R. Wingfield - Hard Frost

Mullett kept his face expressionless, not giving Frost the satisfaction of showing his annoyance. He stared straight ahead at the back of the neck of the police driver who was almost choking as he tried to suppress a snigger. A curt nod to Frost as Allen clambered in and dropped heavily on the seat beside him. A few muttered words to the driver and the car sped away.

Liz Maud, seeing Allen make his exit, had renewed hopes that this would mean she would be in charge, but was disappointed to see Frost, grinning all over his face, return to the tented area where Drysdale was pulling on his leather gloves. "There's something you should see." He took the torch from his secretary, crouched by the body and shone it inside the bag. "Take a look."

Frost squatted down beside him. There was something white, covering the boy's right hand, fastened around the wrist with yet more masking tape.

"What is it?" asked Frost.

"It looks like a small plastic bag," replied Drysdale. "I can't make anything of it at the moment, but once we get him on the table, I can take a better look." He straightened up and clicked off the torch. "You can remove the body now, inspector. I'll do a brief examination at the mortuary tonight, then a full post-mortem at ten tomorrow."

"I'll let Mr. Allen know," said Frost. This was getting too complicated for him and he would be glad to dump it back in Allen's lap. He beckoned to Burton. "Whistle up the meat wagon."

As the Rolls-Royce slid away, its place was taken by the undertaker's plain, unmarked van. Frost checked that the undertaker and his assistant were wearing gloves before they touched the plastic sack and watched as it was Lifted and zipped in a black body bag.

PC Evans, the SOC officer, squeezed past to take photographs, and to examine the area on which the body had been lying.

Frost drew Liz to one side. "Get back to the station and open up the murder incident room. Then ask Bill Wells for our list of known child molesters."

"I've already got it," replied Liz. "Some pervert has been breaking into houses and stabbing toddlers in their cots."

"Right," said Frost. "Round them all up… any with their dicks out still warm and throbbing, treat with suspicion. Burton, you come with me."

Liz hesitated. "Wouldn't it be better if I came with you and Burton opened up the incident room?" If Frost was leading the enquiry, she wanted to stay with him.

"You're not missing any fun," said Frost. "We're going to break the news to the parents a job that Mr. Allen wriggled out of. You're welcome to come if you like."

She shook her head. She couldn't face any more hysterical mothers tonight. "I'll get back to the station."

It was easy to spot the boy's house in Lacey Street. It was the only one with its lights still on. Even before Frost's Ford had scraped its tyres to a stop along the kerb, the front door was flung open and a woman came rushing out.

Wendy Kirby, the boy's mother, aged around twenty-five, eyes swollen from crying, had wrenched open the door. "Have you found him yet?"

"Let's go inside, love," said Frost, lighting up the cigarette he needed to bolster up his courage.

"We only went out for a quick drink. We hardly ever go out.".

Frost nodded sympathetically. A man in his mid-twenties was at the door. He wore a black, imitation leather zip-up jacket. "Have you found the little sod? I'll wring his bleeding neck…"

"Are you Mr. Kirby? asked Frost.

"No, I'm damn well not. I'm her boyfriend. That kid's ruined our bloody evening."

The boyfriend! Shit, thought Frost. He was hoping it was the father so he would only have to break the bad news once. "Let's go inside."

They were taken into the lounge where the mother dropped into an armchair and grabbed at a table lighter. She had difficulty lighting her cigarette. Frost leant over and lit it for her. Burton stood by the door, watching, feeling superfluous.

"It's bad news, isn't it?" said the mother. "I know it's bad news."

"You're always bloody negative," said the boyfriend. "Always looking on the black side. Be bloody positive for a change."

That's right, thought Frost. Raise the poor cow's hopes so I can smash them down again. He took a deep drag, then slowly exhaled. He couldn't put it off any longer. "Mrs. Kirby…" he began.

The woman had taken a framed picture from the side table and was holding it to her chest, rocking slowly from side to side. Frost paused. "Is that Bobby?"

She nodded.

He held out his hand. "Could I see it?"

She handed it to him. A school photograph. A freckle-faced boy with light brown hair grinning shyly at the camera. "Taken last week," she said.

Frost studied it, then handed it to Burton.

Burton raised his eyebrows in surprise.

It wasn't the dead boy.

"We haven't found your son yet, Mrs. Kirby," said Frost, 'but we might have found his guy."

"Oh bloody marvelous," said the boyfriend. "Bring the guy home, put it to bed and that's the end of it."

"Why don't you shut your mouth?" said Mrs. Kirby. "It was your bloody idea we should go to the pub."

"You didn't try to talk me out of it, did you? I hadn't finished suggesting it before you had your hat and your bloody coat on and were half-way up the street."

Frost stretched out his arms like a referee parting two boxers. "Can you save the squabbling till later? We're very concerned about your son, Mrs. Kirby, and we want to find him as quickly as possible. Now, his guy white and green plastic zip-up jacket?"

She nodded. "Bobby's old one he'd grown out of it."

"And the mask Guy Fawkes with a green face?"

"Yes."

"We found it in a shop doorway in Patriot Street. Would Bobby have gone there with his guy?"

"I wouldn't have thought so. No-one goes through there at night. He was after money. He usually hangs about around pubs and bus stops."

"Tell me exactly what happened tonight."

"We've already told it once," said the boyfriend.

"And now you are going to tell it again," snapped Frost, 'and if I want you to tell it twenty bloody times, you'll tell it twenty bloody times. What's your name, by the way?"

"Green Terry Green."

Frost waited while Burton noted this down, then turned to the mother. "What happened tonight, Mrs. Kirby?"

"Bobby had his tea at five and then he wanted to go out with his guy. I said no. It was too dark and there's been this weirdo out at night stabbing kids."

Frost nodded vaguely. This must be the case Liz Maud was rabbi ting on about. "And how did Bobby take it?"

"He swore at me."

"Don't know where the little bastard gets it from," said the man. "Anyway, I gave him a clout, so he swears at me said I wasn't his bloody father and I said I was bloody glad I wasn't otherwise I'd have strangled him at birth '

"OK," said Frost, cutting him short, 'spare us the happy families stuff." Back to the woman. "What happened then?"

"Bobby sat and sulked in front of the telly. Just after seven, Terry suggested we went out for a quick drink. I told Bobby that as soon as his programme finished he was to go straight to bed. Me and Terry went out and were back just after ten. I went upstairs to check Bobby was all right and he wasn't there."

"Little sod just did it to spite us," said Green.

"Did the officers who came earlier do a search of the house? Sometimes kids hide, just for the fun of it."

"They turned the place upside down. He isn't here. We've been out pounding the streets, looking for him. We've been round to all his friends' houses and they haven't seen him!"

His friends. Could one of them be the dead boy? "None of his friends were missing, I suppose?"

She looked puzzled. "No we spoke to them all."

"I see. And you've absolutely no idea where Bobby might be?"