Frank languished in the cell block for another four hours before the detectives returned. The wino had called out drunkenly to him a number of times but he didn't answer. Later, he began to talk to himself, swearing and raving incoherently, and Frank felt glad he hadn't spoken to him. Whenever Frank moved about or used the toilet the wino would call out drunkenly again, cursing Frank because he didn't reply, but as long as he remained quiet the other man seemed to forget he was there.

Saunders entered the cell-block to get him this time, unlocking the door while enquiring how he had enjoyed his accommodations. Frank was freezing and very hungry, but he refused to complain to Saunders about it. They returned to the little office, where Ford sat waiting for them. He was reading over the statement they had prepared that afternoon.

"Have a seat Frank," once again, his easy-going friendly manner. "Sorry to keep you waiting like this but I think you'll find we're much better prepared now." Ford's smile exuded confidence.

Saunders was watching Frank intently, wearing his most sneering, supercilious smile. God, how Frank was beginning to hate that red-headed bastard, but he was worried too, they both seemed so cock-sure; they had acquired something during their absence.

"Now Frank," Ford continued, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to change some details of this declaration before we have it typed up?"

"Yeah, like all of it?"

"No."

"No, you're not sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. No, I don't want to change my story."

"Hang on a minute Frank." Ford stepped out the door and returned immediately with Frank's winter jacket. "You forgot this at your friends' house this morning when you discovered the money missing. You know, it was a stroke of pure genius. We just walked up to the door, showed that young sweetie our badges and told her we were there to pick up your coat, and she went and got it for us. Jeff here thought of it. Now, one lie pretty well negates the whole statement wouldn't you say, Frank? You're in possession of virtually all of the loot from an armed robbery, and you're lying to the police about how you came to have it. The judge is going to take this into consideration when he sentences you Frank; I'd say you're going to do some hard time. How about it? Are you sure you want to protect McDermott at your own expense?" Ford stared evenly at him all the while. He thought for a moment and then continued, "Well, I have some bad news for you, we brought your pal in, and he's being a lot more co-operative than you are. He says you planned the whole thing right down to the details … and he's going to get off with a light sentence. So how's it going to be, you going to take the rap for him?" Ford waited now for an answer.

Frank could say nothing. His mind was in a state of confusion, and he needed time to program this new information, figure out its implications. One thing bolstered his courage, there had been no mention of the identity of the third man. Until they knew that, he would remain silent.

"Tom McDermott was at his father's farm all that day," Frank volunteered under Ford's expectant gaze. "His wife and his parents were with him."

"Yeah, we checked out old Tom senior," interjected Saunders. "He's got a record of petty convictions as long as your arm. He's not much good for an alibi."

"Does Mrs. McDermott have a record too?" Frank demanded sarcastically. For the first time he saw the older man's mask slip, just perceptibly, but he was growing impatient. Perhaps they hadn't so much on him after all. One thing was certain: If Tom McDermott was in the building, he was telling them nothing, and neither would he.

They questioned him for two hours, beginning innocently enough, rewording and recovering parts of Frank's statement, getting the conversation moving amiably once more and then zeroing in on Tom McDermott, or the jacket, Saunders taking the offensive at such times, bullying and cajoling, trying to make Frank angry or frightened. Ford placated, pacified, smoothed things over to prepare for another onslaught. Frank often wavered, had doubts, but he held firm to his trust in Tom. Finally they gave up. Ford said he had phone calls to make and Saunders left with him. During the time he was alone in the office he began to feel more sure of himself. They hadn't broken his story, apart from the fact that he was at Tom's that morning, and despite two hours of interrogation they were no further ahead. He put on his winter jacket now, and as his torso warmed up, the tension in his body lessened and he grew more confident.

The two returned, Saunders wearing a broad grin. "They too have recovered their composure," thought Frank drily, "they're probably good for another two hours."

This time Saunders took the swivel chair, and Ford stood by the door, leaning against the wall, where Frank could no longer see him.

