The Mushroom Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

we’re thinking about making a television appeal tomorrow morning. We’d need Mr Dewhurst down at the station at about nine thirty, if he agrees to it. Sometimes they produce goodresults. I’d be grateful if you could forewarn him.’
    ‘What do you think’s happened to her, Inspector? She’s such a lovely girl…’ Mrs Eaglin’s eyes filled with tears and she sniffed into a tiny lace handkerchief. Her fingers were clenched as tightly as the arthritis would allow.
    When she’d composed herself I said: ‘We’re hoping that Georgina played truant from school and became too frightened to come home; or maybe she got lost. We’re talking to any other children who were absent on Monday. Alternatively, she may have been abducted by, say, a childless woman who wants her for her own daughter. That happens more often than you’d realise.’
    I didn’t mention that we were dragging the canal, and that the helicopter was scouring the fields and woods with the latest heat-seeking technology. We also had a long print-out of sex offenders, and were slowly working our way through it. Silly men who’d led blameless lives after flashing in the park thirty years ago were having their pasts raked up in front of their families. It hardly seemed fair, but we were grasping at the wind.
    ‘Mrs Eaglin, how did Georgina seem when you last saw her?’ I asked.
    She lowered the hanky and thought for a few seconds. ‘Perfectly normal. In fact she was looking forward to going to school because they were rehearsing for the end-of-term play.’
    ‘Was she in it?’ I enquired.
    A smile briefly made an appearance, then fled. ‘No, but it disrupted lessons. I think that’s what she liked it for.’
    ‘When did you see her?’
    ‘Over the weekend. Miles picks me up Friday evening, straight after collecting Georgina from the child minder. He works Saturdays and likes to have a game of golf on Sunday. My husband, George, died nearly seven years ago, so I love to come here and look after Georgina. I sometimes visit through the week, too, especially when Miles has to stay away overnight.’
    ‘And when did you go home?’
    ‘Sunday evening, about seven. They both took me. After dropping me off I believe they were going for a pizza. Not really my cup of tea, and far too late for Georgina, but I’m old-fashioned.’
    I declined a drink and left after proffering more empty reassurances. It’s a thin line between false hopes and premature gloom. As long as we didn’t know, we had to assume she was still alive. Any other attitude was pointless.
    On the way back to the station I had a flash of inspiration, so I went via St Bidulph’s on the Top Road. Annabelle lives in the Old Vicarage, near the church. In the door pocket of the car was a bottle of claret, and the back seat held a rapidly fading bunch of salmon-pink roses. I stood on herdoorstep, bottle in one hand and wilting blooms in the other, rehearsing my lines: ‘Sorry I’m late, I was held up.’
    But she wasn’t in.
     
    Wednesday morning we filmed the TV appeal. The crew set up their cameras and lights in the conference room and the producer went through the scripts with Gilbert and myself. Gilbert introduced me as Acting Chief Inspector Priest.
    ‘What’s this Acting Chief bit?’ I whispered to him at the first possible opportunity.
    ‘It goes down better with the public,’ he replied in a hushed voice. ‘Gives you a bit more status.’
    ‘I don’t want to be Acting Chief,’ I hissed back.
    ‘Well you are.’
    ‘Officially?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Paid?’
    ‘Yes, bloody well paid.’
    Our whispers were growing louder and faces were turning towards us. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Gilbert?’
    The Super’s face was red with frustration and he thumped a palm with a fist.
    ‘For Christ’s sake, Charlie, I thought I was doing you a favour!’
    ‘Oh. Well, thanks.’
    I liked being the longest-ever-serving inspector.I’d been as young as it was possible to be when