Winter Frost

Frost interlaced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in his chair, beaming with delight. 'And Maggs is the old boy Daniels plays draughts with at the geriatrics' club. He'd know Daniels' address and he'd have a lovely grudge to bear against Cordwell who owns the mini-mart.'

'You're not suggesting Maggs was the bloke with the shotgun?' asked Collier. 'The man whose car they pinched said he was a lot younger.'

'Maggs could have a son, or a grandson, and got them to do it for him.' Once Frost had a theory he was reluctant to let it go. He snatched his scarf from the peg. He was feeling pleased with himself. Great to have this all tied up for Liz Maud when she returned. 'Come on, son, let's go.'

It took some time for Maggs to open the door. His laboured breathing and cries of 'I'm coming, I'm coming' seemed to go on for ever as he creaked his way up the passage. The front door opened to reveal a man in his late seventies, gasping for breath and leaning heavily on a stick. He was surprised to see Frost. 'I thought you were the District Nurse.'

'People often mistake me,' said Frost. He showed his warrant card. 'A couple of words, if you don't mind.'

Mrs Maggs, looking even frailer than her husband, was huddled in a chair by the fire. 'Police?' she gasped in alarm, holding a heavily veined hand to her mouth. 'We're sending the money off for the fine today. I'm sorry it's taken so long, but-'

'It's nothing to do with that, Mrs Maggs,' cut in Frost. 'It's about that robbery at the mini-mart.'

Husband and wife looked at each other. 'We read about that, didn't we, dear?' she said.

'Yes,' agreed Maggs. 'Gave me the biggest laugh I've had for ages. That sod Cordwell deserved to be robbed.' He held his wife's hand and squeezed it tight. 'Pity they didn't take more.'

'It was a friend of yours who was shot, Mr Maggs,' Frost told him. 'Mr Daniels.'

Maggs frowned. 'Who's Daniels?'

'Your draughts-playing friend.'

'Oh — you mean Bert? I never knew his second name. Oh dear. I never knew it was him.' He shook his head in dismay. 'How is he?'

'Not too badly hurt.' Frost heaved himself out of the chair. This was a waste of time. Maggs seemed genuine in not knowing Daniels' full name. Another theory flushed down the pan. 'I won't bother you any more, Mr Maggs.' And then he saw it. Behind the clock on the mantelpiece, a large brown envelope, the name and address handwritten in block capitals. He leaned over and pulled it out. Yes, identical to the one received by Daniels. It was empty.

Grunting with pain, Maggs rose and snatched it from him. 'That's personal!'

'Where's the money?' asked Frost.

Mrs Maggs, visibly distressed, was staring open-mouthed at her husband whose hand was shaking vigorously, bidding her to keep quiet. 'What money?'

'Was there a note with it?'

'We know nothing about no note. This is private, none of your business.'

Frost looked at them both. The man defiant, the woman close to tears. No point in bullying them into an admission. It was obvious they too had been sent part of the robbery money and he now had a bloody good idea who had sent it. He buttoned up his mac. 'All right, Mr Maggs. I might need to talk to you again… but in the meantime, don't spend any of the money you didn't receive.'

Collier drove him to the Redwoods' house where Mrs Redwood seemed surprised to see him back so soon. 'A couple of points I should have cleared earlier, Mrs Redwood. Can I come in?'

Her husband, wearing a dressing-gown over pyjamas, sat in the living-room, his bandaged leg up on a stool. Frost declined the offer of a cup of tea. He smiled sympathetically. 'How are you feeling, Mr Redwood?'

His wife answered for him. 'He's still in a lot of pain but he's healing slowly.'

'Good,' said Frost.

Redwood eased his leg to a more comfortable position. 'Are you any closer to catching the swines ' that did it?'

'Very close,' Frost told him. 'In fact, we hope to make an arrest today — which is why I'm here.' He was studying the old man's face and noticed the slight start his words had produced.

'That's good news, Inspector,' said the wife, putting an arm round the old man's shoulders.

'How's Mr Daniels?' asked Redwood.

'Not too bad,' said Frost. 'Good job you had the gun pointing down.'

The man's head snapped up. 'Me?'

'Did I say "you"?' said Frost, sounding surprised he could make such a stupid mistake. 'I meant the armed robber.' He shook his head in annoyance with himself. 'I've so many things running through my mind, I get confused. They sent him money, did you know?'

'You told my wife earlier.'

'Did they send you any?'

'No — and if they did I wouldn't have accepted it.'

'Mr Daniels is not going to accept it either. They also sent a wad of money to a bloke called Maggs. He goes to your Senior Citizens' Club, doesn't he?'

'The name rings a vague bell.' Redwood was no longer looking up at Frost.

Frost scratched his chin. 'I wonder why they didn't send you any? You suffered more than Daniels… they nicked your car as well.'

Redwood shrugged and shook his head. 'No idea.'

Frost dragged a chair over and sat next to the old man, giving him one of his disarming smiles. 'You couldn't post it to yourself, I suppose. What did you do with the rest of the money?'

Redwood dropped his gaze. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' he mumbled.

But his wife could stand the strain no longer. 'For God's sake tell him… he knows anyway.' She broke down and sobbed.

Redwood took her hand and held it tightly, then raised his eyes to Frost. 'It all went wrong,' he told the inspector. 'Fire the gun up in the ceiling to frighten the life out of them, grab the money and run. It should have been all over in seconds. But Daniels had to act the bloody hero and grabs for the gun. I never meant the damn thing to go off… he got half the pellets in his leg, I got the rest in mine.'

'How did you know the security cameras weren't working that night?'

Redwood gawped, wide-eyed with dismay. 'Not working? You mean you didn't have our car on video?'

'We had sod all on video. Are you saying you didn't know it was out of action?'

'I didn't even know they had security cameras until we were driving away and my wife spotted them.' He gave an apologetic smile. 'I suppose we're not really cut out for this sort of thing.'

'I've known it done better,' said Frost. 'What have you done with the money?'

'We sent it anonymously to charities. We didn't want it.'

Frost frowned. 'Then why the hell did you pinch it in the first place?'

'That damn man Cordwell who runs the supermarket chain, he's raking in millions and he take people like poor old Mrs Maggs to court for stealing; couple of packets of biscuits. There was another old dear a few months ago. Rather than face the disgrace of going to court, she took an overdose. We were angry. We wanted to make him pay.'

'Cordwell wouldn't have felt a bloody thing,' said Frost, 'and he would have got all the money bags from his insurance company anyway. Bastards like him always win. What happened after you drove away?'

'It was all panic. Connie told me we were on that damn security camera… paint from the carrier bag all over the seat, shotgun pellets in my leg and I was terrified I might have killed Mr Daniels.' His face screwed up at the pain of the recollection. 'It was Connie's idea that we made up the story about the car being hijacked and the man shooting at me. She left me in the woods while she went off to hide the car, then she phoned the police.'

'You say you sent the bulk of the money off to charities?'

'Yes. Connie parcelled it up and sent it anonymously.'

Frost pulled out a pen. 'Which charities?'

They looked at each other. 'Will it make any difference to what sentence we get if I tell you?' asked the man.