A Killing Frost Part 49

His radio crackled. 'Control to Inspector Frost.'

He clicked on the mike. 'Frost.'

'999 call, Inspector. House fire.'

'We can see it from here. Where is it?'

'Dunn Street, Inspector. Number 23.'

Frost frowned, and then he jerked back in his seat. 'Twenty-three Dunn Street. Kelly's house!'

'Yes, Inspector. The fire brigade have recovered two bodies. They suspect arson.'

'We're on our way,' said Frost, screeching the car into a U-turn.

There were fire engines and police cars with flashing blue lights, which gave a macabre tinge to the cl.u.s.ter of dressing-gowned figures woken by the noise who had come out to gawp. Most of the lights in the street were on and a uniformed officer was trying to keep the onlookers back.

A traffic policeman flagged Frost's car down. 'Sorry sir, you can't - ' he began, before recognising the inspector and waving him through to park behind an ambulance, its rear doors wide open.

The chief fire officer spotted Frost and hurried over. 'Definitely arson, Inspector. Petrol doused everywhere.' He looked across to his men. One team was rolling up their hoses, theother was spraying water as small pockets of flame re-ignited. 'We've got the fire under control, but there's not much left of the house.'

'You found bodies?' Frost asked.

The fireman nodded. 'A man and a woman . . . burnt to b.u.g.g.e.ry The ambulance crew are taking them to the morgue now.'

Two ambulance men were humping a body bag on to a stretcher. 'Hold it a minute,' called Frost, hurrying over. They put down the stretcher and waited.

Frost knelt and unzipped the black body bag, turning his head at the smell of burnt flesh that seeped out. The face was twisted, distorted, blackened, the hair burnt off, but there was no doubt about the identification. It was Bridget Malone. He pulled the zip down further. The body was clad in the charred remains of a dress. Frost stared down, shook his head, then straightened up. 'Let's have a look at the other one.'

One side of Patsy Kelly's face had missed the flames, but the other was burnt away, showing blackened jaw and cheekbone. He was dressed in a charred jacket and trousers. 'Has a police surgeon seen the bodies?'

'Yes, Inspector,' said the ambulance man. 'He didn't stop long. Said to tell you that they're dead and could have been burnt in the fire and if you wanted to know more . . .'

'. . . ask that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Drysdale,' said Frost, finishing the sentence for him.

'You're a mind-reader, Inspector,' grinned the ambulance man. Frost stepped back and told them to carry on, then returned to the chief fire officer.

'What time did the fire start?'

'About an hour ago. We got a phone call from a neighbour about fifteen minutes later. It was well alight by the time we arrived and we were here within minutes.'

Frost checked his watch. 'So it would have started around two o'clock. They're fully dressed - b.l.o.o.d.y late to be fully dressed and not in bed. And if they were fully dressed, how come they didn't raise the alarm themselves and get out of the place?' A slamming of doors made him turn his head to watch the ambulance back out and drive off to Denton General.

His mobile chirped. Taffy Morgan.

'Allen and the woman have just returned, Inspector. We've arrested them, like you said. They're yelling blue murder. They want to pick up some things from the house.'

'Don't let them in the house,' warned Frost.

'Cuff them, bung them in your car and wait for me. Don't take them to the station yet.'

They were halfway there when Morgan phoned again. 'The woman's demanding to use the bathroom in the house, Inspector. Says she's busting for a pee.'

'She can pee all over your car seat if she likes,' replied Frost, 'but don't let her into the house.' He knew what she was after. The cow wanted to destroy those photos and flush them down the loo. Well, hard luck, darling, it's not going to happen. Well, hard luck, darling, it's not going to happen.

'What is this all about, Inspector?' asked Allen. 'I bring my ladyfriend back to her house and that Welshman arrests us and handcuffs us and tries to make out we killed those kids.'

'And I really must go to the toilet, Inspector,' said Janet Leigh. 'It is urgent and this is intolerable.'

Frost gave a deceptively sweet smile. 'We're going to nip you down to the station in a minute, love, where you can pee to your heart's content. In the meantime we'll be getting search warrants for both your houses, and if we don't find photographs and videos tying you both to the murder of Debbie Clark, I'll apologise before you've had a chance to pull the chain.' He stopped abruptly and sniffed, then pressed his nose to Allen's jacket. 'Fee, fi, fo, flaming fum!' He beckoned Hanlon over. 'Take a sniff at the gent's jacket, Arthur, and see if you can smell what I can smell.'

Hanlon took a tentative sniff. He frowned. 'Petrol?'

Frost turned back to Allen. 'We've just come from a house fire with two dead bodies. The place stunk of petrol.'

Allen gave a scoffing laugh. 'You're surely not suggesting we had anything to do with it?'

'Then tell me why your clothes reek of petrol.'

'I filled the car up when we were out. I spilt some on my coat.'

'I knew there must be a reasonable explanation,' beamed Frost. 'Show me the petrol receipt, so I can apologise for my evil thoughts.'

'I don't keep receipts. I threw it away.'

'Ah well, it will be on your credit-card statement.'

'I paid cash.'

'Never mind. All of these garages have got CCTV cameras in case punters drive off without paying, or buy petrol to burn houses down. What was the name of the garage?'

'I forget.'

'Don't worry about it, son,' said Frost. 'We've got teams of cops who can go round every petrol station and check through their CCTV footage, and as soon as they find one of you dousing your coat in petrol, I'll be grovelling my apologies.' He snapped his fingers. 'I almost forgot.' He called to Morgan, 'Take the gentleman's car keys and have a look in the boot. Don't touch anything, just tell me what's in there.'

