The cold morning still managed to be luminously bright and filled Frost with optimism. He was happy to be in the Metro, with Art Pepper playing on the cassette deck, as he drove northwest, foot down, with a renewed vigour and purpose, to purchase himself a flat. A new home, somewhere he could call his own. And he was determined to be in his new place as quickly as possible. This fresh resolve to be out of the Jade Rabbit pronto was brought about by him getting his timing terribly wrong, and bumping into the venerable Mrs Fong.
He didn’t have a clue what she was saying, but in all honesty it didn’t take an interpreter of Cantonese for Jack Frost to get the message: she wanted him out. At 8.30 a.m. Frost had slipped ninja-like out of his room, along the hallway and down the creaking stairs, which he managed to make not creak due to his stocking-footed stealth – he was holding his old suede slip-ons in his hands. The front door of the restaurant was in sight, but as he got to the bottom of the stairs, she was coming out of the kitchen. Her inscrutable features screwed up in distaste when she caught sight of him. He still had the bandage, now rather grubby, around his head; the shiner was in full florid bloom; and his lip was swollen and curled like that of a bad Elvis impersonator. Frost attempted a smile through a face that was still puffy and tight with pain and said good morning. To no avail; seemingly his condition didn’t elicit any sympathy from the Fong matriarch. She just looked at him as you would an overflowing toilet, and fixed him with a baleful glare. She pinched her nose with one hand, then pointed at his feet with the other, and let loose a burst of loud Cantonese. Hearing the commotion, Kenny Fong quickly appeared on the scene, coming out of the kitchen.
‘Frost, you must put your shoes on!’
‘I thought it was a Chinese custom to take them off.’
‘No, Frost! Shoes on. Mum reckons that’s why her beloved parrot Monty flew off, because of your feet, they stink!’
Frost thought about it; Monty did used to let out a mighty and sustained squawk and flap about in his cage whenever Frost slipped off his shoes.
‘I never knew parrots had such a highly developed sense of smell, I thought that was dogs.’
‘Frost, you don’t need that much of a developed sense of smell with your feet, no offence. Pen and ink! Pen and ink!’
‘Eh?’
‘Pen and ink! Pen and ink!’
Frost had momentarily forgotten that Kenny and his family were fans of Chas & Dave, and when they weren’t listening to their records they were reading through their book of rhyming slang, inexplicably, to improve their Queen’s English.
‘Pen and ink – stink?’ questioned Frost.
‘Yeah, stink! Even up the apples and pears, can still smell your plates of meat!’
‘Well, Kenny, you know what they say about coppers’ feet – that’s why they call us the Plod. Spend all day on them, bound to hum a little. But it’s the start of the day, no pong now?’
Kenny Fong looked as furious as his mother. ‘No pong now? No pong now? You taking mickey?’
Frost held up the brochure for his potential new home, said he wouldn’t be here much longer and made his escape. He went straight to the phone box at the corner of the road and phoned Jason Kingly.
As he pulled the Metro into the car park of Paradise Lodge, Frost was met by Kingly. The young estate agent was looking keen and today was wearing a Prince of Wales double-breasted suit that looked far too big for him. In fact, it looked like he was wearing a sandwich board advertising Prince of Wales check.
‘Morning, Mr Frost, beautiful day to be purchasing a luxury yet very affordable home,’ he said in his best patter. But as Frost got out of the car, Jason stopped smiling and looked concerned. ‘You been in the wars?’
‘Eh? Oh, yeah, all part of the job.’ They shook hands. ‘I’ve got an appointment with the bank manager later today, should sort out all the paperwork for the mortgage this week.’
They made their way towards the entrance of Paradise Lodge.
‘Should go through OK, will it, Mr Frost?’
Frost smiled. ‘I don’t think I’ll have any problems, I saw the bank manager only yesterday, in fact. In church.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t strike me as a church-goer, Mr Frost.’
‘Well, I say a church. There was a woman of the cloth there. And then she took it off.’
Jason looked confused. Then worried. ‘Just out of curiosity, how did you get …?’
‘A good kicking?’
The estate agent nodded.
‘Have a guess.’
Kingly guessed and shrugged as he answered, ‘Playing rugby?’
‘Sports were involved, but not rugby. It was horse racing. And I didn’t fall off a horse. It’s a long story, Jason, but I was at the races and I’d had a few drinks, and I was …’ Frost stopped in his tracks as something caught his eye. ‘I thought you said all these flats were empty, no one had moved in yet.’
