DI Jack Frost 01 - Frost At Christmas

through the story.
    "Good Lord! How terrible. I never knew . . ." He paused as the penny dropped. "You think she's here? You want to search because you think she's here?" The relief was overwhelming. "Go on then, search. I've got nothing to hide."
    A nod from the inspector and Clive sidled out of the room. Frost settled back in his chair.
    "You left Mrs. Uphill's about half-past four, sir. I suppose you didn't meet Tracey coming out of Sunday school?"
    "I didn't meet her . I saw her, though."
    Frost jerked forward excitedly. He'd seen her! They'd found someone who'd actually seen her! "Where was this, sir?"
    "Walking away from the Sunday school."
    "Toward her house?"
    Farnham sucked more salt from his lip. "No. The opposite direction. She was with a woman."
    Frost wriggled in his chair. They could have done with this information hours ago. He'd radio it through to Allen the minute they were back in the car.
    "Can you describe this woman?"
    "Well . . . I didn't take an awful lot of notice. I was in a hurry, and it was dark. Medium height, wearing a white fur coat."
    A white fur? Well, that was something.
    "How old was she?"
    "No idea."
    "Did you see where they went?"
    "No. I soon out-paced them. I didn't particularly want Tracey to see me. As I said, I was in a hurry."
    "Why were you in a hurry, sir?"
    The questions came bouncing back hard on his answers, but his brain was working quicker now. They'd obviously checked at the railway station and found he hadn't taken the first train out.
    "I had to visit my aunt. She's an old lady of seventy-eight, or so. Lives in the senior citizens' bungalows on the Southern Housing Estate. I was due there for tea."
    The inspector sniffed. "Your Sundays are one Long round of pleasure, sir. First Mrs. Uphill, then tea with your aunt. I'd like her address if you don't mind."
    Farnham was startled. "You won't go round worrying her. She's an old lady, and her heart's not too good."
    "I specialize in old ladies with weak hearts, sir - have no fear."
    Frost wrote the address down on a scrap of paper he found in his pocket, then he tried to dig a hole in his cheek with a finger. Something was worrying him.
    "Do you own a car, Mr. Farnham?"
    "No."
    "A red car?"
    "No."
    "Some time ago we had reports of a bearded man in a red car trying to pick up young kids outside that Sunday school.", His eyes bored into Farnham. "Have you ever owned a car?"
    "Yes, once. I couldn't afford to keep it."
    "Yes. Red cars are expensive to run. It was red wasn't it, sir?"
    "No!" shouted Farnham.
    "Then you've got nothing to worry about," said Frost unconvincingly. He stood up and stretched his arms. "I'd better go and see what that detective constable of mine is doing."
    Barnard was in the bathroom, shirt-sleeves rolled up, his jacket hanging from the door. The bath panel had come off all right but was refusing to go back on again. With a couple of bangs in the right place from Frost, it was eventually coaxed into place.
    "Not a very good fit, I'm afraid," said Farnham.
    "Don't say that, sir," cried Frost. "It cost him one hundred and seven quid."
    They went at last. Farnham watched through the curtains until their car turned the corner. He slumped back in his chair and pleaded with God not to let them check with his aunt. He'd never touch another woman again, he'd never send for another catalog, but please, don't let them check with his aunt.

MONDAY (5)

    Detective Inspector Allen rubbed his eyes and concentrated again on the sheet of paper where the list of names blurred, then slowly edged back into focus. He read that all the mothers who had been waiting for their children outside the Sunday school yesterday had been contacted and questioned, but not one of them remembered seeing this mysterious woman in the white fur coat. He dropped the paper into his "Out" tray and snorted with smug satisfaction. His earlier skepticism was justified. The woman didn't exist. She was conveniently invented by Farnham in an attempt to divert suspicion from himself and, naturally, that gullible fool Frost had swallowed it without question.
    But where was Frost? He should be here by now. A pain jolted through Allen's body and his head throbbed and banged. He felt terrible. There were some aspirins in his overcoat pocket. He rose to fetch them but two paces across the room and he cried out as the fire in his stomach flared and sent flames of agony rippling through his body. The pain was more than he could stand and the room was