A Killing Frost Part 40

Holding his breath, he lifted up the tea towels. He breathed again. The box was there! He pulled it out. 'What's in here then, Patsy?'

Kelly gave it half a glance and shrugged.'No idea. Something you've planted, I expect.' Frost shook his head in mock sadness. 'Come now, Patsy. We only do things like that as a last resort.' He riffled through the contents, leaving the phone until last. 'Watches, credit cards, debit cards . . . all sorts of flaming cards, but none in your name. I wonder why that is? Flaming credit-card companies - they never seem to get your name right.' He held one aloft. 'This one's made out to Susan Carter.

'I've never seen them before in my life,' repeated Kelly.

'I must be a mind-reader,' beamed Frost. 'I knew you were going to say that.'

He continued his rummage. 'More watches . . . keys . . . and, h.e.l.lo - what's this?' He carefully lifted out the mobile phone.

'It's a mobile phone,' said Kelly. 'I don't nick mobile phones.'

'Someone else got the franchise?' asked Frost. He held the phone aloft. 'Now I wonder whose phone this is?' He turned to Jordan, who had by now come in through the back door to join him. 'Isn't there some way a phone will tell you its own number so we can check the owner's name with the phone company, because Mr Kelly says it isn't his?'

'Yes,' nodded Jordan. 'I've got one exactly like that.' He carefully took the phone from Frost and turned it on. He frowned, switched it off and on again, then shook his head. 'Battery's dead.'

'Where's the charger?' Frost asked Kelly.

'You should have brought the flaming charger along when you planted the phone,' he answered.

'I always forget little things like that,' grinned Frost. 'There's one back at the nick. We'll finis.h.i.+ng searching your gaff, then we'll nip down to the station.'

The toilet flushed, the bathroom door opened and a sweaty, green-faced Bridget Malone staggered out. She was dark-haired and plump, in her mid-forties. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 'I knew that lobster was off,' she snarled at Kelly. She focused blurry eyes on Frost and his team. 'What are the flaming police doing here?'

Frost held up the mobile phone. 'Ever seen this before, Bridget?' She stared, then shook her head, not looking at him. 'No.'

Guilty as a.r.s.eholes, thought Frost. 'We're going to continue this little tete-a-tete down the station. Get your coats.'

'I'll go in a separate car to her,' said Kelly. 'She spews up every five minutes. My car's swimming in it.'

'Good point,' nodded Frost. 'Taffy - take her in your car.'

Frost stirred his mug of tea with his Bic pen, sucked the sugar from the cap and sighed. 'All this sodding hanging about.'

'Kelly won't talk to you until his brief arrives, Jack, you know that,' said Sergeant Wells.

'Give me back the good old days,' said Frost. 'If your suspect wouldn't talk you kneed him in the groin, wrote his statement yourself and forgedhis signature.' He sighed deeply. 'The golden days.' He looked up at the clock. Four thirty 'How's Jordan getting on with that flaming phone?'

'Still looking for a battery-charger, Jack. Our one is the wrong sort.' He drained his mug and lowered his voice. 'Are you sure it's the girl's phone?'

'Of course I'm bleeding sure,' answered Frost. 'I checked it before I got the flaming warrant.'

Wells looked alarmed and moved hurriedly to close the open door. 'For Pete's sake, Jack, I don't want to know.'

Frost sank into a chair. 'I wish he'd hurry up with that charger. Even when Kelly's brief Slippery Sam arrives, without confirmation that it's Debbie's phone I can only question him on the drugs and the piddling jewellery and credit cards, nothing else - and that other kid, Jan O'Brien, might still be alive.'

He shook a cigarette from the packet and offered one to Wells, who shook his head. Frost lit up and moved over to the window, staring down to see if the solicitor's car had arrived. 'b.l.o.o.d.y nine-to-five solicitors,' he muttered.

There was a tap at the door and Jordan looked in. 'I found a charger, Inspector, and it is Debbie Clark's phone.'

'I'd be flaming surprised if it wasn't,' said Frost, 'but well done, son.'

'And even better news, Inspector. The last call she received was from Kelly's phone!'

Frost punched the air with delight 'Then we've got the sod!' He peered out into the car park again. 'Where's that flaming brief?' He turned to Jordan. 'And how's Molly Malone?'

'Still throwing up,' said Jordan. 'I don't know where it's all coming from. She wanted us to send for a Harley Street specialist, but she's got the duty quack.'

'We've got to talk to her,' said Frost. 'She'll be the one who made the phone call to Sandy Lane about the video tape.'

Car doors slammed in the car park. Frost turned back to the window. 'Slippery Sam's here. Look at the bleeding posh car he's got.' He swilled down the dregs of his tea and cuffed his mouth dry. 'Right, let's get cracking . . .' He stopped dead and smacked a palm on his forehead. 's.h.i.+t! That last call on the flaming phone - that was me checking if it was Debbie's mobile!' He spun round to Jordan. 'Is there any way we can erase it?'

Jordan thought for a moment. 'We could probably wipe it off the phone's memory, but the phone company will still have a record.'

'Human dung!' cursed Frost. 'All right. If it comes to it, they will have to prove they didn't make the call and I'll do what every good police officer does - lie my bleeding head off!' He rubbed his face with his hands. He was always skating on thin flaming ice. One day it would crack and he'd fall in the freezing water.

PC Collier looked round the door. 'Sarge, Kelly's solicitor is here. He wants to see his client.'

'Coming,' said Wells.

Frost looked at his empty mug. They would have to wait until Kelly had briefed Slippery Sam on the lies he was going to tell before he could be questioned. 'Any more tea on the go?' he called.

Deadly silence.

'Then someone b.l.o.o.d.y well make some,' said Frost, giving Taffy an encouraging kick. 'Tea all round, Lloyd George.'

Taffy reluctantly pulled himself out of his chair, where he was half asleep. 'Tea, Guv? Right away,' he yawned.

Frost didn't have to wait long. Halfway through the next mug of tea Bill Wells came back.

'They're ready for you, Jack, and Kelly wants bail.'

'I want a s.e.x-mad teenage virgin,' said Frost, 'and Kelly's got the same chance as me!'

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 c.o.ke 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 mylife. 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 sc.r.a.ping 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 b.l.o.o.d.y well planted. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. 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 pa.s.sage. 'How b.l.o.o.d.y 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. p.i.s.s 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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, flas.h.i.+ly 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 s.h.a.gged 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 p.i.s.s 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 pus.h.i.+ng 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.'