‘I did. They haven’t. By the way, the office didn’t tell me, what did you say you did for a living? Your job?’
Frost ignored his question and went over to the flat on the ground floor that had piqued his interest. He peered through the window. The flat was expensively decorated and furnished. In the living room was a black leather and chrome-framed three-piece suite arranged around a deco-style coffee table. All very swanky and tasteful, thought Frost, getting ideas for maybe how his own place could look with a bit of effort. But what really grabbed his attention was what was on the sleek coffee table. There was an empty bottle of wine and some scrunched-up cans of Castlemaine XXXX, and a big box of fried chicken that someone had laid waste to. Frost grinned; now he could really imagine what his place would look like. He pulled himself away from the window to be confronted with Jason, who was looking concerned.
‘Well, Mr Frost?’
‘Well what?’
‘What is it you do, professionally, for a living?’
Frost understood: the cuts and bruises, they didn’t give a very good impression, and the estate agent obviously didn’t want hooligans moving in to the newly built properties and lowering the tone – and future asking prices. Frost, to put Jason’s mind at rest, pulled out his wallet and warrant card. ‘I’m a detective inspector with Denton CID. So, who’s moved in there, then?’
Kingly should never commit a crime, thought Frost, as he looked quizzically at the young man – his mouth was wide open, his eyes were rounded in terror, and his bum-fluffed pasty face was colouring up a treat.
‘Jason, you all right, lad, something you want to tell me?’
‘It’s a show flat. We show it to people so they can see what it would look like furnished. We usually have some flowers in there, a bowl of fruit on the side table, maybe some books on the shelf. That sort of thing.’
‘So how do you account for an empty bottle of plonk, some tins of Aussie lager and a chicken dinner?’
‘Err, yeah, well, between me and you, Mr—’
‘Inspector Frost.’
‘Yes, of course, Inspector Frost. I’ve been using it for … for entertaining. I’ve got a new girlfriend, you see. We use it sometimes for—’
‘All right, I get the picture. I take it you’re not supposed to entertain birds in here, right?’
‘They’d go mad if they found out, I’d be sacked immediately.’
Frost gave him a nudge and a wink. ‘Don’t worry, son, your secret’s safe with me. I’d do the same in your shoes. So why didn’t you show me this show flat? Looks nice, and it’s on the ground floor.’
‘It was a bit out of the price range you were looking at, Inspector.’
‘Don’t worry about that, the mortgage is not a problem. My bank manager is putty in my hands. It’s the bank that likes to say “Yes”.’ Frost then muttered to himself, ‘Anything so I don’t tell his wife.’
‘It’s a two-bedroom flat with an extra boxroom, for a growing family, that type of thing.’
Frost considered the show flat again – it looked enticing. Maybe young Jason was on to something, maybe he had to expand his horizons, plan for the future. The bump on the head had woken him up to new ideas and possibilities, mainly that he didn’t want to end up on his own, come the day of reckoning. And if he did meet the right woman and a kid came along, Frost would be ready now, he felt.
‘Inspector Frost?’
Frost glanced round to discover Jason marching off ahead towards Paradise Lodge. Frost called out to him to hold his horses. ‘I want to have a look in here.’
The estate agent stopped and reluctantly made his way back over to Frost, who was again peering in at the window of his potential future home.
‘You can’t. I don’t have the keys.’
‘You don’t need them,’ said Frost.
‘I do, how else are we going—’
‘What caught my eye, Jason, was the window – it’s not properly closed.’ Frost slipped his fingers in the gap and pulled it open. ‘I’m a copper, we’re trained to spot things like this. Crime prevention is half the work.’
Kingly froze, with that soppy wide-eyed look on his face that was beginning to annoy Frost.
‘We can’t … we can’t go in … I don’t have permission.’ Jason quickly looked around. ‘People might think we’re breaking in …’
‘What people? There’s no one around, they’re empty flats. And relax, I’m a policeman. Plus, I don’t think your superiors will mind me having a nose around if I decide to spend more money, do you?’
‘We can’t go in, we’re not supposed to, I don’t have permission,’ repeated Kingly.
With a hint of blackmail in his voice, Frost reminded him, ‘That’s never stopped you in the past, eh? You and your bird?’
Frost climbed through the window and was soon standing in the living room. Jason followed him in. And as he did so, he called out to the DI in a very loud and incongruous fashion, ‘No, Inspector, I don’t suppose they will mind you coming in … what with you being a policeman!’