Allen and Janet Leigh stared at each other grimly, but said nothing. Morgan unlocked the boot. 'Two empty petrol cans, Guv, and they stink of petrol.'

'Petrol cans usually do,' said Frost, beaming at the pair. 'You're making it too easy for us. Lock up the boot, Taff, and get Forensic to examine the car in situ and see if they can tic it in with the fire at Kelly's place.' He turned back to Allen. 'Where's the girl?'

'What girl?'

'You know b.l.o.o.d.y well what girl. Jan O'Brien.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Allen.

Frost turned to the woman. 'Please, MissLeigh,' he said. 'You're already in this up to your neck. Where is Jan O'Brien?'

'I'm sorry, Inspector. Like my friend, I don't know what you're talking about.'

Frost wound his scarf round his neck and opened the car door. 'To save us smashing your front doors in when we get the search warrants, you might like to give us your keys.' He held out his hand.

They gave him their keys.

Frost breezed into the lobby at four a.m., no longer tired. Morgan followed him in, clutching the envelope containing the photos Frost had found in Janet Leigh's house, together with a polythene sack containing clothing for forensic examination.

'We've got the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds,' Frost told Bill Wells. 'Photos and a camcorder from the tart's house, and Bristol police have found more photos and tapes at Allen's pad. There's still no clue as to where they've hidden the girl, but I'll beat it out of them.'

From the cells at the end of the corridor a drunk was roaring a filthy song. Wells frowned. 'Listen to the ignorant b.a.s.t.a.r.d. He doesn't even know the right words.' He yelled down the corridor, 'If you don't shut that bleeding row, I'll pee over your breakfast.'

The singing stopped immediately.

'Appeal to their better natures,' nodded Frost. 'It always works. Let's have Allen in the Interview Room.'

Frost watched his cigarette smoke wriggle its way to the ceiling, past the red lights which indicated that the ca.s.sette recorder and the video camera were functioning. He felt good. He had enough evidence, without any admission of guilt, to send Allen and Leigh down for life. He tapped one of the camcorder ca.s.settes. 'We found these video tapes hidden under a pile of clothing in the wardrobe in your girlfriend's bedroom. We played them through. They show a naked Debbie Clark being raped and strangled.'

Allen wouldn't look at them. He spoke to the floor. 'No idea how they got there.'

Frost took the camcorder from the box. 'Is this your camcorder?'

Allen gave it a brief glance, shrugged, then resumed his study of the Interview Room floor.

'Just in case you need a memory jog,' said Frost, 'we've checked out the warranty and it's in your name.'

'Yes,' muttered Allen, 'it's my camcorder.'

'There's a slight fault on one of the runners - it scratches the tape . . . did you know?'

'No.'

'There's scratches on those tapes, which our Forensic boys say proves they were taken with that camcorder.'

'No comment,' muttered Allen.

Frost sighed. 'Not the old "no comment" lark? I find that dead boring, even though it always convinces the jury of a person's guilt. When me and my mates are in the station late at night andcan't decide who to beat up, we always pick the "no comment" ones.' He pushed the camcorder to one side. 'Right. We've got you nailed for that, let's turn to the other girl.'

'What other girl?' Allen asked.

'It's late and I'm tired,' said Frost. 'Don't sod me about. You know b.l.o.o.d.y well what other girl. Jan O'Brien.'

Allen's eyes widened and he gave a scoffing laugh. 'You must be hard up for suspects - I know nothing about any other girl.' His brow creased in thought, then his expression changed. 'Look . . .' He paused. 'Turn off the tapes.'

'No flaming fear,' said Frost.

'I've got something to say off the record that will be of interest to you. You'll get the conviction you want for Jan O'Brien, even though I'm not involved.'

Frost signalled to Morgan. 'Turn them off.' Morgan pressed the Stop b.u.t.ton and the little red recording light blinked and went out.

'And the video,' said Allen.

Morgan switched that off.

'This had better be good,' said Frost. Allen leant back in his chair. 'Right, as you're going to find out, I'm on those tapes without the mask, so it's sodded up my chance of claiming I know nothing about it. What do you reckon I'll get?'

'Well, it won't be community service or a flaming fine,' said Frost. 'Life, without a doubt.'

'And Janet?'

'That b.i.t.c.h,' snorted Frost, 'was worse than you. Debbie trusted her. Life as well, probably in solitary confinement otherwise the other inmates would tear her to pieces.'

Allen shuddered. 'I want to do a deal.'

'We don't do deals,' said Frost, 'and in your case we don't flaming have to. We've enough on the pair of you to get convictions, even from a jury of do-gooders.'

'Listen to what I'm offering first. I'll put my hand up to the two kids. That will avoid a long-drawn-out trial with people screaming abuse at us. I'll give you the name of the bloke who was going to distribute the tapes to his customers. I'll even put my hand up to Jan O'Brien, although I know nothing about her.'

'What do you mean, you know nothing about her? When Janet Leigh phoned the Denton Echo Denton Echo - ' - '

'Never mind what she said. It wasn't true. Bridget Malone was blackmailing us. She threatened to tell the police where she found the kid's phone if we didn't come up with ten thousand quid. Neither of us had that sort of money. The bloke who was going to buy the tape wanted solid proof it was Debbie Clark before parting with the cash. We wanted the fuzz to admit it was Debbie, but you wouldn't, so we tried pretending we had Jan O'Brien as well, but that didn't work either.'

'Which is why you killed Bridget and Kelly?'

'Yes.'

'Flaming heck,' snorted Frost. 'Pierrepoint would turn in his grave if he knew what wewere giving life sentences out for. Then what about Emily Roberts - the body we found on the railway embankment? You'll be telling me you didn't kill her either?' This was a long shot. Frost's money was still on Graham Fielding.