'You know her?'
'Not as a client. You know her too, son. She's a friend of Mullett's wife they both serve on the same hospital committee or something. She reported some money stolen from her bedroom after a man from the Water Board called…'
'I remember now,' interrupted Burton. 'The very next day she claimed she was mistaken and nothing was pinched after all.'
'That's her,' nodded Frost. 'We never suspected it at the time, but I reckon she must have received a blackmail threat pay up or we send the photos to the vicar, sort of thing.' He pulled the photograph towards him and studied it. Behind him the door creaked open.
'Inspector Frost!'
Frost groaned. Flaming Hornrim Harry, ready to give him a bollocking for leaving the loot unattended. He turned with a surprised smile. 'I was just on my way in to see you, super.' He held up the photograph. 'Just for the purposes of elimination, the man in the mortar-board isn't you by any chance?'
Mullett took one look at the photograph and flushed angrily. 'You know damn well it isn't. My office now!'
Mullett's voice droned on and on as Frost sat in the chair, his face a look of rapt attention, his mind miles away, trying to filter out Mullett's drivel as he turned over the day's events in his mind. If Mullett's wife's mate was being blackmailed, it was a near certainty that Lemmy had been putting the squeeze on others for stuff pinched from bedrooms during his Water Board scam. Which meant Lemmy was a blackmailer as well as a thief and here was a strong motive for murder. Perhaps one of his victims had decided that enough was enough. He opened his ears, but Mullett still hadn't finished.
'… not the sort of behaviour I expect from an officer under my command…'
He clicked the sound off again. The first thing to do would be to call on this woman and see if she could throw any light on Lemmy's death. Come on, Mullett hurry up and finish… I've got work to do. He became aware of a welcome silence. Mullett had stopped at last and was looking at him questioningly.
'You've finished, sir? Good sorry and all that. Won't happen again.' He snatched up the bag of jewellery and made for the door before the superintendent could think of any more of his shortcomings to moan about.
'Wait!'
It was a tone that could not be ignored, even by Frost. He turned slowly. 'Sir?'
'That photograph you showed me… there was something familiar about it.'
'Don't worry, super… I'll try and keep you out of it.'
Mullett tightened his lips and stretched out a hand for the Polaroid print. 'Let me see it again.' He studied it, then took off his glasses and polished them slowly. 'It's Mrs. Roberts.'
'Top marks!' cried Frost. 'I would never have recognized her just from her bare behind… although, c course, I've never seen it before…'
Mullett reddened. 'I recognized the room,' he snapped.
'Of course, sir,' said Frost. 'Whatever you say.'
Mullett glowered. 'My wife and I have been there many times… those pictures… that bookcase…'
'Oh, I see, sir,' said Frost, leaving a lingering tinge c doubt in his voice to annoy Mullett further. 'Yoi probably sat in that self-same chair she's bending over, hope excitement doesn't make her dribble.'
Mullett wiped his eyes wearily and replaced hi glasses. 'Look, Frost, this is all very embarrassing. She' a friend of mine and she's very big in the town.'
'She's even bigger round the buttocks,' said Frost.
Mullett ignored this. 'What do you intend doing with it?'
'I'm going round to her house to show it to her.'
Mullett stared hard at the surface of his desk am moved his fountain pen a fraction of an inch. 'I think i would be better if I handled that. She's a good friend, but she could also be a very bad enemy. If I could return th photograph and let her know we were keeping her nam out of it, it would make things go a lot smoother in ou later dealings.'
'Sorry, super,' said Frost. 'You're too late. I thin] she's been blackmailed already. In fact it could be th reason Lemmy Hoxton was killed.' As he filled Mullett in, the superintendent became more and more agitated.
'I'd prefer it if you would drop it, Frost. I'm sure she' not involved in murder. Dammit, she's a family friend.'
Frost adopted his air of puzzled incomprehension. 'I this a bit of the Judges' Rules that I've missed, sir that shouldn't question any murder suspect who happens to be a friend of yours?'
Mullett leant forward, his face creased with anger 'You know damn well that's not what I meant. Of coursi you must question her. If, by some remote chance, she is involved, then you have my full permission. But if this goes wrong, if it blows up in our faces, I'll come down on you like a ton of bricks.'
Frost retrieved the photograph and slipped it into his pocket. Mullett, as usual, had covered himself both ways and couldn't lose. 'I knew I could rely on your full support, super.'
He looked in the murder incident room and yelled for Burton to come with him. Mrs. Roberts was a big woman and he didn't fancy tackling her on his own.
Mrs. Emily Roberts lived in a small, semi-detached house at the end of the road. A neat front garden fronted by a trimmed hedge led to a porch and a front door with coloured leaded lights. The bell push surround was polished brass which Frost smeared by jamming his finger on it. After a pause, the door opened suspiciously on a length of chain and even his warrant card wasn't enough to gain admittance. She snatched it from him and went off to phone the station to make sure they were not imposters. She still remembered the fake Water Board official, but even he looked the part while this scruffy individual who thrust a dog-eared warrant card at her looked nothing like a policeman.
She had demanded to speak to her friend Stanley Mullett, the Divisional Commander. Mullett, who had sounded a trifle edgy on the phone, confirmed that Frost was one of his officers, although he wasn't exactly sure what case the inspector was on at the moment.
They were ordered to wipe their feet, which Frost did very perfunctorily, and were marched into the living- room where a cheery coal fire blazed. She meant for them to sit in the hard chairs, but the scruffy one made for one of her large, leather armchairs. 'Lovely chair,' remarked Frost, sinking down. 'Feels brand spanking new.'
Her heart skipped a beat. Was it her imagination, or did he stress the word 'spanking'? She smiled bleakly. 'How can I help you?'
The room looked exactly as it did in the photograph, but the woman, large, almost mannish, in her tweed trouser suit, seemed light years away from the baby-talking writer of the letter imploring 'teacher' to correci her errors. 'You reported a robbery some months ago; Mrs. Roberts,' said Frost. He wished she would sit down. She was standing, towering over him, making him crick his neck as he talked to her.
With an airy wave of the hand she dismissed the nonsense about the robbery. 'Alia mistake, as I told your officer at the time.'
'We're wondering if it was a mistake.'
She frowned. 'What do you mean?'
'We think there was a robbery, which you reported, but you then realized he had taken certain items you didn't wish the police to know about.'
She drew herself up to her full height, towering over him even more. 'There was no robbery. Nothing was taken. I can't help you.'
'Why don't you sit down?' said Frost. 'Or is your little botsy-wotsy sore?'
She stared, mouth gaping. At first she thought she hadn't heard him correctly and then her eyes widened in stunned shock as he produced the envelope and the photograph.
'Not exactly full face,' said Frost, 'but we're pretty certain this is you.'
She tried to snatch it from him, but he drew his hand back. 'How dare you!' she hissed. 'How dare you.' Her mouth opened and closed, but that was all she could think of to say.
'Sorry about this,' said Frost, sounding as if he meant it, 'but when you lift stones, all sorts of nasty things come crawling out. I'd just like to get a couple of things sorted to help with our enquiries.'
'I'm not saying another word.' She dropped down in the armchair opposite him and folded her arms defiantly.
