Winter Frost

'Oh!' said Frost weakly.

'You didn't check on the boyfriend?'

'I was going to, but as soon as Weaver entered the frame we didn't look any further.'

'A typically blinkered approach,' sniffed Mullett. 'You concentrate all your resources on the wrong man and let the real killer go free. Pick him up now. With luck we could clear this up by tonight.'

Luck, thought Frost, what's happened to my bleeding luck? He pushed himself wearily out of the chair. Mullett had got him this time. The flaming boyfriend. He'd never given him another thought. 'When should the file get here?'

'Later this evening, but don't wait for it. The arrest of the right person would make a welcome change.'

Frost grunted his agreement. He was so disheartened, he closed the door quietly, leaving Mullett, teeth gritted, waiting for the slam that never came.

Dennis Hadleigh was in his mid-twenties. He rippled with muscles and as he folded his arms to stare disdainfully at Frost, the sleeves of his jacket shot back to reveal a mass of tattoos. He scowled. 'Are you going to tell me what this is all about?'

'I think you know what this is about,' snapped Frost, poking a cigarette in his mouth and scratching a match across the table top.

'Pretend I don't,' said Hadleigh. 'Tell me.'

'You are kindly helping us with our inquiries into the death of Jenny Brewer.' do

'You didn't have to drag me down here to get me to that. I'm as anxious to catch the toe-rag who did it as you are. I take it he isn't the bloke who topped himself?'

Frost took a deep drag and balanced the cigarette on the matchbox. 'We thought we'd try looking a lot nearer home!' He flickered a smile. 'Why did you do it?'

Hadleigh gaped. 'You think I did it? You think I killed and raped a seven-year-old kid?'

'Why not? You like them young, don't you… young, choice, unsullied?'

Hadleigh bent across the table. 'Yes, as it happens I do like them young, choice and unsullied, but not that bloody young.'

'You've done it before, though, haven't you?' asked Frost.

The suspect leant back in his chair and nodded wryly. 'You mean Samantha — young, choice, unsullied Samantha?'

'Yes,' agreed Frost, trying to sound as if he had all the facts. He wished he had the bloody file in front of him. He hadn't the faintest idea what the girl's name was. 'Samantha, your girlfriend's daughter, just Jenny.'

'Nothing like Jenny. Jenny was seven years old, for Pete's sake!'

'And Samantha was eleven.'

'A couple of weeks short of her twelfth birthday.

'And one more candle on the cake made all the difference?'

Hadleigh gave a sour smile. 'You don't know the facts, do you?'.

'We've got that treat to come,' Frost told him file's on the way over. Suppose you fill us in with all the hot, intimate details. Did you welt her the way you welted Jenny?'

The smile vanished. Hadleigh reached inside his jacket and pulled out a worn leather wallet which he thumbed through until he found a small coloured photograph. He flicked it across the table. "That is Jenny. Her mother didn't give a toss about her. Jenny was no bleeding angel, but you couldn't help liking the kid. In spite of everything she always came up with a smile.'

'The poor little cow didn't have a smile on her face when I found her,' said Frost.

Hadleigh said nothing. He leafed through the wallet again and found another photograph which he slid over to Frost, face down. Frost flipped it over and could feel Morgan's hot breath on the back of his neck as he picked it up to study it. A long-haired blonde, stripped to the waist, hands cupping large prominent breasts as she lay back on a cushion and pouted at the camera.

That,' said Hadleigh, jabbing a finger, 'is sweet, innocent, eleven-year-old Samantha. She took the photograph herself with an automatic camera. If that was offered to you on a plate, would you turn your nose up at it?'

Give me her bleeding address, thought Frost. Aloud he said: 'She was still under age.'

Under age or not, she'd had it away with half the boys in her class. She couldn't get enough of it. Flaming hell, I'm only flesh and bleeding blood. She calls me up into her bedroom — says she couldn't get the telly to work. When I goes in, there she is, stark bloody naked. You may not believe this, but I did try to push her away — not very hard, but I tried.'

So she overpowered you you and had her way with you?'

Another wry grin. 'No such flaming luck. Her mother came in before anything happened and yelled "Rape" then she called the police and before I know what's happened I was handcuffed and off to the nick.'

'Then what?'

'Lucky for me Samantha didn't want any trouble. She said I came into the room without knocking and she was getting undressed. I was fully clothed, nothing had happened, so the charge had to be dropped, much to the disappointment of the Old Bill.'

Frost took a long, slow drag on his cigarette to give himself time to think. It looked as if another promising suspect was about to bite the dust. 'The night Jenny went missing, where were you?'

'I was out with Mary — her mother — you know that. That's why we both thought she was round her Nan's.'

Frost passed the two photographs back to Hadleigh after prising the one of Samantha from Morgan who was staring at it goggle-eyed. 'Thanks for your help, Mr Hadleigh. You can go now.'

Hadleigh replaced the photographs in his wallet. 'That's all?'

'For the time being. We might want to talk to you again.' If only to have another look at the photograph, he thought. Frost opened the interview room door and yelled for Collier to show the gentleman out.

He sat down again and finished his cigarette. 'I reckon he's in the clear.'

Morgan's eyes glazed. Still lost in erotic thought, he muttered, 'I'd happily go to prison for an hour with that Samantha, guv.'

'I wouldn't,' said Frost. 'I'd make certain I locked the door first and wedged a chair under the handle.'

'Yet another false lead?' said Mullett, as if it was Frost's idea to bring in Hadleigh in the first place.

'I reckon so,' replied Frost. 'We'll keep an eye on him though.'

Mullett held up the return Frost had given him. 'This is not my idea of a progress report. I want facts. Where do we stand with the prostitute killings?'

'We're following up leads,' said Frost vaguely. What few leads there were had proved worthless, but let Mullett think the inquiries were ongoing.

'And the skeleton? Have you found out who he is yet?'

'He's the least of my worries,' said Frost. 'He can wait.'

'No murder inquiry can wait,' snapped Mullett. 'I've been approached by the solicitor acting for the couple who own the property where the bones were found. Our delay in bringing this to a conclusion, plus all our paraphernalia in the garden, is stopping them from selling the house.'

'Tough,' said Frost.

Mullett waved away the interruption. 'He demands immediate action or they will sue for damages.'

'I hope you told him to get stuffed,' said Frost.

A scowl from Mullett. 'I did no such thing. He's a personal friend of mine. As you have done absolutely nothing, I have circulated details of the skeleton to all forces asking them to check their missing person files of some thirty or forty years ago.'

'Brilliant,' said Frost. 'They'll dump all their old missing person files going back to the year dot… We'll have files on Glenn Miller and Amelia flaming Earhart. How are we supposed to cope with that?'

'County are releasing four men back to us,' said Mullett, 'including DC Burton, and Inspector Allen should be back next week so you won't be able to use shortage of manpower as an excuse any more.' He tossed the progress report over to Frost. 'Do this properly and let me have it back tonight.'

'Sure,' said Frost. He chucked it in Mullett's secretary's waste-paper bin on his way out.