Hudson, in the white one-piece boiler suit they had forced him to put on while his clothes were taken away for forensic examination, sat in the interview room rubbing his wrists and his groin. If he ever met up with that cow of a policewoman on a dark night… He stared moodily at the uniformed officer leaning against the green-painted walls. "How much longer?"

  The officer shrugged.

  "Where's Cindy, my girlfriend?"

  Again the officer shrugged.

  "Can I have a fag?"

  "I don't smoke," said the officer, sounding pleased he was able to deny this to the prisoner.

  Hudson looked up as Cassidy, followed by Detective Sergeant Hanlon, came in. "About bloody time."

  Cassidy gave the prisoner his long, hard stare and waited for Hanlon to load up the cassette recorder. "My name is Cassidy, Acting Detective Inspector Cassidy. Also present is Detective Sergeant Hanlon. Where is the boy?"

  "You don't bloody listen, do you? Watch my lips I know nothing about no boy."

  "You demanded a ransom. You paid for a Honda Accord vehicle with part of that ransom money."

  "I told you, I found it!"

  "You are lying."

  "Prove it!"

  "Where's the kid?"

  "I don't know anything about any kid…"

  Frost waited impatiently in his office for the result of the search, a cigarette smouldering away in a disgusting-looking ashtray, piled high with grey ash. Liz had phoned through to report that the Indian take away had delivered a meal for two, not three. If they had the kid, surely they would feed him… or perhaps the kid was dead, so they didn't have to. Hudson wasn't intelligent enough to have organized the kidnap. Perhaps someone else was behind it… the girl? She was still in no state to be interviewed, so it was up to Cassidy to try and get something from the man.

  "Any news?"

  It was flaming Mullett in his smart, TV interview uniform. He'd been sticking his head round the door every five minutes.

  "Nothing yet," Frost told him.

  Mullett scowled as if the lack of progress was Frost's fault. "I want a quick result on this one."

  "I believe you have mentioned it, sir," muttered Frost. The phone rang. He snatched it up. Burton calling from the flat. "Forensic have crawled over every inch of the place. Not a damn thing to link Hudson with the kidnapping apart from the ransom money, of course."

  "And how is the search of the other properties going?"

  "No joy so far. A couple of people have refused permission to let us in to their premises."

  "Sod their permission. Go in anyway. We can always apologize afterwards." He hung up. Mullett pretended not to have heard Frost's instructions so he could absolve himself from any involvement in the event of a comeback.

  Frost glanced at his watch. What the hell was Cassidy playing at? He'd been questioning Hudson for well over an hour. A clatter of footsteps down the corridor and Cassidy came in, looking angry and frustrated.

  "I can't get anywhere with him. He denies any knowledge of the kidnapping and repeats over and over again that he found the bag of money dumped in the car park."

  "Why don't we set up an identity parade get Finch to identify him?" Mullett suggested.

  "I'd prefer to avoid that if possible," replied Frost. "Finch has already identified the wrong man. His defence would pull any subsequent identification to shreds… and the silly sod could well pick out another flaming look-alike."

  "What have Forensic turned up?" asked Mullett.

  "Slightly less than sod all." Frost picked up his ashtray and emptied it into the waste bin. "Right. Back to Hudson. We forget the niceties and scare the shit out of the bastard."

  "Wait," called Mullett. "We don't want any of your famous short-cuts and corner cutting, Frost things that won't stand up in a court. The important thing is to secure a conviction."

  "No," said Frost. "The important thing is to find the kid… and that's what I intend to do."

  "I'm warning you," said Mullett. "If we lose a conviction because of your underhand methods…"

  "If my underhand methods result in us finding the kid, then we'll get a conviction anyway. Don't worry, sir, I'll be taking all the blame if things go wrong." He knew he'd get the blame anyway.

  "On your own head be it," said Mullett as Frost brushed past him on his way to the interview room. "If this blows up in your face I shall deny all knowledge of this conversation."

  Cassidy gave a sympathetic smile to Mullett as he followed Frost out, his smile saying, "I'm with you all the way, sir, if things go wrong…" But if they went right, he was determined to grab his share of the glory.

