DI Jack Frost 02 - A Touch of Frost

wouldn’t have to hear their awful news and Karen wouldn’t be dead.
    A second ring, longer this time.
    Clare again examined herself in the mirror, adjusted the hem of her sweater, then went to the front door. His eyes followed her. Look at her! Her only daughter dead and she’s preening herself.
    He heard the front door open, then voices. Quite loud voices, not hushed as if they were breaking bad news. A spark of hope flickered. And in they came, first the scrufl one, his voice booming. ‘Morning, Mr Dawson. No news yet, I’m afraid. I take it your daughter hasn’t been in touch?’
    ‘If she had, Inspector, I would have contacted you,’ snapped Dawson, his relief now making him resentful that they frightened him.
    ‘Of course, sir,’ said Frost, blandly. ‘Anyway, we’ve circulated Karen’s photograph and we’ve asked everyone to keep their eyes open, so we might strike lucky soon.’
    ‘Circulated her photograph?’ shrilled Dawson, his mouth agape in exaggerated astonishment. ‘Is that all you’ve done? Good God, man, if Karen were walking about where people could see her, don’t you think she would have phoned me? Face up to facts. She’s being held against her will somewhere, or she’s injured, or even worse . . . what about the woods where that woman was attacked? Karen could be lying there, helpless.’
    ‘We’ve got men searching every inch of the woods,’ Webster told him.
    ‘I’ve put one of my best men in charge,’ added Frost. ‘Detective Inspector Allen. Not very bright, but thorough.’
    ‘Actually, Mr Dawson,’ announced Webster, ‘we’d like to search the house and grounds. Purely routine, but children have been known to hide and accidentally get trapped. This is quite a rambling building.’
    Dawson thought it would be a complete and utter waste of time. He himself had already gone over every inch of the house and outbuildings.
    ‘No harm in being one hundred percent sure,’ said Frost, suggesting that Webster and Dawson work down from the attic while he and Mrs Dawson covered the ground floor.
    Waiting until he could hear the two men’s footsteps over head, Frost gave Clare a friendly smile. That should have put her on guard. But it didn’t. She smiled back. She was wearing an orange angora-wool sweater with flared lemon slacks. The sweater seemed to be moulded on, but she managed to pull it down and wriggle about until it fitted even tighter. ‘Where shall we start?’
    Frost lined up the ends of his scarf, then worried the living daylights out of his scar. It was time to dive in without knowing how deep the water was.
    ‘Mrs Dawson, if your daughter came back to an empty house yesterday, and if there was a man hiding inside, then I am extremely concerned for Karen’s safety. I would want to organize a full-scale police investigation, probably drafting in men from other divisions to help. That would take up a lot of people’s time and cost one hell of a lot of money, but if a girl’s life is at stake it would be worth it.’
    She reached up to the mantelpiece for the knight-in-armour table lighter and sank down in the armchair, hunched up small, clicking the lighter on and off, the flame flaring and dying.
    ‘Before I take such a step,’ continued Frost gravely, ‘I would like to satisfy myself that the unworthy thought that keeps springing to my mind isn’t correct.’
    ‘Unworthy thought?’ she stammered.
    ‘Let me be blunt, Mrs Dawson. It will save time. You’re a sexy bit of stuff. You’re a lot younger than your husband and you’re all alone in the house for most of the day. Women in such circumstances have been known to wile the time away with a bit of spare on the side.’
    She was up, facing him, her breasts quivering with indignation. “How dare you . . . !”
    He gently pushed her back down into the chair. “If it helps to find your daughter I’ll dare as much as I like. All I’m trying to do is see if we can’t eliminate this mystery man from our inquiries.” The lighter clicked on, off, on, off. He felt like doing what her husband had done the night before take it away from her. “I’m asking you, point-blank, can I eliminate him or not?”
    She found the lighter of consuming interest.
    “I promise you, Mrs. Dawson, if he was just here for a bit of spare, I’ll keep him out of it. Can I eliminate him?”
    “Yes, damn you, you can.”
    Frost heaved a sigh of relief. The first hurdle safely over. “I checked with your