the film through. What time would he leave?'
'Between half-past five and six.'
'By which time it was dark, most of the shops shut and the town looking like a morgue. I reckon he would want to go straight home.' He swung his chair round so he was facing the large street map of Denton on the wall. 'He doesn't know the area too well, so he takes the main road, not the back doubles.'
'But that wouldn't take him anywhere near Patriot Street where we found the body,' said Burton.
Frost nodded. 'You're right, son. So let's try this for a working hypothesis. He's walking home. Some bastard in a car toots his horn and says, 'Do you want a lift, sonny?' He gets him in the car, gives him chloroform, kills him, panics and dumps the body. So…' He jabbed the wall map. 'Let's set up a road block here tonight. Stop all cars. 'Were you here this time last night, sir? Did you see anyone give a lift to a kid?' You know the form.'
'I'll lay it on,' said Burton, scribbling on a pad.
'Hold it!' said Frost, spotting a snag. 'It's not as simple as that, is it? The kid has only just moved into Denton. He could have been going the wrong bloody way. He stops a bloke. 'Excuse me, kind sir, can you tell me how to get to Kenton Street?' 'You're miles out of your way, sonny. Hop in, I'll give you a lift mind that bottle of chloroform and the knife.'
'I'll get Traffic to cover all roads in all directions,' said Burton. 'It'll mean more overtime. Mr. Mullett won't like that.'
Frost flapped a dismissive hand. 'Don't worry. I'll sort old Roughchops out. Next, we'll put out an appeal over the media. Anyone who was in the Curzon Cinema between, say, two and seven, we want to hear from you… All calls treated in the utmost secrecy just in case kids playing truant might not want to come forward… and say we'll accept reverse charge calls if they don't want to phone from their parents' home.' He rubbed some life into his scar. 'Anything I haven't thought of, do it anyway.'
'Do we still need to check out all the hamburger outlets?'
'I think so, son. Forensic are comparing the stomach contents with a sample from the cinema, but until they confirm its the same we'd still better check them out.' He stifled a yawn. He hadn't got to bed until the early hours and had then been dragged in at the crack of dawn by flaming Mullett. He realized quite a few of the team looked as if an early night wouldn't go amiss and they were only into the first few hours of the murder investigation. 'Split up into two groups half of you snatch a few hours' sleep, then relieve the others. I don't want you stumbling around like bloody zombies there's enough useless people in this station as it is.' He looked up as Mullett entered and, without changing his expression, said, 'Hello, sir, we were just talking about you.'
Mullett smiled and nodded to the team, wondering why some of them seemed to have difficulty in keeping their faces straight. A surreptitious peek to check that his zip wasn't open. 'A quick word, inspector.'
'Be with you in a tick, sir.' Back to the team. 'One last thing. On no account must we let anyone know that the poor little sod had his finger hacked off. We'll soon be swamped out with phone calls from weirdos and cranks confessing they killed him. Most of them will be time-wasters, but if anyone mentions a missing finger we jump on the bastard.'
They clattered out. Liz answered another phone call from a search party reporting negative results. She re sited a yellow pin on the wall map. Mullett took Frost's arm and moved away from her. This was to be confidential. 'Any progress?'
'Everyone's sweating their guts out, but nothing definite achieved so far,' grunted Frost.
'It would be helpful if we could get this tied up very quickly, Frost. With all the overtime involved, the cost of these searches is astronomical. I take it we do need all these men from other divisions? The cost goes on our account, you know, not theirs.'
'Tough!' said Frost. 'And yes, we do need them all. If we want to find him alive, we need to find him quickly. It's bleeding cold out there… you probably noticed it as you staggered out of the boozer last night.'
Mullett's face reddened. That was something he didn't want to be reminded about. 'Do you think you will find him today?'
'I'm not a bleeding fortune teller.'
'I can cover the overtime from our budget for another eight hours. After that, I'll have to go to County, cap in hand.'
You can go with your dick in your hand for all I care, thought Frost, but aloud he said, 'It'll take as long as it takes. I can't hurry it.' He felt this was not a good moment to tell the superintendent about the extra overtime needed for Traffic tonight. He yawned again as another wave of tiredness washed over him. 'And when are we going to get a replacement for Inspector Allen?'
Liz Maud, hovering in the background, pricked up her ears. This was what she was anxious to know. As Mullett turned his head in her direction, she pretended to be engrossed in the contents of a folder.
Mullett lowered his voice. 'I'll have news on a replacement for Mr. Allen very shortly. I'm only waiting for confirmation from County.' He gave Liz a thin smile as he went out. She beamed back, reading the secret message in his smile. She knew that the temporary promotion was hers. Frost had come over to her. She closed the folder. 'Yes, inspector?'
'Your abduction case. It might be a good idea to chat up the girl again.' He told her about finding the blanket.
'And you're suggesting it was all a fake? She wasn't abducted? There was no robbery?'
He nodded. 'The titty-grabbing bad guys knew too much… where the meter cupboard was, that there was only a cordless phone upstairs. They knew the parents would be away and they knew they wouldn't be back until well after midnight.'
Liz shrugged. 'There are ways they could have found that out.'
'The ransom was 25,000. Do you know how much Stanfield had in his current account? I phoned the bank and they told me 25,000, give or take a few quid. If the gang had asked for more, he couldn't have paid it.'
'It still doesn't prove anything,' she said stubbornly. 'What father would put his daughter through all that for an insurance fiddle?'
'A father called Robert Stanfield,' said Frost. 'Get tidied up here and we'll go and pay them another visit.'
He was on his way to his office to see what junk Mullett had dumped in his in-tray when Bill Wells called him. 'Lady to see you, inspector.' He nodded in the direction of a small woman in her mid-seventies in a faded brown coat, who rose wearily from the hard bench in the waiting area and shuffled over. 'It's me again, Mr. Frost,' she said apologetically.
'Who the hell is she?' whispered Frost, always worried when people asked for him by name. He rarely forgot a criminal face, but members of the public were just not recorded in his mental filing system. But before Wells could reply, she had shuffled across to him. 'Have you managed to get them back yet?'
Then he remembered. The robberies the con man who wangled his way into people's houses by pretending to work for the Water Board. This old dear had had her jewellery stolen, plus her late husband's war medals. Her husband had been an R.A. F pilot during the Battle of Britain and had been awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal amongst other decorations. Frost tried not to meet her eye as he shook his head. 'No luck yet, love but we're still trying.' Why was he lying to the poor old girl? He'd dropped that case months ago.
She looked as if all hope had been drained out of her. 'I don't care too much about the jewellery. It's the medals. He was so proud of them.'
'I know,' said Frost. The last decoration had been awarded posthumously. A tracer bullet had penetrated the fuel tank and the heat-warped canopy had jammed. He screamed to his death in the blast furnace of a burning Spitfire, crashing to merciful oblivion in a field in Kent on a blazing hot summer's day in August 1940.
'How long before you catch the man who stole them?'
'Can't really say, love. We're following several leads.' More lies. He didn't have a bleeding clue! 'I'll be in touch as soon as we have anything.' Which would probably be bloody never! 'Sorry I haven't better news.'
'I'm sure you're doing your best,' she said.
He walked her to the door and watched her hobble across the road, fumbling for her bus pass. She realized she was being watched and turned to give him a wave.
He slouched back to his office and screwed up the two niggling memos from Mullett he found lurking in his in-tray. Staring through the dirty grime of his window he wished it would hail or snow or pee with rain, anything to match his mood. But the sun glinted off the grime. He couldn't even get that right.
