Hard Frost

Seventeen

It was the younger sister, the bubbly nurse, who opened the door. She blinked her surprise at seeing Frost back again so soon.

"Trivial matter," he said, following her into the chintzy lounge where her sister, Millicent, was watching the television. She pressed the remote control to switch it off, then turned to greet their visitor. She did not seem at all happy when she realized who it was. "Sorry to bother you both," said Frost, lowering himself down into an armchair and loosening his scarf. He started patting his pockets, smiling apologetically. "Now where did I put it? Ah!" He produced the typed list of names, which he unfolded and studied. "You used to live at Woodside Lane?" The nurse kept her face impassive, but from the corner of his eye he saw the older woman visibly start: she snatched up some knitting then pushed it away.

"That's right," said Julie. "A long time ago." She sounded almost too casual.

"I'm a bit puzzled as to why you didn't tell me you used to live there."

Julie frowned. "Why on earth should we?"

Still watching the older woman, whose hands appeared to be shaking vigorously, Frost said, "Because that's where we found the body, right near where you used to live… the man you said never called here."

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Julie, wide-eyed and incredulous. "He was found there?"

"You know damn well he was," snapped Frost. "In a coal bunker, right opposite your old garden."

"How on earth were we to know that?" replied Julie. "You never told us where he was found."

He tried to hide his dismay as his mind raced over their previous conversation. She was right. He hadn't told them. Damn, damn and bloody double damn! His one ace trumped.

Julie sat on the settee next to her sister and took her hand. "Millie isn't very well, inspector. We've told you we know nothing about this man, so unless there is any other way we can help…?" She stared at him, her expression frank and open, but somehow, he knew she was lying. All right, he thought, if it's lies you want…

"I hate to suggest you're not telling me the truth, Miss Fleming, but we have a witness…" He looked again at the sheet of paper as if confirming details. "A witness who saw the dead man, Lemmy Hoxton, come into this house on the day in question. And he never saw him come out again."

The nurse flushed angrily. "I resent the implication. If this man called here, why on earth would we try to pretend he hadn't?"

"Why indeed?" Frost gave his enigmatic smile which implied he knew everything. But he knew damn all. He was floundering. He stared at Julie, a long, hard stare. She returned it, her gaze unwavering. Game, set and match to her. His bluff had failed.

But he hadn't been watching her sister.

"Tell him, Julie. For God's sake tell him and get it over with."

She was standing, shaking, her face white.

"Tell me what?" asked Frost.

Julie moved protectively in front of Millie, and tried to get her to sit down. "You can see she's not well. Would you please leave now."

"What does she want to tell me?" repeated Frost.

Julie signalled her sister to keep silent, then glared defiantly at the inspector. "It's nothing. She doesn't know what she is saying."

Frost stood up and sighed wearily. "It might be better if we all went down to the station."

"All right," said the nurse, patting her sister's hand and gently pushing her back on to the settee. She sat down beside her. "Yes, that man came here. Yes, he robbed us, and then he left."

"He robbed you?" said Frost. "And you did nothing about it?"

She stared at the floor. "We didn't want anyone to know what he had taken."

"Which was…?"

She hesitated, drew a breath, and put an arm round her sister who was starting to sob quietly. "Photographs."

"What sort of photographs?"

"Explicit photographs. Photographs of…" She looked at her sister. "Photographs of us doing things…" She lowered her eyes and her voice was a whisper."… using things."

Frost's jaw dropped. He wasn't sure he had heard correctly, then he remembered what Liz had said about them. "What sort of things?"

She flushed brick red. "Do we have to go into details?"

"You use them on each other?"

"Yes." She was now staring straight through him to the far wall.

"But you are sisters?"

"No. We live together. We have a circle of friends, we go to the church… We thought it best to give the impression that we were sisters, but that isn't the case."

"So Lemmy discovered your secret?"

"Yes. He took the photographs and jewellery and money. He threatened to blackmail us if we told the police."

"And where were the photos and jewellery and stuff kept?"

"In the bedroom."

