The Mushroom Man

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Authors: Stuart Pawson
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secretly marked, but otherwise it’s kosher.’
    ‘Heavens. So if this money is handed over, who pays?’
    ‘We do. The state.’
    ‘But you’d expect to be able to follow it? You’d want to make the handover yourselves?’
    I shook my head. ‘Not because of the money. We’d want to handle it because we’d stand a better chance of getting Georgina back.’ I stopped myself from saying ‘alive’.
    He was quiet for a while, then he said: ‘I have to tell you, Inspector, that I’m making efforts myself to raise the money.’
    I said: ‘That’s not necessary,’ but he wasn’t listening.
    He went on: ‘Six months ago I received an offer for Eagle. I turned it down, but I’ve just asked them if they’re still interested. I’m trying to sell the house, too.’
    ‘We already have the money, Mr Dewhurst. It’s imperative that as soon as you hear anything you let us know. We can handle it best. You’ll be involved every inch of the way. Understand?’
    He nodded. Beyond him, through the window, I could see the Nissan, its shape distorted by the rain running down the glass. I wondered if Jimmy had managed to obtain a sample for me. I was painfully aware that I was floundering with this one. All we had to go on was the fact that we had nothing to go on.
    ‘There is one other thing,’ I said. He looked at me. ‘The ransom note. The forensic people have found a spot of saliva or sweat on it. They can tell a person’s blood group from something like that. Trouble is, it could be yours or mine. I’ve already given a sample. I wonder if you could make an appointment with Dr Evans – he’s near Heckley nick – in the next couple of days. Just for elimination purposes. I’ll give you his number.’
    In the kitchen the kettle clicked off as it came to the boil. I didn’t stay for a cuppa with him. I might be a bastard, but I’ve got my limits. I climbed straight into the car and drove home. If I hadn’t been in so much of a hurry I’d have heard the wind, soughing in the treetops.

CHAPTER FIVE
    It was the earliest I’d been home for months. First thing I did was ring Jimmy Hoyle. The rain was bouncing knee high off the garden, so I hadn’t bothered to have a look in the boot to see if he’d collected anything for me.
    ‘Hi, Catfish. Thanks for coming out. Did you manage to get me a sample.’
    ‘A sample? I nearly donated one myself when you shouted,’ he said. ‘I scraped some mud into the bag you gave me, but when he came I just stuffed the whole lot in and put it in your boot. He’ll notice that his spare wheel isn’t wrapped up any more.’
    I could tell from his voice that his adrenalin was still high. He’d enjoyed the whole thing.
    ‘Never mind. He’ll just assume the cover blew off when he was doing a ton on the motorway. I’ll send it to the lab tomorrow. Well done. You’ll have to let me know what I owe you.’
    ‘It’s OK. Buy me a pint sometime.’
    I’d known he’d say that. I’d drop him a bottle of whisky when I got the chance.
    I was sick of takeaways, so I cooked for a change. I had turkey, with stuffing, chipolata, sprouts, potatoes, carrots and gravy. It only took six minutes in the microwave.
    For pudding I rang Annabelle.
    ‘Hello, Charles,’ she said warmly, ‘this is a pleasant surprise.’
    ‘I just thought I’d better ring now and again, before you forgot my name,’ I told her.
    ‘I don’t think there is any chance of that,’ she replied, ‘but it is still nice to talk to you. I know how busy you must be. Are you any nearer the end of it?’
    ‘No, we’re batting in the dark, swiping at shadows. Our luck will change, though, hopefully.’
    ‘I saw the appeal on television. It was heart-rending listening to that poor man, her father. How can he ever recover from something like this?’
    ‘He can’t.’ As soon as the conversation was back on a less traumatic level I said: ‘I’m not eating too well, and I’ve been hungering for a nice, man-sized

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