R. Wingfield - Hard Frost

It took nearly three-quarters of an hour for the traffic to start moving again. The older woman had stopped sobbing and sat, head bowed and red-eyed, staring blankly through the car window, while the nurse, deep in her own thoughts, absently patted her hand. Vehicles slowed down again as they reached the cordoned-off scene of the accident. A large chemical-carrying tanker had slewed across the road and was lying on its side. There didn't appear to be any leakage of fuel, but firemen were standing by. An ambulance was parked on the hard shoulder to the rear. In front of it, another group of firemen with a mobile crane were trying to raise the tanker so they could get to the crushed car underneath. It was a Porsche. A black Porsche. Hovering alongside the firemen, a team of paramedics waited, ready to dash in.

Frost braked abruptly and got out, ignoring the angry blast of car horns behind him.

A traffic policeman hurried over. "Please get back in your car," he ordered. "There's nothing to see here."

Frost flashed his warrant card. "What happened?"

The traffic policeman shrugged. "We don't know yet, inspector. It looks as if the Porsche was going too fast and crashed over the central barrier smack in the path of the tanker coming the other way."

"Couple of teenagers a chap and a girl in the Porsche?"

"Yes." The traffic policeman was looking over Frost's shoulder where the firemen had managed to raise the tanker and were now using cutting gear on the Porsche.

"Alive or dead?"

A screaming of metal as the roof of the Porsche was torn off. Two of the paramedics pushed forward and looked inside, then moved back, shaking their heads and signalling for the firemen to carry on.

"I think they are dead, sir," said the policeman.

Frost sat them in separate interview rooms and asked a WPC to bring them mugs of tea which they looked at with obvious distaste and pushed away after the first sip. "I'll be back soon," he said and went off to find Liz to tell her about the Porsche. He hoped she would be in his office, but it was Cassidy who was waiting for him, pacing up and down to work off his anger. Frost wasn't in the mood for Cassidy, but he masked his feelings and gave an enquiring smile.

"The Lemmy Hoxton case is mine," hissed Cassidy. "You told me you wouldn't interfere and yet you've been off to see those women, without a damn word to me. You're deliberately keeping me out of it…"

Frost thudded down into his chair and rested his chin on his palm. Cassidy was chuntering away with his moan, non-stop, just like Mullett. So Frost applied his anti-Mullett technique, switching off his ears until Cassidy ran out of breath.

A pause, so he got in quick. "I'm sorry, son. I forgot."

"Forgot?" echoed Cassidy incredulously. "How the hell could you forget?"

"Because I'm stupid," said Frost. "I shouldn't have done it. The women are in the interview rooms and they're ready to make statements confessing to the killing." He told Cassidy the details. "So it's all yours."

Not in the least mollified, Cassidy marched to the door, turning for one final snarl. "You haven't heard the last of this," he said.

"I'm sure I haven't," murmured Frost wearily.

PC Collier yawned. He liked working for Frost and he welcomed the overtime money, but the inspector always kept everyone up late, then expected them to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with hardly any sleep, the next day. The succession of late nights were taking their toll and the warm interior of the car was whispering how great it would be to close his eyes, just for a few minutes, and drift off. He jerked his head up and wound down the window. They were parked at the end of Finch's turning, tucked away well out of sight, but from where they could just see the blue Austin Metro.

At his side, Ken Jordan was slumped in the driving seat, eyes closed, breathing heavily in a deep sleep. It wasn't fair. There should be two of them watching. They'd nearly missed Finch before when he had slipped out of the house, but didn't take the car. Collier had followed him on foot to the supermarket where Finch bought some food and returned home. If he sneaked out again… Collier stiffened and nudged Jordan sharply. "He's coming out!" Immediately, Jordan was awake and alert. He snatched up the radio to report to Control, then slipped out of the car, his turn to follow on foot if Finch didn't use the Metro.

The front door slammed as Finch and an excited yapping dog walked to the car. Finch was carrying a carrier bag which he slung on to the back seat. It looked like the food he had bought earlier at the Savalot supermarket. When it was clear Finch was taking the car, Jordan slid back into the driving seat and picked up the radio. "Subject in car driving south into Market Street. We are following…"

Frost located Liz in the main interview room. She had Tracey Neal with her, the travel bag with the money between them on the table. Tracey didn't look so cocky as when they had last seen her.

Tracey's told us about the abduction," said Liz.

"It was Carol's idea," insisted Tracey. "I just went along with her. I haven't had any of the money."

Frost sat next to Liz. "Stealing from her own parents. Why?"

"They're not both Carol's parents," said Tracey. "Her father divorced her real mother and married again. He spends all his money on her furs, expensive clothes, jewellery. Carol said she'd only married him for his money."

"So Carol was jealous?"

"The new wife would get his money when he died. Carol didn't think that was fair."

"So you staged the fake abduction?"

"Yes."

"Why did you dump the jewellery and furs and stuff?"

"We didn't know what to do with it. Ian thought we'd be bound to be found out if we tried to sell them."

"So why take them in the first place?"

"It was Carol's idea. To spite her new mother, I suppose."

Frost intertwined his fingers behind his head and studied the ceiling. "AH right, love, you can go," he said at last.

Liz looked at him as if he had gone out of his mind? "Go?"

"I don't think Carol's father will be pressing charges," he said. "If he does, we'll think again."

Liz showed the girl out, then came back, clearly piqued and ready for a row. She wanted to tie this one up herself. Cassidy seemed to be getting all the successful cases and she was getting nothing. But when Frost told her about the accident she was stunned.

"We'll have to break the news to her father," said Frost. "Double bad bloody news. It was his daughter who stole his money and now she's dead." He sighed. "I wish Cassidy had snaffled this flaming case as well."

Burton chased after them in the corridor and called them into the incident room. "Finch is on the move. He's got a carrier bag of food with him. He could be on his way to the kid."

"Let's hope he's not on his way to the park to feed the bloody ducks," said Frost, glad of the chance to put off calling on Stanfield.

In the incident room he snatched up someone's mug of tea and settled down in a chair in front of the speaker.

"Jordan to Simms. Subject heading north to Bath Road. Can you take over?"

"Simms, receiving. Affirmative. We are at first turn-off in Bath Road." A pause, then, "We see him. Taking over now."

"Right. We'll move ahead of him and wait at the Lexton turn-off."

Jordan pressed down the accelerator and the car shot forward, flashing past Finch's Metro. They resisted the temptation to turn their heads as they passed, not wanting there to be any hint they were interested in him. No side roads for the next ten miles or so and the first possible diversion was just past the Fina service station near the Lexton turn-off. When they reached the service station Jordan drove up on to the foreccurt and waited.

"Am following," reported Simms. "Not much traffic about and road fairly straight, so I'm having to keep well back."