is this all about, officer?’ demanded a man’s voice. ‘I wasn’t speeding and I’m not bloody drunk. You got a quota of arrests to make?’
Frost stopped dead in his tracks. He recognised that flaming voice. He was out of the car and over in a flash. ‘Hello, hello, hello. Where have you been all the day, Billy Boy?’ he beamed. The driver was Billy King, the man who claimed his building society card had been stolen.
King’s face fell when he saw Frost. ‘Twice in one flaming day! I must have run over a black cat or something. What am I supposed to have done now?’
Frost flashed a smug, self-satisfied smile. On the passenger seat next to Billy was a Fortress Building Society passbook, poking out from which was a cashpoint card. ‘Been making a little withdrawal, Billy?’
‘It’s not a flaming crime, is it?’
‘It’s too cold standing here talking, Billy. Let’s get you down to the nice, warm station so we can rough you up a bit. First of all, where’s the money?’
‘What flaming money?’
Frost sighed. ‘Search him, Taffy.’
King shrunk back. ‘Oh no. Not with them greasy fish-and-chip fingers. Let the other bloke do it.’ He raised his arms as Jordan patted his pockets then withdrew a wallet from inside his jacket. Jordan opened it and pulled out a couple of notes.
‘Twenty quid, Inspector, that’s all,’ reported Jordan.
‘And there had still better be twenty quid in there when I get the wallet back,’ sniffed King. ‘I know what sticky-fingered bastards you coppers are.’
‘Where’s the rest, Billy?’ asked Frost.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘It’s in the car somewhere,’ said Frost. ‘Too bleeding cold to search here. We’ll do it back at the station.’ He took King’s arm. ‘Come on, sunshine. Let’s go to the nice cop shop. My Welsh colleague will drive your car back.’
‘He’d better take care of it,’ scowled King. ‘I ain’t paid for it yet.’
‘He’ll treat it as if it were his own, Billy,’ Frost assured him. ‘He wrote his off yesterday.’ He radioed through to the stake-out team and told them they could go home, but to book an extra hour for their trouble.
Frost dribbled smoke through his nose and watched King through the haze, on the other side of the table in the Interview Room. Billy squirmed in his chair. ‘I don’t know what this is all about, Inspector. You’re setting me up, aren’t you? You’re flaming well setting me up.’
Frost puffed out a smoke ring and watched it writhe its way up to the nicotine-stained ceiling. ‘I have a strict code of ethics, Billy. I only set people up if I can’t beat a confession out of them.’ He was feeling pleased with himself. He never expected such a quick result. He was just waiting for Morgan and Jordan to return from their search of Billy’s car bearing the five hundred quid.
‘How much longer before you tell me what this is all about?’ asked King. ‘My old lady will be worried sick.’
‘Not long, Billy,’ said Frost. ‘Ah!’ He could hear approaching footsteps. Jordan and Morgan came in. In reply to his questioning gaze, they shook their heads. They had searched the car and found nothing.
Frost groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. This was going to take longer than he had hoped. ‘Give us a clue, Billy. Where have you hidden the money? Have you swallowed it? Shall we get out the syrup of figs or the enema we use for our horses?’
‘You give me a clue, Inspector Frost. What money are you talking about?’
‘The money you withdrew from the building society’
‘It’s in my bloody wallet, if that copper hasn’t nicked it.’
‘There was only twenty quid in there, Billy.’
‘So? That’s all I had in my account. I told you.’
‘You also told us, Billy, you had your cashpoint card stolen.’ He flashed
Frost stopped dead in his tracks. He recognised that flaming voice. He was out of the car and over in a flash. ‘Hello, hello, hello. Where have you been all the day, Billy Boy?’ he beamed. The driver was Billy King, the man who claimed his building society card had been stolen.
King’s face fell when he saw Frost. ‘Twice in one flaming day! I must have run over a black cat or something. What am I supposed to have done now?’
Frost flashed a smug, self-satisfied smile. On the passenger seat next to Billy was a Fortress Building Society passbook, poking out from which was a cashpoint card. ‘Been making a little withdrawal, Billy?’
‘It’s not a flaming crime, is it?’
‘It’s too cold standing here talking, Billy. Let’s get you down to the nice, warm station so we can rough you up a bit. First of all, where’s the money?’
‘What flaming money?’
Frost sighed. ‘Search him, Taffy.’
King shrunk back. ‘Oh no. Not with them greasy fish-and-chip fingers. Let the other bloke do it.’ He raised his arms as Jordan patted his pockets then withdrew a wallet from inside his jacket. Jordan opened it and pulled out a couple of notes.
‘Twenty quid, Inspector, that’s all,’ reported Jordan.
‘And there had still better be twenty quid in there when I get the wallet back,’ sniffed King. ‘I know what sticky-fingered bastards you coppers are.’
‘Where’s the rest, Billy?’ asked Frost.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘It’s in the car somewhere,’ said Frost. ‘Too bleeding cold to search here. We’ll do it back at the station.’ He took King’s arm. ‘Come on, sunshine. Let’s go to the nice cop shop. My Welsh colleague will drive your car back.’
‘He’d better take care of it,’ scowled King. ‘I ain’t paid for it yet.’
‘He’ll treat it as if it were his own, Billy,’ Frost assured him. ‘He wrote his off yesterday.’ He radioed through to the stake-out team and told them they could go home, but to book an extra hour for their trouble.
Frost dribbled smoke through his nose and watched King through the haze, on the other side of the table in the Interview Room. Billy squirmed in his chair. ‘I don’t know what this is all about, Inspector. You’re setting me up, aren’t you? You’re flaming well setting me up.’
Frost puffed out a smoke ring and watched it writhe its way up to the nicotine-stained ceiling. ‘I have a strict code of ethics, Billy. I only set people up if I can’t beat a confession out of them.’ He was feeling pleased with himself. He never expected such a quick result. He was just waiting for Morgan and Jordan to return from their search of Billy’s car bearing the five hundred quid.
‘How much longer before you tell me what this is all about?’ asked King. ‘My old lady will be worried sick.’
‘Not long, Billy,’ said Frost. ‘Ah!’ He could hear approaching footsteps. Jordan and Morgan came in. In reply to his questioning gaze, they shook their heads. They had searched the car and found nothing.
Frost groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands. This was going to take longer than he had hoped. ‘Give us a clue, Billy. Where have you hidden the money? Have you swallowed it? Shall we get out the syrup of figs or the enema we use for our horses?’
‘You give me a clue, Inspector Frost. What money are you talking about?’
‘The money you withdrew from the building society’
‘It’s in my bloody wallet, if that copper hasn’t nicked it.’
‘There was only twenty quid in there, Billy.’
‘So? That’s all I had in my account. I told you.’
‘You also told us, Billy, you had your cashpoint card stolen.’ He flashed
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