Detective Inspector Barnaby had been called out of bed. His sidekick, Sgt. Troy was waiting at the scene of the crime. Barnaby pulled up in his Vauxhall Carlton; how he wished he could have been given a classic car like his old mate Inspector "One Jag" Morse.

The cold December night chilled him through to the bone, as he approached his Sergeant briskly. It was a quiet night in Midsomer red-light district.
 
"Good evening Sir. Sorry to have woken you, but we think it's him again" said Troy, anxiety in his voice as he spoke.

"No, no. You're alright. I'll put my womanising on hold for the evening. Let's have a look then. Are you sure it fits the profile?" the Inspector checked. They wandered across to the pile of snow beside the road. Troy consulted his notebook and read aloud to the Inspector.
 
"Her name was Mrs. Snowy, about 6 days old. She lived in the back yard of that house over there. We've informed the family that live there of her death; the two kids that built her are being comforted by the parents" Troy advised. Barnaby looked at the mutilated remains of the snow woman before him, shaking his head in disgust. She was barely recognisable as a snow being at all.

She had been attacked from behind first with a coal shovel to the back of the head, which had made it fall off. She had next been savaged so ferociously, that her killer had left her resembling someone's front lawn after shovelling the drive. Her snow internals had spilled out, as a result of the vicious stabbing to the snow stomach; he'd stuck a philips screw driver in one of her pieces of coal, and had pulled her top up to expose her (slush) puppies (sorry!). There he'd left her, laid in a pool of her own snow. Barnaby's experience told him whoever had done this was probably a fellow snow being, and was probably known to the victim. He also knew that due to the violence used, the attacker would be absolutely drenched in her snow.

"What sort of maniac could sleigh (sorry again) another snow person in this fashion Troy? What cold-hearted swine could actually do this?" Barnably wondered aloud, clearly distressed at the scene before him.

"I dunno Sir, but my heart melts for the family" Troy quietly told the Inspector. "We do have a witness though sir, the bloke who found the body said he saw a snowman running from the scene as he approached." Troy's anxiety now turned to excitement, as he brown - nosed up to the boss. "He's over here" he added.

The two chaps walked over to where a bloke was sat on the arse end of a police car, a blanket draped over him, and holding a plastic cup of coffee with two hands, to show he was both cold, and a little shaken by what he had seen.

"Good evening Sir, I understand you saw something useful as you made this horrific discovery?" Barnaby quizzed the witness.

"That's right. I was driving my grit spreader, doing the roads see, and I spotted what I thought was just a pile of snow. Only when I got closer did I realise it was actually a dead snow woman. Then, as I climbed out of my truck, I saw a snowman running from behind the parked car over there. He was covered in snow, he must have done this... this.. " the poor man broke down due to trauma.

"That sounds like our snowman. Can you describe him?" the Inspector asked, clearly excited by the immediate progress he was making on the case.

"Well, [sniff] he was white, between 4 & 5 feet tall with a big, round head and a scarf. He had branches for arms, and his eyes were jet black, really evil looking. His nose looked just like a carrot, and oh, on his head, he was wearing either a top hat, or a plant pot."

Inspector Barnaby pulled Troy to one side. "It's him Troy, that's our man! He's struck again. Is no snow woman safe from this monster?" he whispered.

"You can't be sure it's him Sir, not yet"

"Listen, you heard the description! He only strikes in the thick of winter when it's snowing. This is his MO. It has to be him, and I reckon we'll get him, he can't be far away. Come on, let's do a yard to yard search of these houses. Leave the body here a while longer, if you put her in the ambulance she'll catch her death of warm."

The Inspector led the way to the first house on the relatively small cluster of houses that were adjacent to the murder scene. When they reached the third yard, instinct told Barnaby he was on to something. As they peered over the fence, they saw an 8 day old snowman who'd been assembled by young Billy Trinder and his best mate Nobby Taylor, two local mischevious scamps who lived in the neighbourhood. They entered the yard and Troy started asking the snowman questions.

"Excuse me Sir, but can you tell me where you were about one hour ago?"

"Sure, I was stood right here just chilling out, where I've been for the past week or so." replied the snowman. Just then, the snowman tried to make a dash for it, but Troy pulled his gun out. "Freeze!" he shouted. Barnaby lost control, and grabbed the snowman by the scruff of his scarf.

"Listen to me Mr!" snarled Barnaby, "I know it's you Frosty. I've been hot on your heels the past few christmas's, but you've always managed to melt before I nabbed you. Well today the games up! You might appear cool on the outside, but on the inside I can see your shitting ice cubes.  Come on, admit it! You murdered that young snowgirl in cold blood, leaving a chilling scene for that poor lorry driver to stumble on. Come on, have the snowballs to admit to your crimes! You're just a cold - hearted killer."

The snowman started crying. "Oh, please help me, please! I can't help myself! I get voices you see in my head, telling me to go out and rid the gardens of these disease ridden vermin. It started just as a little kinky game at first you see. I started flashing me frozen privates, and then progressed to a bit of sexual assault. It just snowballed from there 'til I ended up murdering."

"Right!" said Troy, slamming the cuffs on him, "There'll be no Walking In The Air for you, young fellow me snow lad. You're nicked!"

His confession sealed his fate. Barnaby had done it again. Another crime solved and another killer headed for the cooler. But he knew as ever, there would always be a next time.

There was always a next time, in the village of Midsomer.