Winter Frost

'Still,' grunted Frost, 'it's a fine example of inter-Departmental co-operation. Mr Mullett will be delighted.'

'Then Mr bleeding Mullett can come round with carbolic and a bucket and help swab up the mess. They're discharging from every flaming orifice in here.' He gaped and pointed. 'Look at that bastard. He's peeing on the floor.'

As Wells dashed over to stop the man Frost took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat. His hand was on the door to his office when running footsteps and his name called made him turn round. An agitated PC Collier. 'What's up, son?'

Collier was panting and could just about get the words out. 'Quick, Inspector. A fight.'

Frost frowned. 'Nothing to do with me, son — tell Sergeant Wells, he's dying for something to do.'

'I think you'd prefer to handle it, Inspector.' Collier lowered his voice. 'One of the fighters is DC Morgan.'

Bloody Taffy! Frost hurried down the corridor after Collier, nearly tripping over a sleeping drunk on the way. Then, in the dim light, he saw them. Two dark shapes, rolling and thrashing about on the floor, each trying to get on top. One of them, a man with a long Woollen football scarf twined round his neck, managed to pin the other's arms down with his knees, then began methodically banging his adversary's head on the stone floor. Frost squinted. Collier was right. The man underneath was DC Taffy Morgan and he was definitely losing.

Frost grabbed the two ends of the football scarf and pulled with all his might. The winner's face went red as the scarf tightened, eating into his neck. Choking, he released his grip on Taffy's hair to pull the scarf away. Frost jerked the man's head back, crooked an arm firmly round his neck and dragged him to his feet. 'Cuffs!' he barked. Collier snapped on the cuffs. Glowering, eyes blazing, the man watched as Frost helped Morgan to his feet. 'What the hell is going on,! Taffy?'

Morgan looked sheepish. He brushed the dust down from his clothes, dabbed at blood that dribbled from his nose and gingerly touched the back of his head. 'Nothing, guv… A misunderstanding…'

'Misunderstanding?' croaked Frost. 'He understood what he was flaming well doing — he was trying to smash your Welsh head in.'

'Let me at him and I'll finish the bloody job,' screamed the handcuffed man, a shaven-headed lout in his late twenties who kept jerking his wrists, trying to snap the handcuffs apart.

Frost peered at him. 'Don't I know you, sunshine?! He clicked his fingers. 'Kenny Leyton… robber with violence. I thought you were inside?'

'I came out last week.' Leyton's face was contorted with rage as he glared at Morgan.

'I hope you left your cell nice and clean because you'll be back again tomorrow,' said Frost. 'I'm charging you with assaulting a police officer.'

Morgan looked dismayed. He tugged at Frost's sleeve. 'No, guv. He was drunk. He didn't mean it.'

'You bet I bloody meant it,' shouted Leyton. He turned to Frost with a provocative grin. 'Come on, copper, charge me. I want to be charged. Let the court know why I want to beat his bleeding brains out.'

Frost's eyes swivelled from one to the other, Leyton furious, Morgan looking embarrassed and guilty. He jabbed a finger at Collier. 'Stay with Leyton. I'll be back in a minute.' Grabbing Morgan's arm, he pushed him into an empty office and slammed the door. 'Right, Taffy. What the flaming hell is going on?'

Morgan hung his head and mumbled to the pattern on the threadbare carpet. 'Nothing, guv. It's trivial. I don't want to press charges.'

'Trivial?' echoed Frost in disbelief. 'A convicted criminal bashing the living daylights out of a police officer? If you don't charge him, then I will.' He moved to the door, but Morgan called him back.

'Wait, guv…' The DC slumped down in a chair and put on his hangdog, little boy caught stealing the jam expression, the expression that made weak-kneed women take him to their hearts before taking him to their beds. 'It's a bit embarrassing, guv…'

'Then embarrass me,' said Frost, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

'I met this woman, see. She seemed a nice type… I didn't know she was married. Honest, guv, I wouldn't have touched her with a barge pole if I thought she was married.'

'Barge pole!' exclaimed Frost, raising his eyes to the ceiling. 'I bet you touched her with something bigger than a bleeding barge pole.' Then the penny dropped. 'You're not trying to tell me she was Leyton's wife?'

Morgan gave a shamefaced nod.

'A known criminal?' croaked Frost. 'And while he was doing time, you was doing his old lady?'

'I never knew she was his wife, guv — cross my heart.'

'Where did you meet her?'

'The Raven's Arms. I went there for a quiet drink.'

Frost snorted. 'No-one goes to the Raven's Arms for a quiet drink. OK, let's hear the rest of this Mills and Boon love story. Did she take you to her place or was it the first shop doorway you came to?'

'We went to her place, guv.'

'Double bed or single?'

'Double, guv.'

'And you didn't think to ask who usually occupied the other half?'

'You know how it is, guv, the minute their knickers come off the last thing on your mind is asking personal questions.'

Frost sighed and poked a cigarette in his mouth. 'You're a bloody fool, Taffy. Knocking off the wife of a known criminal… If Mullett gets to hear of it you can kiss your job goodbye… and Leyton wants to cause trouble.'

'I know, guv. Sorry, guv.' Morgan gave Frost his soulful, wide-eyed expression.

'You're not sorry you did it, you're sorry the bastard found you out,' sniffed Frost. He pinched out the cigarette and dropped it in his pocket. 'All right — you nip back to the office and finish off those flaming crime figures. I'll see if I can get you off the hook with Leyton. And then I'm having a word with the canteen — I don't think they're putting enough bromide in your tea.'

Morgan grinned sheepishly and slunk out.

Leyton looked up belligerently as Frost entered the interview room, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had been removed. 'I'm going to get that randy sod kicked out of the force,' he snarled.

Frost sat at the table then tugged a folded computer print-out from his pocket. 'Bit of advice, sonny. Don't mess about with the police. We can play dirtier than you and there's more of us.'

'He knocked off my wife.'

'He was the only man in Denton who hadn't up to then. It was his turn.'

'She's still my bloody wife.'

Frost unfolded the print-out. 'I've been looking at that electronics warehouse job we pulled you in for — the one where the old night-watchman got beaten up.'

Leyton leant back, arms folded, and smirked. 'You couldn't touch me… I had an alibi.'

'That's right,' agreed Frost. 'You said you were in bed with your wife and she backed you up. But what if my randy police officer suddenly remembers he was in bed with her at the time and although his mind was on other things, he was pretty certain you weren't in the bed as well? That would kick your alibi right up the arse. And then I could get a search warrant and make sure some of the stolen loot was found in your house. I could probably splash a bit of the night-watchman's blood on it just to make sure.'

'You bastard… You'd plant evidence?'

'Well — we both know you did it… I'd just be giving the wheels of justice a squirt of oil.'

Leyton leant across the table. 'All right. So what's the deal?'

'You made a mistake. You thought it was DC Morgan, but it wasn't. You apologize for hitting him and he graciously accepts your apology.'