  "Now what?" asked Hudson as Frost entered the interview room with Cassidy.

  Frost dropped into the chair opposite him and banged a folder on the table. Cassidy had the cassette ready to insert into the machine, but Frost stopped him. "I don't want this recorded." He smiled sweetly at Hudson. "Where is Bobby Kirby?"

  "I'm not wasting my breath answering this same question any more. For the last time, I know nothing about no kid."

  "Right," said Frost. "I haven't got time to sod about." He swung round to the uniformed man. "Would you wait outside, please, constable."

  The constable hesitated, but did what he was told, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Frost beamed at Hudson. "Isn't this cosy? Just the three of us."

  Hudson's eyes flickered apprehensively between the two detectives. "What's going on?"

  Frost beamed at him and pulled two photographs from the folder. He slid them across to Hudson.

  "Recognize them?"

  Hudson gave them a half-hearted glance. "No."

  "That's funny," said Frost, as he tapped the photograph of Bobby Kirby. "This is the boy you kidnapped."

  "I've already told '

  "Shut up!" Frost's voice rose to a bellow. "I'm tired, I've been up half the night and I'm not in the mood for any more sodding around. I don't give a toss what you say, I'm telling you what happened." He banged a finger on Bobby Kirby's photograph. "You kidnapped this kid and you killed the other one. You sent the ransom demand and you went with your slut of a girlfriend to the common to collect it. You knocked the old boy out and snatched the cash. You thought you would get away with it. You thought the money would be untraceable… but it wasn't. We've got you to rights so we don't give a sod about all your lies that you know nothing about it. We're not even bothering to record them any more."

  "Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I found that money. If you think you can prove otherwise '

  "Shut up!" roared Frost again. "You won't know me, sonny. My name is Jack Frost. I'm not a very good cop and I'm not a very smart cop, so I have to cut corners. Sometimes I might even have to lie to secure a conviction, so I'm prepared to tell all the lies going about you, you toe-rag. I've got no compunction because I know you are guilty."

  To show his lack of concern, Hudson pulled a comb from his pocket and flicked it through his hair. Frost stretched out a hand. "Can I borrow that?"

  With a bemused smile, Hudson handed it over then watched in bewilderment as Frost tugged a few hairs from the comb and slipped them into a small transparent envelope which he tucked inside the folder. "What's that for?"

  "We've asked our Forensic Lab to do a thorough check of the dead kid's clothes to see if there is anything on them that would help us identify the killer… like hairs, for example." He patted the folder.

  The smirk had slid from Hudson's face. "You are going to fit me up, you bastard."

  Frost looked apologetic. "Only if I have to, son. You're guilty anyway, so I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

  "You wouldn't dare."

  Frost smiled sweetly. "Just watch me."

  Hudson spun round to Cassidy, hoping for support. He sensed the antagonism between the two men. "You heard what he said. You're my witness!"

  Cassidy stared straight ahead, saying nothing. If this thing blew up, he would drop Frost right in it.

  Hudson's face was ugly. "You bastards!"

  "Sticks and stones," reproved Frost. "Where's the kid?"

  The man folded his arms and leant back in his chair. "All right. I'll tell you the truth. Yes, I nicked the money. I was with Cindy.. she loves having it away out in the open. We see this green Nissan car pull up and a bloke nips out with a travel bag and hides it in the bushes. I thought I'd take a look-see, so after about a quarter of an hour '

  "Why did you wait so long?"

