‘What a beautiful dog, Mr Knowles. He looks just like he did in the video.’
Dawn was scratching at the small window of the main interview room as Knowles and his wife were hustled in. They sat sullenly, refusing to say a word until their solicitor was roused from his bed. Outside, from a police van in the car-park, boxes and boxes of videos, raw tape, and video cameras were carted into the station.
The door opened and Frost slouched in and mumbled a few words to PC Collier who was guarding the prisoners. Collier nodded and left to stand watch outside, ready to warn the inspector of the solicitor’s arrival.
Frost dragged a chair over and sat facing Knowles and his wife. ‘Alone at last, Councillor.’
‘I’ve nothing to say,’ said Knowles in a flat voice. His wife, a superior-looking blonde some ten years his junior, stared aloofly ahead and wrapped her fur coat tighter around her. The early morning cold still clung to the room.
Slowly, Frost lit up a cigarette. A clatter of footsteps in the corridor outside made him look up in concern, but he relaxed as they passed on. He lowered his voice. ‘I might be able to do a deal.’
Knowles’ tiny eyes glinted. He was a pretty shrewd judge of character and he had this foul-mouthed tramp summed up as someone who could be bought right from the start. He leant forward. ‘I’m listening.’
‘The girl you filmed performing with your dog. Did you know she killed herself?’
Knowles lowered his gaze and found something on the floor that held his full attention. ‘I heard something to that effect,’ he said vaguely.
‘It would do you a lot of good if we could stop it coming out in court,’ said Frost.
‘You could arrange that?’ whispered Knowles.
‘I can arrange for the videos of the girl and the dog to go missing. That part of the charge could not proceed and would not be mentioned in court – unless your side raised it, of course.’
‘We’re not likely to do that,’ said Knowles, mentally working out how much this piece of good fortune was likely to cost him. ‘Naturally, I would be extremely grateful if the tapes did go missing . . . extremely grateful. The death of the girl was unfortunate – nothing to do with me – but the court might not see it in that light.’ He gave Frost a patronizing smile. ‘Tell me how you would like me to express my gratitude?’
‘You admit to all the other charges. Both of you. You don’t dispute any of the facts. You plead guilty. You don’t make us call any of the kids involved to give evidence. In return, the tapes go missing, which should knock at least three years off your sentence . . . and the girl’s mother will never know what perverted things you pair of bastards made her daughter do.’ He stood up and moved to the door. ‘I want a “yes” or “no” right now, or the deal’s off.’
Mullett strode up and down his office, pounding his fist, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You’ve lost a box of video tapes? Vital evidence in a serious case? I can’t believe it. Even by your sloppy standards, this is disgraceful. I take it you’ve looked everywhere?’
‘Everywhere,’ mumbled the inspector, head bowed, looking very ashamed of himself.
‘This entire operation was mismanaged from the start. You dashed into it, head first without any thought of the consequence should proof not be forthcoming.’ He returned to his desk and looked again at the typed, signed statement on his desk. ‘You can count yourself lucky that Knowles has decided to do the right thing and make a full confession of the other offences. It does show a certain amount of character. I’m sure it will count in his favour at court.’
‘I’m sorry it turned out to be your personal friend, sir,’ mumbled Frost, trying hard to suppress a grin of delight.
Mullett glared at him grim-faced. Two could lie if they wanted to. ‘He’s no friend of mine, Frost. I never trusted him from the start.’
Friday morning shift
Liz slammed the eggs and bacon on the table and stamped off back to the kitchen without a word. ‘Thanks,’ grunted Gilmore, eyeing with wary disfavour the flabby bacon floating in grease and the under-cooked eggs. He liked the bacon crisp and the eggs well done, but he held his tongue. She was spoiling for a fight and was just waiting for him to complain.