"The connubial bedroom?"

An angry frown. "Of course."

Frost pushed himself out of his chair. "Show me."

"I protest. Surely this isn't necessary…?"

But Frost was already half-way up the stairs. Still protesting, she followed him, leaving Millie, face tear-stained, on the settee. He opened a door to a daintily furnished room with a double bed. He felt disappointed. He had expected mirrors on the ceiling, black sheets, whips and leather knickers. It was chintzy like the lounge. He tugged at the top drawer of a mahogany dressing-table. "He took the jewellery from here?"

She was standing by the door. She nodded. "Yes."

He looked in another drawer. Tucked away under a pile of neatly folded underwear was a grey plush-covered box with a gold clasp. He opened it. Inside were gold neck chains, a locket, two jewelled brooches, a cameo watch and a heavy gold and ruby bangle. He showed it to her. "How come he missed these?"

She looked away and said nothing.

"I'm waiting for an answer," said Frost. "You said he took your jewellery, but your jewellery is still here." He smiled at her. "Perhaps you then went out and bought some more, in which case just show me the receipts and I'll slink away with my tail between my legs."

She was engrossed in the pattern on the carpet.

He pulled open other drawers. In the bottom one he found a wad of coloured Polaroids bound with elastic bands. He flicked through them. The two women naked and intertwined. The nurse, wide-eyed and panting, had a stunning figure. "You take a good picture," said Frost. At the back of the drawer, the sex aids. The object he brought out and held aloft was obscenely realistic. "Alas poor Yorrick," he declaimed. "I knew him well."

She winced. "Must you be so unpleasant, ins rector

"If I'm pleasant, people lie to me," he said. He didn't take your jewellery, he didn't take your family snapshots and I'm damn sure he didn't take your money. Lemmy would never leave without them… not unless he was dead." He picked up the pink and red tipped appliance, waggled it, then slapped his palm with it. "This wasn't the murder weapon, I hope?"

She looked away, screwing up her face. "You're quite disgusting, inspector."

"Lemmy's body was pretty disgusting when we fished it out of that coal bunker. You know the one I mean… next to your old house."

"We've got to tell him, Julie."

They hadn't heard her come in. Millie was holding tightly on to the door frame as if she was ready to collapse.

"Yes," said Frost. "You've got to tell me." He waited while the nurse took the other woman's arm and gently led her over to the bed, then sat beside her, tightly gripping and patting her hand. Frost nodded for Millie to begin, but it was the nurse who spoke.

"I was home when he called. He must have thought it was only Millie in the house, but I had a migraine and was lying down in the back bedroom where it was cooler. It was so hot that day. All I had on was a nightdress and I was lying on top of the bed. Millie let him in. He did all the things you said… got her to turn on the kitchen taps while he came upstairs to the bathroom, ostensibly to flush the toilet. I heard him in our bedroom, opening drawers, so I got up and went to see what he was up to. He was at the dressing-table, his back to me."

"This dressing-table?" pointed Frost.

"Yes. He'd opened the bottom drawer and found the photographs and the other things. When I shouted at him, he spun round, a dirty grin on his face. He wouldn't hand over the photographs. He said if I wanted them back, I would have to pay. He said…" Her voice dropped and Frost had to lean forward to catch what she was saying. "He said, "Why not try the real thing?" Then he grabbed me and tore off my nightdress. I struggled and tried to get away, but he was too strong. He pushed me over to the bed. He was going to rape me. Thank God Millie heard the noise and came running in." She turned and smiled at the other woman who took up the story.

"I heard Julie screaming so I grabbed the rolling pin and ran up. His trousers were gaping open and he was forcing Julie back on to the bed. I hit him… hit him… again and again. He turned and stared at me, then he collapsed on the floor. I prayed he was unconscious, but Julie said he was dead."

"You didn't call an ambulance, or a doctor?" asked Frost.

Julie looked up. "There was no point. I'm a nurse. I know when someone is dead."

"And you didn't consider calling the police?"

"No."

