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
