R.D. Wingfield - Frost at Christmas

The pathologist gritted his teeth. "I can't give you much, Inspector. He was between thirty-five and forty, he'd had extensive dental work carried out on his teeth…"

"That's the best place to have it carried out," observed Frost, ignoring the withering glance.

"If I may continue… He broke his left arm about five years before he died. If you look carefully you can see the line of the fracture. That's all I've got at the moment."

"The case," prompted Arnold.

"Ah yes… I was forgetting. We've paid a lot of attention to the case chained to his wrist. It was very strong and obviously specially made for the job-the sort of thing cashiers use for carting large sums of money about. We managed to read the maker's name on the lock-Smith-Curtis-they used to specialize in safes and strongboxes and things."

"Used to?" asked the inspector, warily.

"They went out of business in 1955, so no help there, I'm afraid. By the way, how is Inspector Allen? I was very sorry to learn of his illness."

"Not half so bloody sorry as I am now," replied Frost.

It was as if he had the power to provoke reaction. The minute Frost walked in to Search Control, the previously dumb loudspeaker monitoring Mrs. Uphill's phone gave a little click and the spool of the tape recorder began to revolve. Someone was dialing her number.

Brr… brr… Brr- She answered it on the third ring.

"Remember me?"

Everyone in the room stiffened and held his breath. It was the kidnapper. Frost hissed for Barnard to ring Control on the internal and ask if Charlie Alpha two could see anyone.

"Yes," said Mrs. Uphill, "I remember you. How is Tracey?"

"Her cold's a little worse, I'm afraid. There's no heat where she is, you see, but if you get her home tonight, I think she should live."

Charlie Alpha two had the phone box in clear view. It was empty.

"Damn," snapped Frost, "he's found another one. Let's hope the G.P.O. can trace it in time."

"Please," said the loudspeaker, "I want her back. I'll do anything."

"You only have to do what you're told… but do it to the letter. I'm saying it once and once only. Put the money in a carrier bag, then go for a walk down the Bath Road toward Exham."

"I've got a car. I'll go by car."

"You will walk… do you understand? Walk on the left-hand side. Just past the antique shop there's a public call box. Wait there for my call. I'll give you further instructions."

A click and the death rattle of the dial tone.

The office phone rang. It was the telephone engineers. Very sorry, but they hadn't been able to trace the call. They were told to monitor the call box outside the antique shop. Frost yelled across for George Martin to get Mrs. Uphill on her phone before she left, then he spun round and ordered Clive to ask Control to send Charlie Alpha two tearing round to the other phone box to wait for Mrs. Uphill. Immediately she received the kidnapper's fresh instructions they were to radio them back to Control.

Frost leaned back in his chair, happy. This is what he could understand, this is what he could do. Action. But something was wrong. George Martin, the phone pressed to his ear, was drumming impatient fingers on his desk.

"Mrs. Uphill isn't answering, Jack."

"You sure you got the right number?"

In reply the detective sergeant leaned over and turned up the volume of the monitor speaker. The ringing tone of his call roared out. He hung up and the ringing tone was replaced by the dial tone.

"All right, turn it down. You've made your point. Couldn't the stupid cow have waited for a minute?"

Barnard, his shoulder hunched to hold the internal phone to his ear, called across. "Message from Charlie Alpha two, sir. They're at the new phone box and are waiting for Mrs. Uphill to arrive."

Frost acknowledged with a nod.

George Martin thumbed some tobacco in his pipe. "We should have someone following her, sir."

168 i

"She's on foot," retorted Frost, "and she's going tip Bath Road which is as straight as a bloody die. Anyone following would be spotted a mile off. If this bloke's keeping tabs on her, we'd frighten him away. Apart from that, I didn't bloody-well think of it." He yawned and offered round his cigarettes. Everyone who smoked took one to relieve the tension and the room was soon blue-hazed. No one spoke. The clock ticked. All eyes were on Barnard who was waiting for Control to pass the message from Charlie Alpha that Mrs. Uphill had reached them.

Frost found his chair suddenly hard. He stood and stretched wearily, then looked out of the window. It was snowing again. He flicked ash into the wastepaper basket.

"What was that? Control?"

All eyes swiveled to Clive. They saw him nod, then ease the phone from his ear. "Charlie Alpha, sir-nothing to report."

"Then tell them not to be so bloody efficient. I'm not interested in nothing!"

The minute hand on the hall clock clunked round to the next division.

The warning buzzer sounded in the inspector's brain.

"Something's gone wrong. She should have reached there by now."

Martin tried to reassure him. "You can't walk very quickly in this snow, Jack-especially in high heels."

"She won't give a sod about high heels," snapped Frost. "She'd run to get her kid back… she'd run:" He paced up and down, kicking at imaginary balls. The minute hand on the wall clock clunked relentlessly on.

"She's had time to walk all the way to bloody Bath and back by now. Are you sure those two bright herberts are waiting at the right phone box?"

Barnard relayed the query to Control and then reported the reply back to Frost. Charlie Alpha two was waiting in a side road near the phone box by the antique shop. They could see some way down the Bath Road. There was no sign of Mrs. Uphill.

Frost phoned her house again. It was just possible she had returned for something. Brr… brr… The speaker relayed the sad, lonely sound a phone makes when it isn't going to be answered. He thumped the receiver down. "I remember phoning a girl once…"

But the anecdote was left untold. The hairy face of the station sergeant poked round the door.

"Excuse me butting in, Inspector, but you've got Charlie Alpha two standing by on the Bath Road, haven't you?"

"Yes, Johnnie-why?"

"We've just had a motorist phone in. He's found a woman unconscious at the side of the road. We've sent for an ambulance, but Charlie Alpha could be there in a couple of seconds and I'd like them to get some details."

The silence was electric. Everyone in the room was thinking… fearing… the same thing.

"Yes-tell Control it's all right, and say that Charlie Alpha has got to wait for me. Come on, son!" He flew out of the room with Barnard hard on his heels. Clive prided himself on his fitness but had a job keeping up with the older man charging across the car park in the snow. By the time Clive had reached the car, Frost had already started up the engine, but he moved to let his detective constable take the wheel.

"Which way, sir?"

"Just follow that ambulance."

The flashing blue light led them through the darkness like a frantic Pied Piper, hurling round corners, ignoring traffic signals. And then, ahead, another flashing blue light. Charlie Alpha. They skidded to a snow-spraying halt, just avoiding running into the back of the ambulance whose brakes were better than Frost's. A police constable, bending over a shape on the ground covered by a police greatcoat, straightened up as the ambulance men ran over with their stretcher and thick red blanket. They moved so quickly, they were sliding the laden stretcher into the back of the ambulance before Frost and Barnard could reach them. The Inspector yelled for them to stop and pulled the blanket from the face. It was Mrs. Uphill. Eyes closed, face chalk white, looking about fifteen years old.