"You were being attacked… he was trying to rape you… you were screaming in fear of your life. I can't see any jury convicting you, especially when they learnt what a bastard Lemmy was."

Julie shook her head hopelessly. "Too much personal detail would have come out."

"But it's all going to come out now, isn't it?" said Frost. "All the lip-smacking details." He put a cigarette in his mouth, but didn't light it. "You hid the body?"

"We wanted to put him somewhere where he wouldn't be found for a long time. Millie thought of the coal bunker near the old house."

"A good place," said Frost. "If we hadn't been looking for a missing boy, we might never have found him." He lit the cigarette. "You did something else to him. His fingers?"

The nurse shuddered. "Yes."

He dribbled out a stream of smoke. "Why did you do it?"

"We'd just painted the bathroom. He must have touched the paint. It was all over his fingers. We tried to get it off, but we couldn't."

"Why was it important you got it off?"

"It was our own special colour. The shop mixed it for us to match the bathroom curtains." She saw Frost still looked mystified. "The shop keeps all the details of these special mixes in case you want a repeat order. If the body was found, we thought you could have traced the paint back to us."

Frost gave a wry smile. "You wasted your time, love. I wouldn't have been that bleeding clever."

"We scrubbed and scrubbed, but it wouldn't shift," said Millie. "Then Julie said we would have to…" She left it unsaid. "We waited until it was dark, then took the body to our old place. Every day from then was a nightmare. We kept expecting to read in the papers of someone who hadn't returned home. Nothing. So we thought he had no relatives… no-one who would miss him. We were lulled into a sense of false security. We even began to fantasize that it never really happened. And then you came…"

"Yes," nodded Frost in sad agreement, 'and then I came." He pinched out the cigarette and dropped it in his pocket. "Grab your coats, ladies. Let's go to the station." He kneed shut the drawer with the photographs. Bloody hell, he thought. The press are going to have a field day with this one.

In the car the older woman was sobbing bitterly, tenderly comforted by her companion. Frost said nothing. There were occasions when it gave him great satisfaction to bring a case to a conclusion, but plenty, like now, when he wished he hadn't been so bloody efficient or lucky.

"What will happen?" Julie asked.

"We'll take statements," he said. "You'll be charged and you'll more than likely be granted bail."

"And then?"

"A half-decent lawyer and you'll probably get a suspended sentence."

"The trial," sobbed Millie. "It will all come out." "It doesn't matter," said Julie. "It doesn't matter." Poor cows, thought Frost. The photographs as exhibits and all the details of their relationship … he could see the tabloid headlines now… Of course it bloody mattered.

They were on the main Denton road. The line of traffic seemed to be moving very slowly and they were just crawling along. The car in front of Frost showed its brake lights and stopped. There was a hold-up ahead. He wound down the window and stuck his head out, but all he could see over the long line of vehicles ahead was flashing blue lights. He wound the window down, resigned to a long wait. "Don't know how long this will take, ladies," he said. "Looks like an accident."

It took nearly three-quarters of an hour for the traffic to start moving again. The older woman had stopped sobbing and sat, head bowed and red-eyed, staring blankly through the car window, while the nurse, deep in her own thoughts, absently patted her hand. Vehicles slowed down again as they reached the cordoned-off scene of the accident. A large chemical-carrying tanker had slewed across the road and was lying on its side. There didn't appear to be any leakage of fuel, but firemen were standing by. An ambulance was parked on the hard shoulder to the rear. In front of it, another group of firemen with a mobile crane were trying to raise the tanker so they could get to the crushed car underneath. It was a Porsche. A black Porsche. Hovering alongside the firemen, a team of paramedics waited, ready to dash in.

Frost braked abruptly and got out, ignoring the angry blast of car horns behind him.

A traffic policeman hurried over. "Please get back in your car," he ordered. "There's nothing to see here."

Frost flashed his warrant card. "What happened?"

The traffic policeman shrugged. "We don't know yet, inspector. It looks as if the Porsche was going too fast and crashed over the central barrier smack in the path of the tanker coming the other way."