Terry Langdon’s heart was pounding in his chest, so loudly was his panic reverberating around his body that he was sure they could hear the thumping racket. Cold sweat prickled his spine. He tried to slow his breathing, to calm himself. The gun felt heavy in his hand now. He’d been carrying it about with him, just in case, just in case something like this should happen. But now it felt real, it didn’t feel like a toy, a prop, it felt like something he was going to use, a tool to deploy. To kill if need be. And he would.
But first he’d kill Jason. That little idiot – letting someone into the flat – what the hell was he thinking of? Though in all fairness to him, it did sound like the other man’s idea. In fact, from what he’d heard, the fella sounded like a pushy bugger. Insisting on taking a look, not taking no for an answer. He could hear Jason trying to usher him out. And in all fairness to the kid, he did try to warn him, by shouting out that he was coming in.
Langdon could hear them getting closer. The man had insisted on a tour of the flat, and after obviously starting in the lounge, Jason had taken him to the bathroom, the kitchen and the two smaller bedrooms, and now they were fast approaching the master bedroom – where he was hiding.
As they entered it, Terry could just make out their figures as he peered through the slatted door of the fitted wardrobe he was standing in. The gun was fully loaded, and cocked. He could hear them perfectly now. The man had a strong voice, sounded commanding.
‘Not bad, not bad at all. Tell me, Jason, does the bed come with it?’
He saw the man bouncing up and down on it, trying it out.
‘I bet this has seen some action, eh? You and your girlfriend, what’s her name? I want some discount on it, seeing as it’s been used. One young enthusiastic owner, lots of spins around the block but not a lot of mileage on the … Are you all right, son?’
‘Yes. I … I was just thinking I’ve got another appointment … I should really be going.’
‘That’s not the attitude.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Well, far be it for me to tell you your business, but you’re looking at it all wrong. Are you sure you’re OK? You’re looking a bit peaky.’
‘I’m all right, Mr Frost.’
Frost. He had a name for him now. He wished he hadn’t heard it – it made it just that bit more personal. Terry Langdon watched as the man got up from the bed and moved around the room, opening the door to the en suite and peering in. Langdon heard the shower curtain being swished aside, and he congratulated himself for not hiding in there.
Frost came out of the bathroom and stood by Jason. There were some shuffling sounds. A quick burst of flame and then the familiar aroma of cigarette smoke.
‘What I mean by your attitude is, well, I’m here, and I’m ready to buy. You might rush out of here to your next appointment and discover they’re messing you about. They just like spending their time looking around properties. Me, I’m a live one. I’m hot to trot. I’m a goer. Get my meaning, Jason?’
‘I … I think so.’
The man, Frost, was moving again. Footfalls drawing closer. He was now inches away from the wardrobe. It was bound to be his next port of call after the bathroom. That’s what people do with doors – they open them, natural reaction. Frost would take a look to see if he could fit all his clobber in there. You always check the wardrobe space. It was the next logical move, no matter how much Terry Langdon wanted it to be otherwise, and it was going to happen. It was his destiny. His fate. To kill, to be a murderer.
Langdon raised the gun to chest height. He was pressed into the corner of the wardrobe now. Maybe if Frost only opened one door he wouldn’t see him. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Frost was going to open both doors to take a proper look. And when he did, Terry was going to shoot him. Put a bullet right in his head. After all, he had to. He knew they were looking for him, prime suspect, and he was done for. What difference would one more make?
‘No, if you want to succeed in this game, think of it this way, son. It’s a bit like you having one of your birds back here – they’re sitting on the flash couch, you’ve had your pizza, your bottle of vino, then you decide to go to the local nightclub to see if you can pull a better-looking bird. That’s where the expression “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” comes from.’
‘Does it?’
‘Of course it does, what else can it be?’
Frost’s hand was on the doorknob now. It creaked, it edged open. Langdon stopped breathing. He didn’t want to see his face. He would shoot the bastard through the door. He had a good silhouette of the man against the light from outside. He aimed the gun at his head. Nothing mattered now, just getting away. Getting away as far as he could, then who knows, send for Melody to join him once he’d got fixed up in another country, maybe Spain. Canada, yes, that was better, somewhere far away from Denton, a fresh start for them both. But to do that he had to get away first, and for that to happen he had to kill this man now. Frost. The door opened further and Terry Langdon’s forefinger squeezed itself around the trigger …
‘Bloody hell!’ shrieked Jason.
