Winter Frost

Todd's Adam's apple moved up and down rapidly and he leapt to his feet, blurting out apologies before Frost could get a single word out. 'I'm sorry, Inspector. I'm truly sorry. I made a mistake… I must have dreamt it… It was so vivid I thought it was real.'

'You'll feel a vivid pain in the goolies in a minute,' snapped Frost, 'and it will be real.'

'I deserve it, Mr. Frost… but please… I hate violence.'

'You didn't seem to hate it when you were telling us what you did to the kid. You were dribbling with excitement.'

Todd hung his head and said nothing.

Frost's lip curled with disgust. 'You will now make another statement withdrawing your phoney confession and you will then get the hell out of here and hope and pray that I don't bump into you on a dark night.' He turned on his heels and marched out of the cell.

Station Sergeant Bill Wells looked up as Frost pushed through the swing doors into the lobby. 'You should charge him with wasting police time.'

'He's wasted so much police time, I haven't got time to charge him for wasting it,' said Frost. He poked a cigarette in his mouth. 'I've got my car expenses to do. If anything important happens, like Lord Lucan walking in to give himself up, pass it over to Inspector Maud.' He looked around. 'Where is she, by the way?'

Wells gave a disdainful sniff. Detective Sergeant Liz Maud, posted to Denton a couple of months ago, had been made up to the temporary rank of inspector, while he, Bill Wells, after seventeen years in the force, was still only a sergeant. 'That jumped-up little cow…!'

Frost chuckled to himself. He loved winding the sergeant up. He tut-tutted reprovingly. 'That's no way to speak about your superior officer, Sergeant!'

Wells couldn't bite at the bait quickly enough. 'Superior? She's the same rank as me… a sergeant. She's done half the time I have, only been here five flaming minutes and she's made up to temporary inspector. What has she got that I haven't?'

'Big tits,' said Frost.

Wells jabbed a finger. 'You've hit the nail on the head there, Jack. It's sex discrimination in reverse.'

'I've never tried it in reverse,' said Frost, 'but where is she?'

'With a prisoner… a cab driver. He picked this woman up and, instead of taking her home, took her down a side street and raped her.'

'Bloody hell!' tutted Frost. 'I hope she didn't leave him a tip.'

His office was in darkness. He expected to find DC Morgan, newly posted from Lexington Division, hard at work with the crime figures, but the office was empty. He walked over to Morgan's desk and looked at the papers to check progress. They hadn't been touched since he left for the derelict filling station. Frost charged out into the corridor, almost bumping into PC Collier who was on his way to the lobby. 'Where's DC Morgan?'

'In the canteen, I think,' said Collier who knew damn well he was.

'Go up and drag the sod out. We don't pay him to drink bloody tea, we pay him to fiddle the crime figures.' His voice died. Over Collier's shoulder he could see into the open door of No. 2 interview room where a grim-faced woman in her late fifties sat bolt upright, clutching a large brown plastic handbag to her bosom. She caught his gaze and snapped her head away to stare pointedly at the far wall. She had no wish to see that rude little man.

Frost pulled Collier to one side. 'What's old mother Beatty doing here?'

'Waiting for her statement to be typed,' said Collier. 'She's the rape victim.'

'Rape victim? In her bloody dreams!' snorted Frost. 'Where's DI Maud?'

Acting Detective Inspector Liz Maud, twenty-six years old, dark hair scragged back, stared at the man on the other side of the table who was lolling back in his chair, a look of amused contempt on his face. 'Let's go over it again from when you picked the woman up from the railway station…'

The man gave a resigned shrug. 'All right, but this is the last time. The old crow phones for a cab. I picked her up, took her to where she wanted to go, dropped her off and I drove away.'

'The woman tells a different story,' said Liz Maud. 'She claims you drove round to a side street and you raped her.'

'Do me a favour,' protested the man. I'm bleeding fussy who I rape.' He gave her a smirk. 'Now if it was you, darling-'

'If it was me,' Liz snapped, 'you wouldn't have anything left to rape with.' He mimed a mocking grimace of pain as she tugged a form sheet from its folder. 'You make a habit of assaulting female passengers, don't you?'

He expelled breath in exasperation. 'If you're referring to that slag of a prostitute, then we're talking ancient bloody history.'

'Nine months ago,' said Liz. 'Recent bloody history!f you ask me.' She looked up in annoyance as the door creaked open and, without knocking, Frost walked in. What the hell did he want? She turned to the microphone. 'For the benefit of the tape, Detective Inspector Frost has entered the interview room.' She wiped a wisp of straggling hair from her forehead and glowered at him. 'Yes, Inspector?'

He beckoned her over to the door. 'A quick word.'

Her lips tightened. 'Later — I'm in the middle of an interview.'

'Now,' said Frost, stepping back into the corridor.

Eyes smouldering, she followed him out, closing the door firmly behind her. He had no business interfering in the middle of an interview. 'I very much resent-'

He held up a hand. 'Hear me out.' He lowered his voice. 'I don't think you're going to make this one stick, love.'

'No?' She gave him a superior smile. 'I've checked his form. He was convicted of assaulting two women in his cab. They couldn't pay the fare, so he beat them up — put one of them in hospital.'

Frost nodded. He knew all about that. 'But did you check the victim's form?'

She frowned. What was the fool on about? 'The victim?'

'Old mother Beatty. According to her, her drawers have been up and down more times than Tower Bridge. She's alleged rape and assault at least twelve times over the past two years, all of which have proved wishful thinking. She also reckons she gets heavy breathing phone calls, peeping Toms when she strips off in the scullery, and is being stalked.' He offered her the long computer print-out.

Liz flicked through it, lips tightening angrily. 'She sounded so genuine! I believed her.'

'She believes herself half the time,' said Frost.

Liz glowered at the interview room door. 'I could wring her bloody neck!'

'Don't be too hard on the poor cow. She's never had it… she's probably never going to get it so she has to imagine she's had it.'

'Never had it? Are you telling me she's a virgin?'

'So the doctor said the last three times she was raped.'

Liz handed back the print-out. 'So what do we do? If she insists, we've got to go ahead.'

I'll go and sweet talk the old cow,' said Frost. 'You do a bit of back-pedalling with the cabbie; we don't want him suing for wrongful arrest.' It was then he noticed how tired and drawn she looked. 'Are you all right, love?'

She glared at him. 'Of course I'm all right. Why shouldn't I be?'

'You look a bit peaky.' He was sorry he had started this.

'Just tired… and fed up at having to waste my time on phoney rape charges.' Her eyes shot daggers down the corridor in the direction of the lobby where Sergeant Bill Wells, chin cupped in hand, was reading the evening paper. 'You'd have thought our Station Sergeant would have had the common decency to have told me.' She spun on her heels and went back into the interview room.

Doreen Beatty stared stone-faced at him as he entered the other interview room. He gave her a smile and got a sour grimace in return. 'I want nothing to do with you, Inspector Frost, thank you very much. I'm definitely pressing charges and there is no way you are going to talk me out of it.'