Frost At Christmas by R. D. Wingfield

Author:R. D. Wingfield
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780552151771
Publisher: Corgi
Published: 2011-02-02T06:43:41.903649+00:00

The station sergeant could only spare two men to help with the digging until he learned that Mullett and the Chief Constable were taking a great interest in the outcome, then he managed to rake up two more and the four "volunteers" were sent to wrap up warm and collect their shovels from the stores.

Frost returned to his office to see if anyone had taken pity on him and had removed some of his paperwork, but another pile had been added, held down by a cup of tea. He took the cup of tea and two personal letters with local postmarks and leaned against the radiator where the hot pipes baked steam from his sodden trouser legs. He raised the cup to his lips, then shuddered. The tea was stone cold.

A fumbling at the door handle, then two steaming cups poked through followed by Clive Barnard who kicked the door shut behind him.

"Sorry I've been so long, sir. I had to wait for the digging party to be served first."

Frost returned to his desk and accepted the hot tea gratefully. "Thought you'd already been, son." He stirred up the thick mud of sugar at the bottom of the cup, then he suddenly realized what the cryptic note on the back of the envelope meant - "Check Aunt - Tea". Of course, Farnham, Mrs. Uphill's regular, was supposed to have gone to his aged aunt's for a nice spot of anti-climax after thirty quid's worth of strenuous exercise and his story hadn't been checked. Clive was detailed to attend to this right away.

"Take the car, son - I'll be going in the van with the grave-diggers. When you've seen the old dear, come down to Dead Man's Hollow and join in the fun. I reckon we'll have to dig down to Australia before we find anything, though." He was to remember this remark afterward. When he was wrong, he certainly was wrong.

Clive's hand was on the door handle when Frost had another thought. "She's probably old and nervous, so you'd better have a woman P.C. along with you. Take the same one as before . . ."

Clive's face lit up. "Hazel!"

"Blimey," said Frost, "Don't tell me I've done something right for a change. Don't let anyone catch you smiling, son, they might think you're enjoying working with me."

As the door closed, Frost ripped open the two envelopes, but he knew it was just to delay what he had to do. Both Christmas cards. He dropped them on the desk, then steeled himself to pull open the top right-hand drawer of his desk. His heart sank when he saw what he expected to see.

A quick tap and the door opened before he could say "Come in."

"I've come for the empty cups, sir." It was Keith Stringer, the young P.C. from the front office.

Frost waved a hand to the window ledge.

"You didn't drink your tea, sir . . ." Mildly reproachful.

Frost looked up wearily. "Sorry, son, by the time I got here it was cold.

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