‘What?’
‘A parrot! Look!’
‘I’ll be damned … It’s … it’s … Monty!’
Both men rushed from the room. With their footsteps fading into the distance, Terry Langdon gave a huge sigh of relief, and then eased his finger off the trigger. As he carefully nudged the wardrobe door ajar, he heard Jason and the man called Frost noisily scrambling out of the lounge window … Frost seemed to be whistling and calling out the name of something … a name Terry couldn’t make out. Then he heard Frost swearing. He swore like a trooper. Then more muttered voices from outside before he heard someone clamber back in through the window.
The wardrobe door was quickly opened and Langdon took aim again.
‘Don’t shoot!’
Langdon lowered the barrel from Jason’s forehead.
‘Bloody hell, Terry, why didn’t you just hide under the bed?’
‘Where’s … Frost?’
‘Gone back to the station, probably.’
‘What station?’
‘The police-bloody-station! He’s a copper! Didn’t you hear me? I shouted it out when we came in, said the word “policeman” really loudly.’
Langdon shook his head, stunned by his narrow escape. ‘No, I was too busy looking for somewhere to hide.’
The fugitive stepped out of his hiding place and now stood in the middle of the master bedroom. A pale-looking Jason sat on the bed, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt; not that it made much difference, as his scrawny neck barely touched the sides of his fifteen-inch collar anyway. It was more an expression of despair than a necessity. Because Kingly now realized that he was way out of his depth and was drowning in panic.
Langdon wasn’t doing much better. He was pacing up and down, and every now and again taking a peek out of the bedroom window just to make sure that Frost wasn’t attempting a re-entry. The gun was hanging loosely from his hand and looking lethally dangerous and out of control, like it could slip from his sweaty palm at any minute, rebound on the thick nap of the carpet and let off a shot. Jason kept one eye on the revolver, and the other eye on his erratic cousin.
Kingly had always admired his cousin Terry. He was older, richer, better-looking and it was sort of taken for granted that he was smarter – though Jason was swiftly re-evaluating that. So he was happy to help him, give him some time to sort this mess out, and Terry assured him that he was innocent and all would be OK. But Jason could see that Langdon was disintegrating before his very eyes: he looked sallow and gaunt. It had only been a few days, but Kingly could tell that he was a nervous wreck. Right on the edge. And Jason feared he was going to take him over it with him.
‘That was close.’
‘Yeah. Then I really would have been a murderer.’
The word murderer freaked Jason out some more, and he began to scratch maniacally at the heel of his left hand, where there was a livid patch of itchy eczema that flared up at times of stress and crisis. ‘I knew it was a mistake letting you stay here …’ he started to say, thinking out loud, and not considering his cousin. ‘If they find out you’re here I’ll lose my job … Sod that, I’ll lose my freedom too, probably … I don’t want to go to—’
‘Calm down, Jace, for God’s sake! It’s only for another day or so. I’ve got a passport and some money coming to me. Soon as they’re delivered I’m out of here, out of Denton, out of the country.’
‘Bloody hell, why didn’t you bring your passport and your money with you?’
‘Same reason I didn’t hide under the bed! Heat of the moment.’
‘Maybe you should hide somewhere else? I’m not trying to get rid of you, it just might be safer now the flats are on the market. People will start coming around to take a look, you’ll be seen—’
‘No. This place is even more perfect now. Frost’s been here and seen it’s empty. He won’t look again, it’s perfect.’ Terry smiled a satisfied smile at his young cousin. ‘And all thanks to your quick thinking. What did you tell him? You brought birds back here? Though to be honest, Jace, I don’t know how he swallowed that. Let’s face it, you couldn’t bring chewing gum back here if it got stuck to your shoe, never mind a bird!’ Terry laughed and ruffled his cousin’s hair. He then looked at his hand, grimaced, and rubbed the residue of hair gel on Kingly’s Prince of Wales shoulder.
Jason didn’t appreciate it. ‘Cheers!’
Terry pinched his cheek and winked. ‘I’ve got a nice burgundy leather box jacket you can have, looks the business, Italian. Alberto Armani, Giorgio’s more talented brother, said the fella on the stall.’
Langdon laughed, but it was hollow, and certainly didn’t entice Jason to join him.
