DI Jack Frost 02 - A Touch of Frost

bed.
    “Yes. My every instinct tells me that King Dick is still in the area and he’s going to have another bash tonight. So let’s give him someone to have a bash at.”
    “A decoy?”
    “Exactly. Someone young and tasty with enormous knockers.” He opened the door and yelled in the general direction of the duty room, “Sue . . . got a minute?”
    Oh no! thought the dismayed Webster. Please, not Sue!
    Frost pushed a chair toward her so she could sit down, then asked, “You doing anything tonight, Sue?”
    She hesitated, shooting a little sideways glance at Webster, who could only shake his head helplessly.
    “If not, how would you like to be raped?” continued the inspector.
    This was one of the inspector’s little jokes, of course. She giggled as she waited for the punchline. Then she saw he was deadly serious.
    “I need you as a decoy, Sue. For this bloody rapist. I want to nail the bastard tonight.”
    For just a second she hesitated, then she said, “What’s the plan?”
    “It’s Mr. Allen’s plan, actually. I found it in the file. We fit you up with a two-way radio and we stake out the area. You prowl around, oozing sexual attraction, then, when he rises to the bait, we pounce, and then we all go home and have a cup of tea. How does it sound?”
    She smiled. “I’ll do it. After seeing what he did to that kid last night, I’ll do anything to get the swine.”
    Frost patted her hand. “Good girl. Now, we know he likes them young, dewy-eyed, and innocent, so no make-up, no bra, sensible knickers, and simple clothes - and take the. Karma Sutra out of your pocket.” He consulted his watch. “It’s coming up to half past seven. Get off home. Try and grab some kip because, if we’re lucky, it’s going to be a busy night. I’ll send Webster round at ten to pick you up and bring you back here for a final briefing.”
    Webster yawned pointedly. If he could get off now he would be able to drive Sue back to her flat, and to her bed, and they could relax and make up for the disappointment of the night before. “Perhaps we’d all better snatch a few hours’ sleep,” he suggested.
    “Sure,” said Frost vaguely. “But there’s a couple of quick jobs we must do first.”
    They’d better be quick, thought Webster, whispering to Susan that he’d be round at nine, earlier if he could, which would give them at least an hour before she had to get dressed in her decoy outfit.
    “So what are these jobs?” urged Webster when Susan had left.
    “Mm?” said Frost, not listening. He had taken out the packet of action photographs from Dave Shelby’s collection and was finding one of consuming interest. It showed Shelby and a woman, both naked. Shelby was lying on the bed, grinning. The woman, her back to the camera, showing off gorgeous buttocks, was astride him. The punchline to his old joke came into Frost’s head. “I knew it was the foreman,” he muttered to himself, "because I had to do all the bloody work.” He caught Webster’s eye. “Something nagging me, son. Why do I feel I should know where this was taken, and why do I feel it’s important?”
    Can’t the old fool keep his mind on one case at a time, thought Webster as he bent to take a look. Wow! Lucky Shelby! The unknown woman looked a right little raver, and the action shot made him even more anxious to get the hell out of the office and into Sue’s bed posthaste so he could grin up at Sue as Shelby was grinning up at the woman.
    “I’m not sure who the woman is,” said Frost. “I think it’s Mullett’s secretary. But I’m sure I know that bedroom. We’ve been there - and recently.”
    Webster tore his eyes away from the woman’s bottom and studied the rest of the photograph. Behind the lovers was an out-of-focus yellow background. To one side, also out of focus, a brown fuzzy blur that might possibly be a bedside cabinet and which was topped by something that seemed to glow red. He shook his head. It meant nothing to him.
    Then Frost let out a yelp of triumph. “Got it!” He jabbed a finger.
    “That is Mrs. Dawson’s bedroom.”
    Webster picked up the photograph and looked again, trying to compare what he saw with what he remembered. Of course. The out-of-focus yellowish background, the colour distorted by the flash, would be the cream leather headboard. Once that was established the other blurred objects clicked into sharp focus, down to the LED digital clock with its oversized red numerals. There was no doubt