Frost at Midnight by James Henry

Author:James Henry [Henry, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2018-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Tuesday (7)

‘You’re looking for me, Miss Thomas?’

Frost closed the interview-room door behind him and nodded to Simms. Simms was taken aback that Frost knew the woman, who sat bolt upright at the table, perfectly composed.

‘Ah, at least you have the courtesy to acknowledge you know who I am.’

‘Never forget a pretty face.’

Miss Thomas rolled her eyes. The woman was elegant, in an Eastern European kind of way. She had exotic oval eyes. Simms thought her a couple of years older than him, about twenty-five.

‘You were at the club Sunday night,’ she said.

‘I’m impressed you noticed, what with the lights shining in your face.’ Frost appeared genuinely surprised.

‘Only because Baskin sidled up to you. You were in the front row,’ she added distastefully, ‘and you can always see Baskin coming, no matter what the light.’

Simms watched for Frost’s reaction – if he didn’t know the old man any better, he’d have described him as looking nervous.

‘Was there something in my performance that displeased you?’ she continued.

‘No, no, not at all,’ Frost said, adding hastily, ‘It was very … entertaining.’

‘Then why did you instruct Harry to fire me?’

Frost shook a cigarette out of a half-empty packet and offered her one. She declined. He shrugged, lit his own and inhaled deeply. He glanced at Simms fleetingly, as if he’d only just registered he was there.

‘Is that what Harry said?’ he asked eventually.

She nodded.

‘It’s not true,’ Frost said, standing opposite her, ‘it just is not the case.’

The woman frowned, unsettled. ‘Then why am I without a job?’

‘I don’t know, Karen, but I intend to find out.’ He said this with a determination no one in the room could question. They made eye contact, and now her gaze never left him, as he paced about the confined room.

Simms didn’t know what to make of it. Why was he addressing her by her Christian name? And what was the inspector doing in a strip club on a Sunday night?

Frost stood in front of her, hands on hips, cigarette smoke curling around a pronounced stomach. Both Karen Thomas and Simms waited expectantly for him to expand on his intentions. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

‘Leave your contact details with Constable Simms, and I’ll be in touch before the week’s out with a solution.’

Frost leaned forward and ground out the half-smoked cigarette in the tin ashtray and left the room. What did Frost mean by ‘solution’?

‘Do you have a pen, please, Constable?’

Simms patted his tunic pocket urgently. It was an odd interlude and one that Simms, if asked, would not be able to explain.

Mullett held the phone tightly to his ear as Assistant Chief Constable Winslow delivered a verbal dressing-down over the Denton police force’s appearance on the early evening news. Frost poked his head round the corner of the office door. Mullett beckoned him in. The inspector strode casually over and helped himself to a Senior Service from a packet lying on the super’s desk. He wouldn’t be so brazen if he knew the trouble his little incident had caused.

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