‘I won’t need it where I’m going,’ continued Terry, stepping up the bravado. ‘Down to Spain, it’s lovely in Marbella this time of year. Then off to Canada, maybe Australia, the world is my lobster, as they say. Yeah, that could be just the ticket, Australia, a new country, a new life. The Gold Coast, full of good-looking birds down there, mate. You can come and visit, I’ll see you right.’
Kingly watched as Terry resumed pacing up and down. He was grinning at the prospect of Australia, but Jason could hear the trepidation tugging at the edges of his cousin’s voice, like he knew, at heart, that it was all just a pipe dream.
‘Maybe I could talk to Frost,’ offered the younger man. ‘He likes me.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Well, if you tell him the truth, he’ll listen.’
‘No, no, no! Look, it’s not as simple as just handing myself in.’
Terry sat down on the bed next to Jason. With the gun resting across his lap, it was now pointed at the young man. It may not have been aimed at him intentionally, but Jason still tensed up.
‘But I reckon he’s all right,’ said Kingly. ‘He seems like a good bloke, a fair bloke. Maybe I could have a word.’
Terry turned sharply towards his cousin. Now the gun was aimed at him on purpose. ‘Are you fucking mad? Don’t you dare! Don’t you even think about it! This isn’t kids’ games we’re playing here!’
Jason raised his hands in surrender.
Terry looked bemused at this reaction. ‘What the hell are you doing now?’
‘You’ve … you’ve got a gun pointed at me … a gun.’
Terry glanced down at the shooter in his hand, and seemed almost as shocked and distressed as Jason to see it aimed at him. He stood up, went over to the side table and put the gun in the drawer. He then stood over Jason and put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
‘I’m sorry, Jace, I wouldn’t hurt you – don’t be silly, you’re family. But don’t talk about calling the Old Bill again, not Frost, not anyone.’
‘But you didn’t do it! You’re innocent. You told me that you didn’t kill George Price.’
‘Kill? What have you heard? Is he dead?’
Kingly shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything.’
Terry sighed. Jason couldn’t tell if he was relieved that he wasn’t dead, or upset.
‘If he’s gone, then so be it. I’m not shedding any tears over him. You know what he did to my dad, to your uncle, don’t you? You know how upset your mum was when he died.’
Jason knew, but in fact he was sick of hearing it from Terry. The way he went on about what had happened all those years ago made Kingly believe that Terry had in fact shot George Price. Then there was the wife, Melody. Jason had seen her in the flesh at the races, and in some old Page Threes where there was even more of her on show. She was a cross between Sam Fox and Linda Lusardi, Jason reckoned, though she had never quite hit the heights, the twin peaks, if you will, of those two Sun ‘scorchers’. What broke Jason out of his soft-core reverie was Terry’s hand on his shoulder, but its grip was hard this time, not comforting.
‘Jason?’
Kingly glanced up at him. Langdon’s large brown eyes – bedroom eyes, as they had been described by more than one of his conquests – now just looked dark with foreboding. He looked a lot harder without his moustache. The distinctive ’tache was the first thing to go in an effort to distinguish himself from his wanted poster. And his lips were thin, and prickled with tension.
‘You do believe me, don’t you?’
Jason nodded. Too scared to actually say yes, just in case Terry caught the doubt in his voice.
‘Good. But I’ll tell you something, I do know who did shoot George Price, and that’s why I can’t go to the police, Frost or anyone else.’
‘I understand. You don’t want to grass. So who shot him?’
Terry looked grim and shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know. But it’s not just about being a grass, it’s about being believed. You don’t know what goes on in this town, corruption right to the top. I’ll be glad to get out of this place. So trust me, and no more talk about telling Jack Frost anything – you swear?’
Jason swore on his mother’s life, no more talk of Jack Frost. ‘You wouldn’t have shot him, would you?’
‘Who?’
‘Inspector Frost?’
Langdon didn’t answer, and Kingly took that to mean that he would have. And by the look in his eyes, the desperation etched on his face, Jason believed that he would have, too.
‘Poor sod,’ said Jason. ‘He doesn’t know how close he came. A parrot saved his life.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘There was a parrot, an actual parrot. He was sitting on the windowsill.’
‘You’re joking!’
‘Nah.’ Jason started laughing, like he’d never seen a parrot before – much less a wild one in Denton.
‘I thought you’d just said that to distract him?’
‘No, the parrot looked like he wanted to come into the flat. Frost started calling out to him. Then he flew off, out of sight. Frost kept shouting out his name, though.’