"Couple of teenagers a chap and a girl in the Porsche?"

"Yes." The traffic policeman was looking over Frost's shoulder where the firemen had managed to raise the tanker and were now using cutting gear on the Porsche.

"Alive or dead?"

A screaming of metal as the roof of the Porsche was torn off. Two of the paramedics pushed forward and looked inside, then moved back, shaking their heads and signalling for the firemen to carry on.

"I think they are dead, sir," said the policeman.

Frost sat them in separate interview rooms and asked a WPC to bring them mugs of tea which they looked at with obvious distaste and pushed away after the first sip. "I'll be back soon," he said and went off to find Liz to tell her about the Porsche. He hoped she would be in his office, but it was Cassidy who was waiting for him, pacing up and down to work off his anger. Frost wasn't in the mood for Cassidy, but he masked his feelings and gave an enquiring smile.

"The Lemmy Hoxton case is mine," hissed Cassidy. "You told me you wouldn't interfere and yet you've been off to see those women, without a damn word to me. You're deliberately keeping me out of it…"

Frost thudded down into his chair and rested his chin on his palm. Cassidy was chuntering away with his moan, non-stop, just like Mullett. So Frost applied his anti-Mullett technique, switching off his ears until Cassidy ran out of breath.

A pause, so he got in quick. "I'm sorry, son. I forgot."

"Forgot?" echoed Cassidy incredulously. "How the hell could you forget?"

"Because I'm stupid," said Frost. "I shouldn't have done it. The women are in the interview rooms and they're ready to make statements confessing to the killing." He told Cassidy the details. "So it's all yours."

Not in the least mollified, Cassidy marched to the door, turning for one final snarl. "You haven't heard the last of this," he said.

"I'm sure I haven't," murmured Frost wearily.

PC Collier yawned. He liked working for Frost and he welcomed the overtime money, but the inspector always kept everyone up late, then expected them to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with hardly any sleep, the next day. The succession of late nights were taking their toll and the warm interior of the car was whispering how great it would be to close his eyes, just for a few minutes, and drift off. He jerked his head up and wound down the window. They were parked at the end of Finch's turning, tucked away well out of sight, but from where they could just see the blue Austin Metro.

At his side, Ken Jordan was slumped in the driving seat, eyes closed, breathing heavily in a deep sleep. It wasn't fair. There should be two of them watching. They'd nearly missed Finch before when he had slipped out of the house, but didn't take the car. Collier had followed him on foot to the supermarket where Finch bought some food and returned home. If he sneaked out again… Collier stiffened and nudged Jordan sharply. "He's coming out!" Immediately, Jordan was awake and alert. He snatched up the radio to report to Control, then slipped out of the car, his turn to follow on foot if Finch didn't use the Metro.

The front door slammed as Finch and an excited yapping dog walked to the car. Finch was carrying a carrier bag which he slung on to the back seat. It looked like the food he had bought earlier at the Savalot supermarket. When it was clear Finch was taking the car, Jordan slid back into the driving seat and picked up the radio. "Subject in car driving south into Market Street. We are following…"

Frost located Liz in the main interview room. She had Tracey Neal with her, the travel bag with the money between them on the table. Tracey didn't look so cocky as when they had last seen her.

Tracey's told us about the abduction," said Liz.

"It was Carol's idea," insisted Tracey. "I just went along with her. I haven't had any of the money."

Frost sat next to Liz. "Stealing from her own parents. Why?"

"They're not both Carol's parents," said Tracey. "Her father divorced her real mother and married again. He spends all his money on her furs, expensive clothes, jewellery. Carol said she'd only married him for his money."

"So Carol was jealous?"

"The new wife would get his money when he died. Carol didn't think that was fair."

"So you staged the fake abduction?"

"Yes."

"Why did you dump the jewellery and furs and stuff?"

"We didn't know what to do with it. Ian thought we'd be bound to be found out if we tried to sell them."

"So why take them in the first place?"

"It was Carol's idea. To spite her new mother, I suppose."

