days.’
Right, you sod, thought Frost. We’ll play it your way. He yawned and heaved himself up. ‘I see from the roster I’m off duty, so I’ll slope off home and get some kip.’
‘Wait!’ Mullett waved him back to his chair. ‘I need an update on the cases you are working on.’ He listened distastefully as Frost spared him none of the gory details of the stabbing and the post-mortem. ‘One victim’s still alive — so it’s only two murders.’
‘She’s eighty-one,’ said Frost, ‘and her skull’s fractured. The hospital don’t reckon she’ll pull through. I’m anticipating on this one.’
Mullett clenched his fist angrily. ‘Catching this swine must be our number one priority, even to the exclusion of other cases.’ He pulled his notepad towards him. ‘I’m holding a press conference at two on the Paula Bartlett case. No joy with your plumber?’
‘Not unless we can pick holes in his story, and I don’t think we will.’
‘A pity,’ said Mullett pointedly, as if it was Frost’s fault. ‘Have you told the parents yet that she was raped? I don’t want them to find out from the media.’
Damn! thought Frost. He’d completely forgotten this aspect. ‘No, sir. I don’t want to sod up your nice new roster, so as I’m off duty I’ll leave that for you.’
The Parker pen doodled in the air and dotted an imaginary ‘i’. ‘I’d do it willingly, Inspector. But you’ve got their confidence. They don’t want a stranger breaking such bad news. I’ll leave that in your capable hands.’
Frost smiled his ‘you bastard!’ smile. ‘Of course, sir.’
