forward to grab the handset. ‘Frost to Control, receiving?’ He barked out his orders for all cars, all patrols, to be on the lookout for Gauld’s Vauxhall and to report the sighting immediately.
Half-way back to the station, Frost smote his forehead with his palm. ‘The Oxfam shop! He might try to burn the evidence there.’ He radioed through to the station requesting a man on permanent watch at the Oxfam shop.
‘I haven’t got anyone to spare,’ protested Wells.
‘Just do it,’ said Frost, switching off the set before Wells could reply.
As they roared past a public house they noticed a gang of youths pouring out of an old van and making for the public bar. They seemed to be spoiling for a fight.
He sat in Control, listening to the stream of radio messages, a mound of mangled corpses of half-smoked cigarettes in the ashtray at his side. He hardly looked up when Wells banged a cup of tea in front of him.
‘Bloody Collier,’ snarled Wells. ‘He must choose the busiest flaming night of the week to sod things up.’
‘I sodded it up,’ said Frost, lighting another cigarette and offering the packet to Wells. ‘Collier didn’t have the experience and I shouldn’t have left him on his own.’
PC Lambert, the officer on Control duty, twisted his head. ‘Inspector! Punch up at the Denton Arms. A gang of yobbos smashing the place up. Can I send a couple of cars?’
‘Send one,’ said Frost. ‘I need all the rest.’
‘One won’t be enough,’ protested Lambert.
‘It’s better than sod all,’ Frost told him. ‘Tell it to drive with its sirens screaming full blast. With a bit of luck the pub will empty before they burst in.’ He tossed his cigarette packet across to Lambert. ‘And I want them back searching for Gauld’s car as soon as they’ve mopped up the last drop of blood and guts from the sawdust.’ He sipped his tea and shuddered at the taste while Control directed Charlie Able to the pub.
No sooner was that task completed than Control was in trouble again. ‘Serious domestic at Vicarage Terrace. Neighbours report couple seem to be smashing the happy home up. They can hear kiddies crying. I’d like to send a car.’
‘You’re car-mad,’ admonished Frost. ‘Haven’t you got a foot patrol who could handle it?’
‘It will take a quarter of an hour for the foot patrol to get there. There’s kiddies involved!’ protested Control.
‘The kids won’t get their throats cut. Some senior citizen will if we don’t find Gauld quickly. The bastard’s going to try it on again tonight, I just know it.’
Anxious squawks from Control’s headphones. Lambert turned a permanently worried face to Frost. ‘The fight at the pub is getting out of hand, sir. It’s sprawled into the street. Windows have been smashed and they’re damaging cars now.’
Frost sighed. ‘All right, son. You handle it. Send what you want.’ His mouth felt stale and bitter. The last thing he wanted was another cigarette, but he lit one up. Nothing was going right.
It was Burton who saved the day. Control switched the call to the external loudspeaker.
‘Sod the phonetic spelling, Burton,’ yelled Frost, snatching the handset from Control. ‘Where is the bastard?’
‘He’s parked half-way down Wedgewood Street. I only spotted him by chance.’
At Frost’s raised eyebrows, Control indicated Wedgewood Street on the large-scale map. A derelict side street in an area scheduled for demolition. ‘I can’t think what he’s doing down there, Inspector. All the houses are boarded up and empty.’
Frost nodded and went back to Burton. ‘You got him in full view?’
‘Yes, I’m parked right at the end with my lights off. I don’t want him to see me.’ A pause, then, ‘Damn!’
‘Now what?’
‘He’s turned his lights off. There’s no street lamps down there. It’s pitch black.’
Frost peered up at the wall map. ‘He’s got to pass you to come out.’
‘Only if he stays in the car. If he goes on foot he can cut through any of the empty houses.’
‘Right. We can’t be sodded about any more. If he’s still in the car, arrest him and bring him back here . . . parking without lights . . . any excuse you can think of. And hurry.’ Frost drummed his fingers impatiently as he waited. Then a crackle from the loudspeaker.
‘Have subject car in view.’
‘But is the sodding subject in the sodding subject car?’ demanded Frost.
A pause. Then, ‘Subject car is empty . . . repeat empty.’