DI Jack Frost 01 - Frost At Christmas

parents were out."
    "And what did you do there?"
    "What do you think?" The blue eyelid closed in an obscene wink.
    The kitchen door opened and the tea emerged.
    "You won't tell me mum?" Audrey whispered anxiously, the twelve-year-old again.
    "Not unless I have to," murmured Frost. "Ah . . . tea."
    So they sipped their tea and chatted and suddenly it was like a family party with everyone talking and Frost gently flirting with the girl's mother who he'd got to parade for them in the white fur coat, Clive's eyes were on the woman police constable who had slipped off the greatcoat and peaked cap and was laughing at the inspector's antics. The cap had hidden thick auburn hair which tumbled to her shoulders. She was lovely.
    A sharp pain in the ribs from Frost's elbow. The inspector swiveled his eyes toward Audrey. The girl was examining the perfection of her right shoulder. To do this she had pulled back the short sleeve of her teeshirt leaving the arm bare. And there it was, on the top of her right arm, a brown birthmark - the birthmark last seen in black and white on the headless nude photograph found in Tracey's bedroom.
    As soon as her mother took the empty cups into the kitchen, Frost grabbed the girl.
    "Ever had your photograph taken in the nude, Audrey?"
    "Of course not." But her eyes were frightened and her hand tugged down the sleeve.
    "God can hear you telling these lies," purred Frost, his face moving close to hers.
    "Piss off, you old bugger," she snapped.
    "Arseholes," murmured Frost, adding sweetly as Mrs. Harding returned, "I was just asking your little girl what Father Christmas was going to bring her this year."

    Back in the car, Frost radioed through to Search Control. George Martin told him the Old Wood had had a perfunctory search but was scheduled for detailed coverage the next morning. The vicarage grounds had been covered thoroughly.
    "Hmm," said Frost, scratching his face thoughtfully. "Better rake up as many men as you can for an immediate search of the woods tonight. It'll be tricky in the dark, but if the kid's there, speed's vital." Outside, the wind was shrilling to gale force.
    Give didn't need further directions once he was piloted back to the main road, so the inspector was able to relax in his seat.
    "Well," he said, "I don't know what was sticking out the most - your eyes or that kid's chest. Oh, sorry - forgot we had a lady on board." He beamed at the woman P.C. in the back seat.
    She smiled back. "Don't mind me."
    "I'll tell you a little story," said Frost, and Clive's heart sank. Not another of his dubious reminiscences! He gritted his teeth and concentrated on his driving.
    "I was sixteen," continued Frost, "and I'd been knocking about with this girl - Ivy Standish her name was - and blimey, was she hot stuff! She'd let you do anything with her - anything except swear. She couldn't stand swearing, so if your trembling hand fumbled on the last button of her cami-knicks and you inadvertently said 'Sod it', that was your lot; you were sent packing, no matter how high your state of expectation. Anyway, to cut a long and boring story short, her birthday came along and her mum invited me to the party. It was going to be a surprise, but it turned out to be a bloody shock. You know how many candles she had on her cake? Eleven! I could have got fourteen years for that, so I had my slice of cake and left, hurriedly."
    Wishful thinking, thought Clive, not believing a word.
    When the car reached the Market Square the woman P.C. asked to be dropped off.
    "Are you on stand-by duty then, Hazel?" asked Frost. "Tell you what, I'll get off here and walk. Young Clive will drive you home.''
    They watched Frost, his shoulders hunched, his chin dug deeply into his scarf as he braved the wind to reach Eagle Lane. The girl gave Clive directions.
    "Why, you don't live far from me," he said. "Tell you what, why don't we drop off at my place and have a cup of coffee?"
    To his astonishment she agreed. He wondered if Frost was expecting him back right away. But damn it all, he'd been on duty nearly thirteen hours now and surely was entitled to half an hour's break.
    It seemed colder in his room than outside. He rammed coins down the meter's hungry throat and turned the gas fire on full. She sat on the unmade bed, hands thrust deep in her pockets, and watched him.
    "Soon be warm," he said, and dashed into the kitchen to make the coffee, filling the percolator with hot water for quickness and dumping it on the