Free Fatal Frost by Henry James Page B

it appropriate to quiz the mother last night.
    Simms shrugged. ‘I guess they figured she was old enough to look after herself. She’s nearly sixteen, after all.’
    ‘Yes, well, they figured wrong.’ He turned to Sergeant Waters. ‘Sorry we’ve not had time for a proper talk. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to give you a spot of direction.’
    ‘That’s OK, no rush – Mr Mullett has assigned me to Detective Simms here.’
    ‘Has he indeed?’ Frost glanced across at Simms, who had his knife wedged up the neck of an HP Sauce bottle. Even the super could go back on a bad decision once in a while. ‘Well, he’s had a change of mind.’ Simms froze in surprise, the bottle held aloft. ‘Seems that as of last night he wants
me
to hold your hand, for a while at least. I’ll be back for you about midday.’
    As he got up to leave he realized what Simms had been referring to in mentioning the cat and the nasty surprise that would have greeted the girl. ‘This place that was done over on Saturday night – any progress?’
    ‘Nothing yet,’ Simms said.
    Frost lit a cigarette, his fifth of the day. ‘Hmm, a burglar with a violent dislike for animals. Perhaps he’s allergic to them, like me.’

Tuesday (2)
     
    SIMMS LED THE way to the CID offices.
    Frost had now moved into Bert Williams’s old office, and Simms had reluctantly inherited his shabby chair and rickety desk. Arthur Hanlon’s absence meant that the desk opposite was also free, so Waters had a base for the time being. The office itself was filthy. It wasn’t entirely Frost’s fault – the dust-caked windows and mould on the ceiling could hardly be pinned on him – but he was infamous for being pathologically untidy. The floor was considered an extension of his desk, and scruffy piles of paper spilled across the carpet, dotted with greasy crumbs and cigarette ash. Clearly, taking his detritus with him when he moved had been too much of an effort, so he’d simply left it behind, and for Simms it was a point of principle not to clear up after Frost.
    ‘Sorry about the mess,’ he muttered.
    ‘Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse.’ Waters shrugged.
    Simms went to raise the blinds in order to open the window and let some air in. He’d not been in the office properly since Friday, and the full extent of the musty waste offended even him, although he’d managed to put up with it for a month. Perhaps it was another uncomfortable example of how Waters’ presence threw a less than flattering perspective on things. Despite his placid demeanour, Simms was convinced the taciturn officer was judging him, and he sensed he may not be coming out of it too well.
    ‘I know I’m only a guest here,’ Waters said, ‘an unwelcome one at that, but might I make a suggestion on the burglary case?’
    ‘Fire away,’ said Simms.
    ‘Maybe we should check again the method of the break-in on both of the recent cases. Apart from the dead animals, we may find other similarities.’
    ‘Already on it,’ Simms said, waving the file at the DS. ‘And no problem with making suggestions – we need all the help we can get.’ The path of least resistance – perhaps it was the best way forward. Waters was smart, and Simms could learn a lot from the more experienced man. There seemed little point trying to fight it. Besides, anything he came up with, Simms could take the credit for once the bloke returned to East London. Not that he’d have the man’s company for long, now Frost was in the frame. Simms wasn’t sure how he felt about that – should he feel slighted?
    ‘Maybe Frost has something too. This warm weather we’ve been having causes animals to moult; plays havoc with allergies.’
    ‘Yeah, maybe. Christ knows it’s been hot.’ Simms reached over the desk to whack on the fan, and opened the burglary file.
    ‘What’s Frost like to work with?’ Waters asked, intent on reminding Simms of Frost’s babysitter role, or so it seemed.
    Simms paused to consider