First Frost by Henry James

do business together.’
    ‘This is a large bank. I don’t handle every account,’ Michael Hudson said. ‘As to our falling-out … I’m not sure I can quite remember the details, though it would have had nothing to do with business. To be quite honest, Steven is one of those people who are always rather full of themselves. Likes to be a big fish.’
    ‘You mean he’s a bit flash?’ said Hanlon.
    ‘I suppose you could say that. But family is family. I was very close to his father, my late brother.’
    ‘Any idea where Steven might be now?’ said Frost.
    ‘No idea, I’m afraid. I’d help if I could.’
    The bank manager was still looking very pale. Yet Frost felt little sympathy for him – he just didn’t seem quite concerned enough. Truth was, Frost had always distrusted bank managers. ‘Any idea at all where Julie could be?’ he snapped.
    ‘No. I barely know her.’
    ‘Well, if you hear anything, anything at all,’ said Hanlon, ‘we’ll expect you to get in touch with us right away.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ said Hudson, dabbing his forehead again. ‘This has all come as something of a shock – we were in France. Only got back late last night. This is the first I’ve heard about it. I’m sorry I can’t help more.’
    ‘Not that sorry,’ said Frost, unable to help himself.
    ‘I beg your pardon? Superintendent Mullett happens to be a friend of mine. I’d watch what you’re inferring.’ Hudson eyed his large, multi-buttoned desk phone.
    Frost extinguished his cigarette with his fingertips, putting the butt in his mac pocket. ‘Then you’ll know all about his aims to clear up crime in Denton, from domestic abuse to fraud and corruption.’
    ‘Look,’ said Michael Hudson, adopting a more conciliatory tone, ‘I’ve always been rather wary of Steven.’
    ‘But you were more than willing to lend him some cash?’ quizzed Hanlon.
    ‘That was a business decision. We are a progressive bank – we like to help local businesses. Anything we can do to help the economy move out of recession.’
    ‘All right,’ stated Frost, ‘no need to take up any more of your precious time.’ He moved closer to the desk for one last nosey. ‘But if your nephew does pop by for a large withdrawal, let him know we’ve got all the ports covered.’
    Frost, with Hanlon struggling to keep up behind, exited the grand office, passing the secretary at her desk in the executive lobby.
    On the ground floor Frost saw a clutch of smart young female tellers sitting behind half an inch of bullet-proof glass. He chanced a smile in their general direction, wondering for a second whether he should have gone into high finance rather than rotten police work.
    ‘I thought we were on to something,’ he said, on the pavement. They were walking towards the car, parked in the far corner of Market Square. He stopped to light a cigarette, cupping the flame. ‘I’m not so sure now.’
    ‘You think money’s behind all this?’ said Hanlon.
    ‘Doesn’t look like it. Come on.’ Frost increased his pace. ‘Let’s get over to the hospital, see how Wendy’s doing.’
    ‘And the little Fraser girl,’ Hanlon added, making for the driver’s door.
    As they were leaving Market Square, Control bleated into life. A jogger had discovered a man floating in the canal, and the corpse was now at the county pathology laboratory. DC Sue Clarke was already there. However, as the most senior detective on duty, Frost was to join her immediately.
    The sudden, mid-morning sunshine glistened on the wet, winding country road to the county lab. Frost sank further down in the passenger seat and expelled smoke, blinking at the glare. His mind was juggling the disappearances of Bert Williams and Julie Hudson, conjuring up very different emotions. And then there was the girl’s father, Steven Hudson. ‘I’m coming round to your new look,’ said Hanlon, breaking the silence. Neither had said a word since leaving Market Square. ‘Adds a certain