'What time was this?' Frost was giving her face a quick once-over: eyelashes heavily caked with mascara, make-up plastered on, but he was sure he could see dark stubble underneath.
'Late, ducky, getting on for two in the morning.'
'Are you sure about the time?'
'Bloody sure. If you're not one of Harry Grafton's girls you're not allowed out on that beat until all Harry's toms have packed it in for the night. He plays rough otherwise.'
Frost nodded. He knew this only too well.
'I gets there about half-past midnight and there was still a couple of his girls working, so I went to the pub for a drink, came back just after one and it was all clear. It's unfair, ducky, at that time of night all we get is the dregs of the trade.'
So do the punters, thought Frost. 'Right, then what?'
'Had a couple of customers and was standing there just before two when this car crawls up. I saw the bloke inside was giving me the eye, so I goes over to him. He looked the sort of bloke who only buys the reduced to clear stuff from the supermarket. 'How much?' he asks. 'Forty quid,' I tells him. The bastard offered me a tenner. A tenner! I wouldn't even blow in his flaming ear for a tenner. I told him to get knotted.'
I'd have thought you would have grabbed any trade that was going at that time of the morning,' said Frost.
'You're got to have standards, ducky,' she said, dragging up her miniskirt so she could give her thigh a vigorous scratch. I'd have come down to fifteen quid at a pinch, but a tenner, no way!'
'Then what?'
'Further down the road, leaning on that lamp post by the phone box, there's Sarah, wearing that moth-eaten fur coat of hers. He goes over to her in his car, they chat, she climbs in his motor, and he drives off.'
'And you didn't see her again?'
'No. For ten quid I'd have expected her back in five minutes. — ten minutes if she was feeling generous — but she never came back.'
'Can you give us a description of this man?'
'Hardly took a look at him. Anyone offering ten quid wasn't worthy of my contemplation.'
'Come on, Fanny,' urged Frost. 'If we're to catch him, we want some sort of a description.'
'Medium age, medium height, black hair.'
'And distinguishing features?'
'No, apart from him being a stingy bastard.'
'Clothes?'
'Blackish coat, black jacket…'
'The man in flaming black,' snorted Frost. 'I suppose he had black fingernails as well?'
'Can't say, ducky — he had gloves on, black gloves I think.'
'Funny,' said Frost, 'I was going to say that. What about his car?'
She shrugged. 'An old banger, could have been black as well. I didn't pay that much attention.'
'Would you recognize him if you saw him again?'
'I doubt it.'
Frost sighed. They were getting nowhere. 'We're going to show you a few photographs, see if you can pick him out.' He went over to Burton. 'Show her some mug shots, slip in one of the dentist, you never know your luck.'
Morgan gawped as she strode out, towering over Burton. 'She's a big girl, guv!'
'Yes,' agreed Frost. 'She wouldn't waggle it under your nose, more like over your head.' He swallowed the last of the tea and thought he'd try his joke out on Morgan. 'Did I tell you about the midget that married this tall girl… Great big tart she was, just like Lily. _ ' Morgan didn't think it funny either and was about to tell Frost a joke of his own when Burton returned, Lily traipsing after him. 'Flicked through the lot, recognized no-one,' he reported.
'Did you slip the dentist's photo in?'
'Yes. She passed it over, the same as the others.'
'Knickers!' said Frost. But it was only what he expected. He turned to the woman. 'Thanks for your co- operation. If you think of anything else that might help us, please let us know.'
She stared angrily at him. 'And that's it? What about some protection? If I'm out tonight and the same flaming bloke turns up, I could be lying on the slab next to Sarah.'
'If you're worried, don't go out on your beat until we catch him,' said Frost.
'And if you never flaming well catch him, how do I pay the lousy rent? If I was the Queen Mother you'd fall over backwards to protect me, but just because I'm a flaming tom you don't give a toss.' She snapped open her handbag and took out a ten pence piece which she banged down on the desk. 'For the coffee… so you don't waste your money on flaming toms.'
She stamped out, barging into Mullett as he came in, sending him crashing against the door post. Mullett glared his annoyance. 'What was that all about?'
Frost held out the ten pence piece. 'She brought your change back from last night, Super.'
Mullett's expression froze. The man was a disgrace and the sooner he could get rid of him, the better. He was now considering Liz Maud in a more friendly light. If he had her made up to inspector he might be able to get Frost moved on elsewhere. The thought was tempting. But he squeezed out a smile to show he enjoyed a joke against himself. 'What was that all about?' he repeated.
Frost explained. 'She saw last night's murdered tom going off with a client. We're hoping to trace him.'
'You think he could be the killer?'
'No,' replied Frost. 'He turned down the tall torn because she asked too much.'
'So?' asked Mullett.
'If you pick someone up intending to torture and kill them, you don't give a sod about the asking price. You wouldn't be paying it anyway… the poor cow would be dead.'
'So why are you trying to trace him?'
'I want to know where he dropped Sarah off. Her next client could have been the killer and our man might even have seen him.' A thought struck him. 'Actually, Super, you could help us with this.'
'Oh?' said Mullett warily.
'We need a TV and press appeal for this man to come forward. We say we know he's not involved, but his information could be vital to our investigation.'
Mullett mulled this over. The chance of appearing on TV always appealed, and he had his formal uniform in the office cupboard. 'Do we have a photofit picture?'
'No, and if we want him to believe we're going to keep him anonymous, the last thing he will want is his mug shot sprawled all over the telly. Can I leave that in your very capable hands, Super?' he smarmed.
Mullett beamed. 'I'll see to it right away.' He marched out, silently rehearsing his TV announcement, completely forgetting he had sought out Frost to tear him off a strip for not letting his Divisional Commander know the dentist had been released without charge.
Frost turned back to his team. 'Right. First, we're glad to welcome Inspector Maud back. I'll just go over what we've got so far in case she can spot anything we've missed.' He jerked a thumb to the photograph. 'There's our prime suspect. Ashby, the dentist. He's cautions for kerb-crawling, his receptionist, Helen Stokes, was murdered the same way as the other toms, he's two-timing his wife with his new receptionist and he was seen talking to Sarah Hicks the same night she too was abducted. Also, he claims to suffer from insomnia so is out of the house in the early hours which is when the murders have taken place. Lastly, he's got a little black moustache like Mullett. Now anyone with all that against him would have to be guilty.'
'He sounds a cert to me,' commented Liz Maud.
'That's what I thought when we brought him in, but the lousy swine has provided an alibi for more or less the exact time Helen Stokes's body was dumped.' He showed them the service till receipt. 'He never could have drawn the money out, then got back in time to shove her under the meat pie van.'
Liz Maud, who had been studying the service till receipt, raised a hand. 'Someone else could have used his card to withdraw the money.'
Frost stared at her, then grinned happily. 'You're right! His red-headed receptionist could have got the money