"You know Wilson, you've never seen the inside of the Federal Prison for Women up in Kingston, but I have. It was built over forty years ago when penal philosophy was a lot less humane than it is now. The hardest cases the Canadian system produces are kept there. They kind of graduate from one level to the next; probation, reformatory, reformatory again, and finally they end up in Kingston. I tell you Frank, there are women in there with tattoos and knife-scars who work out on the barbells all day long; they scare me! Now, along with them are a number of young ladies who have been caught smuggling pot and have been sentenced to the mandatory seven years. Since there is only one institution to put them in, they're held at the Prison for Women. Seems kind of like a travesty to me; they're nice kids from middle-class homes, but it's a paradise for the butches. They're not behind bars long before they see the advantages of having an 'old man' to protect them, and then you see them walking hand-in-hand in the corridors. "Do you have any idea what I'm driving at here, Frank?" Saunders had lost all of his smart-alecky insolent manner now, and a compassionate side to his nature was beginning to show.

Frank nodded weakly. He was beginning to feel sick. Saunders eyed him sympathetically and continued. "While we were out, we had a meeting with the Provincial Police; they have two officers assigned to the robbery investigation. They were satisfied to let us continue with our research. They thought there was good reason to suspect you and McDermott, given your wife's testimony, the fact that you were off work that day, and, … just a lot of little coincidences, but we had no ideas about the third man. We know he rode a motorcycle to the scene and then abandoned it there. That kind of threw us for awhile. But he also abandoned a motorcycle helmet, and guess what they found inside that helmet. I'll give you a hint; it's better than a fingerprint."

Frank's eyes began to water and he put his head down so they might not see the extent of his shock. "A hair," he mumbled.

"That's right; a long, lustrous, chestnut-coloured hair. Tomorrow morning I'm going with a search warrant to McDermott's house, to search for Chargex stubs and receipts that weren't recovered with the money, but what I'm really after is a sample out of that girl's hairbrush. He stood now and leaned over the desk, towering over Frank's dejected form. "Now, would you like to change your statement, Frank?"

Frank nodded dumbly, but would not lift his head to face his inquisitors.

"How about some coffee, Len?" he said quietly and the older man left the room. He gave Frank several minutes to compose himself, leaning back in the swivel chair, his feet on the desk, hands folded across his chest. If he felt smug and self-satisfied it didn't show. Frank calculated he had been at work fourteen hours already, and he was beginning to look it. He spoke gently now. "I gotta hand it to you Frank, it was a clean job, no guns, nobody got hurt. It would have worked too, if it hadn't been for your wife spying on you all the time."

"Spying on me? Why?"

"She thought you were having an affair or something, said you'd been acting queer ever since the summer started. She took to calling George Wells to see if you were really at work, and searching your car and pockets; stuff like that."

"And that fucking Wells never told me."

"Hell no, they got to be on first name basis after a while. Anyway, I have to hand it to you, it was a slick job. And you stuck by your friends too; a lot of people we question here aren't that solid, believe me."

Ford returned with mugs of steaming coffee and Frank grasped his in two hands. They drank it and made small talk, and then Saunders reached for a fresh note pad and prepared to write.

"Okay Frank, let's just start over and you can give me the whole story in your own words."

"I don't know what you want."

"Why not start with how you and McDermott planned the robbery?"

"No."

"No?"

"I'm not going to spill my guts. What do you want from me? You got all the money back, you've got me, and I'm willing to plead guilty, but I'm not giving evidence against anyone."

"I see. The girl goes free in other words."

"McDermott too."

"Now just wait a minute," Ford interrupted from his new position at the side of the desk. "Jeff, I think we should talk about this." They left Frank alone again, returning after ten or fifteen minutes.

"We talked it over, and we talked to the provincials. Here's what we propose. You plead guilty to possession of stolen property, and we can consider the case cleared, but we can't leave any loop-holes for you to wiggle out through later. Now, I assume you put the money into that log, as well as took it out, right?"

"Right."

"And you knew it was stolen, and had no intention of returning it to its rightful owner?

"Right again."

