Stuart Pawson - The Mushroom Man

He shuffled and cleared his throat. "Er, I had some appointments through the day. I'd have to look in my diary to be precise."

"That's good enough. And in the evening?"

"Well, after work I picked Georgina up from the child minder's and we went to fetch Mrs. Eaglin, her grandma. She'd prepared a meal for us.

Afterwards we all come back toHeckley."

He was talking. That was what we wanted. I said: "And what did you do Saturday?"

He sat back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. These were easy questions; no problem.

"Saturday morning I worked. Paperwork in the office."

"At the factory or an office at home?"

"The factory. I went straight from there to the golf club. Had a sandwich and a round of golf."

"Where do you play, sir?"

"Brandersthorpe."

Best in the area. You could buy a small car with the membership fee. I said: "And in the evening?"

"Watched a kids' video with Georgina. Watched grownup TV and had a couple of beers after she'd gone to bed."

He was relaxing. Now it was Nigel's turn again. "And on Sunday?" he said.

Dewhurst stretched his arms forward on to the table and interlocked his fingers. He stared at his hands as he spoke:

"Golf in the morning. Home for lunch. In the afternoon I watched sport on the box. Mrs. Eaglin and Georgina went to the park to feed the ducks. Afterwards we took Mrs. Eaglin home. Georgina and I left there at about seven and went for a pizza. It's… it was her favourite."

"Which brings us to Monday morning," I said.

Dewhurst pushed himself upright. "For heaven's sake, Inspector. We've been through this a dozen times…"

He was getting cocky. He thought he'd survived the worst we had to offer. "We'd like it down on tape, if you don't mind, sir. And you are still under caution, of course." No harm in reminding him.

He folded his arms and addressed the table, speaking in short sentences as if addressing an idiot. "I dropped Georgina off at the bus station.

I bought a paper. I didn't see Georgina on to the bus because I was double-parked. Then I did my day's work. I came home to find you in my house." He looked up and our eyes met briefly. I felt like Rikki-tikki-tavi, nailing Nag the cobra.

"Thank you. Could you expand on your movements after you left the bus station, please?"

"If you insist, Inspector."

I did, I most certainly did.

He went on: "I drove round the one-way system and headed out on the Manchester Road. I had an appointment at a company called Ashurst's, in Stockport, at nine o'clock. It was about ten past when I arrived. I had a puncture in their yard and had to cancel my next appointment.

After that I think I went to Heaton's in Kidsgrove, but again I'd have to check my diary to be sure."

"A puncture?" I said, raising an eyebrow like a bad thespian. "That was unfortunate. Were you in the Toyota?"

"No, the Patrol."

"So who repaired it for you?" I asked.

"Really, Inspector. Is all this necessary? It's my daughter's murder you're supposed to be investigating; not who repaired a puncture for me!"

"OK, let me put it another way. Were you anywhere near Capstick Colliery on that Monday morning?"

"No. Most certainly not!"

"Thank you. In that case is there any way in which you can verify your whereabouts?"

He gave a big sigh and sank back in his chair, saying: "I'm sorry, Inspector. I didn't realise what you were getting at. The mechanic at Ashurst's put the spare on, then took the Patrol to the local tyre depot, ATS Tyres, and had a new one fitted. Mr. Black, MD at Ashurst's, kindly offered to put it on their account. It should all be in their books, somewhere. I wasn't given any of the paperwork."

Wylie, the solicitor, decided to earn his fee. He smiled and said: "I must say, Inspector, you had me wondering where your questions were leading, but I'm sure my client has given a satisfactory account of his movements. Both Ashurst's and the tyre depot will have details of the transaction."

"No doubt," I agreed. "So let's get this clear, and I would remind you that you are still under caution. You went to Ashurst's and had a puncture. Their mechanic took the Patrol to ATS Tyres and had a new one fitted. When it was returned to you it had five good tyres with the spare in its proper place under the back of the vehicle. Is that what happened?"

"Yes."

"You're certain of that?"

"Well, yes."

"Have you or anybody else removed or touched the spare since then?"

"No."

"Has the vehicle been in for a service?"

"No."

"Good." When I'd entered the interview room I was carrying a folder.

So that it didn't cause a distraction, I'd placed it on the floor, leaning against the leg of my chair. Now I reached down and retrieved it. "In which case," I said, 'perhaps you could explain this." I removed the two black and white prints that Van Rees had given me and shoved them across the table.

Wylie leaned forward, interested. Dewhurst looked scared. "I… d-don't understand," he stuttered.

"Let me make it easier for you then, Mr. Dewhurst." I had a pair of scissors in the folder. I used them to cut across one of the prints, as close as possible to the jagged saw-teeth. I placed the cut-down print over the first one.

Dewhurst kept silent, his face a mask of fear and contempt. Wylie said: "I'm afraid you've lost me, Inspector."

"I'll explain, then. This one' — I indicated with a finger' is a photograph of the black plastic bag in which poor Georgina's body was found. It's the type that comes in a continuous roll. You just tear them off at the perforations, as required. This other one' — I pointed again 'is the next bag on that roll. The edges are a perfect match, as you can see. It was removed from under Mr. Dewhurst's Nissan Patrol, wrapped round the spare wheel." I turned to Dewhurst: "Would you care to explain how it came to be there, sir?"

Dewhurst's suntan was rapidly losing the struggle to keep some colour in his face. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and an eyelid developed an involuntary twitch. He said: "I don't know what you are talking about."

"It's called infanticide, Mr. Dewhurst. I'm suggesting that you murdered Georgina."

"You're mad." He spat the words at me.

I expanded on my accusation: "You'd planned the whole thing for a long time. We know all about your financial situation and the love nest in Todmorden. The ransom notes were made well in advance of the deed. To make them you bought envelopes, notepad and glue from Woolworths. What you didn't use you discarded, probably by simply placing them in a litter bin or skip whilst on your travels. You murdered Georgina on the Sunday night, giving her a massive dose of your mother-in-law's sleeping tablets and helping them along with a plastic bag over her head. You carefully opened the roll of bin-liners you had previously purchased and tore off the first one. You hid it at Capstick Colliery, with Georgina's body inside. The rest of the roll was placed between the front seats of the Nissan and you disposed of them sometime on the Monday."

Wylie was sitting bolt upright, his eyes switching from me to his client and his mouth hanging open.

I pressed on: "To give yourself an alibi for Monday morning you faked the puncture. That was when your luck ran out. Mechanics in general have a bad reputation. Unfortunately for you, the one at Ashurst's is very conscientious. The spare wheel he removed was filthy with dirt from the road. When he put the other wheel back under your vehicle he remembered seeing the roll of bin liners between the front seats. He carefully removed the next bag from the roll and used it to wrap around your spare, replacing the remainder of the roll back where he'd found it. I removed that bag from under your Nissan Patrol four weeks later."