The door opened and Frost slouched in and mumbled a few words to PC Collier who was guarding the prisoners. Collier nodded and left to stand watch outside, ready to warn the inspector of the solicitor’s arrival.
Frost dragged a chair over and sat facing Knowles and his wife. ‘Alone at last, Councillor.’
‘I’ve nothing to say,’ said Knowles in a flat voice. His wife, a superior-looking blonde some ten years his junior, stared aloofly ahead and wrapped her fur coat tighter around her. The early morning cold still clung to the room.
Slowly, Frost lit up a cigarette. A clatter of footsteps in the corridor outside made him look up in concern, but he relaxed as they passed on. He lowered his voice. ‘I might be able to do a deal.’
Knowles’ tiny eyes glinted. He was a pretty shrewd judge of character and he had this foul-mouthed tramp summed up as someone who could be bought right from the start. He leant forward. ‘I’m listening.’
‘The girl you filmed performing with your dog. Did you know she killed herself?’
Knowles lowered his gaze and found something on the floor that held his full attention. ‘I heard something to that effect,’ he said vaguely.
‘It would do you a lot of good if we could stop it coming out in court,’ said Frost.
‘You could arrange that?’ whispered Knowles.
‘I can arrange for the videos of the girl and the dog to go missing. That part of the charge could not proceed and would not be mentioned in court — unless your side raised it, of course.’
‘We’re not likely to do that,’ said Knowles, mentally working out how much this piece of good fortune was likely to cost him. ‘Naturally, I would be extremely grateful if the tapes did go missing
… extremely grateful. The death of the girl was unfortunate — nothing to do with me — but the court might not see it in that light.’ He gave Frost a patronizing smile. ‘Tell me how you would like me to express my gratitude?’
‘You admit to all the other charges. Both of you. You don’t dispute any of the facts. You plead guilty. You don’t make us call any of the kids involved to give evidence. In return, the tapes go missing, which should knock at least three years off your sentence.. and the girl’s mother will never know what perverted things you pair of bastards made her daughter do.’ He stood up and moved to the door. ‘I want a “yes” or “no” right now, or the deal’s off.’
Mullett strode up and down his office, pounding his fist, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You’ve lost a box of video, tapes? Vital evidence in a serious case? I can’t believe it. Even by your sloppy standards, this is disgraceful. I take it you’ve looked everywhere?’
‘Everywhere,’ mumbled the inspector, head bowed, looking very ashamed of himself.
‘This entire operation was mismanaged from the start. You dashed into it, head first without any thought of the consequence should proof not be forthcoming.’ He returned to his desk and looked again at the typed, signed statement on his desk. ‘You can count yourself lucky that Knowles has decided to do the right thing and make a full confession of the other offences. It does show a certain amount of character. I’m sure it will count in his favour at court.’
‘I’m sorry it turned out to be your personal friend, sir,’ mumbled Frost, trying hard to suppress a grin of delight.
Mullett glared at him grim-faced. Two could lie if they wanted to. ‘He’s no friend of mine, Frost. I never trusted him from the start.’
Friday morning shift
Liz slammed the eggs and bacon on the table and stamped off back to the kitchen without a word. ‘Thanks,’ grunted Gilmore, eyeing with wary disfavour the flabby bacon floating in grease and the under-cooked eggs. He liked the bacon crisp and the eggs well done, but he held his tongue. She was spoiling for a fight and was just waiting for him to complain.
His knife sawed away at a tough chunk of meat which squeaked across the plate and defied all efforts to cut it. Liz returned with his tea. ‘Anything wrong with the food?’ she snapped.
‘No, no — it’s fine,’ he lied. ‘I’m not very hungry.’ He risked a sip of the tea. Near-cold and milky when he liked it hot and strong. He replaced the cup on the saucer and made one more effort to restore peaceful relations. ‘Look, Liz, I’m sorry.’
This was her chance. ‘Sorry! I’m left on my own all night. You come in hours late, too tired to talk or do any bloody thing, then you tell me you’ve got to be out again. I never bloody see you.’
‘It won’t be for long, love, then things will be different.’ He reached for her, but she shook him off.
‘It’s always going to be different, but it never bloody well is. I’m sick of your job, I’m sick of this dead and alive town, I’m sick of everything.’ The door slammed in an angry explosion behind her.
Gilmore sighed and took his plate to the kitchen where he emptied it into the pedal bin. He hated to admit it to him self, but he was getting sick of Liz.
Frost wasn’t feeling very happy either. That damn inventory form had reappeared. Mullett must have quarried deep into the filing tray in Allen’s office where Frost had buried it and had transferred it to the top of his in-tray with a large, block capitalled inscription in red felt-tip yelling WHY HASN’T THIS GONE OFF? Because I haven’t bleeding sent it off, thought Frost, reading on. MUST GO OFF TODAY WITHOUT FAIL. SCM — the OR ELSE was implied.
Gilmore came in carrying a thick bacon sandwich and a mug of tea from the canteen. Frost brightened up until he realized Gilmore intended it for himself. ‘Doesn’t that wife of yours feed you?’ he growled and was quite unprepared for Gilmore’s slashing expression of vehemence.
Burton broke the tension by coming in to report.
'What’s the position with Gauld?’
‘He left home at 8.56,’ Burton told him, ‘and drove straight to Denton Hospital. He’s been ferrying out-patients backwards and forwards. We’re keeping him under surveillance.’
‘Good,’ nodded Frost. ‘What have you found out about him?’
‘Not much. He lives with his widowed mother. They moved to Denton some ten years ago from Birmingham. He’s never had a permanent job — just temporary work, mainly driving. The neighbours like him. Apart from his hospital work, he helps out at the local Oxfam shop in his spare time.’
Frost gave a derisory snort. ‘What else does he do? Cure the sick and raise the dead?’ He thought for a while. ‘Do the neighbours see him coming and going late at night?’
‘Sometimes, sir. But you’d expect that with all the late-night coaches he drives.’ Burton paused. ‘I know you want to go for broke on him, Inspector, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep a watch on some of the other coach drivers.’
‘Then do it, son. As long as you don’t let up on Gauld.’
‘We could do with more men.’
‘I could do with a new dick,’ said Frost, ‘but I’ve got to manage with what I’ve got.’ He stared miserably at the inventory. ‘You busy, son?’ he asked Gilmore.
Gilmore backed towards the door. ‘I’m due in court with Mrs Compton in twenty minutes.’
Frost flicked through the wad of information-demanding pages and shuddered. He chucked it back in his in-tray and reburied it. His internal phone buzzed. He scooped his mac from the hat-stand. ‘Tell him I’m out,’ he yelled from the corridor.
Burton picked up the phone. ‘I’m afraid Mr Frost isn’t here, sir,’ he told the Divisional Commander.
The sound of the Westminster chimes reverberated inside the flat. A fat, motherly little woman in a green overall waddled into the hallway and opened the door. A shabbily dressed man twitched a shy smile. Not one of the regulars. She hadn’t seen him before. ‘I phoned,’ he said.
She gave a welcoming smile to put him at ease. He looked so nervous. ‘French lesson, isn’t it? Miss Desiree’s expecting you.’ She led him through the hall into a dimly lit room with the curtains drawn. ‘The gentleman who phoned,’ she announced, then retired discreetly, closing the door with a gentle click behind her.