understand.'
'We want to lure this bastard into a trap,' explained Frost. 'We dress up policewomen as toms, plant them in the red light district, and get them to phone for cabs. We keep them under surveillance all the time. If the right cab turns up, we simply follow them to the destination, then bring them back to try again. But if it's a rogue taxi, we tail and get ready to pounce.'
Mullett pinched his nose and thought for a while. He was beginning to have nagging doubts about asking County to send a senior officer down to take over the case. He had been hoping for a chief inspector at most, but Chief Superintendent Bailey out-ranked him and would probably take command of everything, commandeer his office, spend way over Denton's limited budget, leave Mullett to take the blame, then hog all the credit if he was successful. For all his faults, Frost was now looking the much better option. If Frost could pull this off quickly, so County were kept out, there would be no question of the credit being shared. He tugged off the cap of his Parker pen and steeled himself for the worst. 'How many people would be involved?'
'Not too many. Crowds at that time of night would arouse suspicion. Say two or three girls and four or five, maybe six cars to watch and trail.'
Mullett jotted some figures down and winced. 'And all on overtime?'
'Yes,' agreed Frost. 'The sod doesn't like raping and killing in office hours.'
Mullett added up the sums again, but couldn't make them any less. Perhaps he should let Bailey come after all, and let him take the responsibility for spending all this money. But it would still come out of Denton's budget. 'We've got to keep costs down. When the girls book a taxi, I'm only paying for the minimum distance — and no tipping.' He scribbled some more figures down. 'Eight men — three women per night — maximum. And I want receipts, receipts for everything.'
'Of course,' Frost assured him, standing up quickly before the superintendent changed his mind. 'It's all agreed then?'
'No, it's not all agreed,' said Mullett. 'Sit down.' He took off his glasses and pinched his nose. Sanctioning large sums of money made him nervous and when Frost didn't put up objections about it being too little, it made him feel he was giving too much away. 'If I'm to justify this sort of expenditure, I've got to show it's cost effective. I want a result.'
'You shall have one,' said Frost. The result could well be that the whole operation was a disaster, but it would still be a result even if it wasn't the one Mullett wanted.
And this isn't open-ended. I'm agreeing three nights only, then I pull out the plug.'
'Agreed,' said Frost, knowing that if they needed more time, he'd argue about it when it happened. We might even get a result tonight.'
That would make a pleasant change,' said Mullett, sourly. 'Results are something sadly lacking from you at the moment. What is the position with the child killings?'
'We've come to a bit of a dead end there, Super,' admitted Frost. 'All our leads seem to have fizzled out.' Mullett pulled a knowing face, implying this was only to be expected from Frost. 'And the skeleton in the garden? I understand you've tracked down the woman with the missing son?'
Frost told him about the visit to Nelly Aldridge.
Mullett's eyes gleamed. 'We're on to something there, Frost.'
'Ancient bloody history,' said Frost. 'Not worth wasting our time on.'
Mullett's lips tightened. 'You're so damned negative. No wonder you're making no headway. We've found a skeleton, her son is missing and she has no satisfactory explanation. On top of which, she has acquired, apparently out of nowhere, money to buy a smallholding. Bear down on her. She's your best bet for an early clear-up, and goodness knows, you need one.'
'All right,' sighed Frost. 'I'll see her first thing in the morning.'
'You've wasted enough time,' snapped Mullett. 'Do it today. If she doesn't come up with a satisfactory explanation, bring her in.' He picked up his pen and began signing his correspondence to signal that the interview was over.
Frost slouched out, passing through the outer office where Ida Smith, Mullett's faithful secretary, who had overheard everything, was smiling smugly to herself at the way her superior had put that awful man in his place. Frost gave her a nod as he passed. 'I quite agree with you, Ida — he's a real right bastard.'
'I don't think this is a very good idea, guv,' moaned Morgan as his foot squelched in a rain-filled pot- hole.
'It's a bleeding lousy idea,' agreed Frost, 'but we're flaming well stuck with it.' They were slithering and sliding in the pitch dark up the muddied lane leading to the smallholding. 'Not far now — I can smell the privy.'
They stumbled on and soon could see a feeble orange glow from a flickering oil lamp fighting its way through a dirt-caked window. Frost hammered at the door. 'Open up, Mrs Aldridge. It's the police.' They waited. He tried the door handle, but the bolts and chains inside held firm. 'Let's try our luck round the back.'
They picked their way round to the rear of the house. No lights showed and the door was again firmly locked.
'No-one in, guv,' said Morgan.
'She's in all right, Taffy — probably straining over the slop bucket even as we speak.' He rattled the door handle and yelled again. 'Open up, Mrs Aldridge — police.'
A bitter wind suddenly roared round the house. Morgan shivered. 'Let's leave it until the morning, guv. This place gives me the willies.'
'Talking of willies,' said Frost, 'yours is going to have a rest tonight. I've booked you in for overtime.' He banged the door again. 'Sod it,' he grunted. After coming all this way I'm not going back without chatting up the old cow.' He shook the door. 'I don't think it's bolted.' He tugged a key ring from his Pocket and, with a bit of wiggling, the second key he tried did the trick. The door swung open. 'Oh, look,' he exclaimed in a loud voice. 'This door's been left open. We'd better check to see if the occupant is all right.'
They stepped inside, Morgan's torch beam probing the darkness. 'I'm not happy about this, guv.'
You didn't join the force to be happy,' Frost told him as he led the way through to the hall. He pushed doors open and steered Morgan's torch inside. Miserable, dank rooms stacked with junk.
'Guv!' Morgan, at the room nearest the front door, was calling him over. 'I think there's someone in here.'
The room was pitch dark, but there was the sound of breathing and the smell of a recently extinguished oil lamp. Tentatively, Morgan stepped inside. 'Mrs Aldridge?' called Frost, following him in.
Suddenly a cry from Morgan as the torch was knocked from his hand. Pitch darkness. Another cry from Morgan as he was sent crashing to the floor. A plea for help: 'Guv!'
Frost couldn't see a damn thing. Frantically he scrabbled for the light switch and as he realized there wasn't one, he was sent crashing against the wall as two bodies cannoned into him. His torch! Where the bloody hell was his torch? It had slipped through a hole in the lining of his mac and was refusing to come out. At last he yanked it free and clicked it on. It flickered fitfully, dimly lighting up the figure of a wild animal of a man, all matted beard and greasy hair, stinking to high heaven. He had Morgan in a bear hug and was crushing the life out of him.
Morgan's face was distorted with pain and he was gasping for breath. Frost crooked an arm round the attacker's neck and tried to yank him back, but was smashed against the wall as the man effortlessly shrugged him off. Frost grunted as all the air was forced from his body. 'Police!' he croaked, as if he expected that to make the man immediately surrender. He just managed to jerk his head to one side as an elbow missed him by inches and smashed into the wall.
Frost gripped the torch and brought it down with all his might on the man's head. A cry of pain as the torch went out and the sound of a heavy body crashing heavily to the floor. Pitch dark again. He shook the torch and, to his surprise, it flickered back on illuminating the lifeless form sprawled out on the floor, a big, dirty, hairy smelly beast of a man. The beam moved to Morgan who was staggering to his feet and rubbing his ribs. 'You all right?'
'Just about, guv.' Morgan looked down at the man. 'Who the hell is he?'
'He didn't say,' said Frost, rubbing his own bruises. 'Get the cuffs on him quick before he comes round.'
The man, whoever he was, was out cold.. Morgan knelt down and, with an effort, rolled him over so he could lock the handcuffs behind his back. He glanced up and his eyes widened as he saw something behind Frost. 'Look out, guv!'