  "First, because it was peeing down with rain and I was hoping it might ease up, two I had no trousers on at the time and three, Cindy was demanding seconds. By the time I got over there, this old boy was ferreting about. He pounces on the bag, so I nipped in quick and tried to grab it from him. He puts up a bit of a fight. I don't want no aggro so I welt him with a chunk of wood, grab the bag, nip back to the car and we sodded off back home. When I saw all that money inside, I just couldn't believe my rotten luck. That is all I am admitting to and I know nothing about no bleeding kids…"

  Fifteen

  Frost was in his office gloomily staring at his ashtray with its mountain of fluffy grey ash studded with cigarette ends. The room was fogged with smoke, his mouth tasted horrible and his fingers glistened with oily nicotine. He had smoked himself sick and didn't want another cigarette, but the urge to punish himself for his lack of progress was overwhelming, so he lit up yet another of Mullett's specials as he waited for Liz to return from questioning Hudson's girlfriend. He just knew she would confirm Hudson's alibi and absolve him from any connection with the kidnapping and that yet another lead would come to a dead end.

  It hadn't been a good day so far. Mullett had finally stamped off home in high dudgeon when he realized he wouldn't be able to make his television announcement that the boy had been found safe and well, and the kidnapper had been arrested. On top of that, Snell had got himself a solicitor and had withdrawn his confession, saying it was obtained under duress, and for that Mullett and Cassidy definitely blamed Frost and had lost no time in telling him so.

  Liz came in, coughing and fanning the air with her hand against the smoke. "She's told you where the kid is?" asked Frost hopefully.

  Liz shook her head and sat at her desk. "No. She bears out everything Hudson said. They were both having it away when they saw the money being dropped. They nicked the money, but that's as far as they were involved.

  She also confirms that the night the boy was taken, she and Hudson were at a disco in Levington until gone midnight. She's given me a string of names who can confirm this." Liz offered him the list, but he wasn't interested. "Check it out," he said, but he knew it would confirm their statements.

  Frost yawned. He felt deflated. The third day of the investigation and they were exactly nowhere. He tossed a screwed-up Mullett memo in the air and headed it into the wastepaper bin. "Do you like fish and chips?" he asked.

  She blinked her surprise. "Yes why?"

  He pulled his scarf from its hook. "Let's go and get some."

  The door to the incident room crashed open and Frost came in clutching a greasy brown paper carrier bag to his chest. He pulled packages from it and tossed them around the room… "Cod and chips … plaice and chips…"

  Bill Wells, who had wandered in for a chat, was appalled. "Fish and chips? You know Mullett has forbidden them in the station. They stink the place out."

  "No more than his poncey after-shave." He held up a package. "I take it you don't want this it's cod and chips."

  Wells hesitated, then grabbed it. "As you've bought it but open the windows afterwards."

  Frost perched himself on the edge of a desk and began eating with his fingers as he addressed his team. "Fish is supposed to be brain food, so let's see if it does anything for us. Now, we're checking their alibi, but it looks as if Hudson and Miss Twin Peaks are out of the frame."

  "Which puts us right back in square one," said Cassidy who had been staring sullenly out of the window. Thanks to Frost his case against Snell wasn't looking as strong as it did, and he was now being associated with another of

  Frost's abysmal failures. He hadn't demeaned himself by ordering fish and chips and now regretted it. His stomach was rumbling and the heady bouquet of chips and vinegar was making him drool.

  "More or less," grunted Frost, spitting out a fish bone. "Just in case we have missed something, let's go over it again. The kid was snatched for the sole purpose of obtaining the ransom money. Dean Anderson, the first kid he snatches, dies, so he calmly goes out and grabs another one. Why didn't he pretend Dean was still alive? He would still have got the ransom money. Don't tell me he was worried about contravening the Trades Descriptions Act."

  "The kid had to be alive to make the taped message for the press," said Burton.

  Frost nodded. "I'll buy that. Which convinces me we are dealing with a methodical sod, not a tear away like Hudson. His plan demanded a taped message, so there had to be one, even if it meant going after a second kid." He opened his mouth and tipped in the crumbs from the chip bag, then threw away the greasy paper and wiped his hands down the front of his jacket. "OK. Puzzle number two. Everything proceeds as planned, all his demands are met. But he doesn't turn up to collect the money why?" He scratched his chin in thought as he sent his cigarettes on the rounds.

  "Something must have happened that prevented him?" suggested Liz.

  "It must have been at the last flaming minute," said Frost, 'because he was on the phone to Cordwell almost as soon as the money was dropped."

