which he consigned to the rubbish bin. 'What does he want?'
'He was charged with stealing last night. He wants you to get him off the hook.'
'I want someone to get me off the bleeding hook. Tommy knows damn well I can't help him.' He sighed. Dunn was a shit and a bastard, but he had done Frost one or two good turns in the past. 'All right wheel him in… but for Pete's sake don't let Cassidy know he's here.'
Dunn was an overweight, useless-looking man. A red-faced Oliver Hardy without the little moustache, and in his late forties. He waited for Johnnie Johnson to leave before sitting down. 'Sorry about last night, Jack.'
'You dropped me right in it, Tommy. Right flaming in it!'
'Wouldn't have had it happen for the world, Jack,' mumbled Dunn. 'Look you've got to help me. I don't want to go to prison. You know how they love ex-cops inside.'
'You won't go to prison for a first offence.'
'It's not a first offence, Jack. I had a similar unhappy experience when I was security guard over at Casheasy's in Lexton, then there was '
Frost cut him short. 'Then how did you get a job with Savalot? I thought they vetted their security staff?'
'I fiddled my reference. I got some of their letter heading.'
Frost held up a hand. 'Spare me the details, Tommy. So what happened this time?'
'Silly mistake. I came out without any money so I took a couple of bottles from their spirits store. It wasn't pinching — I intended buying two bottles to replace them, but they caught me before I could do it.'
'And what happened when they searched your house?'
'Another misunderstanding. They found some bottles of spirits and tried to make out I'd nicked them. But I'd bought them, Jack days ago.'
'If you had bottles in the house, then why did you have to take two more without paying? I'm sorry, Tommy. You're not only a silly sod, you're a lying bastard as well. I'm pretty gullible, but even I can't swallow that.'
Dunn pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. 'I can't go inside, Jack. I couldn't face it. You're in with Cordwell. You've got to get him to drop these charges.'
Frost gave a scoffing laugh. 'Me in with Cordwell? He wants my head and my private parts on a platter, and with Mullett's help he's probably going to get them.'
Dunn looked round to make sure the door was shut, then leant across the desk to Frost, his voice lowered. 'A deal, Jack. I've got some dirt against him that you can use as a lever.'
'I'm not getting involved in your bloody blackmailing capers,' said Frost. 'Forget it, Tommy. I can't help.'
'At least listen to what it is, Jack.'
Frost chucked him a cigarette and poked one in his own mouth. 'All right, but make it quick.'
Dunn took a long drag at the cigarette, squirted a stream of smoke then perched it on the edge of Frost's ashtray. 'Do you remember that spate of forged ten and twenty pound notes we had in the town about eighteen months ago?'
Frost nodded. Some 30,000 worth had been passed before the bank twigged and the shops were put on the alert. They had never caught the gang, who had moved on to somewhere else and were eventually arrested in Manchester. 'Mr. Allen's case. What about it?'
'Savalot got lumbered with about twenty thousand quid's worth of the forgeries.'
'Too bad,' said Frost, not giving a damn.
'If you remember, the gang started passing on a Friday Savalot's big shopping day. We whammed the takings into the bank on the Saturday morning. Monday was a bank holiday and we were open on the Sunday as well — three days of peak trading. Tuesday morning, first thing, the bank phones us the money we paid in on Saturday morning included four thousand quid's worth of forgeries. They told us how to spot them so we wouldn't take any more, but it was a bit bleeding late. We'd another three days' worth in the safe ready to pay in. Cordwell did his nut.'
'I'm glad it had a happy ending,' said Frost.
'You haven't heard the punch line yet, Jack. We didn't even get the forged notes back they were confiscated. So we checked the weekend's takings and there it was — another fifteen thousand quid's worth of phoney tens and twenties.'
'There's going to be some point to all this, I hope,' said Frost.
'Patience, Jack, patience. Anyway, once Cordwell realized we had all this duff cash and if he tried to pay it into the bank he would lose the lot, he went berserk, so he packed it all away in his safe. He's been hoping for a robbery or a fire so he can claim it off the insurance as genuine. And over the months he's been passing small amounts of it out to all his branches. It goes in the tills and gets handed out to customers in change. He's got rid of nearly two thousand quid that way and has only had a couple of come-backs. Anyway, let's jump to the ransom…'
A gleam flashed in Frost's eye. He was way ahead of Dunn now. 'You're not trying to tell me he used the forged notes to help make up the ransom money?'
'Getting on for 13,000 worth. I don't suppose it's a crime to pay off a kidnapper in forged currency, but I bet he wouldn't want the public to know.'
Frost leant back in his chair and beamed up at the ceiling. 'Tommy, if you're telling me the truth…'
'I am, Jack, I am.'
'Then not only are you off the hook, I might be as well.' He opened the door and ushered Tommy out. 'I'll be in touch but bake a cake with a file in it just in case.' As Dunn turned the corridor, Frost was yelling for Burton. 'Keep an eye on the shop, son. I'm off to see Cordwell.'
Cordwell looked at Frost, his eyes glinting malevolently. 'You've got two minutes, then the press conference. Have you caught the kidnapper or got the kid back?'
'No,' said Frost.
'Then start scouring the Help Wanted ads, because you'll be out of a bloody job after today.'
'I don't think so,' said Frost.
'You sodded it up. You mounted an inadequate surveillance after assuring me you would not get involved. You let the kidnapper get away with my money and because the police were there, he won't release the kid, so you've got that on your bloody conscience.'
'There's a rumour going around began Frost.
Cordwell banged his fist on his desk. 'I am not interested in bloody rumours.'
'You'll be interested in this one. The very strong whisper is that the reason the kidnapper hasn't kept his side of the bargain is because he didn't appreciate being paid out with forged banknotes.'
Cordwell jerked back, wincing as if he had been hit, but quickly composed himself and picked up a paper knife which he gently tapped on his desk. He spoke quietly, looking at something behind Frost as if the matter was of no importance. 'And who has been putting about these malicious rumours?'
Frost gave him a sweet smile. 'A couple of nasty bastards me for one, Tommy Dunn for the other.'
'Dunn? My crooked security man? The guy who's been emptying out my spirit warehouse? Is this where you got your information from?'
'We never reveal our sources,' said Frost. He stood up. 'I'll see you at the press conference.'
Cordwell's eyes narrowed. 'The press conference?'
'I want to suggest a few headlines for them,' said Frost. 'How about 'Supermarket Chiefs Swindle Costs Child His Life'? It would take more than a penny off a tin of beans to make the public forget that.. Then, of course, the press will want to know about possible criminal charges, like being in possession of forged banknotes, withholding information from the police.' He looked at his watch. 'Better not keep them waiting.'
Cordwell stabbed the paperknife into the desk top and left it quivering. 'You're a bastard, Frost.'
'It takes one to know one,' smiled Frost.
'I presume I can buy my way out?' He brought out his cheque book and tapped it suggestively with a gold- cased fountain pen.
'A lot cheaper than you deserve,' said Frost. 'Forget the press conference and drop the charges against Tommy Dunn.'
'Dunn's an ex-copper, isn't he? You bastards certainly look after your own.'
'No-one else looks after us,' explained Frost. 'Lastly, I want full details of the duff notes… denominations,
