Read Frost at Christmas for Free Online Page B

enlarged division. Whoever was in charge of the new division would be promoted to chief superintendent and would be in line for an even more glittering position when the Assistant Chief Constable retired.
       Mullett had planned that he would be the next Assistant Chief Constable. He was only too aware how easy it was to slip from grace when so near the summit, but this was not going to happen to him. The decisions and actions he took were made solely in the light of what was best for his career. Sometimes this was not the best thing for the division. But the division would survive: one wrong move and he wouldn't. For this reason, having the Chief Constable's nephew here was a bonus to be cherished. The chief was definite that he wanted the lad to be shown no favors, but Mullett knew how to interpret that. He would see that Barnard was recommended for early promotion entirely on his own merits. It might upset some of his own men with stronger claims, but it was a tough world and there was always another time.
       In the meantime he could congratulate himself on running a good division with some fine men under him; morale and discipline were excellent and crime figures were dropping. If only the division didn't include Detective Inspector Frost.
       A knock at the door interrupted his meditations.
       "Detective Constable Barnard. Welcome to Denton. Sit down, sit down."
       Clive blinked in astonishment at his first sight of the Divisional Commander's paneled office. Its opulence contrasted with the rest of the building like a silken patch on a manure sack. It was easy to see how the limited maintenance budget had been spent.
       Career-man Barnard shook hands with career-man Mullett, each liking what he saw. The Divisional Commander pressed a button, a bell tinkled faintly in the adjoining office, and his efficient secretary, Miss Smith, scurried in with a tray on which rattled a coffee pot and the bone-china cups that were reserved for important visitors.
       Mullett poured for both of them and was just raising his cup appreciatively to his lips when he caught sight of Clive's suit. He blinked, slipped on his reading glasses from his pocket, and peered again.
       "Ahem. Er . . ." Must play it carefully, it might be his uncle's choice. "I suppose the rest of your luggage is on its way with your - er - proper suit?"
       "Yes, sir, "lied Clive.
       The superintendent beamed and sipped happily from his cup. "I've been looking through your file . . . most impressive. And I see you're studying law. Couldn't do better. If I can help you in any way, lend you books--Archbold's Criminal Pleading and Practice, Green's Criminal Costs, plenty of others . . ."
       "Thank you very much, sir." Clive's stomach wished there were some biscuits to go with the coffee. "I'm looking forward to working under Mr. Allen."
       Mullett's face changed. He replaced his cup on its saucer and spooned in some more sugar. "Ah . . . There's been a slight change of plan I'm afraid. Inspector Allen is in charge of our missing-girl inquiry. We've a big search on. You wouldn't know about it, of course."
       Clive knew how to name-drop. "Young Tracey Uphill, sir? I was at the mother's last night with the chaps from Able Baker four."
       "Were you indeed? And before you'd officially joined us! That's what I like to see - keenness. But, as you'll appreciate, Inspector Allen won't be able to spare you any time at the moment, so I've arranged for you to work with our other Detective Inspector - Detective Inspector Frost."
       Oh no! Not that old tramp in the filthy mac!
       "He's a very experienced man." He stared past Clive and considered the grim vista of Eagle Lane framed in his picture window. "He . . . he had a personal tragedy last year . . . his wife. Devoted couple . . . very sad. He took it badly." Mullett's face saddened and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Cancer. Nothing they could do, absolutely nothing.