DI Jack Frost 02 - A Touch of Frost

Miss Gibson?”
    She looked down at the floor and blushed. “I was raped last night.”
    “What, again?” asked Frost.
    Her head snapped up. “Yes, again! Some women are natural targets for filthy men, and, sadly, I seem to be such a woman.” She fumbled in her handbag for a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.
    “Tell me,” asked Frost, striking a match on the wall to light up yet another cigarette, chow many times have you been raped over the past three months?”
    Her lips compressed. “It’s not the sort of thing one keeps count of, Inspector.”
    “But we keep count of them, Miss Gibson. Every time your knickers are forcibly removed, the old computer clocks it up. Now let me see.” He opened the blue folder and flipped through its contents. “Here we are. At the last count it was seventeen times - but each time the doctor examined you he found you were still a virgin. So who raped you, the archangel Gabriel?”
    It began to dawn on Mullett that things were not as he had been led to understand. Why hadn’t somebody told him? He cleared his throat and studied his watch as if surprised at the time. “Dear me . . . You must excuse me . . .” And he scuttled out of the room.
    “We’ll carry on without you then, sir?” called Frost after him. Mullett affected not to hear.
    The woman sat straight-backed in the chair, tightly clutching the handbag resting on her lap. “I might have made mistakes in the past, Inspector, but last night was real.” She dabbed at her eyes again. “You’ve got to believe me.”
    Frost sat down. “If you say you were raped, then of course I believe you, Miss Gibson.Tell us what happened.”
    She reached out for Susan’s hand and clutched at it. “I was walking through Denton Woods last night, a little after eleven o’clock, when a naked man leaped out on me from the bushes. He knocked me to the ground and savagely raped me.” She stared pleadingly into his face. “That’s the truth, Inspector.”
    Frost rubbed his scar. “I’m sure you wouldn’t tell us lies, Miss Gibson.” To Webster’s surprise, the inspector’s voice was strangely gentle. “Can you describe this man?”
    She dropped the handkerchief back into her handbag. “No. I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t let it worry you,” said Frost, patting her hand. “None of his other victims could describe him either.”
    She blinked back her tears and smiled bravely.
    “Would you be willing to submit to a medical examination?” Frost asked. “A lady doctor if you prefer.”
    Her eyes widened in alarm and she firmly shook her head. “Oh no. It would be too humiliating.”
    “I quite understand,” sympathized Frost. “Thank you so much for coming, Miss Gibson. You’ve helped us a lot. I’m sure we’ll catch him now. But in the meantime, stay away from the woods.” He whispered to Susan to drive the woman home, and gave a friendly wave as the door closed behind them.
    “The poor cow always asks for me,” said Frost. “I’m the only one who’ll listen to her.”
    Webster snapped his notebook shut. “Stupid bitch. What a complete and utter waste of time.”
    “Don’t be too hard on her,” said Frost softly. “Imagine how you’d feel if the nearest you ever got to the real thing was making up stories for the police.” He aimed his cigarette end at the waste bin. “Let’s get a cup of tea.”

    Sergeant Johnson was waving frantically as they crossed the lobby. “Mr. Mullett wants to see you right away, Jack. Understand he’s worried about your lack of progress with the rape inquiry.”
    “Blimey!” exclaimed Frost. “I only took it over yesterday.”
    The phone rang. “Denton police,” said Johnson. He listened, then smiled. “Yes, madam, he is.” He held the phone out to Frost. “One of your lady friends, Jack. Won’t give her name.”
    Frost thought for a moment. “It must be Shirley. I think I was supposed to take her out last night.” He sent Webster to collect two teas from the canteen and reached for the phone but, seeing Johnny’s ears flapping, decided to take the call in the privacy of his office.

    He sat at his desk trying to think of an excuse for Shirley. He saw the report from Forensic and skipped through it. “If they want to search, let them bloody well do it,” he muttered, pushing it away. He picked up the phone. “Hello, Shirley.”
    There was silence from the other end, then a woman’s voice said “Mr. Frost . . . ?” It wasn’t Shirley.
    “Yes, Frost