  "A heart attack?" offered Burton.

  "Don't be a fool!" snarled Cassidy.

  "Hold on," said Frost. "That could be it. You get a phone call telling you there's a quarter of a million quid waiting to be picked up… you could either wee yourself of have a heart attack." He pointed to Burton. "Phone

  Denton General and find out if anyone suffering from a heart attack was admitted last night."

  "Why just a heart attack?" said Cassidy, sourly. "He might have got run over or broken his leg."

  "Or had his dick cut off." Frost nodded his agreement and told Burton to check with the hospital for details of everyone admitted as an emergency last night. Collier came in and handed Frost a sheaf of papers. They included carbon copies of the statements made by Hudson and his girlfriend. He shuffled through them. There was a list supplied by Denton Council of the people who used to live in the old shacks where Lemmy Hoxton's body was found. A name on it screamed out at him. He jabbed it with his finger and showed it to Liz.

  Liz whistled softly. "Millicent Fleming? The woman from Primrose Cottage."

  "It's a small world, isn't it!" commented Frost. "Strange she never mentioned this when we called on her. We'll pay her another visit tomorrow."

  The phone rang. Hanlon answered it and relayed the message to Frost. "Jordan and Simms have contacted three of the people who were at the disco. They all confirm that Hudson and Cindy were there until gone midnight. The girl threw up on the lobby so it rather sticks in their mind."

  Frost shrugged philosophically. He had written them off as suspects anyway. He took a quick look through Hudson's statement before deciding to call it a day when he suddenly straightened up. He flapped his hand for silence as he read it through again, then he beamed. "Our unanswered question was, why didn't the kidnapper pick up the ransom money?" He slid off the desk top and started striding around the room. "The answer is so bloody obvious, even Mullett could have spotted it, but we've all missed it!"

  "And what have we missed?" asked Cassidy, his tone implying that whatever it was, it was a load of rubbish.

  "The kidnapper did pick it up," said Frost. He paused dramatically. "But it was taken from him."

  He was met with blank stares, everyone trying to work out what he meant.

  The penny dropped for Burton first. "You mean Finch the old boy with the dog?"

  Frost nodded.

  "Just because he happened to be there," scoffed Cassidy.

  "It was peeing down with rain. No-one with any sense would have been out in it, but he was chucking a ball for his dog."

  "I checked with his neighbours," said Burton. "They confirm he's been taking the dog out for a run every night, come rain, hail or shine."

  "Building up a pattern," said Frost. "We know the kidnapper is methodical."

  "Thousands of people are methodical," said Cassidy. "That doesn't make them kidnappers."

  "Thousands of people don't chuck the dog's ball at the very spot where a quarter of a million quid is stashed."

  "Coincidence!" said Cassidy dismissively.

  "I don't believe in coincidences," said Frost, 'not unless it suits me… and this time it doesn't suit me. Finch is our man!"

  "You'll have to come up with something a lot more than this to convince me," said Cassidy. He was looking at the cigarette Frost had given him. It was not the inspector's usual brand. It was the expensive brand Mullett reserved for special visitors.

  "Then how about this?" said Frost, and he read aloud part of Hudson's statement: "I saw this bloke wandering around to where the bag had been dumped, so I nipped across there smartish. He was kicking at the grass, looking for something. He picks up this bag from out of the long grass. He hadn't heard me coming, so I tried to grab it…" He looked up at blank faces and frowned.

  "I'm supposed to be the dim twat here. How come I'm the only one to spot it?"

  "To spot what?" asked Cassidy.

  "Hudson says he saw Finch kicking at the long grass, looking for something."

  "The dog's ball," said Cassidy, as if explaining to a child.

  "But when we found poor Mr. Finch, knocked out cold, he already had the dog's ball in his pocket. So if he'd already found the ball, what the hell was he still looking for?"

  "The money!" exclaimed Burton.

  "Yes, son," agreed Frost. "He was looking for the money."

  Cassidy chewed this over, testing it for weaknesses, but he grudgingly had to agree it held water.

 

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