"That should do it. Now if you'll just dictate a formal statement, we'll get it typed up and then we can all go home."

The statement was brief, and began with the standard warning and ended with a similar paragraph stating he had made it of his own free will and without threats or promises. Frank read the document carefully and corrected several small errors in time and detail and then signed it. He was asked to initial whatever changes he had made and he did so. Ford then declared that he was "free to go," and accompanied him to the property desk upstairs, and then down in the elevator and out of the building.

Frank looked at his watch. It was half-past midnight. He stood on the broad concrete steps of the police station and fastened his coat securely. There was a damp icy wind from the east that promised snow, and it cut through his winter clothing. He shuddered once, hunched his shoulders against the cold blast and struck out on foot for home. Frank raged silently as he walked below the looming stone fortress-like walls that encircled the prison yard of the old county jail. He had no home to go to now, for he had no intention of returning to Diane. He felt too sick at heart to be subjected to her stupidity, and he fervently hoped, as he turned west over the bridge, that he would never set eyes on her again. He adjusted the summer jacket he carried over one arm and adopted a quicker pace. The weather seemed less inclement as he warmed to the exercise, his back to the wind, and he covered the distance to Tom's house in slightly over an hour. The house was all in darkness as he approached, but Tom's truck was parked out front, so they were no doubt asleep. He walked around back to the kitchen door and rapped loudly. Then he tried the latch to see if it was locked and the knob turned freely. With his head inside the door he called, "Tom? Leila?"

The room was instantly flooded with light, Tom stood by the switch clad only in his underpants. "Frank, Jesus, we just went to bed, I thought they were going to keep you overnight. Not that we could sleep anyway…"

Leila appeared beside him, dressed in her blue terrycloth robe. She looked a mess, her eyes red and rheumy from much crying, her nose red and sore-looking. "Frank," she whimpered in a barely audible voice.

Frank was breathing heavily, for he had walked seven miles at the double and was hot and winded now that he had arrived. He removed his jacket and dropped into a kitchen chair. "Could I have a glass of water?" He got it while Tom disappeared to dress, returning in his usual tartan workshirt and blue jeans. He sat next to his friend.

"Christ, Frank, what happened? When you didn't come back after an hour I called your house and some guy answered. I figured it was a cop so I just hung up. Then when you sent them here for your jacket I knew they'd been watching you."

"We didn't tell them anything Frank," Leila added, wide-eyed. She stood by the sink, the coffee pot in one hand.

Tom took over once more. "That's right. They asked us if we knew anything about the money you found and we said no. They asked where I was on the afternoon of October fifth, then they took down my parent's address and phone number so they could check my alibi; but when they began to get too pushy I asked them to leave."

"Are you hungry Frank?" Leila interrupted once more. "I could make you bacon and eggs."

"Thanks Lee. I'm starved."

"Didn't they feed you?"

"A sandwich, this afternoon sometime, nothing since except coffee. You know, at one point they told me that they had you upstairs and you were singing like a canary." He grinned, "I didn't fall for that though."

"So we're in the clear then," Tom declared proudly. "Right on!"

"Hell no, we're not in the clear. First of all, it was Diane who blew the whistle on me. She'd been spying and checking up on me all summer. Seems she couldn't stand that I began to be away without her sometimes, and she thought I was up to something. I mean, this was long before we began to plan the robbery. I guess it drove her crazy to think I had friends that didn't include her. Anyway, she found the money last night I guess, after I went to bed, and took it out of the tool box. This morning she called George Wells and told him about it. He called in the cops."

"George Wells! How did he get involved?"

"It appears they've become something of telephone pals over the summer. He was there this morning. In fact he probably answered the phone when you called. When the police took me down-town he was still there, probably holding her hand in her hour of need," he added cryptically.

"The dirty bastard," Tom muttered, disgusted.

"Oh, don't feel that way Tom. Maybe those two ass-holes will end up together. Wouldn't that be justice? … nemesis? … whatever?"

They laughed but when Frank continued to enjoy the joke much longer than the others, Tom turned serious. "Easy Frank, it wasn't that funny."