Frost intertwined his fingers behind his head and studied the ceiling. "AH right, love, you can go," he said at last.

Liz looked at him as if he had gone out of his mind? "Go?"

"I don't think Carol's father will be pressing charges," he said. "If he does, we'll think again."

Liz showed the girl out, then came back, clearly piqued and ready for a row. She wanted to tie this one up herself. Cassidy seemed to be getting all the successful cases and she was getting nothing. But when Frost told her about the accident she was stunned.

"We'll have to break the news to her father," said Frost. "Double bad bloody news. It was his daughter who stole his money and now she's dead." He sighed. "I wish Cassidy had snaffled this flaming case as well."

Burton chased after them in the corridor and called them into the incident room. "Finch is on the move. He's got a carrier bag of food with him. He could be on his way to the kid."

"Let's hope he's not on his way to the park to feed the bloody ducks," said Frost, glad of the chance to put off calling on Stanfield.

In the incident room he snatched up someone's mug of tea and settled down in a chair in front of the speaker.

"Jordan to Simms. Subject heading north to Bath Road. Can you take over?"

"Simms, receiving. Affirmative. We are at first turn-off in Bath Road." A pause, then, "We see him. Taking over now."

"Right. We'll move ahead of him and wait at the Lexton turn-off."

Jordan pressed down the accelerator and the car shot forward, flashing past Finch's Metro. They resisted the temptation to turn their heads as they passed, not wanting there to be any hint they were interested in him. No side roads for the next ten miles or so and the first possible diversion was just past the Fina service station near the Lexton turn-off. When they reached the service station Jordan drove up on to the foreccurt and waited.

"Am following," reported Simms. "Not much traffic about and road fairly straight, so I'm having to keep well back."

"Be careful," urged Frost. "He mustn't know he's being followed."

"He's putting on some speed," reported Simms. "He's roaring ahead."

Frost frowned anxiously. "He hasn't spotted you?"

"I don't think so."

A quick glance at the road map. "He can't go anywhere but straight ahead. Drop well back and let Jordan take over when Finch reaches the service station."

"Roger," said Simms.

"Roger," said Jordan.

The radio went quiet. Frost scrabbled at the cellophane on a fresh pack of cigarettes, cursing when the damn stuff refused to tear. At last he ripped it off in several pieces, stuffed a cigarette in his mouth and passed the pack around. Another check with the wall map. No way yet of knowing where Finch was heading, but it was clearly well outside Denton. Back to the speaker, which was making little crackling sounds. "Come on, come on," he muttered, "Finch ought to be with you by now." He clicked on the mike. "I haven't bloody offended you, have I, Jordan? Talk to me."

"No sign of Finch yet," reported Jordan. "I…"A pause, then, "Oh shit!"

"What is it?" roared Frost.

"I can see Simms… but Finch hasn't reached us."

"He must have flaming well reached you. Simms was behind him. He can't have bloody vanished!"

"He was ahead of me," said Simms.

"Well, he hasn't passed us," said Jordan.

Frost killed his cigarette in the ashtray. "The bastard's got to be somewhere. Jordan stay put. Simms double back and see if you can spot him." Another cigarette. He dragged smoke deep into his lungs and waited. A burst of static.

"Simms to Control. I see him!"

"Where?" pleaded Frost. "Share it with us!"

"He's parked up on the grass verge where the road bends."

"Is he in the car?" Frost was concerned that Finch might have parked the car and gone on foot to where the boy was.

"Yes… him and the dog. Just sitting, doing nothing. What do I do?"

"Drive on," said Frost. "When you're out of his sight, do what he's done get up on the verge and wait." He changed channels. "Jordan. Stay put. He's in between the two of you. Unless the sod's got a helicopter in his boot, he must go one way or the other."

He stood up and stamped around the room. The tension was getting to him.

"Finch has just passed me," called Simms. "He's done a U turn. He's heading back to town."

Frost's shoulders slumped. He knew where Finch was heading. "Follow him."

"What's he up to?" asked Burton.

"I hope I'm wrong, son, but I reckon he spotted us."

