‘No. Between you and me, I don’t reckon she’d ever been with a boy or knew anything about sex.’
Frost raised his eyebrows. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Something that happened three months ago. I’m in the shop sorting out the papers for the rounds. Only two of the kids were in, Diana Massey and Jimmy Richards.’
‘Who are they?’ asked Frost.
‘They were both in Paula’s class at school – both just turned fifteen. Anyway, I’m sorting out the papers when I realize they’ve both gone missing. Well, not that I mistrust anyone, but I keep the day’s takings in that other back room there until I can get to the bank, so I sticks my head round the door and what do you think I saw?’
‘Tell me,’ said Frost.
‘Diana’s on the floor, jeans round her ankles, he’s on top of her, jeans ditto and they’re having it away on a stack of Radio Times. Fifteen flaming years old. Didn’t even stop when I yelled at them.’
‘I don’t think I would, either,’ observed Frost.
‘Anyway, I hears a gasp behind me. I turned around and there was Paula Bartlett. She was staring at them horrified. She dropped her papers and just ran out of the shop. It was obvious to me she didn’t know what the hell they were up to. Innocent, that’s what she was.’
‘If our plumber lets us down, we’d better check out this Jimmy Richards,’ said Frost. ‘He might have acquired a taste for innocent newspaper girls.’
While Gilmore was noting down the address, an area car drew up outside and two uniformed officers rattled the door handle. Frost let them in. ‘Stack of pornographic gear in the back,’ he told them. ‘Take it and our friend here down to the station and charge him under the Obscene Publications Act.’
Back to the car. Gilmore slammed the door, hoping this would wake up Burton who didn’t deserve to sleep after causing all this trouble, but to no avail. He was fastening his seat belt when the damn radio called for the inspector. Frost reached for the handset as Gilmore slumped back wearily, waiting for the worst.
‘Can you do a quick job for me, Inspector?’ asked Sergeant Wells.
‘No,’ replied Frost. ‘Gilmore’s got to get home. He’s left his wife on the boil.’
‘It’s on your way, Jack. Probably a false alarm. Number 46 Mannington Crescent. A pensioner, Mrs Mary Haynes. She lives there on her own, but yesterday’s milk is still on the doorstep and her cat’s miaowing like mad inside. The milkman’s phoned us. He thinks something might have happened to her. Take a look, would you?’
‘This is uniform branch stuff,’ snapped Gilmore.
‘The only spare car is loaded down with your filthy books,’ Wells snapped back.
Frost sighed. ‘OK, Bill. We’re on our way.’
The houses in Mannington Crescent were just waking up. A milk float was outside number 46. They parked behind it and Frost shuffled over to the milkman and flapped his warrant card.
Relieved at their arrival, the milkman blurted out the details. ‘Might be nothing in it, but she’s usually so regular. She’d never go away and leave her cat and it’s miaowing like hell in there and yesterday’s milk is on the step.’
‘Couldn’t she have run off with the lodger?’ yawned Frost, following the man to the doorstep.
‘She’s seventy-eight years old!’ said the milkman.
‘Well – hobbled off with the lodger, then?’
‘She hasn’t got a lodger,’ said the milkman.
Frost yawned again. ‘Another brilliant theory shot up the arse.’ He moved to one side to let Gilmore tackle the door.
Gilmore jammed his finger in the bell push.
‘The bell don’t work,’ said the milkman.
Gilmore hammered at the knocker.
‘I’ve already tried that,’ said the milkman.
Ignoring him, Gilmore hammered again. Silence. A look of smug triumph on the milkman’s face. ‘What did I tell you?’
Across the road a fat woman in a shortie nightie called, ‘Milkie! You haven’t left me any milk.’ The milkman signalled he was coming over and she waddled back into her house, acres of fat bottom wobbling below the hem of her nightdress.
Frost winced. ‘It must be my day for horrible sights. You’d better carry on with your round, Milkie. Thanks for phoning.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Gilmore, who was staring at the Cortina, where Burton, oblivious to all this, was still asleep on the back seat.
Frost looked up and down the street, hoping to see the reassuring sight of a uniformed constable who would take the responsibility