Reggie Todd, sitting on the bunk in the police cell, noisily slurping down the cup of tea the sergeant had brought in for him, was a thin scrawny individual with a prominent nose and a large Adam's apple that clunked up and down as he swallowed. A rattling of keys from outside and the cell door crashed open. Detective Inspector Frost stood there, his eyes blazing.

Todd's Adam's apple moved up and down rapidly and he leapt to his feet, blurting out apologies before Frost could get a single word out. 'I'm sorry, Inspector. I'm truly sorry. I made a mistake… I must have dreamt it… It was so vivid I thought it was real.'

'You'll feel a vivid pain in the goolies in a minute,' snapped Frost, 'and it will be real.'

'I deserve it, Mr. Frost… but please… I hate violence.'

'You didn't seem to hate it when you were telling us what you did to the kid. You were dribbling with excitement.'

Todd hung his head and said nothing.

Frost's lip curled with disgust. 'You will now make another statement withdrawing your phoney confession and you will then get the hell out of here and hope and pray that I don't bump into you on a dark night.' He turned on his heels and marched out of the cell.

Station Sergeant Bill Wells looked up as Frost pushed through the swing doors into the lobby. 'You should charge him with wasting police time.'

'He's wasted so much police time, I haven't got time to charge him for wasting it,' said Frost. He poked a cigarette in his mouth. 'I've got my car expenses to do. If anything important happens, like Lord Lucan walking in to give himself up, pass it over to Inspector Maud.' He looked around. 'Where is she, by the way?'

Wells gave a disdainful sniff. Detective Sergeant Liz Maud, posted to Denton a couple of months ago, had been made up to the temporary rank of inspector, while he, Bill Wells, after seventeen years in the force, was still only a sergeant. 'That jumped-up little cow…!'