A few minutes later Simms reported, "He's gone back to his house. I'm parked at the end of the road. Finch is getting out… and the dog. He's picking up the carrier bag of food… now he's gone inside."

"Bum-holes!" said Frost mildly. This confirmed what he suspected. "Tuck yourself somewhere at the end of the road and keep watch. A hundred to one he won't be coming out again today, but we can't take any chances."

"What happened?" Liz asked.

"Finch was testing us," said Frost. "He wanted to find out if he was being tailed and we screamed out to him that he was. Damn! I've blown it."

"I don't see what else you could have done," said Burton.

"I should have had more bloody cars. Sod Mullett and his economy drive. Finch notices a car behind him. He gets off the road and waits. The same car does a U turn and comes back again. You'd have to be as dim as flaming Mullett not to know you were being followed." He knuckled his eyes. "Come on, Liz. More job satisfaction. Let's break the news to Stanfield about his daughter."

Stanfield opened the door to them. "Why it's PC Plod," he sneered. "I bet you haven't come here to tell me you've got my money back?"

"We have got it back, as it happens began Frost.

Stanfield wouldn't let him finish. "What?" he shouted. "That's bloody marvelous!" He jerked his head round and yelled back into the house. "It's the police. Marvellous news! They've got the money back." Almost dancing with delight he ushered them in. "Come in, come in.. "

In the lounge his wife, all smiles, came to meet them. "This is wonderful," she said. "First the jewellery, now the money…"

"It's a bit early in the day," said Stanfield, opening up the cocktail cabinet, 'but this definitely calls for a drink."

But his wife, looking over his shoulder, saw the expression on Frost's face. An expression which said something was terribly wrong. She went white. "What is it?" she whispered. "For God's sake, what is it?"

They saw themselves out, quietly closing the front door on the bitter sound of sobbing. "I properly sodded that up," said Frost. He felt shattered. Another of his complete and utter shambles. He radioed Control in the hope that Finch had thrown caution to the wind and driven off to feed the boy. But Finch was staying put in the house. Frost drummed the steering wheel with his fingers, then came to a decision. "No use pussy-footing around. Finch knows we're on to him, so let's bring the bastard in."

Frost pulled out a chair and shook off some loose papers which fluttered to the floor. He waved a hand for the man to sit. "Good of you to come, Mr. Finch."

Finch sniffed, and sat down. "The way your officer spoke, it seemed as if I had little choice."

Frost frowned and tutted. "I'm sure he didn't mean to give that impression."

"Well, that's the impression he conveyed."

"Then I apologize on his behalf. Just a couple of things I want to get clear. Back to the other night, when you found the money. Did you see anyone else in the vicinity?"

"Yes the thug who attacked me and sent me to hospital."

"Anyone else?"

Finch folded his arms. "If there had been anyone else, inspector, don't you think I would have mentioned it?"

Frost switched on his disarming smile. "Forgive me for asking apparently stupid questions. Our difficulty is that the kidnapper went to a lot of trouble to ensure the money was dropped where he wanted it, but then — unless we consider two strong possibilities completely failed to collect it."

Finch smoothed his moustache. "And those two, strong, possibilities are…?"

"We were watching the money. Only two people turned up in the appointed spot you and the man who assaulted you. Hudson has got a cast-iron alibi for the kidnapping, so we've cleared him. Now we'd like to clear you."

"I see." Finch gave a curt nod. He didn't seem at all worried.

Frost leant back in his chair. "Your wife worked for Savalot supermarkets?"

Finch frowned. "What has that got to do with it?"

"The supermarket provided the ransom money. We're just wondering if there could be any link."

"My late wife worked for them for more than fifteen years."

"Why did she leave?"

"The new supermarket opened and her smaller shop was closed down."

"Did she want to leave?"

"No."

"Why didn't she move to the new supermarket?"

"The new store was fully computerized. They needed computer trained staff and considered my wife was too old to learn new methods."

"And this upset her?"

"Yes."

"She ended up by taking her own life?"

