R Wingfield - A Killing Frost

The team had gone silent, all eyes on Frost, realising something had gone badly wrong. Frost spun round in his chair. ‘He took another five hundred quid from the till in Market Square about a minute after we pulled out. The bastard must have known we were there. Where’s Taffy Morgan? He was supposed to be watching that cashpoint.’

They looked blankly at each other.

‘He never came back with us,’ said Collier after a pause.

Frost turned to Jordan. ‘I thought you were picking him up?’

‘He wasn’t there. I assumed he’d gone with Collier.’

Collier shook his head. ‘He didn’t come with me, Inspector.’

Frost fished out his mobile and keyed in Morgan’s number. ‘I bet the bastard’s fallen asleep and is snoring his head off in the shop doorway.’ The whisky was making him sweat. He wanted to go into the washroom and stick his head under the tap. Morgan’s mobile was ringing. ‘Come on, come on, you Welsh git,’ urged Frost. But it just went on ringing. He clicked off and beckoned Jordan over. ‘You sober enough to drive?’

Jordan nodded. ‘Just about.’

‘Go and look for him. Wake him up gently. A knee in the goolies should do.’

‘Shall I check his digs?’ asked Simms.

He looked flushed, but in slightly better shape than Jordan.

Before Frost could answer, the phone rang. ‘This will be him,’ he said, picking up the hand set ready to give the DC an earful.

‘Inspector Frost? PC Wilson here from Traffic. I’m calling from Denton General Hospital. We’ve followed up an ambulance 999 call. Bloke found unconscious in the gutter. No identification. We thought it was a hit and run.’

‘There’s a point to this, I hope,’ said Frost, wedging the phone between his head and shoulder as he poked a cigarette in his mouth and reached for his lighter.

‘Yes, there is a point, Inspector. When we got to the hospital we recognised the victim. It’s DC Morgan.’

‘Morgan?’ echoed Frost.

‘Yes. He was unconscious when they brought him in. The doctor reckons he’s been clouted on the head with something heavy.’

‘Is he all right?’

‘Nothing broken, according to the X-rays, but they want to keep an eye on him overnight in case of complications.’

‘And you said there was no ID on him?’

‘That’s right. Whoever whammed him must have taken his wallet.’

‘Thanks,’ said Frost. ‘You can get back to booking motorists. I’ll be right over.’

He replaced the phone and raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘The end of a perfect bleeding night. Unauthorised overtime, the money taken any way, Morgan knocked unconscious and robbed and I’ve got a splitting bleeding headache.’ He looked across at Kate Holby. ‘You’re the only sober one here, love. You’d better drive me to the hospital.’

He followed the young nurse through a darkened ward to a curtained bed at the far end. Somewhere in the background a feeble voice kept calling, ‘Nurse… nurse,’ but she took no notice.

‘Shouldn’t someone see to him?’ asked Frost. She shook her head. ‘He only wants to know the time, then when you tell him, five minutes later he wants to know again.’ She opened the curtains so Frost could enter.

Morgan lay in the bed, eyes closed, a white bandage round his head.

‘Someone to see you, Mr Morgan,’ said the nurse.

Morgan’s eyelids fluttered as he turned his head. ‘Hello, Guv.’

‘Not too long,’ said the nurse.

‘Most girls think it’s long enough,’ nodded Frost, dragging a chair to the side of the bed. He unhooked the chart from the foot of the bed and flipped through it. ‘What does “Do Not Resuscitate” mean?’

Morgan grinned, wincing as the effort hurt his head. ‘What do you reckon to that young nurse, Guv? I wouldn’t mind a bit of that in bed with me.’

‘No chance, Taff,’ said Frost, pretending to read from the chart. ‘It says here “Nil by Dick”.’ He tossed the chart on the bed. ‘So what happened?’

‘I’m sorry; Guv,’ Morgan murmured, putting on his shame-faced expression. ‘I let you down.’

‘Deja flaming vu,’ said Frost. ‘I get the impression you’ve said that a few times before. So what happened tonight?’

‘It was him, Guv. The blackmailer.’

Frost’s head shot up. ‘What? Are you sure?’

‘I nearly had him – I nearly bloody had him. I tried to stop him, but he had something in his hand.’

‘His dick?’

‘No, Guv. Something heavy. One of those long torches, I think. He welted me round the head and I went out like a light. Next thing I knew I was in hospital and that lovely nurse was leaning over me. I thought I was in heaven, Guv.’

‘You’re sex mad,’ said Frost. ‘A couple of tits stuck up your nose and you’re away. Now, start from the beginning.’

‘Right, Guv. I see him approach the cashpoint.’

‘What time was this?’

'Just after you phoned me to say you was jacking it in. Anyway, he walks past, looks up and down, then goes back. I press right back in the doorway so he can’t see me. He takes the card from his pocket, bungs it in the machine, takes out the cash. Another quick look up and down and away he goes.’

‘In what direction?’

‘The left, Guv. Towards the car park. As he turns the corner, I go after him. I grab his arm and yell, “I’m a police officer.” There was this flash of silver – must have been the torch. My flaming head splits open. I see red flashes, then black…’

‘Then a pair of nurse’s tits,’ snorted Frost. ‘You should have called in for some flaming back-up before going after him.’

‘I know, Guv. But I thought I could handle him.’

Frost heaved a deep sigh. ‘I’ve told you before, Taff. Never rely on your own flaming judgement. Describe him.’

‘About five foot eight or nine, dark zip-up jacket, dark trousers, balaclava and a cap, so you couldn’t see his face or hair.’

‘Marvellous, Taffy. That narrows our prime suspects down to around fifteen million. He went through your pockets and pinched your wallet. Did you know that?’

‘No, Guv. Wasn’t much money in it.’

‘He was probably after your condoms.’ Frost heaved himself up out of the chair. ‘I’ll look in to see you tomorrow if you last the night.’

His footsteps clattered down the darken ward. He waved goodbye to the young nurse, who was at a desk writing up some notes. ‘He said he’s ready for his enema now, nurse.’

In the background the same man’s voice whined on and on, ‘Nurse

… nurse…’

WPC Kate Holby made coffee as soon as they got back to the station. She seemed brighter and much happier than Frost had previously seen her, clearly glad to be involved and part of a team. He gratefully accepted the mug and savoured the steaming aroma. Most of the team still looked the worse for wear, but were slowly sobering up. They had killed a bottle of whisky between them.

Frost tipped sugar from a packet into his mug and stirred the coffee with his pencil. ‘Well,’ he said, taking a sip, ‘let’s look on the bright side. Thanks to Taffy we’ve now got a bloody good excuse why the bloke got away with the money. And if Taffy dies, we get the sympathy vote as well. First thing tomorrow I want all the CCTV footage you can get. If – which is bloody doubtful – the building society have put in a new tape and cleaned the tape head, we might get a clearer picture of a bloke in a balaclava and a cap, which will do us no sodding good at all. Now I’m banking on him coming to collect the dosh by car. He’s not going to risk walking the streets with five hundred nicker in his pocket.’

‘He could have come by cab,’ suggested Simms.

‘I don’t think he’d be that stupid,’ said Frost, ‘but check out all the cab firms anyway. I want details of everyone they picked up from, say, eleven thirty to half past one. One of you do that now.’