DI Jack Frost 01 - Frost At Christmas by R. D. Wingfield Read Free Book Online Page A

thing when the effing cops rob you, isn't it?"
    The station sergeant backed away until the wall stopped him, then spoke in the careful tones of an expert telling his pupil how to defuse a live bomb.
    "Now step back, Sam. Don't sit down. Don't touch anything. Just stand there . . . and whatever you do, don't move! Good. Now we've only got to disinfect that one little spot." He fanned his face vigorously with his notebook.
    The old tramp glowered with red-rimmed, watery eyes set deep in a gray-stubbled, leathery face.
    "Never mind the bleedin' insults. Where's my quid?"
    Wells held up a hand and explained patiently. "Now listen, Sam. You had six pence on you when we picked you up. Six pence is not a quid. A quid is one of these pieces of paper with the Queen's head on it, and you didn't have one. You came in with six pence and you were given six pence when we turned you out. We didn't charge a penny for our hospitality, nor for the fact that you were sick all over our nice clean floor. You had that on the taxpayers." He explained to Frost, "Sleeping rough, drinking meths, and urinating on the gravestones in the churchyard."
    The old man had built up a fresh head of indignation. "I wasn't as bloody drunk as all that. I had a pound note and six pence. Your copper put it in an envelope, and when he give it back to me the quid had gone."
    Wells tried again. "The quid was never there, Sam. Besides, we count the money out and you sign for it as being correct. We hold your evil-smelling mark on a receipt in full discharge of your six pennies."
    Cracked lips curled back to show broken brown stumps. "I never signed no receipt."
    "The cross might have been forged, Sam, but the smell was unmistakable. You were too full of meths . . . you wouldn't have known what you were doing."
    "I know how much I had. I want my quid."
    "Where did you get the pound from, Sam?" asked Frost. "Not been selling your body, I hope."
    Sam spun round and Frost jumped back as the aroma nudged its way toward him.
    "I . . . I found it." It was said with defiance, but he wouldn't meet Frost's eye.
    "So, now you've lost it," murmured the sergeant. "Easy come, easy go."
    A smolder of hate. "That young copper pinched it."
    The station sergeant brought a large thick ledger from beneath the desk and banged it down on the counter.
    "Right, Sam. You've made a very serious accusation. I take it you're going to prefer charges."
    The face screwed up, the red dots of eyes burned as he swung his head from one to the other of them like a rat cornered between two terriers. "And a fat lot of bleedin' good that would do me. You'd all lie your effing heads off."
    He hobbled out into the fresh air. It took a good thirty minutes with doors and windows open to persuade the smell he'd brought in with him to do likewise.
    "You've got to know how to handle these sods," said Wells, poking the ledger back. "Who does he think is going to touch his money after he's wiped his grimy fingers over it?"
    The internal phone buzzed. Wells answered it.
    "Oh. Yes, sir. He's on his way."
    The maroon scarf streaked past his eyes and off down the corridor to Mullett's office.

    "These are the cells," said P.C. Keith Stringer, who had been detailed to show the new man around.
    Clive grunted.
    "You know," explained Stringer. "Where we keep the prisoners until we can get them to court." He pushed open an iron door. "This is the drunk cell with the drain, so we can hose the sick down . . ."
    Clive's impatience burst. "Look, I have been in a police station before, you know. How long have you been on the Force?"
    "Three months," replied the younger man, proudly.
    "And I've been in it for two years - in one of the toughest areas of London. I've forgotten more than you'll ever know, so just show me where things are, don't explain them tome."
    Stringer's face reddened. "Sorry. I was only trying to help." His expression cheered up as the door to the cell section opened and another uniformed man stepped in.
    "Oh,