Frank got it under control. Tom was right, he did feel giddy. He'd better keep a lid on it. He continued his review of the day's events. "So the first the police knew of it was then. They didn't even get to my place until after I did, then they walked up and flashed their badges. I can't describe to you what a shock that was." His eyes scalded now at the memory. "I could hardly climb the kitchen steps .. so anyway, I told them my story and we went downtown, where I've been ever since, waiting while they tried to pin the robbery on us … Another thing! I didn't send them here for my coat. They figured that out themselves. At least the red-headed one, Saunders did."

"We didn't know. We just assumed you sent them," said Leila as she put cups on the table.

"That's what they wanted you to think. Then once you gave them the coat they knew for sure we were in it together. They didn't even bother to check your story. Anyhow, they got me for possession of stolen property; you guys are in the clear.

"That's the charge, possession? That's going to be hard to prove. Your story is pretty good, and it's been two months since the robbery."

"They don't have to prove it. I'm going to plead guilty. I already signed a statement."

Leila sat down opposite the two and stared at Frank in astonishment.

"Tom, they had us, they would have kept digging around until they proved it. It was easier this way. After all, how serious can a charge of possession be? People buy stolen goods and stuff all the time."

"It depends on whether or not the judge believes, when he's sentencing you, that you actually planned and committed an armed robbery, and then remained silent to protect your accomplices … As he's going to believe in your case. Jesus, Frank, why would you ever make a statement? We were in the clear."

"No, we weren't, they had Leila. They found a sample of her hair in the motorcycle helmet. Saunders said that was as good as fingerprints."

"Well it isn't. I know that for sure. But I guess it would be enough to make it pretty hot for us."

Leila watched them with a puzzled look, and then, tentatively, asked "Didn't I have that helmet on when you picked me up in the truck? I know I had it on when I ran into the road, and the hard-hat was in my hand. I thought I threw them both into the back of the truck."

"That's right! Tom shouted, "I put them in the garbage." The look of triumph drained away then. "But you've already signed a statement," he admitted sadly.

"But they tricked you Frank! Doesn't that make it inadmissible or something?"

"No Lee, I don't think so. Besides, they had us. It was only a matter of time, and I had very little to lose, and you two have a great deal, so I bargained with them. It's okay, don't worry about it."

"But I am worried about it. We've got to get you a lawyer. You should have had one this afternoon."

"If I didn't have one this afternoon why would I want one now." Frank began to feel defensive. He had struck a good bargain, his one consolation was that he had stood by his friends, and now it seemed they were criticizing him for it!

"She's right, Frank. Even if you plead guilty you'll need a lawyer. For one thing the judge probably won't accept your plea without one. Besides a good criminal lawyer will know which judge to get for your case, and he'll probably be able to tell you what the sentence will be before court. He'll set all that up beforehand with the Crown Attorney."

Leila began to fill their cups with steaming black coffee. She put sugar on the table, and a liquor bottle of amber liquid. Frank turned it to face him: Rum. "By the time this is gone we'll be able to sleep," she commented.

"How much will a lawyer cost, Tom?"

"I don't know. A court appearance will probably cost three hundred. One thing is sure, it would have been a lot more if we'd got to keep any of that money."

"No doubt. But I have no money, Tom. And another thing, I want to get this over with soon. There's no point in putting it off. The sooner I start doing my time, the sooner I'll be out."

Leila grew angry now and turned on Frank, her eyes blazing. "I'll hear no more of that. You will have a lawyer, and you will not rush into this. Remember how you guys planned the robbery, the time and detail that went into it? Well, you're going to take your time about this too. Tom has some friends that have been around quite a bit; we'll get some advice on how to go about 'doing your time' as you so cavalierly refer to it, and then you won't be going into it blind. And you're not to worry about paying a lawyer. I have employee shares in our company, and I can borrow against them." She saw he was about to argue and admonished him with her finger. "Not another word Frank! I mean it." She began to clatter the frying pan and prepare his meal while the two men helped themselves to liquor and drank their coffee in silence.