Hard Frost

'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.

'It was bloody clever,' continued Frost. 'If the police weren't watching, he'd pick up the money and no-one would be any the wiser. But if the Old Bill was there, he could claim he found it by accident and who the hell could prove otherwise?' He turned to Burton. 'You chatted up the neighbours. What do we know about him?'

'He's a self-employed accountant does the books for some small businesses in and around Denton. His late wife used to work for Savalot on the check-out. She was with them for fifteen years, but when they moved to the big new super-store, they sacked all the old check-out girls.'

'Why?' Frost asked.

'They wanted youngsters they could train to the new system from scratch. The neighbour said her job was her life. She got depressed and eventually took an overdose about eighteen months ago.'

'So Finch would have a very good reason for hating Cordwell?'

Cassidy shook his head. He couldn't accept this.

'You're not suggesting this whole kidnap was done for revenge? She died over eighteen months ago.'

'Revenge has to smoulder before it bursts into flame,' said Frost. 'It's all coming together.'

'All you've got at the moment,' objected Cassidy, 'is a theory and you're bending the facts to support it.'

'That's the way I always work,' said Frost. 'And if Finch isn't our man, then it's hard bleeding luck, because I am going to give him the works.' Back to Burton. 'What else do we know about him?'

'Not much… He keeps himself to himself and he hasn't had the dog long.'

Frost's eyebrows shot up. 'How long?'

'Two… three weeks.'

Frost chewed this over then pounded his fist into his palm. 'I said he was a calculating bastard. I bet he got the dog as part of his plan. It's all been worked out to the smallest details.' He chewed his knuckle, then waggled a finger at the team. 'And that's why Dean Anderson had been stripped naked. Finch is not going to leave us with a single clue. I bet there were dog's hairs on the kid's clothes… so off come the clothes.' He was now warming to his theme, getting more and more excited. 'And the indentation the pathologist noticed on Dean's forehead. I bet that was the marks of an elasticated shower cap. He was covering up the kid's hair so it wouldn't pick up traces of anything that could lead us back to him.'

'I can't believe Finch is such a calculating bastard,' said Liz. 'He doesn't look it.'

'Don't go by appearances,' said Frost. 'Mullett doesn't look like a prat.'

Cassidy compressed his lips. This was not the way one should speak of senior officers to the lower ranks.

'We know it's Finch,' continued Frost. 'So how do we play it?'

'Slowly and carefully,' urged Liz.

'We can't go slowly,' said Frost. 'Time isn't on our side. He's killed one kid, so he's got nothing to lose by killing the other.' The phone rang again. He paused as Cassidy answered it.

It was the Casualty Officer from Denton hospital. Apart from a pregnant woman who had fallen down a flight of stairs, no-one came into Casualty between nine and ten thirty the previous night with anything serious enough to keep them away from a quarter of a million pound ransom. Cassidy relayed this to Frost, then stood up and flexed his leg which was stiffening up. He wanted to go home, but was determined not to leave before Frost.

'What is this terrible smell?'

Flaming hell! groaned Frost. Where had bloody Mullett sprung from? 'I noticed it the minute you came in, sir have you trod in something?' He signalled for Burton to open up the window, then took Mullett by the arm and led him outside. 'I'd like a quick word.'

'And I want a word with you, Frost.' He said nothing more until they reached his office. 'I've had a phone call from the Chief Constable and he is very concerned about our lack of progress with this kidnapping. He understands the boy's mother has given an interview to one of the papers complaining the police are doing nothing.'

'We're not doing nothing, sir, we just haven't come up with anything… until now.'

'Until now?' Mullett's head came up and his eyes gleamed. 'You've got a lead?' If this was true, he'd get straight back to the Chief Constable.

'A good one.' He quickly told Mullett about Finch.

'Finch? The man who was attacked?'

'Yes, sir.'

Mullett scratched his chin thoughtfully. 'The boy could be at Finch's house? We could get him back to his mother tonight?' That would be a triumph. It would make the papers look absolute fools in the morning.

'It's possible, super,' said Frost. 'I doubt if the boy is hidden in the house, but we should find something that would lead us to him.'