into cutting the overtime men by half.’
‘Sod that!’ exclaimed Frost. ‘We’re working to the barest minimum as it is.’
‘He told me to tell you it’s not a request, it’s an order. He’s going to need the extra men for the search of the woods for those two missing kids tomorrow morning.’
‘Sod him!’ repeated Frost vehemently. ‘Tell him you couldn’t find me.’
‘Then he will expect me to phone or radio you.’
Frost took his mobile from his pocket and switched it off. ‘My phone battery needs charging and my radio is on the blink’
‘He won’t believe you, Jack.’
‘The bastard doesn’t believe me when I’m telling the truth, so what’s the difference?’
Frost sat slumped in the passenger seat of his car, coat collar turned up, his scarf wound tightly round his neck against the cold. Parked down a side street, they didn’t have the cashpoint in view, but would be able to reach it at a sprint in a few seconds. He shivered. ‘I thought I told you to get this heater fixed.’
‘I’ve booked it in for tomorrow, Guv,’ lied Morgan, who had forgotten all about it.
‘Lying Welsh bastard,’ grunted Frost. He rubbed his hands together, then checked his watch. Coming to midnight and no sign of the sod. He felt his stomach rumble. ‘There’s a chippy round the corner. Get me a cod and chips and put salt and vinegar on it. You can buy your own if you like.’ He passed over a five-pound note. ‘And I’m going to count the change.’
‘Right, Guv.’ Glad of the chance to stretch his legs, Morgan slid out of the car and disappeared round the corner. Frost sank lower in his seat.
This was going to be a sodding waste of time, he just knew it. He was stuck in a freezing-cold car and the blackmailing bastard was probably tucked up snug in a nice warm bed. He might as well have given Skinner those extra men he wanted. There’d be hell to pay tomorrow if he didn’t get a result.
The radio buzzed. ‘PC Jordan to Inspector Frost. Come in please. Urgent.’
‘Yes?’ said Frost, popping a cigarette in his mouth.
‘We’ve just arrested a junkie trying to pinch money from people using the cash machine. He grabbed fifty quid from this old dear. We’re going to have to take him back to the station.’
‘Bloody hell,’ moaned Frost. ‘Now everyone will know that the fuzz is in the vicinity.’
‘We had to arrest him, Inspector. We couldn’t let him get away with it - the old dear was screaming blue murder.’
‘All right,’ sighed Frost. ‘Take him back, book him in, then get back here. Our bloke hasn’t turned up yet. And check with Sergeant Wells about that poor cow who had her handbag nicked earlier today. This might be the same man.’
A tapping at the side window made him look up. Someone was standing there. He wound the window down and a blast of cheap scent hit him in the face.
‘Looking for a bit of fun, handsome?’
‘Piss off,’ groaned Frost, flashing his warrant card at the hard-faced, cheap-fake-leather-coated woman in her late forties with an equally fake smile.
‘Bloody hell. It’s the flaming filth!’
‘Exactly,’ said Frost. ‘Now sling your hook, darling, before I run you in for offering goods past their sell-by date.’
She jerked two fingers at him and wandered off into the night, swinging her handbag like a gladiator’s chain. A burble of conversation floated from round the corner, then Taffy slid into the car clutching two greasy packages.
‘Just bumped into a cracking bit of stuff, Guv. I reckon I could have had her.’
‘Only if you had the 50p to pay her,’ grunted Frost, checking his change before slipping it into his mac pocket. ‘I hope you didn’t let her touch my chips. I shudder to think what else she’s been fingering tonight.’ He opened the package, broke off a chunk of fish and looked up
‘Sod that!’ exclaimed Frost. ‘We’re working to the barest minimum as it is.’
‘He told me to tell you it’s not a request, it’s an order. He’s going to need the extra men for the search of the woods for those two missing kids tomorrow morning.’
‘Sod him!’ repeated Frost vehemently. ‘Tell him you couldn’t find me.’
‘Then he will expect me to phone or radio you.’
Frost took his mobile from his pocket and switched it off. ‘My phone battery needs charging and my radio is on the blink’
‘He won’t believe you, Jack.’
‘The bastard doesn’t believe me when I’m telling the truth, so what’s the difference?’
Frost sat slumped in the passenger seat of his car, coat collar turned up, his scarf wound tightly round his neck against the cold. Parked down a side street, they didn’t have the cashpoint in view, but would be able to reach it at a sprint in a few seconds. He shivered. ‘I thought I told you to get this heater fixed.’
‘I’ve booked it in for tomorrow, Guv,’ lied Morgan, who had forgotten all about it.
‘Lying Welsh bastard,’ grunted Frost. He rubbed his hands together, then checked his watch. Coming to midnight and no sign of the sod. He felt his stomach rumble. ‘There’s a chippy round the corner. Get me a cod and chips and put salt and vinegar on it. You can buy your own if you like.’ He passed over a five-pound note. ‘And I’m going to count the change.’
‘Right, Guv.’ Glad of the chance to stretch his legs, Morgan slid out of the car and disappeared round the corner. Frost sank lower in his seat.
This was going to be a sodding waste of time, he just knew it. He was stuck in a freezing-cold car and the blackmailing bastard was probably tucked up snug in a nice warm bed. He might as well have given Skinner those extra men he wanted. There’d be hell to pay tomorrow if he didn’t get a result.
The radio buzzed. ‘PC Jordan to Inspector Frost. Come in please. Urgent.’
‘Yes?’ said Frost, popping a cigarette in his mouth.
‘We’ve just arrested a junkie trying to pinch money from people using the cash machine. He grabbed fifty quid from this old dear. We’re going to have to take him back to the station.’
‘Bloody hell,’ moaned Frost. ‘Now everyone will know that the fuzz is in the vicinity.’
‘We had to arrest him, Inspector. We couldn’t let him get away with it - the old dear was screaming blue murder.’
‘All right,’ sighed Frost. ‘Take him back, book him in, then get back here. Our bloke hasn’t turned up yet. And check with Sergeant Wells about that poor cow who had her handbag nicked earlier today. This might be the same man.’
A tapping at the side window made him look up. Someone was standing there. He wound the window down and a blast of cheap scent hit him in the face.
‘Looking for a bit of fun, handsome?’
‘Piss off,’ groaned Frost, flashing his warrant card at the hard-faced, cheap-fake-leather-coated woman in her late forties with an equally fake smile.
‘Bloody hell. It’s the flaming filth!’
‘Exactly,’ said Frost. ‘Now sling your hook, darling, before I run you in for offering goods past their sell-by date.’
She jerked two fingers at him and wandered off into the night, swinging her handbag like a gladiator’s chain. A burble of conversation floated from round the corner, then Taffy slid into the car clutching two greasy packages.
‘Just bumped into a cracking bit of stuff, Guv. I reckon I could have had her.’
‘Only if you had the 50p to pay her,’ grunted Frost, checking his change before slipping it into his mac pocket. ‘I hope you didn’t let her touch my chips. I shudder to think what else she’s been fingering tonight.’ He opened the package, broke off a chunk of fish and looked up
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