and handed one each to the detectives. ‘Get that down you!’ Frost eyed the tea-coloured gin swilling about in the cup with tea-leaves floating on its surface. It was a bit early in the morning, but what the hell. He downed it in one gulp.
Mrs Proctor nodded her approval and topped up her own cup from the bottle. ‘I don’t usually indulge this time of the morning, but after seeing her, in that chair and all that blood . . .’ The recollection required a quick swallow and a second helping.
Frost nodded sympathetically. He noticed a line of birthday cards on the mantelpiece. ‘Someone’s birthday?’
She suddenly burst into tears. ‘Mine – and not a very happy one. A bloody fine present, finding your next-door neighbour butchered.’ She dabbed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’ Tottering over to the mantelpiece she took down one of the cards with a picture of a basketful of kittens. ‘This is her card. The very last card she ever sent me.’
‘Very nice,’ said Frost, unenthusiastically.
She sniffed derisively. ‘I hate cats – they stink the bloody place out. Still, I expect she only bought it because it was cheap.’ She leant forward confidentially. ‘I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but she really was a tight-fisted old cow.’
‘You don’t say!’ said Frost.
‘I do say. Her purse always looked as if it was pregnant . . . it was packed with notes, but you never saw her put her hand in her pocket to buy you a drink.’
Frost gave a disapproving shake of the head. Mrs Proctor started to say something else then burst into tears. ‘Here am I running the poor woman down and she’s lying dead in her chair.’ She raised a tear-streaked face. ‘It was awful . . . when I went in there and saw all that blood . . .’
‘I know it’s upsetting,’ soothed Frost, ‘so I’ll get this over as soon as I can. You borrowed the Daily Mirror from her?’
‘I borrowed it at eight o’clock. I went to return it at ten, but she wouldn’t answer the door.’
‘Was that unusual?’ asked Gilmore, distastefully eyeing the gin slurping about in his sugar-encrusted cup.
‘Bloody unusual. She was such a mean old bitch, she wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t returned her paper . . . afraid I might run off with it. I banged at the door. No reply. So I went to bed.’
‘Then what?’
‘This morning I expected her to send Interpol round to arrest me for hanging on to her lousy paper, so I tried her door again. Still no reply. I thought she might be ill with that flu virus thing, so I let myself in.’
‘How did you get into her flat?’
She fumbled in her apron pocket and produced a key. ‘I’ve got the spare key to her flat and she’s got the one to mine.’
Frost nodded. The maverick key explained.
‘I didn’t think I’d be able to get in with the key as she always put on the bolts and the chain. But it opened, and I went in and . . .’ Her body shook at the recollection.
He leant across and patted her hand. ‘I know it’s difficult, love. Just take your time.’ At last, after several false starts, she managed to stem the flow and bravely nodded her willingness to continue. ‘When you saw her last night to borrow the newspaper, did she say she was expecting anyone?’
‘No. She just gave me the paper like she always did . . . bloody begrudgingly.’
‘After that, did you hear anything?’
She blinked at him. ‘Like what?’
Like a bloody woman being disembowelled, you stupid cow, thought Frost. ‘Anything at all that might help us?’ he asked sweetly.
‘No – I had the telly on. I like to read the paper with the telly on – it gives me something to occupy my mind.’ She shivered. ‘Poor Doris was terrified of something like this happening ever since she heard about this Granny Ripper maniac. She was going to get a stronger chain put on her door, but she left it too late.’
‘The chain wouldn’t have helped her,’ said Frost. ‘She let this bloke in like an old friend. Did she have many friends?’
‘Hardly any. She was such a tight-fisted cow, no-one liked her and she hardly ever went out – except to bingo and the club. The senior citizens’ club – it’s run by the church.’