"Yes." Finch stared straight ahead.

"How long after she lost her job?"

"Eighteen months. She became very depressed at being thrown on the scrap heap after fifteen years of loyal service. The job was her life."

"She took an overdose?"

"Yes." His face was tight, trying to suppress emotion.

"Did you blame Sir Richard Cordwell for her death?"

"Yes."

"Enough to want revenge?"

"Yes."

"Was that why you chose Savalot to provide the ransom?"

"No." He stared up at the ceiling then took his glasses off and polished them carefully. "I loved my wife, inspector, and I hated Cordwell as being the root cause for her death. It was an intense hatred and not one that could be satisfied by getting them to pay 250,000. It was a hatred that made me feel like setting fire to all then-stores… running Cordwell down in my car… A hatred that, to my eternal shame, I did nothing about. The pain is still there, but time has numbed it. I did not kidnap the child."

"We know the kidnapper used chloroform. You do the accounts for a couple of chemists. You could have helped yourself to the odd bottle."

"I could have, but I didn't."

"Do you possess a cassette recorder, Mr. Finch?"

"My wife had one a long time ago. I don't think I still have it."

Frost offered a cigarette which Finch waved away. "There's another point that puzzles me. Hudson says that when he charged across to grab the money, he saw you kicking the long grass as if you were looking for something."

"That's right the dog's ball."

"But that was already back in your pocket, sir."

Finch creased a puzzled frown. Then his brow un-furrowed and he smiled as if the explanation was so simple. "Of course I'd forgotten. My foot touched something hard in the grass. I was looking to see what it was, and that's when I discovered the travel bag."

"I see, sir," said Frost, trying not to show his disappointment. Either Finch was innocent, or he was bloody clever, and he was sure Finch wasn't innocent. He shook two photographs from the folder and slid them across the desk. "Seen either of these boys before, sir?"

Finch adjusted his glasses and studied them. "No."

Frost tapped one of the photos. "This little boy choked to death on his own vomit. I'm sure the kidnapper did not intend his death. When it comes to a charge, we. probably would not be talking murder."

Finch nodded vaguely as if this was of no interest to him.

"If we got the other boy back safe and sound, I think we might be able to say a few kind words on the kidnapper's behalf to the judge."

"You should be telling this to the kidnapper," said Finch, 'not to me. Are you accusing me?"

"We have to keep an open mind, sir," said Frost. "Explore all possibilities."

Finch stood up. "You've searched my house, you've searched my car and you've found nothing. If you have anything at all to tie me to this crime, then please charge me. If not, I take it I am free to go?"

"Of course you're free to go," said Frost. "I'll get someone to drive you home."

"I can find my own way back, thank you," snapped Finch. He strode out of the office.

Frost hurried back to the incident room where Burton was waiting. "Well, sir?" he asked.

"Guilty as hell," said Frost. "I only need two things now to make an arrest proof and the kid." He gratefully took the cup of tea Burton offered. "He's a glib bastard. Always comes up with a clever answer for everything."

"Perhaps it's because it's the right answer?" suggested Cassidy, who was feeling pleased with himself now that he had taken the confessions from the two women which tied up the Lemmy Hoxton case.

"He's guilty!" said Frost firmly. But even he was beginning to have doubts.

Collier nudged Jordan. They were back at the end of the road, watching Finch's house. Jordan yawned and opened his eyes. "What is it?"

"How much longer are we supposed to be stuck here?"

Jordan shrugged. "Until we're relieved, I suppose." He was glad to have a nice easy job for a change where he could catch up on lost sleep.

"For all we know they've arrested him. It's been more than three hours since they took him in. No-one would think of telling us."

"I'll check," said Jordan. He radioed Control.

"What do you mean, what's happening with Finch?" demanded Control. "Isn't he back?"

"If he was back, I wouldn't be asking," said Jordan.

