R. Wingfield - Hard Frost

He watched them file out, then winced as Mullett came bowling in. "Another lead fizzled out, then, inspector?"

"Yes," grunted Frost. Go and gloat somewhere else, you vindictive sod.

"Pity you don't have the success Mr. Cassidy seems to be enjoying. It might not be a bad idea if you let him take over this case."

Frost tightened his lips, but said nothing. He stood up and squeezed past Mullett. "I think that's my phone ringing," he said.

He barged past Mullett who strained his ears, but couldn't hear a phone.

Bill Wells grabbed him just as he was going out for a drive around. Anything to get away from Mullett. "Sidney Snell wants to talk to you, Jack."

"Not my case," grunted Frost.

"He says it's very important."

"Where's Cassidy?"

"Out somewhere."

Frost shrugged. What the hell it wouldn't hurt to find out what Snell had to say. He followed Wells down to the cells and waited while the door was unlocked. Snell, sitting on the bunk bed, hugging his knees, looked up plaintively.

"I didn't do it, Mr. Frost."

"You haven't dragged me down here just to hear that same old cracked record, I hope, Sidney. I know it off by heart. "I didn't do it, Mr. Frost, honest, on my mother's grave."

"Well, this time it happens to be true."

"Even if it is, so what? You're a scumbag, Sidney… for that alone you deserve to be banged up."

"But not for something I didn't do. I don't kill kids and I don't kill women."

"But you do sign bleeding confessions," said Frost.

"He made me, Mr. Frost. Mr. Cassidy kept on and on telling me I did it, and that I'd feel better if I got it off my chest. In the end I just signed the confession to get a bit of peace."

"I reckon you'll get twenty-five years' worth of peace, Sidney perhaps a couple of days less for good behaviour."

"I confessed, but I didn't do it," Snell insisted.

"The Guildford Four, the Birmingham Six and now the Denton One. Face up to the facts, Sidney. One of the dead kids was stabbed, the way you stab little kiddies, your blood and chunks of flesh are over the plywood on the back door panel. You were seen running away afterwards. And if that wasn't enough, you're a slimy little bastard, and I hate the sight of you."

"I was there that night, Mr. Frost, I don't deny that. I followed her about when she took the kids out to the park, and I used to stare at her through the windows… but I never killed her or the kids."

"So why did you break in at one o'clock in the morning? To apologize?"

"All I intended to do was look through the window. As God is my witness, Mr. Frost, that's all I intended doing, but sometimes I can't control myself… The devil talks to me."

"And what did the devil say "Kill them all, just to spite that silly sod Mr. Frost who should have had you arrested, but was too bleeding lazy"?"

"He drew my attention to that loose sheet of plywood. He said I should push my hand through and unbolt the door." Snell rubbed his bandaged hand. "I just meant to look at them… I like looking at kiddies asleep in their cots."

"I like looking at naked nymphomaniacs, but I couldn't promise I'd just look at them. You had your stabbing knife with you, and you bloody used it."

Snell buried his face in his hands. "Just enough to break the skin, Mr. Frost. I can't help myself. I don't know why, but I like it when I see the blood… tiny drops of red on their little arms."

"Look out, Sidney, you're dribbling," said Frost.

Snell wiped his mouth. "I get a sexual kick out of it, but I don't kill — I couldn't."

Frost sat down on the bunk beside him and lit up a cigarette. "According to your statement, the kids woke up and started screaming

… all three of them. You had to silence them, so you used the pillow

… and then their mother came running in and you had to kill her as well."

"No!" Snell was almost shouting now. "Mr. Cassidy put the words in my mouth. I couldn't kill anyone. I'm terrified of death and dead bodies." He waved away the cigarette Frost was offering. "They made me look at my mother's dead body in the hospital. She was all shrivelled up. She looked horrible."

"She looked pretty bleeding horrible when she was alive," said Frost.

"I thought they were showing me the wrong body… but it was her. I ran out and never went back. Do you think I'd want to see any more dead bodies after that, Mr. Frost?" He shook his head firmly. "No way… no way!"

"If you want to withdraw your confession," said Frost, 'then tell Mr. Cassidy. This isn't my case."

Snell ignored him, eyes glazed in recollection. He was back in the house that cold, frosty night. "I tiptoed over to the kids' room. I pushed open the door and held my breath. It was so quiet that should have warned me something was wrong. You can usually hear kids… they make a hell of a row when they're asleep, snorting and snuffling. But I was too excited to worry. There was this little boy. He had little podgy arms lying on top of the eiderdown. I pulled back the sleeve of his pyjamas and pricked him, very quickly. It doesn't hurt them, Mr. Frost. They get frightened when they wake, but it doesn't hurt them. I broke the skin, but he didn't murmur or wake up. I let go of his arm and it just dropped down. And when I touched his face, he didn't move, and I couldn't hear him breathing. None of them were breathing. Then I realized he was dead… they were all dead. I was in a room with three dead kids. I panicked. I charged straight out through the front door and into the street."

"Was there anyone about in the street at the time?"

"An old boy with a dog. I nearly sent him flying."

"We know about him. Anyone else?"

"I didn't see anyone. I just raced for the car and got the hell out of there. You've got to help me, Mr. Frost. I'm innocent."

Frost dropped his cigarette end and stamped it to death on the cell floor. "You're not innocent, Sidney. You're a perverted little bastard who interferes with kids. We might have got you for the wrong crime, but so what the end result's the same. You get put away and everyone's happy."

"But if I'm banged up for this, Mr. Frost, it means the real killer gets away with it."

Frost sighed. "All right, Sidney, I'll have a sniff around and see what I come up with but don't hold your breath." He yelled for Bill Wells to let him out. "Gross miscarriage of justice," he told the sergeant.

"The only miscarriage of justice would be if they ever let the sod out," said Wells.

The tottering heap in his in-tray looked ready to fall over at any minute. He skimmed through it to see what he could throw away. A thick wad turned out to be the Crime Rate Detection Statistical Analysis that Liz had prepared with the request that he should check through it and sign it as correct. He signed it unread and hurled it into his out-tray. Then all the papers on his desk fluttered as Cassidy, his face distorted in anger, burst in and jabbed an accusing finger. "You've been talking to Snell?"

"He asked to see me."

"Whether he asked to see you or not, he is my prisoner and this is my case. You ask me first understand?"

"All right," shrugged Frost. "Keep your hair on." He was getting more and more fed up with Cassidy.

"What did he want to see you about or did you intend keeping that to yourself?"

"He said he didn't do it."

Cassidy fluttered pages of stapled typescript in Frost's face. "He has signed a confession!"

"He wants to withdraw it."

Cassidy's face went a dirty brick red. His fists clenched and unclenched as if he was ready to punch Frost on the chin. "It may not fit in with your crack-pot theories but Snell, the man you refused to arrest, has admitted everything. He did it the kids and the mother. So stay away from him. This is my case and I don't want you ruining it to satisfy your own personal ego." With one last sizzling death-ray of a glare, he spun round and stamped out of the office, nearly sending Burton flying as he did so.