With Morgan tagging along, he made his way to the Interview Room, where he nodded at the solicitor, a weaselly-faced man you definitely wouldn’t buy a second-hand car from – he looked more of a villain than Kelly, who was sitting beside him. Frost waited for Morgan to set up the tape recorder, then opened his folder.
‘As you know, Mr Kelly, on information received we obtained a warrant enabling us to search your premises, where we found you in possession of these items.’ He reached down and pulled up a polythene sack filled with the packets of coke Kelly had been carrying in the house. He took out one of the packets and showed it to the solicitor. ‘Forensic tests haven’t yet been carried out, but we have every reason to believe they contain an illegal substance.’
‘As I explained to you earlier, Inspector,’ said Kelly, in his reasonable voice for the tape recorder, ‘I found them in my airing cupboard. I had never seen them before. Someone must have planted them there.’
‘You were found with these packets in your arms and were intending to flush them down the bog.’
‘Hold on, Inspector,’ interjected the solicitor. ‘You have no idea what my client’s intentions were.’
‘It’s all right, Mr Simpson,’ said Kelly, still in his reasonable voice. ‘The inspector is quite right. To my shame, I did intend to flush them down the loo. I wanted to get rid of them. I knew he would never have believed they were planted. Inspector Frost is not a very trusting man.’
‘Planted?’ scoffed Frost. ‘Then who would have had access to your airing cupboard?’
Kelly smiled. ‘Someone who wanted to get me into trouble, Inspector. Perhaps the very same person who gave you the information you used to obtain the search warrant.’
Frost reached down beneath the table and brought up the box containing the credit cards, jewellery and mobile phone. ‘We found this hidden at the back of your airing cupboard too,’ he told Kelly.
Kelly shrugged. ‘Never seen it before in my life. Whoever is planting these things is doing a good job.’
‘Just a moment, Inspector,’ interjected the solicitor. ‘What is the significance of this? What have these items got to do with the drugs that were planted on my client?’
Frost took a swig of cold tea. ‘Serendipity Mr Simpson. We looked for drugs, the rest was a bonus.’ He glanced at Kelly. ‘Drugs might be the least of your client’s problems, Mr Simpson.’
‘Oh?’ said the solicitor. ‘Perhaps you could elucidate.’ He leant back smugly, arms folded.
Frost poipted to the mobile. ‘That phone, which we found hidden in your client’s airing cupboard, was owned by Debbie Clark.’
Simpson gave a scoffing sniff. ‘The dead teenager? Tut, tut, Inspector, you are scraping the bottom of the barrel this time. I am sure there are thousands of phones of that make and model.’
‘But not with the same phone number,’ said Frost, playing his trump card. He leant across to Kelly. ‘We’ve checked the phone number. The phone we found in the airing cupboard is Debbie Clark’s phone. We are now talking murder.’
Kelly jerked back as if he had been hit. ‘I’ve never seen the bleeding phone before. It’s been planted. It’s been bloody well planted. Bloody hell. On my mother’s life… Drugs, yes. Bleeding murder, no.’
‘Then how did the phone come to be in your possession?’ demanded Frost.
Before Kelly could answer, the Interview Room door crashed open and a red and sweaty-faced, angry-looking Detective Chief Inspector Skinner burst in, swaying slightly, quivering with rage. ‘Frost! Out here. Now!’
It was Frost’s turn to be angry. ‘Didn’t you see the red light? I’m interviewing a suspect.’
‘I don’t give a sod what you’re doing. Out here – now!’
‘Excuse me for a moment,’ apologised Frost to the solicitor. ‘I believe my superior wants to commend me for something.’ He rose and walked out to confront Skinner in the passage. ‘How bloody dare you interrupt me when I’m questioning a suspect?’
‘Don’t try your high and mighty larks on me, Frost,’ retorted Skinner, breathing out clouds of whisky fumes. ‘What are all these officers doing in the Incident Room – on overtime unauthorised by me?’
‘We are following a line of investigation,’ said Frost, trying to remain calm.
‘You don’t follow any lines of investigation without getting my approval first, especially for a tuppence-ha’ penny-possession-of-illegal-substances and receiving-stolen-goods pull. Send all those men home, now.’
‘I’m questioning a suspect in connection with the murder of Debbie Clark and Thomas Harris.’
Skinner stared at Frost with eyes he was finding difficult to focus. ‘A suspect?’ He grabbed Frost by the arm and pulled him into his office. ‘Tell me about it.’
Frost told him, skipping the details about breaking into Kelly’s house first.
Skinner leant back and considered this. ‘You got a warrant on information received. What information?’
‘An anonymous phone call, about the drugs,’ said Frost. ‘He’s phoned me before and his gen is always bang on.’
Skinner folded his arms and grinned with smug satisfaction. ‘You looked for drugs, you found the phone. Bleeding marvellous. You reckon they killed the kids and took the video?’
‘They’ve got the girl’s phone,’ said Frost. ‘That’s a good enough start for me.’
‘And for me,’ nodded Skinner. ‘OK, Frost. Piss off home now, I’m taking this case over. Don’t try to muscle in on any of my cases again. You find a suspect, you find me. You don’t try to steal the bloody glory.’
Frost stamped out to the lobby to commiserate with Sergeant Wells.
‘At least you won’t have to do all the questioning, Jack. He’d have taken the kudos for cracking the case anyway.’
‘I laid my bleeding job on the line by breaking into Kelly’s house,’ wailed Frost. ‘I do all the flaming dirty work – ’
They both looked up as, with a blast of cold air, the doors opened and a young, flashily dressed girl in high heels tottered in. She had clearly been drinking and it was an effort for her to walk over to the desk. Over-made-up, her lipstick was smudged and her lavishly applied cheap perfume battled with the aroma of gin. ‘Where is he?’ she demanded of Wells. ‘How much longer have I got to sit in that bloody car.’
‘Where is who, madam?’ asked Wells.
‘John. That big copper – grey suit, red tie. He’s supposed to have a room booked at the hotel for us. I’m bleeding shagged out waiting.’
Eyebrows raised, Wells and Frost looked at each other, silently mouthing the word ‘Skinner!’
‘I’ll go and get him for you,’ volunteered Frost.
Skinner, who was just about to enter the Interview Room with a bundle of case files under his arm, scowled as Frost approached. ‘I told you to piss off!’
‘This is important,’ said Frost. ‘Your granddaughter is in the lobby. She’s going off the boil waiting for you.’
Skinner glared. ‘You’re pushing your bleeding luck, Frost.’ He dug in his pocket, fished out his wallet and extracted a twenty-pound note which he handed over. ‘Stick her in a taxi. Tell her to wait for me in the hotel, and tell her I might be a bit late. And then leave me in peace.’
Frost stuffed the note in his pocket as Taffy Morgan emerged from the Interview Room, dismissed by Skinner. ‘You got your car here, Taffy?’ he called.
‘Yes, Guv.’
‘There’s a load of quivering crumpet in the lobby. Take her to wherever she wants to go,’ said Frost.
‘Right, Guv.’
‘And keep your trousers on.’
‘Yes, Guv.’
Frost mooched back to his office, his spirits flagging. It was far too late to go to bed, and in any case his mind was still churning over the night’s events and there was no way he would be able to go to sleep. He suddenly realised he was hungry. He’d send out to the all-night chippy for some nosh.
He gave Collier Skinner’s twenty pounds. ‘Who wants fish and chips?’ he called. ‘I’m buying.’
Everyone wanted fish and chips. As Collier was taking the orders the phone rang. ‘It’s for you, Inspector,’ called Jordan.