Frost had returned to his office where he slumped down in a chair and closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. He had plunged instantly into a deep sleep, a sleep boiling with jagged dreams involving Finch and the body of Bobby Kirby, hand flopping limply, the severed finger dripping blood. The phone woke him. He jerked up with a start, trying to work out where he was, groping for an alarm clock that wasn't there. Of course… he was in the office. He hooked the cord round his finger and bumped the phone off its rest and across the desk. "Frost."

Lambert in Control. He had Jordan on the radio and he wanted to know what was happening with Finch?

Frost yawned and shook his head to try and wake himself up. What was Jordan on about? He and Collier were supposed to be watching the house and Finch should have been back long ago. "I'm coming," he yawned into the phone and made his way to the incident room.

"What do you mean, he never came back to the house?" he asked Jordan over the radio. "He left here hours ago."

"I don't know about him leaving you, inspector," replied Jordan. "All I know is, he certainly hasn't come back here."

Frost creased his brow, trying to remember what had happened when he let Finch go. He couldn't remember allocating anyone to drive him back. Then he went cold. Finch had turned down the offer of a lift and he had let his number one suspect, his only bloody suspect, wander out of the station on his own. "You're sure he hasn't returned to the house?"

"Positive," said Jordan. "We've been watching." Collier, at his side, reacted to the 'we'.

"Then be even more bleeding positive," said Frost. "Go and bang on his door. That should set the dog barking. See if someone who isn't there tells the flaming thing to keep quiet."

"I know he isn't there," said Jordan.

"Just do it!" barked Frost. He waited impatiently, listening to little bursts of static from the speaker until Jordan returned.

"He's definitely not in the house," reported Jordan with an air of "I told you so'.

"You needn't sound so bloody pleased about it," said Frost. "What happened?"

"I knocked. The dog inside went mad… yapping and whining. I can still hear it barking from here. No-one told it to be quiet, no-one came to the door."

"Is his car still there?"

"Yes."

Frost sighed. What else could go bloody wrong? "Stay put. I'll get back to you." He clicked off the radio, conscious of everyone watching him, waiting to be told what to do. Control was instructed to order all patrols and mobiles to actively search for Finch. Bill Wells was to send every available man out to scour the town… pubs… cinemas… everywhere. He got one of the WPCs to phone all the firms Finch did accounts for, in the hope he was with one of them. Then he contacted Felford Division for someone to keep an eye on the caravan, should Finch decide to return there.

He briefed his team in the incident room, stressing how important it was to find him. "He's a calculating sod. If he's gone missing, there's a reason. If he's done a bunk, we'll never know where the kid is so we've got to find him. Someone check buses and the railway station." He paused, trying to think of anything he might have missed out. "And if anyone thinks of anywhere else he might be public lavatories, knocking shops, sex change clinics, Toys R Us don't tell me, just go and look."

They bustled out, passing the Divisional Commander on his way in. Mullett always managed to appear when things were going wrong. "What's the position with Finch?"

Frost told him.

"You just let him walk out of here?" said Mullett, his voice shrill with incredulity. "You said you were having him followed. You said he would lead us to the boy."

"I know I said that!" snapped Frost. "But I sodded it up."

"Something you seem to be doing a lot of lately," said Mullett. "Strange that Cassidy seems to be having all the success while you have all the failures." He marched to the door, where he turned to fire one last bullet. "If you mess this one up, Frost…" The slamming of the door punctuated the threat.

"Thank you for your encouraging words," Frost muttered to the closed door.

He waited impatiently by the radio. Nothing. He got Control to radio out to everyone in case their radios had failed. Everything in order. Then the negative reports began flooding in. No sign of Finch anywhere.

Another half an hour passed. No news. He radioed through to Jordan. "Please," he pleaded, 'say Finch has come home, he's safe indoors, but you forgot to tell me."

"Sorry, inspector," said Jordan.

Burton and Liz returned, tired and unhappy. "Sorry, inspector," said Liz. "I don't know where else we can look."

Frost stood up. "You and Burton, come with me."

"Where are we going?" she asked,

"To Finch's house. Let's go over the place again."

"But we didn't find anything before."

"Then let's hope we bloody well find something this time."