'You reckon it's him, guv?'
'I hope and pray it is, Taffy. He's all we've got.' He moved back to let SOCO take photographs. Another look at the body. 'She's fully clothed. Why didn't he take her to his lair and strip her off like the others?'
'Probably picked her up in the dark and didn't fancy her when he saw her in the light?' offered Morgan. He nudged Frost. 'The doctor's here.'
Slomon, the duty police surgeon, annoyed at being dragged out of a warm bed at three o'clock on a cold, frosty morning, scowled a greeting at Frost, then knelt by the body and touched the flesh. 'Hasn't been dead long, a couple of hours at the most.'
Frost nodded. "That fits in, doc. I was talking to her a couple of hours ago. She offered to show me her titties.' Want to see the twins undressed, love? Twenty pounds as it's cold. It was even colder now and everyone could see the twins for free.
Slomon made a brief examination, then studied the face. 'No sign of injuries. I think she had a heart attack.'
Frost frowned. 'Heart attack? All the others were suffocated.'
'Not this one.' Slomon stood up. 'She probably had a wonky heart to start with and when she realized what he meant to do with her, the shock killed her.'
Frost crouched and lifted the dress so he could study her stomach. No sign of cigarette burns. He checked the wrists and ankles. No rope burns.
'Could it be a different killer?' asked Morgan.
'I don't think so,' said Frost. Sod it… he had enough unsolved cases without a different bleeding killer being involved. 'He gets his kicks out of seeing women suffer and there's not many giggles if she's dead and can't feel anything. That's why he dumped her so quickly.'
Slomon was scribbling out his expense claim. 'You anywhere near catching him?'
'Not so near that you'd notice,' sighed Frost. If only Morgan hadn't fallen asleep. If only he'd given the poor cow her cab fare. If only he was a better flaming detective. If, if, if…
One of the men from Forensic was examining the fur coat. 'This has seen better days, Inspector.'
'Better decades more like,' muttered Frost. He bent and rubbed the coat with his thumb. As he did so, wisps of fur floated off. 'It's moulting,' he told Forensic. 'If she got into anyone's car, or sat close to them, we'd find traces of rabbit's fur or whatever it is — right?'
'Without a doubt.'
Frost nodded his satisfaction. His radio called him. Burton reporting that Ashby had just returned home. Frost checked the time. 3.32 a.m. 'Where's his car now?'
'In the drive.'
'Right — stay there. If he attempts to leave the house again, arrest him on suspicion of murder. SOCO and Sergeant Hanlon will be with you in around fifteen minutes.' He clicked off and yelled to Detective Sergeant Hanlon: 'Arthur. The dentist has just returned home. I want his clothes, his car, and his house examined for traces of moulting fur — take SOCO with you. Then get Ashby down to the station, arrest him if necessary, but don't tell him about Sarah, tell him it's about his late receptionist.'
'Aren't you coming?' asked Hanlon
'No. I've got to wait for Drysdale. Just stick Ashby ^ an interview room with a warm cup of tea and let him sweat it out until I get there.'
NO sooner had Hanlon and SOCO driven away than the lights of Drysdale's Rolls-Royce cut across the golf course.
'Another one?' sniffed the pathologist, peeling off his gloves and handing them to his secretary.
'Kill one, get one free,' said Frost. 'Dr Slomon reckons she died of heart failure.'
'Brilliant,' said Drysdale coldly. 'Everyone dies from heart failure. It's what causes the heart to fail that matters.' His examination didn't take long. With much reluctance he agreed with Dr Slomon. 'A heart attack, probably brought on by shock. I don't suppose it will reveal much more than that, but the autopsy will be at two tomorrow afternoon.'
Frost sighed. 'I'll be there, doc.' He seemed to be spending half his flaming life at Drysdale's elbow in that miserable autopsy room. He left Jordan to oversee the removal of the body and let Morgan drive him back to the station. The aroma of Sarah's cheap perfume still clung to the interior of the car and there were bits of her tatty fur on the seat…
'You can't talk to Ashby yet, Jack,' Bill Wells told him. 'He's sent for his solicitor.'
'People are too flaming aware of their rights,' moaned Frost. The canteen was closed at that hour of the morning so he sent Morgan off to make some tea, then sat in his office to wait and draw doodles on one of Mullett's memos.
Morgan pushed the door open, bearing two mugs of tea. He was followed in by Detective Sergeant Hanlon. Frost fished the tea-bag from his mug, took a sip and shuddered. 'Cat's pee,' he said.
'Sorry, guv,' mumbled Morgan. 'Making tea isn't my strong suit.'
'Nothing done in a standing position seems to be your strong suit,' said Frost. He turned to Hanlon. 'What joy with Forensic?'
'They're still going through the house, Jack. They bagged up some clothes for examination, including the coat he was wearing in the car, but no obvious sign of any fur fibres.'
Frost looked worried. 'You sure it was the right coat?'
'His keys and his driving licence were in the pocket.'
'For all we know he went back to that red-haired receptionist's flat and changed. I should have left someone watching the place.'
'You think she's in it with him, guv?' asked Morgan.
'I reckon there's got to be two of them, Taff. He couldn't have carried Big Bertha's body from the car on his own, not without a fork lift truck.' He took another sip from his mug before grimacing and pushing it away. His cigarettes went the rounds. 'Knowing who did it is one thing — proving it can be bloody difficult.' He looked up hopefully as Rawlings, the SOCO, followed by Burton, came in and dropped into a vacant chair. 'This had better be good news,' said Frost, 'or I'll get Taffy to make you a cup of tea.'
Rawlings waved away the offer of a cigarette. 'Forensic are doing more thorough tests, but I haven't turned up anything either in the house, his clothes or his car. My guess is she was never in that Honda.'
'I'm not interested in your guesses,' moaned Frost. 'If you've nothing positive to report, then lie.' He turned to Hanlon. 'What happened when you went to the house?'
'I told him we'd like him to come to the station to answer a few questions. He said he'd come tomorrow. I said now. He told me to get stuffed, so I arrested him.'
'On suspicion of the murder of Helen Stokes?'
'Yes. He called us a load of incompetent fools.'
'He knows us too well.' Frost yawned. It had been a long day and it wasn't yet over. 'Unless Forensic come" up with something, we haven't got a lot on him; suspicion, but nothing concrete. We're going to bluff our way through this, pretend we know a lot more than we actually do.' His internal phone rang. Ashby's solicitor had arrived.
Ashby, dishevelled and furious, was seated next to his solicitor, a small balding man who looked equally annoyed. 'My client would have been perfectly willing to answer your questions at a reasonable time, Inspector. It's intolerable that you should drag him down here at this hour of the morning.' He glanced at the sheet of paper in front of him. 'I understand you wish to question him regarding the death of his late receptionist Miss Helen Stokes?'
'Bang on!" nodded Frost, settling himself down in the chair with his files, his cigarettes and his lighter. He checked that Burton was ready with the tape machine.
As soon as it was running, the solicitor said his set piece. 'My client wishes to state emphatically that he knows nothing at all about the death of his employee and he resents most strongly that you have arrested him without a shred of evidence.'