DI Jack Frost 01 - Frost At Christmas

camphorated oil for it," suggested Frost, adding ' sotto voice, "About half a gallon . . ."
    The woman police constable suppressed a giggle. Clive frowned. This was a serious inquiry. Couldn't the old fool keep his cheap jokes to himself, just for once?
    "They haven't sent three cops down just because I didn't go to school, surely?" asked the girl, rubbing her hands over her chest in a way that made Clive envious and Frost uncomfortable.
    "No. It's about Tracey Uphill. I believe you know her?"
    "I know her," said the girl. "Her mother's a tart."
    Mrs. Harding banged her iron down angrily. "Maybe she is, my girl, but you shouldn't say so. There's some things you don't talk about." In a confidential aside to Frost she added, "My uncle was an undertaker, but we never mentioned it to anyone. Some things are best left unsaid."
    "Quite," said Frost, motioning for Clive to continue.
    "You don't go to Sunday school, do you Audrey?"
    "Only to ballet classes and tap-dancing," chimed in the mother. "We believe in religion and that sort of thing, but we don't want it rammed down our throats, especially on a Sunday."
    "Tracey's been missing from home since 4:30 yesterday afternoon, Mrs. Harding."
    Her eyes saucered. "I know! Her poor mother. I mean . . . they must have feelings the same as anyone else."
    "She was a friend of yours, Audrey?"
    "I knew her a bit," said the girl in an off-hand voice, "but I haven't seen her outside school for a couple of weeks, now."
    "Are you sure?" Clive persisted.
    "My girl's not a liar," stated Mrs. Harding firmly, watching a ball of spit fry on the sole-plate of her iron.
    "Can you think of anywhere she might have gone?"
    Audrey shook her head and scratched her stomach. She yawned to make it clear she was getting bored.
    "She was seen with a woman in a white fur coat. Any idea who that woman might be?"
    "No idea." She studied her vivid orange fingernails.
    Then Frost chipped in. "Do you play Bingo, Mrs. Harding?"
    Flaming hell, thought Clive. What's Bingo got to do with it?
    Mrs. Harding's iron delved the depths of a voluminous bra. "Yes, I do, twice a week regular down the old Grand Cinema. It's my only bit of pleasure. But how did you know?"
    Frost beamed at her. "We had reports about a beautiful woman playing there. And I happened to see the Bingo cards on your mantelpiece."
    Mrs. Harding simpered. "Aren't you observant? Eyes everywhere." She added the ironed bra to the finished pile.
    "Been lucky?"
    "I've had a couple of good wins."
    "I had a feeling you had. And I've got a feeling you can make a smashing cup of tea."
    "Would you like one?" she said, switching off the iron. "It won't take a minute."
    When she was gone Frost leaned across to the girl. "Oi, Fanny - does your mother know you borrow her fur coat?"
    The girl went white. "Shut up!" she hissed.
    To the woman police constable Frost said, "Keep the mother occupied in the kitchen and shut the door."
    "All right, Audrey," he continued as the door closed, "let's have it. You borrow her fur coat, don't you, without her knowing?"
    "She'll murder me," whimpered the girl. "She'd belt me rotten if she knew. She bought it with her Bingo money, neary three hundred quid, and no one must touch the bloody thing. You won't tell her, will you?"
    "You wore it yesterday, didn't you, when you met Tracey from the Sunday school?"
    "I just wanted to show off the coat. I didn't want her to come with me."
    "You didn't want her to - but she did?"
    "That was her look out. I said she'd have to go when he turned up."
    "When who turned up?"
    "My boyfriend . . . my fellow."
    "What's his name?" She told them. Clive wrote it down.
    "Where did you meet him?"
    "Those fields along Meadow Road."
    "And then Tracey went home?"
    "No. The little bitch pretended to go, but she followed us. I suppose she wanted to have an eyeful. We ended up in the Old Wood."
    "The Old Wood? Why did you go there?"
    "To try to shake her off, but she kept following, so we ran and hid behind that big tree - the one near the lake. She went racing past, and we backtracked and belted off home."
    "What time was this?"
    "About 5:30."
    Frost frowned. "You left a kid of eight to find her own way home in the pitch dark?"
    The girl shrugged. "That was her look out. Besides, she knew her way back. And she wasn't going home, she was going to play in the vicarage grounds."
    The vicarage grounds! Clive made a note in his book.
    "Where did you go after that?" continued Frost.
    "To me boy's house. His