R. Wingfield - Hard Frost

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…"

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.