Part 39 (1/2)

Jordan's radio spluttered. 'Charlie Baker calling. We've just spotted Kelly and the woman driving away from the twenty-four-hour chemist in Market Square. Do we follow?'

'Don't follow,' said Jordan. 'See if you can get to the house before them. Park round the back behind Taffy Morgan. I'll let you know if I want any more help.'

He drove as quickly as he could to Kelly's house, still trying to work out how to warn Frost, who hadn't got his radio or mobile. He braked sharply at a public telephone box with a couple of yellowing, tattered phone directories dangling from a chain. He dashed in. The kiosk stank of urine and the floor was littered with stale, damp papers and takeaway containers. Most of the pages had been torn out of the directory; but he hoped Kelly's number was there. It was! He rammed 20p in the slot and dialled Kelly's number. It rang and rang. 'Answer the flaming thing,' hissed Jordan. 'You've got to get your a.r.s.e out of there b.l.o.o.d.y quick.'

Frost froze. The shrill ringing of the phone sounded as if it could be heard halfway down the street. 'Stop, you sod, stop,' he muttered angrily. But the d.a.m.n thing went on and on and on . . .

'The b.l.o.o.d.y fool's not going to answer!' cursed Jordan, slamming down the phone. Charlie Baker wouldn't be there yet and the minutes were ticking away. There was nothing for it, desperate measures were called for. He'd have to involve accident-p.r.o.ne Taffy Morgan.

The ringing stopped. The subsequent silence screamed. Frost waited for a couple of seconds, then lifted the receiver. He shone his torch on the girl's number and dialled. A pause. He waited, holding his breath. A woman's voice announced, 'The person you are calling is unavailable. If you would like to leave a - ' d.a.m.n. Of course. He'd switched the d.a.m.n thing off to conserve the battery. He hung up, switched on the mobile and waited for it to register. He dialled again. ' ' d.a.m.n. Of course. He'd switched the d.a.m.n thing off to conserve the battery. He hung up, switched on the mobile and waited for it to register. He dialled again. 'The number you are calling has not been recognised . . .'

Double s.h.i.+t. He flicked his torch at the sc.r.a.p of paper. d.a.m.n, he'd transposed the last two numbers. He drew a deep breath and, carefully checking each digit, slowly and deliberately he dialled again. One digit to go when . . .

Banging, cras.h.i.+ng, then footsteps thudding up the stairs.

Bleeding h.e.l.l! Kelly was back and no one had warned him. He clicked off the torch and stood stock still, holding his breath, his heart going ballistic, in the dark.

The footsteps stopped outside the bedroom door.

'Guv . . . Where are you? It's me - Morgan!'

Frost sighed with relief. Taffy b.l.o.o.d.y Morgan! 'You frightened the s.h.i.+t out of me, you Welsh sod. What are you doing here?'

'Get out quick, Guv. They left early. They'll be here any minute.'

'So why didn't you phone me?'

'Your phone is switched off. Come on, Guv.' He tugged at Frost's sleeve to hurry him up.

A car drew up outside.

Frost twitched back the curtains and took a quick peek at the street below. Flaming a.r.s.e holes! Kelly's car was reversing into the drive.

'The back way,' hissed Frost. 'It's our only chance.'

The sound of a key turning in the lock downstairs.

Frost froze. Too b.l.o.o.d.y late. There was no way they could get down the stairs and out with out being seen.

'Guv,' bleated Morgan.

Frost flapped a hand to silence him. 'Keep bleeding quiet and pray.' What excuse could he use . . . they'd heard a burglar so they broke into the house the back way? Sod it. Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a flaming lamb. He dialled the last digit. And nothing happened. He'd risked everything for sod all.

They stood in the dark, waiting to be caught red-handed. For a brief moment there was screaming silence. No - not silence!

Very faintly, powered by the dying breath of a failing battery, the mobile was ringing. He had dialled Debbie's number and it was ringing. It was Debbie's phone!

They had to get out unseen. Once out he would get a search warrant, turn the house over and 'find' the phone. If they were caught inside the house, Kelly's brief could claim the evidence was planted.

Downstairs the front door opened. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. The toilet door opened and closed. The sound of someone being violently sick. One in the toilet, but where was the other one?

Kelly's voice called, 'Are you all right up there?' He began ascending the stairs.

This is it, thought Frost. We've b.l.o.o.d.y had it We've b.l.o.o.d.y had it.

Then there was a hammering at the front door. 'Police. Open up.'

Kelly paused on the stairs. 'Police?' he echoed. 'What the h.e.l.l do you want?'

Footsteps retreated down the stairs. The door unlatched and opened.

PC Simms's voice announced, 'Sorry to bother you, sir. Is that your car on the forecourt?'

'What if it b.l.o.o.d.y is? Is it an offence to park your own b.l.o.o.d.y car on your own b.l.o.o.d.y forecourt?'

'We'd like you to check it, sir. We just spotted someone trying to break into the boot.'

'The b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Did you get him?'

'I'm afraid not, sir.'

'Typical, b.l.o.o.d.y typical.'

Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside.Frost could hear m.u.f.fled voices Kelly was on the forecourt.

I owe you one, Simms, thought Frost.

He listened to more sounds of retching from the toilet. 'Come on, Taff. We're going!' They tiptoed down the stairs. Halfway across the living room, Frost stopped dead. 's.h.i.+t.'

He was still holding Debbie's bleeding mobile!

Prat, prat, stupid flaming prat! If he couldn't get the d.a.m.n thing back before Kelly returned it would be curtains. There would be no way they could use the phone as evidence - a.s.suming he hadn't been booted out of the force long before then.

'What's up, Guv? Why have we stopped?'